The Dead World Ch. 16

It was not at all surprising that both Skully and Slash lingered in the lobby. Before Dog could think to move to stand, Skully shook his head, and held his gaze as Ruthless slowly turned back toward them and started through the lobby. He headed for the eastern hall with wordless acknowledgment of the remaining men in the lobby; a firm nod, and he, too, retired to his suite. Slash teased the deadly end of the switchblade into the wood of the desk, carving away at the polished surface. The three of them were alone now. Dog slowly shifted in the chair and placed his boots firmly upon the ground. His hazel eyes settled with unreadable insouciance on the older man not far from him.

"Dog... I feel like I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to... hm?" The casually unassuming smirk tugging Colton's lips inspired Dog to mimic the expression, but with sneering contempt. The teenager shrugged his shoulders with the same standoffish nonchalance, and Skully couldn't help but to chuckle darkly.

"Diablo told me he took over the early shift for you yesterday... he sat through the mid-day too, with Slash. Ruthless and Oz took over the evening. Nobody saw you since Diablo relieved you. So... let me ask you again, one last time. What have you been up to, Dog?"

The younger man's expression had melted into something unreadably tense. He tore the page he had been doodling on free and crumbled it into a ball unceremoniously, etching words across the pad before holding it up for Skully to view. 'MMOB.'

Slash couldn't help but to crack a grin at that, cackling as he stabbed his switchblade into the polished surface of the counter and dropped from his perch. "Yer a cheeky lil' shit, boy, y'know that? I'll tell ya what, though... Firebird keys went missin' fer a bit, then popped back up on my nightstand not long after sundown. Out joyridin', kid? ...Or bein' foolhardy again?" The casual sort of camaraderie in Slash's words didn't go overlooked, nor the hardness of his pale green eyes as he looked down on the younger man.

Dog's eyes danced to the mechanic with pause before he looked between him and Skully as he weighed heavily on testing their patience, or telling the truth. He had no other options. If he lied or tried to deny it, then it would only make things worse. He scribbled over the notepad rapidly and held it up again. 'Took them. Put them back. Checked on Charlie.'

They passed knowing glances between one another and slowly moved to close in around the younger man. Dog couldn't help the impulse to rise to his feet. He didn't want to be caught sitting or unprepared, not by Slash, and certainly not by Skully. He was tall, a bit taller than Slash, and evenly matched to Skully's height just at six feet, but both men had at least sixty pounds or more of muscle against his own thin and lanky build. It wasn't a fair fight on any day. His hazel eyes grew sharp and turned to Skully as he addressed him.

"Still being a bad Dog? So, so fuckin' disappointing, Daniel... you know who's been behaving pretty well lately? Little Dove. I think you might learn a thing or two from her. I'll guess you thought running off with her again was a great idea? Tsk, tsk..." Skully's low, amused tone was not the sort he wanted to hear. It was often that afterwards the other man thought to do something expressively violent... and so it was not at all unexpected that Dog all but flinched when he reached out to curl a hand around the back of his neck, and draw him close to him. Skully looped a strong arm around his shoulder and brought him close, close enough to speak with deadly calm to him in a very personal fashion.

"She's mine, Daniel. You'll take her nowhere. Consider yourself lucky I'm letting you play with her, hm? Since you don't seem to understand that... any day you have with Dove, I'm going to be there from now on. And any day I have her, you'll be there. I'm not going to tolerate your insubordination anymore. You'll do what the fuck I tell you to, when I tell you to do it, or you're going to suffer for it and so will she. Do you understand me?"

The teen swallowed hard with every muscle in his body, rigid and tight at the damning threat. He nodded his head with tempered obedience, his light-colored eyes searching Skully's for something... anything to signify the brother he had once known was still there. He found nothing. Only a new sort of darkness in those sharp blue eyes, and malice; some sadistic, primal being had taken root there. He hardly recognized this man.

The impulse to panic and the tightness that gripped his heart was true, chilling terror in reaction to the orders bestowed on him. The thought of the first time Dog had found himself in this way clawed itself back from the depths of his subconscious, where he had desperately tried to bury the nightmare, now ravaging its way front and center into his thoughts to torment him. Skully wanted him to hurt her because he'd fucked up. He had been warned, and he went against him anyway, and now he would pay the price for it.

Only now there was no fucking way he could go through with it again... He'd rather die.

To outright deny him, though? Dog was no fucking fool. He didn't doubt Skully might drag him up to her room right this instant if he sneered at him again or flipped him off and thought to buck defiantly against his twisted demands. Dog nodded his head again for good measure instead. He let his eyes drop away submissively and bowed his head, bringing his hands up to press his palms together in a symbol Skully knew as his utmost defeated conditioning. He pleaded forgiveness with the motion, and Skully chuckled in deep satisfaction. The older man allowed the youth his personal space once again.

"Good boy."

Slash's cool, pale green eyes shifted between them. He very nearly sighed aloud, but masked his irritation at the skyrocketed tension in the lobby. He would say nothing against Skully's thoughts of retaliation... all the same, he didn't fucking like it. Every step Dog took out of line was forcing the stakes of decent behavior further from Colton. As much as he hated to admit it, Slash couldn't help but to think that Oz might be right. Slash turned away from them, noting the sound of Skully's boots upon the polished tiles of the hall.

Skully made his way toward the eastern wing, waving a hand languidly and calling over his shoulder, "She's all yours tomorrow, Slash."

"Gotcha, Boss." Slash glared sharply at Dog, as if reprimanding him for his stupidity. The older man waited until he heard the shifting of doors before moving to retrieve the switchblade and ripping it free from the wood of the desk with growing anger.

"Are ya fuckin' stupid, boy?! How many fuckin' times are you gonna try that man before ya learn ta leave well enough alone?! Fer the love of fuck, just sit the fuck down and stop pissin' him the fuck off, will ya?!" The hushed tone as he rounded on Dog earned a deadly glare from the youth, and with a frustrated huff Slash snapped the switchblade closed and deposited it into a deep pocket. He did sigh this time, and fished about his fatigues for a hand-rolled joint, placing it between his lips and igniting the end in hopes of calming his frayed nerves.

"Can't believe I'm fuckin' sayin' this--I'll try an' talk him down, an' hopefully leavin' this fuckin' place might mellow him out--but I can't promise shit. Right fuckin' mess ya made, Dog! Fuck, ya fuckin' morons... if I get roped in to yer fuckin' mess, kid, I'm kickin' yer ass!"

The burning herbs were passed to Dog who's irate expression softened ever so slightly... he accepted the olive branch, and placed it between his lips, inhaling deeply before passing it back to Slash who turned on his heel and set his attention to the eastern wing still grumbling beneath his breath. Dog felt an inkling of calm working its way into his body as he exhaled slowly and sank back down into the armchair, trying to ease his nerves down and shove away the fight or flight response. The command echoed. Any day you have with Dove, I'm going to be there from now on.

Dove...

He hated Skully's name for her. He hated it perhaps more than he hated the man himself because he knew very well what it represented, and how he had tormented her with it. Above all, though... Dog couldn't help but to hate himself. His impulsive desperation had once again backfired in the worst way, and now the unspeakable was being demanded of him. Now he was expected to come to heel and obey, and hurt her. He leaned forward and rested his elbows upon his knees, lacing his fingers gently against his chin as his thoughts frenzied themselves in a whirlwind of conflict and panic. It was hard to think like this. His eyes trailed along the east wing of the resort's first floor, where both Skully and Slash had disappeared moments earlier.

Dog pushed to his feet and moved down the hall in rapid silence. He quietly found himself before Diablo's door and pressed his ear gently to the solid wood, listening in to hear the muffled buzz of the television going and the quiet trickling of water. Surely Diablo was trying to make the best of the final few moments of power here in the resort before they were cast into darkness and cold. Dog had different thoughts in mind. The teenager moved into the room just to the left of Diablo's suite and rapidly out the back onto the enclosed patio space behind in lieu of the balconies the higher levels had. Climbing over to the room beside it, he tried the door before growling low in his throat at finding it was locked. All the same... it would be much easier to break in here than from the front.

It took him barely five minutes to jimmy the door open and carefully dip into the room. Diablo was in the bathroom as he had anticipated, and at that, he quickly moved through the medic's items with soundless determination. He gathered one of Diablo's backpacks, emptying it as quietly and swiftly as he could before filling it with very little. He gathered a few long-sleeved shirts from the medic's assortment and pulled a thick blanket from the bed before hastily shuffling through Diablo's items for some manner of weapon.

There he found it, just on the nightstand. Diablo's small revolver. He popped the cylinder, pleased to find it fully loaded, carefully clicking it back into place and tucking the small gun into the back pocket of his jeans. Rapidly hoisting the borrowed pack onto his shoulders, Dog slipped out the way he had come in, and hoisted himself over the railing with little difficulty.

The rain had slowed to a stop for a precious moment as evening settled over the coast. The ocean tossed angrily just ahead of him, and he felt the frantic throbbing of panic in his chest slowly subside as he began down the dampened dunes and slowly set his attention to moving north along the shoreline. He was tempted to look back... but the farther he got from the towering structure on the beach, the less panicked he felt. The less the urge to look back weighed on him.

The frantic feeling was being replaced by pain; a panging, longing intensity that gripped his heart heavily in his chest and made it hard to swallow. His earthy green eyes did not dare, for an instant, move backwards from shifting over the darkened shore. The long stretch of wooden structure far up the coast with its unmoving fair attractions seemed to have more appeal than sitting in the damned hotel, waiting to play the part of a demented pawn in Skully's vicious games. Dog didn't have a fucking clue where he was going. Anywhere but the resort.

There wasn't a chance to say goodbye or to tell her what was happening. He had a feeling if he went to her she would plead for him to reconsider and it was not at all something Daniel felt he could endure without losing his fucking mind. Charlotte begging him to stay would be worse than the harsh impulsive decision he was making right now to abandon the group. Skully might be watching and waiting for him to do just that; he would want him to go to her in panic and make things even worse to justify his cruelty. Dog was uncertain of anything at this point aside from the intensifying need to escape from the living nightmare that the group had now become.

The smoldering anger and hatred he felt in the moment seemed to roll between every one of them; the brothers, Slash, Ruthless, Diablo... even her. The longing he felt for her, however, was quick to snuff that misdirected emotion out. He swore to protect her and keep her safe; thus far, he had failed time and time again. The only thing he could think to do was what he was doing right at this very instant.

He could follow them. He would follow them, he told himself. When the time was right, he would lay down his life for her in every attempt to free her from the madman who had claimed her... but right now? The best thing he could do was this.

Dog needed solitude and freedom from the oppressive, manipulative violence at the orchestration of his savior-turned-nemesis. Leaving was painful... so fucking painful, in ways he could hardly comprehend. It hurt him at his core. It was a sinking sort of gut-wrenching pain that he had never experienced before, because he had set out on his own, needing his space from the other men when tensions and tempers ran high many times... but it had never felt like this. Pitted against the thought of staying, and the fate that awaited both him and Charlie, if he did?

Leaving was the only choice he had.

A crash of thunder pulled her roughly from an uneasy sleep. Charlotte shivered beneath the comforter, made painfully aware of how cold it was in the resort now as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and watched her breath crystalize in the air.

The lights she wouldn't miss. She had favored candles well before the group had come along. With daylight beaming through the windows, Dove felt no loss in the quiet dimness of the room. She dragged the comforter with her from the bed to fight off the winter chill as she hurried to dress herself, her thoughts shifting to the derelict tower facing the roadways.

She didn't know what had happened when she left the lobby. She noticed the unaddressed tension, and she had been nervous through the meeting, anticipating that the shift of energies between herself and Dog had been noticed, or his absence the day before had been, or the subject of the keys would be brought to attention. When it wasn't, Dove wasn't certain if she should be all the more worried or if she should feel relieved.

Shunning the clusters of revealing clothing more than ever, she pulled on her jeans, her socks, and boots. She suited herself in the lacey white bra before pulling one of the obnoxiously low cut shirts over top it. Darting from the room, Dove made her way back down to the suite she had originally occupied; the one she had once shared with her husband years before his disappearance. She knew if there was clothing fit for the weather anywhere, she'd find it in Matt's luggage. He had foraged for the seasons long ago and if something could not be found in his side of the dresser, it could be found in the suitcases stuffed at the bottom of the walk-in closet of the suite.

She was mindful to glance down the hall both ways before entering, the foreboding essence of this room causing her to shudder and cautiously focus on her task, and only that. It looked as peaceful and untouched as the day Dog had helped her leave it behind... but there was a heavy presence in here, now, something lingering and foreboding. She felt as if some malignant spirit remained here, watching her at this very instant with ravenous, carnal intent.

The chill in the air caused her to shiver and rapidly move into the closet, tossing various items from her path before dragging the large black suitcase from the bottom. Opening it, she smiled gently to herself, shifting through bits and pieces of masculine attire with fondness. There were thick thermals inside atop a stack of jeans she definitely wouldn't be able to fit into. The shirts were a golden find, though.

Dove took one of the dark, warm shirts and hurriedly pulled it over her head before rummaging through the large suitcase in hopes of finding some sort of jacket or coat that she might put over top to better layer herself from the cold. She found it in the form of a leather jacket stuffed to the back of the closet, not inside of the suitcase. This one was hers; for the few occasions she had gone out on the motorcycle with Matt when foraging early on.

She dug from the depths of the old suitcase gloves that would undoubtedly be a bit too large for her hands unless she cut the fingers from them, and several styles of warm weather caps. She chose the largest of them: a dark gray beanie. Hurriedly pulling it over her head, her wavy locks of curly hair were pushed over her shoulders as she continued to dig to the bottom of the suitcase and felt a smile tug over her lips. At the very bottom, beneath the stack of jeans, she found a small black pocket knife. She flipped it open and examined the sharp four-inch blade, rapidly tucked the small token into the side of her right boot, and quietly moved to exit the room. She didn't dare to look back in fear of the invisible monster that lurked there in wait, churning the dark memories she had tried her best to force down to the surface of her thoughts.

Dove took advantage of it being so early and very nearly tired herself out, clearing the courtyard and moving into the darkened halls of the dusty unoccupied tower. She had barely cleared the side door before she heard voices and stopped dead in her tracks, her heart-rate rising as she pressed to the shadows and listened in.

"No Dog. His shift, yeah?" Ruthless uttered with a thoughtful frown.

"Si, he's early morning still. I'm supposed to be on it with him... you been here all night and he didn't come through at dawn? Odd man. Maybe Slash or Skully have him running errands or something?" Diablo stifled a yawn and shrugged offhandedly.

"Da. Overnight. Maybe is sleeping, still?" Ruthless' heavily accented tone was just as dismissive, not particularly irritated by the thought that the younger man had yet to appear. Dove felt her heart seize and drop and quietly backtracked the way she had come. Dog had not claimed any particular room to her knowledge. When he rested, he had always come to invade her space, so she didn't know for a moment where to begin to look for him. She felt a flutter of worry as she backtracked through the courtyard, tugging the long sleeves over her slender fingers to protect her from the bitter nip in the air as she quietly made her way back into the lobby of the southern tower.

She pried the doors apart just enough to slide between them, noting how much darker it seemed in the lobby now, and how much more quiet. The remaining barrel of diesel fuel had been taken from the generator room along with quite a collection of items meant to be transferred to the military transport, crowded into the space of the lobby. With fierce determination, Dove moved toward the eastern wing. She didn't know which door was whose, aside from Diablo's, but she knew for a fact that one of these belonged to Slash and another to Skully. It really didn't matter who answered anymore. The idea that the teenager had found himself in trouble again almost entirely on her account inspired her blood to boil. Dove went down the line and knocked upon each one until one such door finally swung open...

Slash was casually dressed in the doorway. He was sans a shirt, given how early it was, not at all seeming bothered by the nippy chill in the air. He had pulled on his jeans, failing to button them and thus revealing the rigid tone of his abdomen and pelvis as well as the edge of his dark boxers. The dog tags around his neck jingled as he leaned on the door frame, his blonde hair loose for once and sweeping down to his shoulders.