Perfectly Safe -- FDM + Sparrow

[Flaming Dead Man]

“Where is he?!” Malcolm called from within the two-story farm house. The man was pissed with his stepson, Tyler, for something terribly unreasonable, as was the usual. Tyler was certain that the man looked for reasons to punish him because he was sick and twisted, not because he deserved it. Thankfully, Tyler’d managed to escape his stepfather’s wrath, this time, before the punishment began; he still had terrible bruising and a few healing wounds from last time. He’d bounded from the house early that morning and dashed into the field as deep as he could, just after the sun rose. Still, as far out as he’d made it, he could hear the bastard yelling for him. Surely — he was convinced — there was no escaping that, no matter how long he ran.

He had no plans, today, though he rarely ever did. He simply wanted to escape, and itching feeling coaxing him out into the golden wheat; he’d learned to trust his instincts when he realized his soul could tell when his stepfather was coming close to abusing him, again.

It was because of that man, too, that he’d taken up drinking and smoking at the ripe age of eleven. It’d been several years since his first cigarette and first gulp of rum, but things hadn’t changed much since then. The family still lived in the old white house centered in fields of golden wheat that stretched for miles in every direction and — despite the big harvest they had every year — they were still bare-bones broke. It was his fault, according to Malcolm, but Taylor knew better; Malcolm’s gambling and whore addictions made eating a luxury.

For a long time, Taylor felt pity for his mum. He was convinced that she gave a damn, that she had been trying for years to escape the hell she’d gotten herself and her young son into, but the longer they lived with Malcolm, the worse things got, and the less she tried to interfere. Now days, the bastard took a liking to punishing Taylor in the living room, sometimes even making his mother watch. She never said a goddamn word, and he was certain she’d cried all the tears she could for him. That woman had lost her soul a long time ago, which meant there was simply nothing left to pity, and nothing left to hope for.

In short, that meant Taylor was on his own.

With a pack of his stepfather’s cigarettes and a bottle of his rum, packed with a bit of canned food and other small supplies, Taylor left the house, intending to make camp near the outskirts of the field for a couple days.

It really was a good thing that Taylor was gifted with a great imagination; without it, he’d be captive to Malcolm’s abuse with no reprieve. At least this way, he was able to offer himself the opportunity for adventure. He pretended, as he packed his supplies, that he was the lone surviving soldier of his squad, that he’d been sent with his fellow warriors to explore an uncharted planet and that they’d died in the crash. He was all he had left. He stepped quietly through the wheat, mentally narrating his every move. When he heard his stepfather call out, he pretended it was the cry of a beast that had caught his scent.

He took off at a dash, once more, determined to make it to the perimeter before the beast could catch him; the perimeter was safe, protected by a man-made, invisible shield wall. If he could get through that, then nothing could get to him. Nothing dangerous, anyway.

 

[Sparrow]

Oisin had been watching the human child for some time. His imagination was strong, vivid, and nearly intoxicating. As he watched the boy run through the field he could almost see the transformation from scared boy to hardened, lonely warrior, and the man’s shout mixed with the bone-chilling howl of a monster. Oisin smiled, the expression full of malevolent delight, as he saw the barrier that the child imagined. It was supposed to keep the bad things away, and if Oisin was younger, less used to the powers of a strong imagination, it might have given him pause. In any case, he intended to give the boy something he wanted, escape. From the man; and from the world he suffered in.

Oisin stood on the other side of the barrier, waiting. He was not yet visible, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself. The moment the boy crossed the barrier, a whisper rang out, coming from seemingly every direction. “Taylor…” There was a sense of urgency in the voice, as if pleading, perhaps even a cry for help; that could be left to the boy’s imagination. “This way, Taylor.” This time the voice seemed to be coming from a singular direction, away from the house. The source was still hidden, but surely it couldn’t be too far away.

He wondered if the boy would use it, incorporate the voice into his imaginings. Perhaps a wounded companion, or a distressed native needing his help. Of course, it was more likely that the boy would become suspicious, but either way he was unlikely to turn back, there was a monster back there, after all, even if it wasn’t in a literal sense.

“Please…”

He hoped the boy would come on his own, it would be much more satisfying that way, but if he chose to try and get away, it certainly wouldn’t be the end of this. Oisin wanted him, and he wasn’t going to let him go. Taylor would be coming with him one way or another.

 

[Flaming Dead Man]

Taylor had only just crossed the barrier when he heard another voice, one he wasn’t familiar with, one that didn’t have a face nor a personality. It drew him out of his fantasy, causing his mind to stumble as he gathered himself back up. It called to him again, his name. Could someone have been watching him? Could he know what had happened to him since he and his mother moved in with that bastard? It made him uneasy; he was unsure of this man, unsure of his intentions.

However, the man needed his help, and it was away from the beast behind him…

He glanced over his shoulder, toward the house through the thick wheat; the beast was roaring, again, and the soldier within him was rising to the challenge. He had to forget his fears and help whomever was in need. His jaw clenched as a determined expression crossed his face and he held himself a bit taller and firmer. He turned toward the direction he’d last heard the call and marched onward, keeping his steps quiet and his senses alert for any danger that might come his way.

He wondered why the man was in trouble. Perhaps he’d gotten caught in some alien trap? Or perhaps was held captive in an alien encampment? Either way, he figured it would be best to prepare himself. He found a ‘machete’ — a sturdy stick — on the ground and gripped the hilt tight, the blade lifted just a bit to prepare for its use if necessary.

Taylor had a good aim and a strong arm for a kid who was so scrawny. The area around the farm was riddled with real beasts and he’d had to learn to defend himself a couple times. He could climb really well and wolves didn’t scare him, anymore. He’d even had to kill a rabbit, once, when he’d gotten lost and had to eat. He was quiet — partially thanks to his lithe figure — and quick, and he’d buried the remains with respect. He didn’t like to kill things and had felt guilty for it, but knew he had to do it to survive.

 

[Sparrow]

For a moment, the imagination broke, and Oisin felt a small pang of loss; but it wasn’t long before the boy rose to the challenge, once again donning the persona of the brave soldier. He gave a soft sigh, inaudible to the boy that was growing closer, as he felt the imaginings pulling at his own self. He considered them for a time, before deciding he would play along. He would be the helpless victim, at least for the moment. He wondered how he should appear to the boy, too inhuman could scare him away, but just the right amount might peak his interest.

He decided, eventually, to keep his wings, gathering them at his back as if a cloak, and his eyes, dark irises with shining silver pupils. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much. Just far enough past the treeline to be hidden, he waited in a clearing. He was trapped, caught in a trap that appeared both painful and impossible to escape from on his own. Blood dripped from wounds all over his skin, both caused by his own struggling and by the vicious, sharp metal holding him in place.

When the boy finally came in view, Oisin cast wide, hopeful eyes in his direction. “Please, help me, they could be coming any moment.” The trap was not too difficult to undo, so long as you weren’t the one caught, individual strands of barbed wires spreading out in all directions, held in place by anchors in the nearby trees. Perhaps, taught as they were, they could be severed by something sharp and quick, and in Oisin’s presence the ‘machete’ was beginning to look rather sharp indeed.

“Please hurry, Taylor.”

 

[Flaming Dead Man]

As Taylor drew closer, his heartbeat began to pick up. He was nervous. There was a small inclination in his heart that he might actually get to help someone, that it wasn’t just his imagination. He was hopeful, certainly, but he didn’t want to get too excited. He didn’t want to see the world for what it really was. His life was given purpose through his imagination; without it, he was just a boy running away from his abusive stepfather with no one but his two ‘family’ members as company for miles. If he tried to see through his mind’s creation, he was certain he’d come across… nothing.

After all, how could anyone but his ‘family’ know his name when he didn’t even go to school?

He was careful to approach where he’d determined the ‘person in distress’ was. Could it be an alien ambush? He had to be wary or, certainly, he’d fall prey to their trap and end up roasted or worse. Despite this, he couldn’t let his fear show through, either; if the aliens sensed it, he’d be easier to manipulate, to overcome. He caught movement between trees as they thinned around the man’s position and paused. He stared for a moment, mouth slightly agape at what he saw. This was no human, clearly, but he didn’t seem to be dangerous, either. Hesitation had put him off guard and the sudden, more direct call to him snapped him out of a slight reverie. He gripped his machete firmly and tightened his jaw, taking one more moment to glance around before carefully stepping into the trap’s vicinity.

It didn’t take much for him to realize what needed to be done, glancing between the man’s leg and the wires, but hair was standing straight on the back of his neck. Something didn’t feel right.

’It’s just the aliens,’ he told himself, ’They must be nearby…’

The thought made him panic slightly, but he didn’t run. He used the rushing adrenaline instead to power his first cut through the wire, then again through the second. He moved as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to their position; he had to get the man free, then they had to move. He was worried about the man’s leg — it looked worse than the few times he’d been made to bleed by his stepfather — but it couldn’t be tended to here. Before he cut the third wire, he glanced to the man and lifted a finger to his lips to hush him up. He hoped it was at least somewhat reassuring.

 

[Sparrow]

Oisin’s eyes flooded with relief as Taylor moved closer, and did his best to cease his squirming. It would do no good to injure himself further, after all, just as help arrived. He hissed lightly as the wires were cut, the sudden snapping causing them to spring back, driving pain up his leg and through his body. He knew the pain wasn’t ‘real,’ but it was all the more delicious for that fact. Of course, he showed none of his pleasure, maintaining the scared, hurt persona he had pulled about him.

He nodded when the boy gestured for him to be quiet, only giving a soft, gentle whimper when the last wires were cut. He bent down, a grim expression on his face; many of the barbs were still embedded in his skin, and painfully he began to remove them, being careful not to open his wounds any further. Once it was done, he looked up at his saviour, clearly grateful, but the situation was still far too dire to pause for thanks. “They’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

His voice was low, quiet, barely audible even to the boy who stood before him. Awkwardly and slowly, accepting any help the ‘soldier’ might offer, he got to his feet. He tested the weight on his bad leg, giving another soft whimper as he did so. But he bore through the pain, a look of grim determination on his face. Obviously he would rather not be standing, but there was no choice. “I know a safe place, but we need to hurry.”

Oisin began to limp away, not leaving time for explanations or questions, unless Taylor chose to stop him. Time was running short, and there were noises in the trees that made this fact painfully obvious. It could be the aliens, or it could be some manner of beast; after all, the scent of Oisin’s blood was thick in the air. The longer they remained in the open, the more danger they would be in.

 

[Flaming Dead Man]

Taylor stood by and watched as the man pulled barbs from his leg. He wanted to help, but he was growing overwhelmed with the sense of danger, once more. He felt that if he stepped over and touched the man, something bad would happen. What, he couldn’t say, nor even if it was the man himself that he should be afraid of. By the time his mind settled enough to push back his fears, the man was already standing and guilt started to etch at him. His worried expression had become hardened to mask the truth and he forced himself forward; he reminded himself that he was a soldier, thus there was no room for weakness. In stead of a stable hand to help his ward rise, he strode over and hooked an arm around the man’s waist, his free hand pulling the man’s nearest arm over his shoulders to offer balance as they walked. It was the least he could do, and it did help ease his mind and heart.

Taylor was relieved to hear that the man had somewhere to go — to lead them — as the ‘soldier’s’ only idea was to go back to that place. The world was twisted and he knew not of any safe haven, thus his only hope was to trust the stranger he’d just saved from a snare. He knew quite well that the man could still intend to trap him, but he didn’t let his mind dwell on that. It was simply the best option at that moment.

As they began to move, Taylor kept up with him the best he could, trying to take initiative and ‘listen’ to the movements of the man’s body to determine where they were headed; he didn’t want to let the man put too much pressure on his would, but they didn’t have the luxury of time to be anything less than hasty. He was mostly quiet, sans the few tiny huffs his small lungs produced in their effort to keep his body well-enough supplied. Strength or not for his size, he was still too young to properly handle the weight of his ward at such speed. He was doing alright, but he’d certainly be feeling the effort when they finally did come to rest.

His mind briefly wondered if the man would have a proper shelter, food, and water. Both the man and the place were strange — especially the man’s appearance — and thus Taylor was unsure whether natural sustenance would be edible. It worried him slightly, but he did at least have the comfort of his own small supply for the time being. Hopefully, in the worst case, it would be enough to last him until something edible came about.

 

[Sparrow]

Oisin led the soldier through the trees, keeping an ever watchful eye on their surroundings. Strange noises were coming closer, making him hasten his movements despite the ‘pain’ it caused him. Something was coming, and it was obvious he felt the only chance for safety was in the destination they were headed for. Thankfully, for the both of them, it seemed that the haven was not too far. In fact, it wasn’t long before a formation of rocks loomed up ahead.

“Through the crack.” It would be a tight fit, one that would undoubtedly be uncomfortable and quite probably painful for Oisin, but somewhat easier on Taylor’s small figure. But the upside to this fact was that anything bigger would be unable to follow.

But of course, these things are never quite so easy; the noises suddenly became more rushed, as if whatever followed sensed its prey was near escape. Oisin froze for a moment, before pulling Taylor towards the crack in the rocks. He had no doubt that his morals would deny his own first access, but at least Oisin didn’t attempt to do such a thing. He would allow the boy to ‘defend’ his entrance, but that didn’t mean he had to do it too far away to escape himself.

Oisin dove straight into the crack, intending to get through as quickly as possible. Just as he disappeared through, something came through the trees. Oisin’s voice called out through the crack. “Quickly, Taylor!” The monster was huge, there was no hope of it following behind them. A large cat-like creature was stalking towards him, its skin scaled and black, shining in the sun. There were far too many eyes, and all its deadly aspects seemed to be exaggerated in long, deadly claws and teeth.