Touch Of The Past

Chapter 17

My Amo freaks out very suddenly. Agitated, flitting around the room, before it suddenly disappears in a flash of light.

Literally. A light flashes. And Amo is gone. The light fades out before flashing again. I don't know if it is the spots dancing in my eyes or if Amo's really gone, but I can't see it. I try to rub my eyes before remembering they're bound.

The light flashes one more time before a wail accompanies it, so loud my ears ring. The alarm wails when the light dies down, so there's always an overload of the senses. I wonder briefly if this is the PTSD dream of a Vietnam veteran.

Suddenly, the door swings open. In the midst of the chaos I don't notice at first. Then the light dies for a moment and I see the silhouette. It's a boy... and... is that a cape? What's the triangle behind him?

He comes closer, and I hear a soft, "Oh, no, oh, no..."

Help or harm? Friend or foe?

Dang. I'm out of alliterations. And I sound horribly cheesy.

The light flashes, again. My eyes spot out again. The wail floods me after.

"W... D... lass... ?" says the boy. My ears are still ringing. The boy grimaces and withdraws something, but the light flashes again. When my eyes clear, my vision is darkened. The noise comes again, then the light, but it's not nearly as bad.

"Is that better?" the boy asks when the light comes. I hear him this time, and drop my head in a nod. "Great, let's get you out of here..."

He withdraws something else from the belt on his waist that I can now semi-see, raising it to my first arm. He fiddles with it, and it releases my hand. It falls beside me, but I can't move it yet.

He makes quicker work with the other cuffs. He says something.

I shake my head. His head tilts up to the alarm blaring and frowns. Then, almost as if just barely remembering, he pulls out another thing. He holds it out.

Hand shaking from lack of blood (from hanging above my head so long), I reach out. He dumps it in my hand. Earplugs. Carefully, I twitch my fingers to be sure I can use them before taking one and pushing it in my ear.

It takes a few tries with each, but they eventually stick. The alarm is muffled greatly. Gently, the boy puts a hand under my upper arm, urging me to stand up. When I'm unsteady, his other hand comes up to help support my other side.

So quick I barely see him, he goes under one of my arms, bracing me. Slowly, we hobble out of the cell.

"I know you prob..." His voice cuts out for a moment with the alarm. "Probably don't trust me, but I'm with Jazz and Tucker. We're going to get you out of here."

"Don't care," I rasp. "Just out." I don't know how much he heard, but he keeps moving and that's good enough for me. I'm surprised at the balance of the this guy. He's not too much shorter than me, but I'm probably heavy and I'm not helping him walk.

We round a corner. Down the hall there stands four guards. The boy jerks back, trying to get back around the corner, but they spot us. He leans me against the wall and runs back around the corner. I can't hear much more than a couple blasts.

I clench and unclench my hands. They're starting to get feeling back in them. I have the overwhelming urge to go to the aid of the boy, and I feel a surge of willpower. My legs stop shaking from exertion and I can stand on my own.

I only take two steps before the boy runs back around the corner. He slips under my arm again, but this time I walk on my own, only using him as a little support. I notice the guards are either unconscious or trapped as we hobble by them. The boy knows where he is going; we take sharp and expected turns.