When Darkness Calls

Chapter Three

Sam's eyelids fluttered open hearing the scuff of footfalls on the tile flooring. Someone touched him lightly on the shoulder then pulled his arm toward the bed railing. He blinked hard several times, trying to clear the blurry, kaleidoscope images circling in front of him. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, stomach churning in protest. Closing his eyes, Sam took several slow breaths.

Firm, calloused hands wrapped around Sam's other arm and gently moved it to the side of the bed. Hearing a strangely familiar tearing noise, Sam eyes flew open. Another wave of dizziness assaulted his senses.

He squinted at the figure towering above him. A surgical mask and cap told him this was a doctor binding his wrist to the steel railing. What's he doing that for? Sam struggled for several moments, trying to free himself, arms tingling and feeling heavy and useless.

"Dea — " He coughed, his raw throat felt as if he'd swallowed gravel. "Dea — " He tried calling again in a whisper.

"Ah, you want your brother. He's not here right now." The doctor stared at Sam. "You were very lucky, an inch or two more to the left and you would be paralyzed now." His tone was rich and charismatic.

Sam tried to focus on the man in the surgical mask, the drug induced fog clouding his brain made it almost impossible. Clearing his throat, he whispered, "H-he okay."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about Dean." The doctor laughed ominously. "He's not the one in danger — yet."

"I-I don't under — "Sam swallowed hard, trying to fight off the vertigo, the man's face shifting in and out of focus.

"Let me make things a little clearer for you. My name is Charlie — Two-finger Charlie," the man said with an air of self-importance. "You know the nice thing about hospitals, Sammyboy?" Charlie leaned closer and whispered in Sam's ear. "Wear a doctor's uniform and no one gives you a second glance."

Oh God, it's him. Sam shied away, head lolling to the side, arms slack and ineffective against the bindings holding him prisoner. Even with the sedatives, his back throbbed mercilessly as he vainly struggled to free himself.

"Help," he tried to yell, a raspy cough replaced his desperate cry.

Charlie grasped onto Sam's hospital gown and yanked him forward into a half-sitting position. The stalker put an index finger to his lips. "Shhh . . . I'd hate to have to hurt another person because you drew attention to my presence. You wouldn't want that now would you?"

Sam shook his head.

The man chuckled softly. "And you never know, it might just be your brother who walks through the door."

I won't let him hurt you, Dean. Sam clenched his teeth in an effort not to scream for Dean.

"Good. We have an understanding." Charlie abruptly released him and Sam fell back onto the bed. Reaching in the pocket of the white lab coat, the stalker pulled out a roll of gray duct tape. "But in case you try to change your mind." He ripped off a large strip of the sticky tape, grabbed Sam by the hair and covered Sam's mouth.

Charlie set the tape on the bedside table and withdrew something from his pocket. A glint of silver caught Sam's attention. Holding a razor-sharp scalpel aloft for Sam to see, Charlie stroked the handle. "Such a useful instrument, don't you think?"

Lightly trailing the sharp knife down the side of Sam's face, Charlie rested the scalpel on Sam's Adam's apple. Sam flinched as Charlie pressed the blade a little closer to his throat.

I've got to get away . . . have to warn Dean. Sam tried to clench his fists, the powerful sedatives making his muscles lax and unresponsive. He stared at his right arm, mentally willing it to move. His hand barely budged. Come on, damn it! Move. His fingers curled slightly and then went slack.