Wake of the Dead | Three

Chapter One | Killian

Abrupt light pierced through Killian's half-closed eyelids, burning and unmerciful. He raised an arm to push it away, but it only kept coming. The doors of the truck had been opened, silhouettes were the only breaks in the sunlight. Killian's heart nearly leapt to his throat. A chance of escape, finally! But as soon as one silhouette grew bigger and bigger, the sound of heavy boots against the floor of the truck stomping towards him, Killian backpedaled against the freezing metal walls. Without a single thought, he'd cornered himself, leaving him at the mercy of whoever was approaching. You're an idiot. Run. Escape. Get out of here! But he couldn't move. Not a single muscle twitched, Killian was immobile, locked like a dear in the glare of headlights.

Killian's vision adjusted just in time for him to see the catch pole, the same device that had trapped him in the first place. He attempted to dart away and lower his head enough to avoid the thin metal ring closing around his throat, but the other man was faster. They moved the ring just in front of Killian, he didn't have enough time to avoid running right into it. You trapped yourself. You did this. He thought hopelessly. You need to fight. Kill them, hurt them. As Killian whipped around and thrashed against his attacker, he attempted to do the only thing he could possibly do and swung at them with a closed fist. It landed against the other man's abdomen, but the impact wasn't enough to do anything. You've just made him angry. Every instinct screamed at him to struggled, but the more he did, the tighter the ring around his neck became. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dragged away from the only shelter Killian had  been given, the ground rushed up at him faster than anticipated. With a painful thump, his body crumpled against the rough soil beneath him. Straining against the catch pole and whipping his head from side to side, Killian thrashed against the ground and gripped onto the thin metal, trying to rip it away just as he'd done the first time. "Stephan," just hearing that name raised the hairs on the back of Killian's neck, a shudder running down his spine. Biting down on the actual pole, Killian grappled onto it and managed to stand up, only to be forced to the ground again. "He's struggling." The man who'd wrestled him away from the truck was infuriatingly calm.

"I'll kill you, you stupid son of a bitch, let me go!" Talking after three days of silence felt as if Killian's vocal chords had been torn away. His voice was raspy, an almost feral snarl lingering beneath his words. "I'll...I'll..." The more he yelled, the harder it became to find his words and form a proper sentence.

"Hold him still. He'll tire himself out eventually." Stephan's hauntingly familiar, deep voice rumbled. "Just pin him down and wait."

Killian only grew angrier as his face was forced against the ground. His nails dug hard into the soil, his back ached as he tried to force himself to his feet. Killian's mind grew hazy, an impossibly dizzying headache stunned him as the blood rushed to his head when he tried to stand again. When I get up, you're dead. He silently promised. Despite his determination, the almost painful exhaustion weighed down on him, as if the sky had fallen on his shoulders. Killian's arms shook in an attempt to hold his body weight up, days of malnutrition finally taking its toll. The catch pole shoved his throat sideways and against the ground, this time Killian couldn't fight back.

Panting, Killian grit his teeth. His dry lips cracked, muscles aching. With his chest growing stiffer by the second, his breathing became raspy and labored. Killian jerked away as a large and rough, deceptively gentle hand forced his face out of hiding. Stephan tilted Killian's head this way and that, almost examining him as if he were a science experiment. "Come now, Rabbit."
He said sternly. "You're only hurting yourself." The massive man stood up again. Killian watched the Reaper's leader warily, unsure what they would do with him.

"How long has it been since he ate?" Stephan demanded. "Slept, had any water?" That deep, rumbling voice held a deadly-calm tone. Killian watched helplessly as the giant towered over the Reaper who'd dragged him out of the truck.