Post by Jason Brandt on Aug 1, 2012 13:00:07 GMT -8
Gonna play in the dark 'till it's golden again
October 12, 11:45pm 2011
Lyrics from "The Wanted" - "Chasing the Sun"
Pain. So much pain. Jason gasped loudly, whimpered, screamed, but the cold night swallowed it up, reminding him of the stupid idea to go running at night, on this particular night. The fire began again, blooming, spreading, threatening to eat him up. Nightmares of shadows danced at the edges of his vision and he tried so hard to roll up, to crawl away, but he was frozen with pain, frozen with fear, frozen with panic.
He wasn't going to die out here. No. He couldn't. There were things he had to do. People he had to find. A life to reclaim. Trying to work through the pain, the ever burning pain, he tried to roll over, to push himself up into a position so he could see where his wounds were. The pain didn't allow that. If he relied on the pain to determine where he was injured, he would have thought it to be everywhere.
"Sir? Sir, are you alive? Sweet Mother of God!" A man came running to Jason's struggling form. Upon seeing that the attacked man was still alive, he called out to his wife, who was sitting in their parked car. "Chera. Chera! Call the ambulance. Tell them to hurry."
Jason groaned and tried to focus his eyes on the figure hunched over him, but all he saw were blurred figures. He couldn't even tell how many of them there were. He remembered an extremely angry dog, being attacked by said dog, and vague recollections of this man shooting the dog dead, but he wasn't entirely sure. The pain was increasing now even though he gave up on moving. He just wanted to stop feeling the pain, but he fought it. Kept fighting it. Until his body forced him into unconsciousness.
The man, Russell, tried to staunch the blood that was soaking the ground. He hoped the young man would pull through, but if the amount of blood was anything to go by, chances might be slim. His wife came over and took over for Russell, giving him the opportunity to check on the dead body of the dog. He picked up his gun and trained it on the body, pulled a mini-flashlight out of his pocket and shone it in front of him. What he saw, caused him to stop dead cold. What in the name of God? He was sure it was a dog he shot. "Chera? Call the police, too. They're gonna want to see this."
[Note: Jen says that killed transformed werewolves turn back to human shape.]