Fic: No Way Out but Through

[summergen-mod.livejournal.com]

Title:  No Way Out but Through
Author: yo_gert
Recipient: krazykipper
Rating:  PG-13 for story, but beware a couple of f-bombs.
Warnings:  Beyond the aforementioned profanity, none.
Summary:  Ava's first 24 hours in Cold Oak.

Ava awoke at 11:30, the sound of gunshots and shattering glass from her dream still echoing in her head. Her eyes darted wildly about for a moment, until the soft glow from the streetlights through her curtains gradually brought the darkened room into focus. "Dreaming, thank God," she murmured, forcing herself to take a few slow, deep breaths until her heart rate returned to normal. She didn't want to wake Lenny up--for all he knew her quick visit with a “college buddy” in Lafayette had just been a spur-of-the-moment lark, intended to get her mind off of her frequent bad dreams, not cause them.

Speaking of Lenny... "Len?" Ava called softly to the figure she had just noticed standing by the window, looking out. "Honey, what are you doing up? You got work tomorrow? I thought you were going to stay the night." Her fiancé was fully dressed, including overcoat, and Ava frowned. Len had often gone back to his place if he had to be at work early--it was part of their pact not to officially "live together" until after the wedding, Ava’s concession to her mother’s traditional beliefs--but as her nightmares had gotten worse Lenny had found himself staying over more often as part of some unspoken agreement, and Ava was glad for it.

The bedclothes rustled as Ava pushed them back and padded over to join her fiance' at the window. "Hon, did I wake you?" She reached out and took Len's hand, the chill of his flesh startling her. His hand tightened around hers, then kept tightening, past the point of comfort and into pain.

"Your hands are freez--Ow! Lenny, that's too tight!"

Then Lenny turned to face her, but it wasn't Lenny at all.

The man with the yellow eyes smiled as he lifted Ava's imprisoned left hand and slid the diamond engagement ring off of her finger.

"I don't think you're going to be needing this anymore," he said, and a passing car's headlights suddenly threw enough light into the room for Ava to register the shape of her fiance' under the white sheets on the bed and to see the darker stain spreading away from his neck before everything she had ever known vanished into black.

____________________

The next sensation Ava registered was cold, followed by light, and she slowly opened her eyes to find herself curled into a ball in the center of a dirt road. The chill of the early morning air, coupled with the fact that she was still only wearing a thin nightshirt, had raised goosebumps all along her flesh, and she was shivering so hard that her teeth chattered. Ava sat up, her trembling body making the process clumsy, and tried to get her bearings. Aside from the cold and a pounding headache, she seemed to be physically okay, and she pushed away a sudden memory of yellow eyes, a dark bedroom and the darker color of Len's blood by gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. "I will not freak out," she whispered, "if I can just focus on one thing at a time I can figure this out."  She lifted her head and forced herself to look more closely at her surroundings.

A series of weathered clapboard buildings lined the dirt road she was on. So, it was a town, then - or at least the remains of one. At either end, the road tapered off into heavy woods. Ava didn't see any power lines, telephone poles, or vehicles of any sort. The entire area was completely silent, and Ava swallowed nervously as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Okay, this is creepy," she began, then stopped speaking.  The sound of her voice fell heavily into the silence, which only emphasized the deadness of the air around her and made her feel worse. Ava felt her panic starting to rise--where was she? How was she going to get out of here and get home? And Len...she pushed her palms into her eyes to stop the tears. If she broke down now, she knew she would never get back home. "I will not freak out I will not freak out I will not freak out," she told herself firmly, and forced herself to hold still and do the breathing excercises her yoga instructor had taught her until the tears and feelings of panic had subsided.

With one final exhalation, she dropped her hands, straightened her shoulders, and opened her eyes, forcing herself to speak aloud. "Now, Ava," she said, unconsciously falling back into a childhood habit of giving herself a pep talk whenever she was nervous, "we'll just make a list of what we have to do to get out of here, and then we'll go down the list. One thing at a time." She picked out one of the bigger buildings, that looked to have been a general store, and started making her careful way across the road.

"Ow, ow, ow OW!" Ava kept up a litany of pain in time with her steps, as her bare feet were scratched and poked by the rough surface of the unpaved road. Okay, number one on the to-do list is shoes, and maybe a coat, she decided, as she reached the store and tried the door. It opened easily onto a large room filled with shelving on either side. A large counter separated the front area from more shelves behind it. The floor and shelves were coated with a light film of dust, and enough natural light filtered through the windows for Ava to be able to see that the dust hadn't been disturbed recently. All of the shelves appeared empty, with the exception of the one directly behind the old-fashioned cash register that remained on the main counter. A small, paper-wrapped bundle tied with string sat on that shelf, and Ava made her way toward it.

Unlike everything else in the store, the bundle didn't have any dust on it. Ava paused before picking it up, the sixth sense that she had only recently learned to trust telling her that something wasn't quite right. She looked around nervously, but the feeling wasn't one of being watched, it was just a general sensation of wrongness that Ava couldn't explain. Frustrated with her own skittishness, she reached out suddenly and seized the package, ripping off the paper.

"Of course this feels wrong, Ava, you idiot!" she berated herself as she worked.  "What exactly has been feeling right in your life in the past six months?  The dreams that come true? Meeting Sam Winchester, who is probably some psychic commando?  Getting shot at by a maniac?  The yellow-eyed guy who apparently does exist and has dropped you off half-naked in a ghost town?  You've seen too much in the past few days to be freaked out by a paper bundle, you ninny.  Ha!"  Her cry of triumph at opening the package faded as she saw what it contained. It was a pair of her jeans, a favorite shirt and jacket, socks and shoes, and it could only have come from her house.  A note rested on top of the jeans, the spiky handwriting thereon cordially informing Ava that she might find these items useful, as she had enough to worry about without freezing to death.  Ava dropped the neatly folded pile--note included--on the floor, covered her face, and let the tears come.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of hysterical sobbing, Ava realized two things: one, her feet were really cold; and two, she was no longer alone in the store.  She spun around to face the intruder, and found herself looking at a short pale man with black hair and a sallow complexion who wore an expression of embarrassed confusion.

"Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I heard you crying and I thought you might need some help," the stranger began.

Ava took a step back, swiped her runny nose across the sleeve of her nightshirt with as much dignity as she could muster, and glared at the newcomer.  "Who are you?" she demanded in a voice that was almost steady.

"John. John Newsome," the man replied, sensibly staying where he was.  "I was just...well, it's going to sound kinda nuts…"

Ava held up a hand.  "No, don't tell me.  Weird stuff's been happening to you lately, right?  But you thought you were handling it, you were minding your own business, and suddenly some freaky guy with glowing yellow eyes showed up and now you're here and you don't know why."

"Huh," was all John seemed able to manage, but he nodded his head.

"Yeah.  Well at least you're wearing clothes."  Ava stooped to pick up the discarded bundle and held it up, showing it to John.  "So do you mind stepping out for a minute?"

John merely nodded again, and backed out of the store without another word.

After Ava had dressed and pulled herself together, she rejoined John, introduced herself formally, and the pair began exploring their surroundings.  John wasn't psychic like Ava was or Sam Winchester had been, but lately he had noticed that every plant he tended died.  The more he touched them or pruned them, the faster they perished.  As he was just starting a career as a landscape architect, this didn't really bode well for his business, but he had figured that he could stick to the design side and let his business partners handle the planting. So he'd been coping pretty well, until his mom came to visit and brought along her beloved pet Pomeranian.

"Turns out it's not just plants," he concluded sadly.  "I'm afraid to touch any people now--my mom was upset enough that Pansy had died, and then when I wouldn't even hug her?"  John shrugged, then gave a wry smile.  "Maybe an impromptu vacation was all I really needed."

Ava had forced a polite chuckle at this, and decided not to mention the note that had accompanied her clothing.  John seemed like he had enough on his plate.  She also made sure to keep from accidentally brushing up against him, just in case.

The pair made their way down one side of the street, looking inside each abandoned building as they went, hoping to find useful supplies, a clue to their whereabouts, or anything that might help them get out of there.  John had awoken at the far end of town, behind what he thought was an old stable.  He had encountered Ava halfway up the right-hand side of the street, so they were sticking with the right side of the road first, heading toward the opposite end of town.

Suddenly John stopped, holding out an arm toward Ava before realizing what he had done and withdrawing it with an awkward apology. "Sorry - but, did you hear that?"

Voices could be clearly heard coming from the building located across the street at a diagonal from them.  Although the words were indistinct, the tone of the conversation sounded angry.  "We should check it out - but let's be careful, just in case," John said, and Ava nodded her agreement.  As they drew closer to the building, which looked to have been a residence of some sort, there was the sound of a small explosion, and the front windows blew out of the house.

"Holy crap!" yelled Ava, jumping back and covering her head with her hands.  John had followed her example, and the two shared a horrified glance before turning their attention back to the house.  Suddenly the front door of the house blew open and three people staggered out, one of them--a woman, it appeared--with clothing and hair ablaze.  She was screaming, a high-pitched, keening sound, and the two others with her--another woman and a man--were trying to put as much distance between themselves and the fire as possible.

"Oh my God!  Help her!  Somebody!"  Ava was yelling at the others and running toward the woman before she registered what she was doing, John right behind her.  Ava stripped off her jacket and threw it over the screaming figure, then tackled her to the ground.  "Hold still! We've got to get the fire out!  John!  Help me!"  she demanded, as he stood helplessly by.

"I'm - I'm afraid to touch her!"  he called back, twisting his hands nervously.

"Then use your coat, or just kick dirt on her - something!"  Ava was using her jacket now to beat at the remaining flames.  The woman's screams had faded, and now she was moaning loudly, her ruined face turning side to side as Ava put out the fire.  The smell of charred flesh and burning hair was intensely horrible, and Ava had to hold her breath as she worked.  John had joined her, using his coat to pat at any remaining flames, and as Ava looked up and caught his eye, he shook his head slightly before returning his gaze to the burned figure in front of them.  Ava knew what he meant--without a hospital, this woman was going to die, and it was going to be a long and agonizing process.  Frustration washed over her and she stood abruptly, leaving John to try and soothe the panicked victim, and turned to glare at the man and woman who were standing together about ten yards away.

“Hey!  What happened in there?”  she demanded angrily, brushing her hair out of her eyes and starting toward the couple.

The man, a tall, gangly fellow with a shock of red curls atop his head and freckles the same shade of red covering his face, shrugged, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.  “I don’t know, I swear!” he cried, the look on Ava’s face forcing him to take a step backward.  Ava turned toward the other woman, a petite blonde cheerleader-type in fashionable high-heeled boots and a suede jacket.  The woman didn’t flinch, but coolly returned Ava’s look, saying nothing.

“People do not just burst into flames!” Ava insisted, even though given her present circumstances the possibility no longer seemed so strange.  She banished the idea with a wave of her hand.  “Look, it’s just -- we need to get her to a hospital, okay?  And we need to get out of here, and if you know of anything that can help…”

“Don’t bother.  She’s beyond help,” the blonde said tonelessly.  “You should have let her burn--it would have been over faster.”

Ava gaped at her, but before she could muster a response, the blonde continued.

“You’re new here, so let me fill you in.  There’s no way out of this, and everyone here is probably going to die.  If you’re lucky, it’ll be quick.” The woman sighed then, and looked up at the sky.  “Almost noon.  There’ll be food.”  Then she turned and started toward the old saloon on the other side of the street. “You coming, Chuck?” she asked as she passed the redhead, who watched her go with naked fear on his features.  He tossed an apologetic glance back at Ava, and then hurried after the woman, leaving Ava standing in the middle of the road.

“Ava!”  John’s voice snapped her out of her paralysis, and she jogged back over to John and the burned woman.  One look at John’s expression told Ava all she needed to know--the cheerleader of doom had been right, and there was no saving this woman.

John’s face was a study in misery.  He sat back on his haunches, staring at the ground and rubbing his hands absently over his knees.  Ava knew what he was going to say, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“She won’t make it,” he murmured finally, refusing to look at Ava.  “And she’s really in pain.”

“John - “

“I can maybe help her, you know?  Keep her from suffering?  Maybe use this stupid ability for something halfway decent.”

Ava wasn’t sure she agreed, but given the circumstances, a lengthy speech on the power of hope seemed ridiculous.  They’d been looking all morning, and as far as they knew, there was no way out of town, and no way to get help from the outside world.  “You want to…” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely in the woman’s direction.

“Yeah.  You don’t have to watch.”  John had stopped rubbing his hands over his knees, and was holding them outstretched, seemingly fascinated by them.

Ava merely shook her head and knelt beside John.  “You shouldn’t have to be alone,” she said, and forced herself not to look away as John gingerly reached for the woman.  At least she’s unconscious, and won’t know, Ava thought, and then it was over.

John had removed his coat during the attempt to put out the flames, and now he drew it up and over the woman’s face.  Then he stood up, and started to reach a hand out to Ava to help her up before he remembered and withdrew it.  Ava gave him a half smile and got to her feet, clearing her throat in an attempt to dispel the uncomfortable silence.  It didn’t help, but Ava figured that if John had gone through half of what Ava had before he got here, he was probably about one step away from losing it entirely.  Just focus on one thing at a time, she reminded herself, then cleared her throat again, this time to get John’s attention away from the dead body.

“Hey. The evil cheerleader says there’s food over there,” Ava said calmly, tilting her head in the direction of the saloon.  “We should probably go check that out—what?”

John was smiling—it wasn’t big, but it was something.  “Evil cheerleader?”

“You heard what she said.  What else would you call her?”

John’s smile faded.  “Yeah.  You’re right.”  He rubbed his stomach absently.  “Feels like I haven’t eaten in days,” he said, then paused, his eyes suddenly welling with tears.  Ava looked away, uncomfortably aware of John’s struggle to keep it together.  After a moment, he continued gruffly, “Hell, who knows how long it’s really been, right?  This whole thing is so fucked up…wouldn’t surprise me if they were screwing around with time, too.”

“John…” Ava began, but he waved her off.

“Don’t worry.  I’m not about to have a total meltdown right here or anything.  But I think we should stick together, get some food, and get some answers.  I’m pretty sure that E.C. knows exactly what’s going on, and I think she needs to share with the rest of the class.”

It was Ava’s turn to be puzzled.  “E. C.?”

“Evil cheerleader has too many syllables,” he replied, then pointed at the saloon.  “Shall we?”

The saloon was as devoid of furniture as every other building had been, with the exception of one round table, 4 chairs, and an old mahogany bar.  Chuck and the blonde sat at the table, each of them holding a sandwich and a bottle of water.  Two paper plates still sat on top of the bar, as did two more bottles of water.  Ava and John approached the bar cautiously, but were interrupted by the blonde woman’s harsh, “If you’re not gonna eat that, I will.”

Ava quickly snatched up one of the plates and started eating, leaning against the bar as she chewed hungrily on ham and cheese.  She was surprised to find that her appetite had not been affected by the day’s events—the sandwich and water were gone in a matter of moments.  No one talked as they ate, but once they were finished, the blonde woman broke the silence again, gazing steadily at the ceiling as she spoke.

“Okay, listen up.  I’m tired of giving this speech, so I’m going to do it once, briefly.  Do not interrupt me with stupid questions.  Here is everything I know.

“There is no way out of this town.  I don’t know exactly what the things are in the woods outside of here, but I do know what it sounds like when they catch someone trying to leave.  We get two meals a day and some water.  No, I don’t know how, and frankly, I don’t care.  At night, you’ll have horrible dreams where some guy with yellow eyes will tell you that in order to live, you have to kill everyone else in town.  If you’re lucky enough to survive, you’ll go to sleep, and when you wake up, it will start all over again with a new group of people.”  She stopped talking, and her eyes moved from the ceiling to rest on Ava for a moment until she continued.  “The yellow-eyed man is fond of reminding us that there’s ‘no way out but through.’ I’m not sure, but I think that this might be Hell.”

“But—“ Ava didn’t even get to finish the thought, as the blonde suddenly stood up, anger apparent in both her voice and posture.

“But nothing!  I’ve been through this four times already!  Another day, another group of freaks, another round of ‘does anyone have a cell phone?’ or ‘there’s gotta be a way out of here!’  Like you special snowflakes are gonna figure it out, or some white knight is gonna ride to your rescue, but it’s not happening.  Most likely, all you’re gonna do is die, unless you kill everyone else first.”

John had heard enough.  “That’s ridiculous! I’m not killing anybody!”  he shouted at her.

The blonde laughed harshly.  “Tell it to the corpse in the road, sweetie.”

Ava gasped.  “That’s not fair!”

The woman merely pointed at John and replied, “I might have started it, but he finished it, didn’t he?”

John’s face was flushed with anger, but he said nothing, merely dropped his gaze.  Ava wasn’t about to let it go, though.

“He wouldn’t have had to if she hadn’t been on fire!” she said angrily, then stopped, the first tendrils of fear beginning to take hold as what the woman was really saying dawned on her.  “What is wrong with you?” she demanded.  “Why are you telling us this?”

The blonde smiled, and extended her right hand, palm facing outward, toward Chuck.  “Because it fills the time,” she replied.  “And it’s not like you’re going to be able to do anything with the information.”  Suddenly, there was a flash, and Ava screamed as she felt the twin sensations of intense heat and light and the room erupted into chaos.

When the light faded and her eyes readjusted, Ava realized that she wasn’t the only one screaming. John was yelling something unintelligible and Chuck, who was on fire, was howling in pain.  He began beating at his head and body, his flailing causing the chair he was in to topple backward, taking Chuck over with it.  The blonde simply watched him burn for a moment.  Then she walked casually over to him, and said “Shut up, Chuck,” punctuating each word with a solid kick to the man’s head.  After the second kick Chuck stopped struggling and lay still, and the fire continued its work.

Ava didn’t wait to see what the woman would do next; instead she grabbed the nearest chair and swung it at the blonde’s back, knocking her to her knees. Fear gave her strength, and she raised the chair again, then brought it down onto the blonde’s head with all of her might. There was a noise like a ripe melon being split open, and the woman formerly known as “E.C.” toppled to the ground next to Chuck.  The flames from Chuck’s body seemed to reach eagerly for another victim, but Ava didn’t stick around to watch.  She dropped the chair and ran for the door.

Ava ran until she was completely across the street from the saloon then stopped and hunched over, coughing and gasping, the smell of burned flesh still thick in her nostrils.  After catching her breath she straightened, and began to pace frantically up and down the road, hands clutching her hair in panic.  She had absolutely no idea where to go or what to do next.  “Ohgodohgodohgod,” she moaned helplessly.  If the evil cheerleader had been telling the truth-- and why would she lie? Asked the little voice in Ava’s head. She was just going to kill everyone anyway, right?—then the woods were just as deadly as the town. There was truly nowhere to go where she would be safe.

“Ava!  Ava stop it!  You’ve got to breathe!”  John’s voice brought her back from blind panic, but just barely.  She hadn’t even thought to check if he was okay when she ran out of the saloon, and her relief at hearing him speak was mixed with guilt at abandoning him.  Ava stopped pacing, and turned to face him.

John’s face was even paler than before, and he was staring at Ava anxiously.  Soot smudged his left cheek, and Ava moved toward him to wipe it off before she remembered why she couldn’t.  Instead, she just gestured weakly at John’s face.  “You’ve got a smutch there,” she said dully.

John looked surprised, but rubbed at his cheek, completely missing the smudge.  “Are you okay?” he began, and then shook his head.  “I mean, obviously you’re not ‘okay, okay,’ but…”

“Do you mean am I going to have a total freakout and beat you to death with furniture?”  Ava asked sarcastically, then sighed.  “Don’t think so.  I’m really trying not to think about anything right now--reality is kind of a challenge here.”  She ran her hands through her hair again, tugging the strands nervously.  “Did I kill the evil cheerleader?”

“I hope so,” was John’s immediate reply.  “She was a psycho!”

Ava gave an involuntary laugh at that.

“Look, we should probably find a place to stay the night—maybe get some supplies for a fire or something, then figure out what we’re going to do,” John said.

Ava felt hysteria begin to bubble up inside her again.  “Do?  Didn’t you hear what the psycho said?  There’s no way out of here!”

“We don’t know that for sure,” John replied reasonably.  “But we do know that it will eventually get dark, and we need to be somewhere safe.”

Ava merely raised an eyebrow at this last statement, and John rolled his eyes in return.  “Okay, safer than the middle of the street or surrounded by dead people.  Plus, we need something to do so that—“

“We don’t go nuts?” Ava finished his sentence for him.  John nodded, and the two continued down the street, studiously ignoring the the corpse in the road and the smoke coming from the saloon.

 

Evening found John and Ava standing outside the saloon doors again.  Somehow, the building hadn’t caught fire from the earlier pyrotechnics, and Ava suspected that there were forces at work beyond those of simple luck that had ensured the saloon‘s survival.  They had established a sort of camp in a smallish house near the center of town, but they hadn’t had any luck with finding food, and they remembered the blonde’s earlier remarks about the two meals a day that appeared on the bar.  Ava knew that she needed to eat, but she wasn't that hungry, and she also knew that she really, really didn’t want to go into that saloon ever again.

John picked up on her nervousness and took pity on her, saying, “Just stay here.  I’ll go in and get the food if there is any, and then we’ll take it back to the house.  I won’t be long.”

Ava nodded and watched John peer cautiously into the building before going in.  In the gathering dusk the street seemed much more forbidding, the woods on either end seeming to close in toward the town.  Dark shapes seemed to dart through the trees, just out of eyesight, and occasionally an inhuman cry could be heard coming from the forest.  Ava shuddered, willing John to hurry.

After what seemed like an age but was probably only three minutes, John reappeared, with two paper plates stacked on top of each other in one hand and two bottled waters in the other.  He didn’t volunteer any information about what he had seen in there, and Ava didn’t ask, as the look on his face told her that it was bad.

The pair made their way back to the house in silence, and consumed their ham and cheese sandwiches and water.  They had managed to locate some old blankets in an upstairs trunk, and thanks to Ava’s barely remembered experience in the Girl Scouts, they had gotten a small fire going in the fireplace downstairs.  The glow and warmth from the fire helped dispel Ava’s fear of the dark, but it also had the effect of forcing Ava to continually dwell on the afternoon’s surreal events.

They divided the blankets between them and each arranged a sleeping space near the fire. After an awkward silence, John spoke.  “Well, I’ve got no idea what time it is, but it’s dark, and it’s been a long day.  We should probably get some sleep if we can.”

“Yeah.  You don’t think those things in the woods will come here, do you?”

John shook his head.  “I think E.C. would have mentioned that during her show and tell.  She didn’t seem interested in sparing our feelings.”

“Or us,” Ava added grimly.

“Right.” John hesitated for a minute, then continued.  “Look, for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing in there today.  You saved my life.”

Ava looked him in the eye.  “I think we both did the right thing today.”

“Maybe,” John said absently.  “Try to get some rest.”  Then he rolled himself into his blanket and faced away from Ava, who soon followed his example and fell asleep.

_________________

 

It was still dark and the fire in the fireplace had faded to softly glowing embers when Ava suddenly jolted awake, convinced that someone was in the room with her.  She looked to the side of the fire where John had made his bed, but the space was empty—not even so much as a rumpled blanket left to indicate that Ava wasn’t alone.  “I must be dreaming,” she said.

“What was your first clue?” came an amused voice from behind her.

Ava gave a small shriek and spun around, scrambling backwards out of the blanket until she felt her back against the wall.  The yellow-eyed man smirked at her.  “Hi Ava,” he said affably, taking a few steps closer to her and settling himself cross-legged on the floor.  “Got a minute?”

Ava merely stared at him, wide-eyed with fear, and the man gave a short nod.  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then.”  He paused for a moment, studying Ava intently, and she held her breath, waiting for the scrutiny to stop.

“So, you managed to take out Marianne today,” he began, and the smirk on his face widened to a smile.  “Good job!  I frankly had you pegged as the underdog, but sometimes I forget that power is only as useful as its wielder is clever.”

Ava found her voice.  “Marianne?” she asked, and was proud of how calm she sounded.

“I believe you and your compadre there were calling her the ‘evil cheerleader.’  Pretty apt, actually.   Marianne was a quick study, but she got cocky.  Too much evil monologuing, not enough action.”  He leaned closer, sulfurous eyes flickering.  “Not like you, Ava.  You have good instincts, and I think that given time you’ll live up to your potential.”

“Potential?” Ava asked incredulously.

The yellow-eyed creature tilted his head and clucked his tongue.  “Were you not paying attention to Marianne?  I think she explained the situation very well.  You kill, you live.  You don’t, you die.  No way out but through, sweet cheeks.”

Ava had heard Marianne--hell, she‘d killed Marianne--but she had still hoped that somehow Marianne was the problem, and that she had made up the kill or die scenario in her head to justify her murders.  But hearing it again, from the architect of the situation himself…it was too much.  Feelings of terror, exhaustion and guilt washed over her simultaneously, leaving her panicky and shaking.  “You‘re serious?  This is some kind of deathmatch?” Ava asked shrilly.

As she spoke, Ava felt her panic feeding another emotion—anger.  And this emotion had the advantage of strengthening her resolve as well as her limbs, so she decided to go with it.  She leapt to her feet and stabbed a finger in the man’s direction.  “You murdering asshole!  Do your own dirty work!  I’m not going to kill anyone!”

The yellow eyes flashed brightly for a moment, and Ava was picked up by invisible hands, flung against the far wall and pinned there, immobile.  The man stood and faced Ava, drawing uncomfortably close.  “Oops,” he said.  “I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that.  Your life now boils down to a choice:  you refuse to kill, and you die as a result, or you take all comers and win the big prize.”

“You don’t have anything I want,” she spat at him.

“How about your darling Lenny alive and well again?”

Ava gasped in shock.  “That’s impossible!  You can’t do that!”  But he could, couldn’t he? asked the little voice in her head. After all, he’s done everything else.  Ava held on to her anger and used it to silence the voice, sensing that if she gave in now, made a deal with this man, in the end it would be worse than being set on fire by Marianne.

The man’s lips turned up in a sneer, and he leaned in so close that his breath ghosted across Ava’s cheek as he spoke.  “You have no idea what I am or what I’m capable of, little girl.”  Then he drew back, considering.  “Okay, so the Lazarus act isn’t enough for you.  How about the continued safety of your mother?  If you were to go down without a fight after all the trouble I went to getting you here, I would be extremely put out.  I’d hate for your mother to pay for your lapse in judgment.  And fire is such an unpleasant way to go, wouldn’t you agree?”

Now that he could definitely pull off, insisted the little voice, and Ava panicked again.  “You leave her alone!” she yelled, struggling in vain.  In that moment she felt that the most gratifying sight in the world would be that of this creature on his knees before her, screaming in pain, and Ava would have given or done anything to make it happen.

Yellow-eyes seemed not to notice or care about her hatred.  “Of course, if you play ball, your mother won’t have to worry about anything ever again--I’ll see to that.  And after you win, you’ll be reunited, and can play happy family for as long as you’d like.”

She fought her bonds until her breath came in panting gasps and sweat rolled down her back, but no matter what she did, Ava couldn’t get free.

The yellow-eyed man finally seemed to remember that Ava was there and was trying to fight him, and he grinned as he noticed her struggle. “That’s the spirit!  Now all you need to do is direct that rage outward and take care of good old John Newsome, and you’ll be well on your way to winning the title.”

“Go fuck yourself!”  Ava screamed, but the yellow-eyed man merely laughed at her.

His laughter still echoed in Ava’s ears when she woke, covered in sweat and tangled in her blanket.  As she worked to calm down and bring her breathing under control, Ava risked a look at John.  The other man seemed to be sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by dreams of any sort.  Ava turned her face away from him, curled into a ball, and cried.

________________

 

She must have dozed off again briefly, because when she opened her eyes, the fire was completely out and the gray light of predawn was filtering through the windows.  Ava rubbed at her puffy and sleep-gummed eyelids and yawned, rolling over to look for John.

Who was kneeling directly beside her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Ava gave an involuntary squeak and jerked backward, scrambling out of her blanket and ending up in the same position against the wall that she’d been in when she spoke with the yellow-eyed thing, but John didn’t move.

“John?” she asked, managing to keep her voice steady.  “Are you okay?”

Just when Ava was beginning to think that John hadn’t heard or wasn’t going to answer, he spoke.

“I have a daughter, you know,” he said quietly.  Before Ava could respond, he continued, “She’s going to be five in a month.  I know, I’m really young for that, right?  It was your typical high school bad scene, and for a long time I wished I was anywhere else, doing anything else, because being saddled with a kid was, like, the end of the world…but she’s my daughter, and now all I can think about is how the only thing I might have done for her in five years is sentence her to death.”  He raised his eyes to meet Ava’s, and she saw the guilt there, as well as a grim determination that had been absent before.

“I can‘t do that,” he concluded, and stood up.

Ava scrambled to her feet, but John was between her and the door.  Unless she suddenly developed the power of flight, there was no way out.

“You dreamed too,” she said, stalling for time.

“I just want you to know it’s nothing personal, and that if there were any other way…” he trailed off and shook his head.  “Never mind.  There’s no good way to apologize to someone for murdering them in cold blood---but for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

Ava knew what was next. Joh n was going to walk over to her, put his hands on her, and Ava was going to die alone in the middle of God-forsaken nowhere, and her mother would spend the rest of her life wondering what had happened to her only daughter, or at least she would wonder unless some yellow-eyed asshole showed up and set her on fire, and it would be all Ava’s fault.  Well screw that, Ava thought, the anger from the night before bubbling up inside of her again, overwhelming her fear.  If she was going to go down, she was going down fighting.

With a yell, she launched herself at John, arms outstretched and aiming for his chest.  If she could just get enough power to knock him off balance, then maybe she could get away and find a weapon.  She focused all of her will on pushing him backward, when suddenly time seemed to slow and she felt an intense pressure building up behind her eyes.  Just when she thought her head might explode from the pain, the pressure released, and she felt a wave of energy travel down her arms and force itself outward from her hands.

John flew backward across the room as though he had been shot from a cannon.  He hit the wall with a sickening crunch and then slid bonelessly down, his eyes still open wide and his mouth forming a little “o” of surprise.  A slick trail of blood followed the path that his head traveled down the wall, and began pooling underneath him when his body slumped over onto the floor.

Ava stood frozen for a long moment, her hands still outstretched, before making her way cautiously over to John.  She used her foot to nudge him over, and gently rested her hand over his heart, making sure not to accidentally touch any exposed skin.  There was no heartbeat, but this time Ava didn’t feel like throwing up or freaking out.  She didn’t feel afraid or guilty.  Instead, she felt exhilarated.  And, she realized, hungry.  Really, really hungry.

“Huh,” she said to the corpse.  “You’re right, John.  There’s really no point in apologizing for murder.  Not here, anyway.”  Then she turned and made her way out of the house and over to the saloon.

The yellow-eyed man was waiting for her in front of the building, leaning against one of the porch supports.  He gave her a round of applause as she approached, then leapt nimbly down the stairs.

“Well done, sweet cheeks!  I didn’t think you had it in you, but what is it they say?  'It’s always the quiet ones?'”

Ava met his gaze unflinchingly.  “What did I do, exactly?” she asked.

“You won,” he replied.  “And you started on your way to becoming a true champion.  If you apply yourself, there’s really no limit to what you’ll be able to do, but I’m not going to give away the surprise.  You’ll have plenty of time to figure that out--trust me.”  The yellow eyes glinted as the man grinned, but Ava remained stone-faced.

“And my mother?” she asked.

“Just purchased a winning lottery ticket,” he replied.  “She’ll be set for life.  I keep my promises, Ava--those are the rules.”

“What about Lenny?”

The creature before her lifted an eyebrow.  “I thought we had taken him off the table,” he said.  “But I’m in a generous mood--let’s just say that if you win the whole enchilada, we can negotiate.”

Ava nodded, and the yellow-eyed man’s smile returned.  “Now go inside and eat up.  I’ve made you a hot ’n hearty breakfast.  Gotta have my little prize fighter rested and ready for round two!”

Ava looked up at the building in front of her, then back to where the yellow-eyed man had been, but he was gone.  She closed her eyes and inhaled the crisp morning air, then opened them again and squared her shoulders.

“No way out but through,” she said, and walked up the stairs and into the saloon.