Les Oiseaux de Mauvaise Augure

Johnny really hadn't planned on escaping.

Okay, Johnny really hadn't planned on surviving.

He was pretty sure that being poisoned was it. It felt so... final.

When he saw Lacey and saw his body lying on the ground, convulsing. When he saw the guard peer into his little cell window, and yank the door open, calling for the nurse and back up. He had kind of accepted that that was it. Even as they tried to resuscitate his body with CPR and a defibrillator, he could feel his heart giving out and his eyes being pulled up to a light. He wasn't cold or warm or sad... he just was, for those few moments in time. He just was.

It was a powerful feeling.

And, then his heart jumped. And, he wasn't anymore. He was alive. But... he wasn't.

And, when he realized which wing of the prison they had put him in, it was easy to start plotting. Even though, almost every inch of him screamed to stay put and stay still and be dead again. It would be so much easier to just die again. After all, there were empty needles on the table over there, and those defibrillator paddles looked pretty easy to use, or screw up.

But, he, unfortunately, had unfinished business. And, no unfortunate ghost can pass on, truly, without completing their unfinished business.

So, that was all he was for the moment- an unfortunate ghost. Until someone finally shot him or his heart gave out or he jumped off a cliff. Whatever came first.

But, like I said, Johnny really hadn't planned on escaping.

There was still just enough courage tucked away in the back of his mind to break out of the heavy duty cuffs around his wrists, and sneak past the cameras, and get out into the courtyard without being noticed. It wasn't until he hopped the fence that someone finally noticed him. When he grabbed onto the barbed wire with both hands and pulled himself up and over, narrowly avoiding gun shots and tranquilizer darts. Why they had mixed the two, he'll never know.

He ran into the woods. His body was deteriorating quickly, but he had too much adrenaline coursing through his veins to really feel any of the pain. He kept his bloody hands in his pockets for a moment, but then as he got further into the woods, he zigzagged through the trees, wiping his blood on the bark in order to throw off the dogs he could hear less than a mile away.

And, soon, it was dark, and he was out of the woods, and the dogs and the police were behind him.

He'd found a car to hot wire and headed up into the mountains to Shadows' cabin, where he hoped they would be hiding. He parked his car about thirty feet away from the house, in the dark, just in case.

He opened the front door slowly, and immediately the smell the death hit him. It was faint, far away, but he knew it so well... There was a struggle going on down the hall, his trained ears also picked up. He paced over to the living room slowly, his footsteps even and strong.

He stood in the doorway, looking on as some black-haired guy had Zacky pinned to the floor. The man looked up at Johnny and seemed to recognize him. A terrible grin formed on the man's face, and he started laughing chaotically. Johnny thought for about a second if he should help Zacky. But, he just shook his head to himself quietly and headed up the stairs.

He heard crying in one of the rooms. As his footsteps approached the door, her crying stopped. He assumed it was Charity. If he could later, he would help her then.

"Hello?" she called out quietly from inside the room. Johnny looked away from the door, and moved further on down the hall. To Synyster's room.

-*-

"Get me the fucking police. I won't ask again. I have to save her," Joey growled in mono tone to one of the nurses. She sighed.

"Mr. Cross, the police were here a little while ago. They waited the whole day for you to wake up, and then they couldn't wait any longer. Your story can wait till tomorrow. You need your rest. You had a severe concussion, and your memories might be altered. You're just a little confused right now. And, by tomorrow, you'll be as right as rain," she said patting his closed fist with a small smile. She seemed genuinely concerned for the boy. Joey closed his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"Fine," he said as calmly as possible. The lady put his clipboard back into the metal slot at the end of the bed and shut the lights off as she left him alone, wishing him a good night.

As soon as the door closed, Joey peeled back the thin, stiff sheets covering him, standing up. But, as soon as he stood up, blackness clouded his eyes and his legs gave out. He fell backwards onto the bed, breathing heavily as his blood pressure shot up. He waited for the black to crawl out of his line of sight, and slowly sat back up. He stretched a little bit before he stood up this time, and that seemed to make him feel better.

He took out the IV in his arm, pressing the gauze down to stop the bleeding. He got changed into the clothes that he was brought in wearing, making sure not to fuck with the heart monitor that had been attached to his finger, and avoiding the wires attached to it. He knew that once he took that off, the monitor would go crazy and the nurses would rush in. He peered out the window on the door, trying to figure out which way to go to avoid the nurses. He would turn right, to avoid the nurses station to his left. Walk casually for the elevator and leave the building. No big deal.

He took in a breath, and tossed the monitor onto his bed, heading for the door. It took a moment before it flat lined and the other machines went crazy. He left the room before the nurses got there and headed straight for the elevator. Just as he pressed the button, keeping his head down, the nurses and doctors rushed into his room, but they hadn't noticed him. He was home-free.

Joey really hadn't planned on stealing a car. But, when he started to remember bits and pieces of the cabin, and how thin and fresh the air was, he knew where it was. And, he remembered the view from the side of the road, overlooking the sparkling city.

He finished hotwiring the car and the engine roared. He set his heavy hands onto the steering wheel, glancing up through the windshield at the mountain about ten miles away.

If the police weren't going to help him, he would take care of this on his own.