[EternalPen]

Synopsis:"Sleep - The Blood Tower" takes place just a measly few days after "Sleep". Trey was beaten senseless in all literal meanings of the phrase, and just when he had discovered the cure to "The Croatoan", a virus that is spreading quickly and driving humankind to the brink of extinction! Camlin, a once kindhearted man, thinks he is forced by his life circumstances to "discover" the cure and SELL it. When Camlin and his team take Trey from the Asylum he was committed to, and the developer of the cure itself Dr. Charles is murdered, everything goes bad. Camlin is unsure of what to do and struggling with the side of him that wants to HELP Trey. The President offers negotiation, but is also planning to send a strike force to fix things the quick way. All the while, Trey is faced by the appearance of the mysterious Blood Tower in his once-peaceful Id and his calling to reach the top and regain his sanity, and the code to the cure that could save mankind. Everything is coming to a crashing close and not a single one of them knows what will happen next...

Content (below the </b>):

***Decisions And Consequences***

The Blood Tower

Trey had bruises on his arms, legs, head, and ribs. He had been taking heavy beatings for quite some time, all in hope of learning to fight against the Blood Lizards and win. He had already learned a few things, like simple logic. If he fought the same way he did a moment ago, he would be consciously aware that he could dodge and the Blood Lizards would kill him. He needed to know how to fight now, or he was dead.

Trey learned a few simple strikes, how to do a simple parry, and how to dodge. He also learned how to take pain without crying out. If he did that, the Lizards would see that he didn’t like pain and torture him if they happened to disarm him.

After an hour’s worth of practice, it was time to take a break. Trey got out his water and settled back on his spot in the bed to hear a bit more of Wallace’s story.

“Where was I at, lad?” Wallace asked Trey.

“Um,” Trey started, “You just finished taking down the giant fish Single handedly, and you were floating off to sea on top of the door I went through.”

“Ah, yes!” Wallace said, “You're right. I was floating off, and to spare you the gory details of how I survived the seas for a day, I’ll just start off here. A whole day of floating away on the seas and, finally, I-”

***

Yesterday

Wallace spotted land. It was where the ocean ended and the waves rushed forward to meet the beach like children coming home to their father. They were eager and energetic, but not quite violent. The waves did not crash on the beach but instead they seemed to slide up it. It was as if the eagerness and energy had been sapped away at the last moment; the children realizing it was their Uncle at the door instead of their father.

Wallace was close to the beach, and gauged how far he would have to swim before he met it. He didn’t have to think long about swimming to the beach, for he spotted a fin to his left. He wouldn’t dare to swim the waters when there were sharks, or even fiercer beings, underneath the surface.

He knew he had to get to land, but he couldn’t just jump in the water. If he did, he might be eaten. If he didn’t, he might just drift off into the ocean again. He decided that, if the waves were calm enough until then, he would try to paddle his way to the beach.

He lay flat on his stomach and began to use his arms as oars to try and steer his door-boat in the direction of the beach. He paddled hard, but the waves began to pick up. They were starting to get violent.

And then, one wave rose above Wallace’s head, and crashed down on top of him.

Wallace was thrown from the door and when his head broke the surface of the water he could see the door being carried to the beach by the waves. It would make it and he would not.

Wallace saw the fin in the water make a wide arc and turn for him. Wallace began to swim as fast as he could, but the fin was faster. It easily moved at triple Wallace's speed, and in a few short moments it was cutting the waves beside him. It slowed and kept his pace.

Wallace began to wonder what the thing was that was following him, but it angered him to think that it was teasing him. When he got close to the shore it would eat him, just when his hopes were the highest.

The fin ducked under the water. Wallace swam even faster, not caring to conserve energy for anything. The beach was close now. The fin popped up again far back behind him. It rushed in back towards Wallace. Wallace swam for all he was worth, and his feet began to touch the bottom of the beach. The fin rushed forward and Wallace ran. The water constricted his movements, but just as the fin reached him, he leapt forward and hit the sand.

He turned, gasping for breath, to see the fin swimming out towards the ocean. The fin went under the waves and the whole fish itself broke the surface in a wonderful leap into the air.

It was a dolphin.

Wallace stared, dumbfounded, for a moment. Then a smile spread across his face and he laughed a bit. He closed his eyes, put his head back, and passed out.

***

South Carolina

Present Day

Camlin stood next to the exit of the large, abandoned factory. The door was sealed tight, but there was a man from Washington on the other side, asking to make a negotiation. Camlin’s team had security cameras set up outside, so he was able to see if the man had any weapons.

The man was donning an expensive-looking black suit-coat. He had black pants, black polished shoes, and a dark-blue tie. Underneath his suit-coat he wore an also dark-blue button-up shirt. His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a pair of thick glasses. Probably prescription glasses.

He looked like a negotiator, and he looked too wimpy to fight, so Camlin opened the electric locks on the door and stepped out.

The negotiator was thin and frail, but he sized Camlin up as if deciding if he should fight him or not.

“Come in.” Camlin said.

The negotiator had been taught not to fear anything because the thieves and murders and everyone else he "talked" with thought that something was up if you refused to work where they wanted to.

The negotiator followed Camlin.

“Name.” Camlin demanded.

“Bert.” Was all the man said said.

Camlin instantly liked this man. He gave only what he wanted and when he wanted. No incessant babbling or crying or hesitancy.

“What do you want to negotiate,” Camlin started to ask, “If that IS indeed what you are here for?”

“It is.” Bert answered him, “I speak on behalf of the President of the United States of America, and I would like to negotiate the trading of Trey.” Camlin twitched. “As you may already know, he is in a state of mental degradation and he has the only secret to the cure for the virus that is spreading rapidly over the United States.

“The only other man with the known cure is a Dr. Charles Trimmer, who was unfortunately murdered while under the influence of his own cure.”

Camlin looked away with a straight face, and when Bert could no longer see Camlin’s expression, he gritted his teeth in anger. He didn’t know he had done it! He didn’t know!

“The President,” Bert continued, “Is interested in this cure. So is all of America, myself included, but he knows best how to distribute it. If there is something you would like in return for Trey, we could exercise the methods we know of to get the information of the cure out of Trey and you, of course, would get it.”

“All of it?” Camlin asked.

“Enough to cure you, your men, your family, and your friends.” Bert said. “The rest will be distributed all over the world.”

Camlin shook his head.

“I want people to have to buy this cure, not accept it.” He said. “And I want ALL the profit to go to me.”

Bert didn’t look surprised. He was, in fact, very used to people who demanded money.

“We aren’t working with money, here.” Bert told Camlin. All traces of business in Bert’s voice disappeared and he spoke to Camlin as more of a friend than a negotiator. “We’re working with the existence of all human life as we know it.”

“I WANT MONEY!” Camlin screamed as he punched the wall behind Bert just a few inches from Bert’s face.

Bert didn’t flinch. His business voice was back.

“I can see you want money,” He continued, “But I just don’t think that would be possible.”

“And why not?” Camlin whispered through gritted teeth.

“Because not everyone could afford the cure and then people would die… needlessly.”

“Do you have a cure for cancer?”

“What? No, sir.”

“I will give you Trey if you cure my wife of cancer.”

Bert did not look confused. Insane criminals usually asked for the impossible. Camlin’s anger was rising, and he was asking for things he knew he wouldn’t get. This was usually when they got violent and a strike team was sent in. This time, though, Bert was alone.

“You know that is impossible, sir.”

“Then you can’t have Trey.”

Camlin opened the door to the factory and pointed towards the road.

“Go.” He said.

“If we may continue the negotiation with something a bit more… practical to deal with?”

“GO!” Camlin yelled.

Bert decided best not to push his luck and he turned to leave. As he walked out, a sharp pain bit into his back.

Camlin was next to Bert whispering into his ear.

“I am sorry,” He said, “But my men were watching.”

Bert felt a slight chill in the wind.

Camlin closed his eyes and reached around Bert’s head. He ran his index finger and middle finger down Bert’s face and closed his eyes when they slid down. Camlin did this out of respect. The man had infinite resolve, but not against something that spilled his blood.

Camlin yanked his knife out of Bert’s back and the negotiator fell onto the ground. Camlin regretted having to do this, but it was all part of the plan. It was part of the new Camlin. It was part of the team.

It was a part of his phoenix resurrection.

***

Trey’s Mind

Yesterday

Wallace awoke on a soft bed, completely undressed, but covered by a smooth blanket. He looked around and noticed that he was in someone’s house, but he didn’t know which island he was. What he desperately wanted now was to find some clothes.

“So you’re awake?” A male voice asked. It was heavy with a British accent. Wallace looked around.

The man that spoke was wearing a pair of pants and a shirt both made of cloth. His hair was cropped short and a light brown cinnamon color. It matched the color of his shirt, but his pants were white, save a few spots of light, dusty red. It looked as if he had been working on his knees in red clay.

“Where are my clothes?” Wallace asked.

“You ‘ad none when I found you.” The man answered him.

And he was right. Wallace remembered shedding his clothes because they were cold and soaking and pulled him under the water when he fell in.

“Do you have anything I can wear?” Wallace asked.

The man chuckled and said, “I’ve sent my daughter to retrieve clothing to fit your size not twenty minutes ago. She’ll be ‘ere any second now-”

With that, a loud squeak echoed through the house and a feminine voice rang out.

“Father?” It said, all traces of a British accent gone in her voice, “I’m home with the stranger’s clothes!”

She stepped into the room and Wallace saw her.

She was wearing the same clothing that the man was wearing, and her hair was the same color, but it was longer and tied into a ponytail with a piece of deep brown twine. Her bright green eyes contrasted significantly with her deep tan skin.

In her hands she held another pair of pants and a shirt (Both made of cloth), the same as the ones she and her father wore. With these were a pair of strap-sandals and a long, black cloak. The cloak reminded Wallace of his trench coat and he smiled.

The girl placed the clothes on the floor next to the bed and she left the room with her father.

Wallace removed the blanket and stood. He felt fresh. He clothed himself, strapped the sandals on, and tied the cloak around himself. It wasn’t what he was used to, but it was nice of the people to buy him a whole set of clothes. From the looks of their house and clothes he wasn’t sure if they could have afforded that normally, which is why he was so thankful.

Then he began to wonder why.

He put it out of his mind that they were planning something. People don’t normally buy the victims of their pranks and slave-driving clothes and share hospitality before they go through with what must be done.

He opened the door and stepped into a living space in the house that had only two other doors. There was a door to another bedroom, perhaps, and a door to leave and come through. He guessed there was no kitchen behind the other door for the fact that there was a kitchen space set up outside the house. It was visible through the domain’s only window.

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” the young girl asked.

“Yes!” The man agreed, “Won’t you?”

“Why,” Wallace started, a little unsure of himself, “I’d love to, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense!” the man yelled, chuckling. “There would be no intrusion on your part!”

“Well, then,” Wallace started with a silly grin, “I would love to stay!”

“Excellent!” The man said, sharing the same grin.

Wallace then remembered that these people probably barely had enough food for themselves.

“Though,” Wallace began to add, “I’m not very hungry. I’ll be fine settling with a nice cup of, um, whatever it is that you’re serving.”

“It’s a special night!” The girl exclaimed, “I’ll be having water, but you two gentlemen will be sharing a few cups of Brunsten’s Bale!”

This surprised Wallace. Brunsten’s Bale was a concoction that no one quite knew the ingredients to. It was fairly expensive, only used in parties and celebrations, and had a well and wide known reputation of inducing excitement and happiness to those who were under the spell of its taste.

Wallace’s surprise showed on his face.

“Oh,” The girl said, “Unless the young sir does not drink such types as wines and ales?”

Wallace liked the thought of being called a “young sir”. He was not too apt on discussing his age with anyone, much less someone who thought he was young. So he regarded the comment as a compliment and continued.

“No, I do!” Wallace said, his grin returning.

“Then you have a cup or two tonight?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes,” Wallace replied, “But no food. That’ll be enough for me!”

Just then, his stomach gave way to his bluff. It grumbled loud enough that, if night had already fallen and the three were trying to get some sleep, one would have mistaken it for either light snoring of a faraway buck that was snorting to call others to him.

Wallace didn’t feel that hungry, but when he heard the growl from his stomach erupt forth, he realized then that he was famished. He had nothing to eat for almost two days. He face began to burn and he hoped that it was not changing color.

The man and his daughter stared, surprised, for only a moment. Then the man laughed and said, “You’re the mighty worst liar I’ve ever ‘eard! I’ll ‘ave Sue ‘ere fix you up a double portion!”

“Thanks.” Wallace mumbled, embarrassed.

The man’s daughter, apparently named Sue, walked outside and began to fix up the kitchen set. All that was there was a small fire pit with a spit over it, a few buckets of water, and a barrel with a few different packaged spices in it. It was simple, but it worked.

“I’ll fix up a bowl of water to wash up with, now.” The man said spoke to Wallace as he headed off into a different room. “Why don’t you go ‘elp Sue spear our dinner so it can start cooking?”

“Yes, sir!” Wallace said with true enthusiasm.

He walked outside where Sue was unlocking and opening a large trap-door that was on the ground. She pulled it open and there was a small room underneath the ground, barely big enough to fit two people in. Inside were three dead boars and Sue tried to haul one out.

Wallace was looking around, trying to recognize and map the location and its surroundings mentally. The house was in a clearing from the forest around him all by itself. The grass was only an inch high and it was only green at the bottom. The tops of the stalks of grass were yellowed, making the clearing look almost completely void of any plant life.

Wallace knew he was near the beach because he could hear the gentle swishing of waves foaming on the beach. When he looked hard enough in the direction he thought was South, he could just make out where the sand started. He could hear the wind gently blowing the frothing ocean water and he made out two or three cries of a seagull.

He looked back at the house he was in and saw that it was made probably by Sue and her father only. It was made of sturdy wood from the trees surrounding the clearing, but the roof was a simple one made of palm leaves held together with some type of mud-and-glue mixture.

The sun was just beginning to set and Trey walked towards the ocean. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, not wanting to make his hosts think he was leaving, and squinted. He could see the top half of the big, orange sun as it sank into the ocean to cool off. The water glittered and shimmered and Wallace found himself mesmerized by the sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sue asked, making Wallace jump.

It hadn’t occurred to Wallace to think that Sue would need help, but when he turned to see her he could see that the boar was still in the storage bin and the door was still open.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, giggling. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“No harm done,” Wallace assured her. “but I forgot about dinner. The sun had me under its spell. Shall we continue?”

They walked back to the center of the clearing and Wallace hauled the boar out to the fire. He shoved the spear from the spit down the back of the boar’s throat and hammered it with a rubber mallet Sue had until it protruded from the other end.

“Would you mind?” Sue asked, holding out an axe to Wallace and motioning to the empty fire with the blade.

“Not at all!” Wallace said, and he took the axe quickly. It just looked wrong in her delicate hands.

He walked towards the edge of the clearing and Sue yelled, “Just small trees! We don’t need much wood! And don’t leave the clearing!”

Wallace wondered why he was not supposed to leave the clearing, but obeyed anyway. He found a small tree at the edge of the clearing that was thick as his arm, but barley twice as tall as he was.

When Wallace looked up to gauge the height of the tree, he saw the sky. The sun was almost completely gone, but the sky was still light. The clouds were flying by at a slow pace and a few stars were visible. They were just beginning to appear. It was like he was watching them wake up, give a dim twinkling yawn, and ready themselves for the night’s work.

He smiled, and focused back on the tree. He had it cut down and chopped up on barely half an hour.

He brought the wood to Sue and placed them on the fire pit.

“My father is waiting in the house for you to wash up.” Sue said, “Go ahead and ready yourself for dinner, and I’ll have this ready before you can finish chatting.” She gave a reassuring smile, and got to work.

When try passed the barrel of spices, he stopped. He walked to it and slid the lid back a few inches. A heavy scent wafted out to greet him and He recognized a few spices. He thought he could smell a bit of cinnamon, pepper, vinegar, curry, and basil. Though he was used to those smells, there were many he did not recognize.

Sue must have seen the wonder on his face, for she walked to the barrel and completely removed the lid. Wallace looked at her, and she reached into the barrel and pulled out a small package of sticks, each a different shade of purple. They looked like multicolored twigs.

“Tranin.” She said. “Smell it.”

Wallace leaned forward, held Sue’s smooth wrist still, and sniffed the package. He could not concentrate on the smell of the new spice because he could smell the scent coming off of Sue’s hand. It was better than the spices. She smelled to him like what he always imagined an angel’s robes would smell like.

“You like it?” She asked, smiling.

“Ohhh, yes.” Wallace whispered.

He dropped his gentle grip on her wrist and continued, slightly dazed, into the house. He could have sworn he heard Sue giggle.

***

The Blood Tower

Present Day

Wallace stared off into space. His story stopped and he had a wistful look in his eyes. Trey began to wonder what happened next, but waited patiently for Wallace to continue. But Wallace never did.

“Wallace?” Trey asked, quietly.

Wallace looked at Trey and shook his head.

“Sorry, lad.” He said, “Let’s practice a bit more, eh?”

“What happened?” Trey asked, “Did someone…”

Wallace sighed.

“I’ll continue.” He said. And he did continue his story.

***

The White House

“He did what?!” Duran asked, more breathing out the last word than speaking it.

“Camlin stabbed and killed Bert Furl, our negotiator.” Mary repeated herself. “We have the whole conversation recorded, and it seems that all Camlin is interested in is money. He mentioned trading Trey for a cure to cancer for his wife, so we’ve got motive material there.

“He wants money, and lots of it. He is probably doing all of this for his wife, who does indeed have cancer. We’ve thought on it for a while and he probably only wants the money to fund a research for a cure. We could risk sending in another negotiator to lie to him about a cure, or we have another plan.

“We could send someone in to scare him. We could tell him that if he gets away with this and we meet his demands then when he uses all of the money to fund a research into cancer, we would find him. We can track fairly large money transactions, and we are directly linked to all scientific research projects, so we could let him know he’ll never get away.”

“And these are my only two options?” Duran asked.

“It looks like it…” Mary began. “Unless…”

“Yes?” Duran pushed on, “Continue?”

“We could fight dirty?” She more asked than suggested as she raised her right eyebrow.

“How so?” Duran asked her, genuinely interested.

“We know where his wife is.”

“So we could…”

“Yes, sir.”

Duran began to rub his right fist in a circle on his head again. Stooping down to kidnapping and holding someone’s spouse hostage was almost as bad as the things that Camlin was doing. Could he go that low to save his family, and the rest of his country? There was no question there.

But would he?

“We do all three.” He finally said.

“Sir?” Mary asked.

“Listen,” Duran continued. “We could send in another negotiator to lie about having found a cure. We stored the cure because we weren’t sure if it was working correctly or not, but we’ll give him the prototype in exchange for Trey.

“If that doesn’t work, we have the negotiator threaten that he will be found out if his demands are met. Depending on his reactions and what he does next after hearing this, we’ll decide then whether or not we would have to actually kidnap his wife.”

“Sir,” Mary suggested, “We still have a strike team set up and ready to go in if it comes to that.”

Duran shook his head.

“It won’t.” He said with pure confidence. “This will work.”

Mary nodded once and left the room. Duran’s face fell a little and he whispered to himself.

“It has to…”