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Casey Jones · (10-14-2013)

Darkness completely surrounded the tent. There was no natural light, and to give away any form of artificial light would be to give away their position. The three men sat around looked around at each other, squinting their eyes, trying to adjust to the pitch blackness of the forest. The three were conversing in hushed whispers. There was a certain element of franticness in their tones. No amount of care would be too much. To be discovered here would seem suspicious to say the least.

“Where is he?” muttered Dax Robinson. His voice pierced the silence like a knife through butter, earning him a reprimand from the other, bigger man sitting to his left.

“I don’t know, but he’ll be out soon” Michael River replied. That was it as far as debate over the situation was concerned. The huge man’s soft voice was enough to silence Dax, despite his evident worries and protests. The other man remained entirely silent. He watched carefully, not making even a trace of a noise. A black balaclava covered his face entirely, but the intense staring of his hazel eyes was noticeable. The other two men looked uneasily at him, as if sizing him up. Both had been told to treat him as a brother, but neither was entirely sure if he could entirely be trusted, or for that matter if he was worthy of being there at all. The three were so focused on eyeballing each other that none of them noticed the faint sound of shoes on twigs behind them.

“It’s time” came a calm and collected voice. All three turned to look at the source, and saw him standing there, the grey three piece suit a perfect analogy for the wave of calm and almost lack of interest that the man showed. He wore black gloves that reflected the moonlight, showing his spectacled face.

“It’s done?” asked Dax without thinking, earning him another reprimand from River.

“Of course” Casey Jones replied, turning his back slightly to the wooded area that was behind him. He knew he had to get out. He knew that, in a scenario that pitted Alexandra Callaway against him, there was no way he would have the backing of the group that had initially been so welcoming towards him. It wasn’t that he wanted to distance himself from the group as much as it was that he was taking a temporary vacation.

“Where’s the van?” River asked in a low tone, still looking around cautiously.

“It’s further down the road” muttered Jones in response. The group moved forward, but Jones pulled River back slightly, and the two walked behind at a considerably slower pace to the rest of the group. “Watch Z. I am aware of the peculiar situation, Michael, but believe me, all will become clear soon.”

River nodded his understanding. It was not his place to question the Doctor’s orders. Over time, he had come to expect this from Jones. People were often surprised when they met River. They were confused at how such a physically intimidating yet undeniably intelligent man was playing second fiddle to someone. They were always telling him that he could do ‘great things’ on his own. But what did they really mean by great things? What, he could get a good job, make good money, meet a nice girl, have kids, settle down? Was that really all there was to offer in life? Jones had always shown him something more. He wasn’t playing ‘second fiddle’ to anyone. Jones had shown him a completely different life, a life that he enjoyed. He had formed bonds unlike those that you would form with a wife or a child. It was stronger than brotherhood. It was a special bond, that he would never experience anywhere. That was why he associated himself with the Doctor.

As they scarpered quickly through the forest, Dax Robinson never let his eyes trail too far from the balaclava-clad man in front of him. He moved with a grace that puzzled Dax. He was akin to a deer as he moved silently through the forest. Dax had never heard him speak, and didn’t even know his name. The air of mystery that surrounded the man intrigued him, but also kept him alert to all possible danger. He trusted the Doctor’s judgement, but people have been wrong in the past. Dax could see as clear as day that, if this man turned out not to be who they thought he was, he could be a great danger to his family.

“Stop” Jones said suddenly. He held his arms either side of him, as if stopping the movements of ghosts accompanying him. As soon as the words left his mouth a low rumble became audible. Each of the four men looked into the horizon and saw a black and battered van hurtle along like a wounded horse. The sound became louder and louder as the van drew nearer, sending stones flying in each direction as it pulled up near the four. They each moved quickly to the van door, where a feminine hand wound down the window.

“In the back” Kathi Foster said from the passenger seat. Jones noticed the glazed eyes of the driver and the lipstick mark running down his neck. Kathi knew what she was doing.

Without a word, the four packed themselves in the tight space in the back of the van. The driver turned the key in the ignition slot and the van rumbled unhealthily. He muttered angrily under his breath as he tried again. Again it failed. The man’s punch on the steering wheel in frustration was audible in the back as he tried one more time. This time the engine roared into life, taking the man by surprise. He inadvertently reversed, ramming the back of the van into a stone wall. As the group in the back were tossed to the side, Jones looked up, the calm demeanour gone, as he realised the stone wall that they had crashed into.

Elisha’s cave.

“You fucking moron” growled Kathi, as the driver whimpered slightly.

“Drive. NOW.” snapped Jones, his tone remarkably more stern. The man immediately pushed his foot down on the pedal, accelerating suddenly and throwing the four to the floor again. Dax growled in pain, clutching his shoulder. Jones glanced out of the darkened window and saw the huge form of Elisha stumbling from his cave. He opened his mouth. Jones knew what was coming next.

Elisha’s howl shook the van, and as soon as the noise had left the monster’s mouth a flood of light poured out into the woods from The Village. Jones let out a deep breath in frustration as the driver began to steer the wheel erratically, desperately trying to avoid any trees or oncoming wildlife. At last, after what seemed like minutes but in actuality only lasted seconds, the driver managed to regain control of the vehicle, accelerating forward as fast as the battered old van would allow him. Jones took his glasses off and looked at the floor, lost in a state of contemplation. Eli would now know he had left, there was no denying that. The alliance he had with James and his Congregation could be threatened, should the leader take this as a sign of disrespect. It was a dangerous game to play, but he was never one to take the easy way out. This was still on the mind of Casey Jones as the wail of sirens filled his ears and he felt the van pull over.

Doctor’s Journal

I always end up in these quite frankly ludicrous situations. If I have to hide from people that are considered my allies, what am I supposed to do when I am up against my enemies?

In my time on this Earth, I have never been what would be considered a ‘diplomat’. I have had a habit of attracting negative attention, a key example of which would be the threats made by the so-called ‘Extreme Revolution’. Now I don’t know the purposes of these vile and quite frankly disturbing threats, but it was advised to me that a sensible course of action would be to seek an alliance. I appeared to have found one, but, like any functioning society, they have their priorities. Alexandra Callaway, a patient, is their current priority. She is of great value to them. Her relationship with the man known as Mystica is a chief example of that. The two are considered Mr James’ children, and, just as I would not put Daxter , Michael or Kathi in the way of danger, he would not want to risk the well-being of Miss Callaway. It is perfectly understandable from the point of view of Mr James, but it leaves me at a loose end.

See, I am the cause of danger to Miss Callaway. Me and the rest of what has now been dubbed ‘Team Green’. This rather leaves me as collateral damage, does it not? I’m sure that Mr James wouldn’t want me hurt too badly, but I’m afraid it would be against my nature to compromise.

I would like to imagine that what will ensue against Miss Callaway is nothing more than a test of skill, a friendly competition of sorts, but I cannot guarantee that. It is with these reasons that I must make my sudden departure from the Village. I’m sure Mr James will understand in the long run.

For someone that has been considered as often as I have as a ‘social outcast’ as sorts, the management of this company that I now grace with my presence seems insistent on placing me in competitions in which I am a part of a team. This in itself intrigues me. My team for the so-caled ‘Lethal Lottery’ intrigues me. Both my ‘team leader’ and his ‘second-in-command’ seem to consider me an unproven rookie with a chance to prove myself. Contrary to their beliefs, I am not some up and coming young competitor looking to establish my name. I couldn’t, quite frankly, care less about my reputation. I am here for my own purposes, not to establish myself as a, and it disgusts me to even refer to myself in the same sentence as this, ‘wrestler’.

I am indeed a doctor, not a wrestler.

I am most interested as to what the competition that will take place on this coming Wednesday will hold. Will it be that my team is victorious? I certainly think so. It is only left to state the obvious: time will tell which team is superior, which members have the most skill, and how far my journey goes.

I’d just like to hope and pray to whatever there may be that this doesn’t exasperate to the point of no return.

Goodbye for now…

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