Chapter 2: Recurring Nightmare

Pok knows he's dreaming the instant he experiences the sand between his toes. He is home, running through the sandy village streets, leaping over flaking rust heaps. He weaves and runs around the legs of dozens of faceless adults, chasing after Wolfe, who has gone far ahead. Though he is aware this isn't real, he doesn't take control. He has re-lived this dream countless times, and the beginning is always his favorite part. He's right behind Wolfe! He's here and he's smiling, egging me on to catch him, Pok smiles warmly. He rides the dream...until it turns inevitably sour. He zips around an alleyway corner in the rust world village of his youth. He feels the grip on the back of his neck as he is jerked backwards into a hut, and a squeal slips from his mouth before a gag flips over his head and snaps tight to his face.

"This one has smooth skin..." a voice cheerfully growls behind him. His flesh chills as nervous bumps run down his limbs. His eyes open in a panic as his cognitive reflexes save him from the nightmare and pull him back to reality...or was that a soggy crunch he just heard?

—

Waking quickly and head snapping to look upwards, Pok awakens to see three, slumped silhouettes looming above him, blocking his view of the swampy canopy he fell asleep under.

"Gluguugururguhug? Flugharragunk gunk gunarak guup? GUNK GUNK!" The shadow croaks and gurgles at him angrily.

"Glug glug you too!" Pok groans, reaching for his gun. That dream was too close to real, he's not taking any shit now! He had intended to shout at the shadows, maybe spook them off, but his voice slurs out the words. His body is weak and seems to resist his mind screaming for action. His lunge for the assault rifle is slow, and he barely gets his hands on the stock before a thick and knotted blackwood shillelagh cracks across his temple as he's thrown back into his nightmare. The world falls away as black misty tendrils wrap up Pok's vision as he tumbles into unconsciousness.

—

As if forcibly thrown back into his childhood body, Pok drops into the dream. He tastes the dirty cloth of the rag, as sand grits against his gnashing teeth. The course, dried rag chokes the boy's voice back as he tries to scream for his older brother. He is slammed into the ground and feels his air leave his chest, as he is dragged by his feet through the sand. He feels splinters and spines dig into his back as he's drug onto some sort of sled. He tries to escape, but before he can roll off, he's strapped down and covered in a tarp, and obscured fists rain down on him through the burlap material until he stops moving.

He doesn't know how long he bounced over the sand, only that every bump along the way slams the back of his head against the hard sled. This part of the dream feels surreal, as if externally Pok watches himself as the covered boy bobs in and out of consciousness, slipping and losing the fight in himself. Despite the strange perspective of the dream, he feels spreading new bruises forming when he tries to press against the coiled restraints that strap him down across the thighs and chest. The sled slows, then stops. When the tarp is finally flicked off by his captors, the sky is dark. No, the sky isn't dark, there are no stars, no moons. He's in a cave or in some massive tent with a high ceiling that goes black in the dark.

"Grummrugummm! ARGGGHHHHHHHH" He protests through the rag shrilly.

A burly man with a thick black beard approaches him, and runs his fingers under the cloth to drag it out of his wrenched open lips. Pok's mouth is dried out and cracking, and his throat is roaring fire. Pok gags and hacks. The large man grins wickedly over him, and palms his cheek. Pok gives him a fiery glare while recoiling away in disgust.

"Oh this one has spunk..." he coos darkly.

"Spunk? SPUNK!? SPUNK THIS FUCKER," Pok roars! He snaps his face into the large man's hand palming his face, and bites down hard on the man's thumb. His sharp teeth slide easily through the man's flesh, and there's a shallow pop as the thumb dislodges and comes loose into Pok's mouth. The hot copper taste of blood is horribly satisfying, and Pok defiantly spits the traffickers digit into the dirt.

The horrified shriek of the large man was the first time Pok ever heard a true scream of pain from a grown man. Pok catches a boot to the head as the monstrous man swings his leg into the child's skull in a rage, but though his body loses feeling, he stays in the dream. He experiences another out of body moment, and watches the scene unfold from above. He knows this next part well, as this isn't a mere nightmare, but a recurring recollection he experiences in darkest times, when his mind starts to succumb to melancholy.

Pok watches on, as his restrained body below awakens completely shut off from the work by a full face mask made from an old discarded gas mask. He sees his own wild eyes, filled with pain, anger, and confusion. Though he now spectates from an invisible balcony, he recalls all too well how the inside of that mask smelt, filled with some sort of hot salts forcing him awake. He watches as he is pinned down onto his stomach by the large man's cronies. He recalls the fear of not knowing what their intentions were.

They place a black iron wedge against the small of his back, and the large bearded slag steps forward with a sledge held clumsily in his remaining good hand. Pok remembers thinking at that moment that the man had been clearly right handed originally, and he remembers a moment of satisfaction knowing he wouldn't be ever again. The man raises the hammer, and the young Pok's eyes slam shut, expecting an explosion of pain. The pain never comes though, and he knows it won't. Instead there is a ringing TINNGGGGGGK of sledge against wedge, a tone that will haunt Pok forever, as his legs go cold and become shadows to his mind.

If only Wolfe and the gang had shown up a few hours earlier...if only they had found him just a little sooner...everything, his whole LIFE would've been different. But he knows this dream well, and he knows the worst part is over - that awful, fucking, chime.