100 Theme Challenge - 66. Traps

100 Theme Challenge
66. Traps

“Donnie . . . Donnie . . . can you hear me?”

The voice seemed to come from far away and kept fading in and out. Don had a feeling that he should answer, but his head was thrumming too hard for him to form words. Once more he heard the voice and now it seemed closer, though he still wasn’t sure who it belonged to. It didn’t sound like his brothers trying to wake him for practice and it was too deep to be April’s.

With a start, Don remembered where he was and suddenly connected the concerned voice to Casey. As soon as his mind cleared enough to put that together, Don tried to lift his head, but warm hands against his skull kept him from shifting too quickly.

“Don’t move, Donnie,” Casey said, his voice quivering slightly. “Ya’ got a nasty bruise on your head and ya’ need to tell me if ya’ got pain anywhere else.”

Don realized that his head was cradled on Casey’s lap when he saw the boy’s long legs stretched out on the floor in front of his eyes.

“What hit me?” Don asked with a groan.

“It was one of those Kraang bot heads,” Casey answered. “It shot out of the air duct like a cannon ball and got ya’ right on the shell. When the paint cans went off they must have made one of their weapons explode, ‘cause I can see little pieces of it scattered everywhere.”

“How long . . . how long was I out?” Don asked as he struggled to sit up.

“Couple minutes,” Casey said. “Whoa, maybe ya’ should take it easy, that thing could have injured your spine.”

“Correction, it could have injured your spine,” Don said as he rose shakily to his feet. “My shell took the force of the blow. At the moment I’m feeling more pain in my head from where it hit the ground.”

Casey stood up and looked into Don’s eyes before lifting his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two,” Don said, pushing Casey’s hand away irritably. “We’ve got to move or my brothers are going to storm this place and run into who knows what kind of traps.”

“Move where?” Casey asked, walking alongside Don as the turtle went back to the opening in the building. “It’s a straight drop.”

Don began pulling on his Shuko spikes. “I’m going to climb down using these,” he said, displaying the spiked hand grips, “and you’re going to hold onto my back.”

“I’m going to do what?” Casey asked, staring at Don incredulously.

“Just hang onto me,” Don repeated. “Don’t worry, I can carry your weight easily.”

“That’s not what worries me,” Casey said. “Five minutes ago you were unconscious. Maybe I should do the climbing.”

Don glowered at him, growing impatient. “You’ve never climbed with spikes and this is not a situation conducive to learning. I’m not dizzy if that’s what’s bothering you.”

Without waiting for further protests, Don sat on the edge, dangling his feet over the side of the opening. Rolling onto his hip, he eased his body all of the way outside, using the spikes to anchor him in place as his toes gripped the outer wall.

“Get a solid hold on me before you swing onto my shell,” Don instructed.

Casey hesitated for a second and then dropped to his knees, grabbing onto Don’s bicep. Conscious of the sixty foot drop, Casey clambered onto Don’s carapace and wrapped his arms around the turtle’s shoulders.

As Don started down, Casey chuckled against his head. “I always did prefer a guy who was willing to take risks. At least if we fall I’ll have the satisfaction of getting to put my arms around ya’.”

“I’d rather not fall, thank you very much,” Don said, ensuring that at least one spike was solidly wedged into the wall before lifting the other. “Don’t lean out or to either side or we won’t stay balanced.”

“Why don’t ya’ just say I should stay pressed up against ya’?” Casey asked. “Afraid I might take that the wrong way?”

“You tend to do that,” Don said, refusing to be baited.

“And you kind of avoid the subject,” Casey retorted. “Why don’t ya’ tell me the truth about that dream ya’ had? The one ya’ wouldn’t explain to Master Splinter and then lied about to me?”

“What makes you think I lied?” Don asked and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“’Cause ya’ ain’t very good at it,” Casey said. “Come on Donnie, ya’ either dreamed about April or me. If ya’ really had a wet dream about April then ya’ wouldn’t have gotten all defensive when I called ya’ on it.”

“Dreams are private and personal,” Don said adamantly. “I don’t ask about yours.”

“Ya’ could and I’d tell ya’ the truth,” Casey said. “Ya’ want to hear about the dream I have the most? We’re in this really fancy house, just the two of us, and every door we open leads to a bedroom. Ya’ keep saying we gotta keep looking and we finally find one that has an enormous bed in it, all covered in some kinda shiny purple sheets. Before I can blink you’re on the bed; rolling around without a stich of gear, not even your mask. When I walk over, ya’ lie back and look up at me with them big brown eyes of yours, hold your hand out to me, and spread your . . . .”

“I get the picture,” Don said, hastily interrupting Casey’s increasingly erotic narrative. “You have a thing for me and apparently also have sex on the brain.”

“Where’d ya’ get the idea that dream has anything to do with sex?” Casey asked. “Maybe I was gonna say ya’ spread your fingers to show off your new gloves. I think you’re the one who had the sex dream and I was in it. I think ya’ like me that way. I think ya’ . . . .”

They were near the ground and before Casey could finish his sentence, Don grabbed the boy’s arm to loosen his grip and bucked hard, curving his body as he shook Casey off his back.

Taken by surprise, Casey fell the last few feet and landed on his butt. Don hopped off of the building and glared at the boy, daring him to say something.

Much to Don’s chagrin, Casey started laughing.

“What is so funny?” Don demanded.

“I got ya’ that time, didn’t I?” Casey asked as he stood up. “What’s so hard about just admitting ya’ like me too? Nobody else has to know if ya’ want to keep it like that.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Don said, crossing his arms.

“Sure it is,” Casey told him, moving to stand directly in front of Don. “Master Splinter’s always saying stuff about being true to yourself and looking deep inside your own mind. Be honest with me Don and tell me what you’re thinking about.”

A movement just over Casey’s left shoulder caught Don’s eye. Startled, Don turned his attention to the alley across the street and saw it again.

Unaware of the action behind him, Casey once more asked, “Come on Donnie. What are ya’ thinking about?”

“April!” Don shouted, darting around Casey and plunging into the street, not even considering that he might be running straight into another of the Kraang’s traps.