The Seven Days of Halloween : Stranded, Part 7 (Conclusion)

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There was less than an hour of daylight remaining when Illya seemed to convulse in Napoleon's arms. Concerned, he stopped and knelt down to check on him.

"Mark - April! Hold up. I need to see how Illya's doing."

"Now? We're running out of time fast, mate."

"I know, Mark. Trust me, I know."

Tugging the poncho out of the way, Napoleon took a good look at Illya, then smiled.

"He's breathing better. His color looks better too."

Mark started to speak, but was startled by his communicator going off. Moving so quickly that he almost fumbled his pen, Mark opened it.

"Slate here."

Before he could say anything else, Mister Waverly's voice came over.

"Mister Slate. Thank heavens. Are the others with you?"

"Yes, sir. Illya - Mister Kuryakin is ill, sir. We could really use an extraction, sir."

"Our people are in the vicinity and have been searching for the four of you. Maintain your position - we are triangulating in on your location now. They should reach you shortly."

Mark and April moved to flank Napoleon as he continued to hold onto his partner. Neither of them were looking toward the direction they expected help from - both of them kept a wary eye on the direction they'd come from.

Their uneasiness grew as the light started dimming around them. A howl broke out and all three agents reached for their weapons. What startled them more than the howl was Illya. He sat up suddenly, looking back in the direction of the house and started speaking in a low, but steady voice what all three agents recognized as Latin.

"Domine Iesu Christe, Rex gloriae, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de poenis inferni et de profundi lacu: libera eas de ore lupus, ne absorbeat eas tartarus."

Napoleon's Latin was good enough to translate and he recognized the line as being from the Mass for the dead - with one exception. Instead of mentioning a lion, Illya's prayer was 'deliver them from the wolf's mouth'.

The howls turned into snarling that grew louder, but no closer as Illya continued to repeat the same line over and over. When a gunshot rang out, all four agents felt like their hearts had stopped - they been so intent on what was happening that they'd forgotten the extraction team.

The leader of the team was still holding his weapon at the ready, his eyes wide.

"What the hell was that? It reminded me of a wolf, but it was bigger than any I've ever seen."

Napoleon decided that now was not the time for a debate.

"Whatever it is, it's already killed three THRUSH agents, so let's worry about what it might be once we get out of here."

"Right, Mister Solo, Let me help you with Mister Kuryakin."

Seeing that Illya was softly keeping up the same Latin prayer, Napoleon shook his head. Superstitious falderal or not, he wanted to keep that prayer between them and the wolf-beast.

"You lead the way out - April, you and Mark follow him. Illya and I will bring up the rear."

The snarling grew more intense and the team leader didn't argue. Once they were back at the road and inside the cars, Napoleon heard an angry howl again and looked back toward the woods. A brief flash of red eyes and pale fur sent a shiver down his spine and he didn't relax his grip on Illya during the ride to town.

To their surprise, Mister Waverly himself was waiting on them and, after taking a good look at them, declared that all were in need of a hot bath, a hot meal and a warm bed - in that order. In Illya's case, a doctor was standing by to get a look at him, but Napoleon wasn't fearing for his partner any longer. Illya already looked better than he had since before they found Mildred's house.

Illya was given a dose of antibiotics, a bowl of soup and then ordered to bed - none of which he made any objection to as the doctor then headed to the room assigned to Mark to tend to his cut. As the others came down after cleaning up and gathered around the table, they found themselves reluctant to tell Mister Waverly exactly what had happened, so they modified it.

The story remained basically the same, but they left out anything with a supernatural leaning. Napoleon knew Mister Waverly well enough to know that his superior was well aware that he was getting an abridged version, but not calling them on it.

By the next morning, Illya was back to his old self, but all four agents were a bit dismayed when Mister Waverly insisted they visit Mildred's home. He said that there was no need to walk - one of the locals had given him directions and there was a road to it, though it was neglected and rarely used. Napoleon was instructed to do the driving and followed the directions exactly as Mister Waverly gave them.

When told to stop, at first, Napoleon thought they had gotten the wrong directions, but then he saw the fireplace. It, its attached chimney and faint signs of a former foundation were the only signs left of Mildred's house.

All five exited the car, four of them staring as they slowly approached. Just as April was about to say there had to be a mistake, she spotted the last of the three THRUSH backpacks - right where the side porch would have been.

Mister Waverly had moved to the side and was standing with his back to what little remained of the house.

"The natives of the area told me a good bit about the legends of this piece of land. A young woman lived here in the last century who was suspected of being a witch. They tried to destroy her by burning her home, but as the story goes, she returned to torment them as a wolf. A priest was called, but it seems the best he could do was limit her range to the area of her home. All pure folklore, of course."

The four moved closer and saw that Mister Waverly was standing over a small grave with a moss-covered stone at the head bearing a single word - Margaret.

When Mister Waverly took stock of his agents, he saw that Illya was the only one not in shock. He looked in the Russian's eyes and then nodded before clearing his throat and speaking.

"If I might offer some advice based on my personal experiences over the years?"

April found her voice first.

"We would be most appreciative, Mister Waverly."

"Very well then. There are unique situations that we all come across in life. Some of us seem to encounter more than our fair share, but that is beside the point. The point is, one should never forget those unique situations in case one happens across them again. But as they are unique, dwelling on them too much is not advised."

Still staring at the stone, Napoleon spoke softly.

"Remember, learn and move on."

"Precisely, Mister Solo. The version of events that you related over the dinner table will do for your reports. As far as anything else, I am sure if you have any remaining questions, Mister Kuryakin will be able to provide the answers. I would, however, advise that you ask yourselves one question before you request anything of Mister Kuryakin."

Mark glanced toward Illya, then back to Mister Waverly.

"And what question is that, sir?"

Reaching up to adjust his tweed hat as he turned from the grave and headed back to the car, Mister Waverly's tone was the one he always used when he expected them to consider a topic with the utmost gravity.

"As you grow older, you find that all knowledge is a form of power and any sort of power brings with it the issue of responsibility. With that in mind, the question, Mister Slate, is this : do you really want to know?"

Illya had already started following Mister Waverly back to the car as the other three hesitated by the graveside.

"Illya knows."

"So Mister Waverly implied, April."

"The knowledge doesn't seem to make him happy, does it?"

"Quite the opposite, luv."

"We can count on him giving us details if they become something we need to know, can't we?"

"My partner may play things close to his vest, but if the situation called for it? I have no doubts."

Taking a deep breath, April started toward the car as well.

"I will have enough nightmares as is. I don't need details."

"I think that's a good call, luv. I'm in."

"That's three of us then, kids. Let's get out of here while there's still plenty of daylight."

My salute to another piece of classic television - details below the cut:

I am a fan of Rod Serling. The man's voice was an instrument that could make a phone directory sound eerie. So, for Halloween, I decided to pay a bit of tribute to Mister Serling by going for inspiration to one of his shows - The Night Gallery. Which episode to pick wasn't hard. I went for the one starring David McCallum, 'The Phantom Farmhouse'. I'm including a link below to a video, but not sure how well that will work, so I'm also including this still:




Many thanks to cousin mrua7 for providing the forum for the Halloween fright fest. Happy Halloween to all cousins everywhere.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/58804 - link to the video on Hulu.