FicWad

Patrick woke from his enforced sleep feeling remarkably refreshed. As his eyelids fluttered open, he heard a voice calling from the far corner of the room.

“Mr Sandman! He's awake.”

Patrick heard a light shuffling sound followed by footsteps as Mr Sandman entered the room. Opening his eyes fully, he found himself in a dimly lit room, lying on a comfortable bed and apparently guarded by Andy's look-a-like, Donnie.

“So, you're awake now are you?” Sandman snapped in a harsh, clipped tone.

Patrick sat up, confused over what warranted his attitude. If anything, he was the one who had reason to be angry. Abducted to this strange world and rendered unconscious by one his tricks; Patrick was furious.

“What do you want from me? Whatever it is, you're not getting it, neither of you are! Not you or Benzedrine!”
“Really?”
“Really!”
“Then how do you explain this?” Sandman threw a magazine as viciously as he could, the pages unfurling as it hit Patrick in the chest.

Straightening out the magazine pages, Patrick saw a picture of Mr Sandman on the front cover and the announcement of a four-page article inside. Turning the pages, Patrick's eyes widened as he saw a filmed interview, complete with sound. The picture was flat on the page, but seemed somehow to extend back into it. The article announced itself as a Carousel exclusive - an in-depth interview with the elusive and normally hermit-like Mr Sandman.

“What?” Patrick finally got past the impossibility of the pictures and sound and tried to address the actual question.
“That isn't me!” Sandman snapped. Patrick noticed that whilst he sounded angry, he almost choked on the last word.
“Pete?” Patrick gasped as he looked closer at the interview.
“The Guv'nor is replacing me with your friend! This isn't even Benzedrine's doing!” Sandman flopped down into a chair and held his head in his hands.
“Pete wouldn't do this by choice, you can't blame him,” Patrick insisted, gaining a pitiful glance from Mr Sandman.
“I don't,” he replied miserably. “I have to go to The Guv'nor now, have this out with him.”
“I'm coming with you,” Patrick rose to his feet, ready to leave.
“This has gone beyond anything you can do now. ”
“That man's got my friend! Getting him away is what we both want, isn't it?”

Mr Sandman nodded with a faint smile.

“I wish you were Benzedrine,” he sighed, “but then, I suppose he wishes Pete was me.”
“I think you're both as bad as each other,” Patrick replied, risking Mr Sandman's anger.
“You don't know what he did to me,” Sandman shook his head lightly without even a hint of anger in his tone, only deep sadness.

*

Dr Benzedrine stopped walking for a moment and looked around. The forest was getting denser, darker and considerably more frightening. Noises surrounded him; the crunch of twigs underfoot, faint laughter, once or twice he even thought he'd heard his name being called. He knew he had to keep moving, but the way to his brother's home had never seemed so far before. Yes, his memory could easily be faulty, it was a very long time ago, but he felt certain that he should be there by now. Maybe he had taken a wrong turn? Nodding to himself, Benzedrine turned only to find the path behind him had vanished and was now a tangled mess of tree roots and undergrowth. He could see no more then ten feet into the dark morass and he realised to his horror that he was lost inside a dense, changing forest. He should have known - this was a dream forest, or more accurately, a nightmare forest. It could change at will and without help he may never escape it. Had Mr Sandman somehow engineered this? Had he lured him to the Dream World only to trap him in this make-believe yet somehow very real forest? And of course, to make matters worse, he knew, even though he had tried hard to ignore it, that he was being followed… stalked… hunted.

“Marcus?” he called nervously, peering into the darkness between the twisted gnarled trunks.

What could easily have been the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees grew louder and into sinister laughter that echoed all around. Benzedrine's head turned one way then the next as he tried to pinpoint the source of the sound, but each time he thought he knew, the sound shifted and with each shift it moved a little closer. Finally terrified, Benzedrine decided to run. Which way to go? He had no idea, but running anywhere was better than waiting for it - whatever it was. Suddenly falling as he ran, Benzedrine sprawled to the floor, scratching himself badly and tearing his clothes on the bark of fallen trees. Looking down at his right ankle, he saw a vine tangled around it. Reaching down to free himself, Benzedrine's eyes widened sharply as another vine snapped up and wrapped itself tightly around his wrist. Another curled around his upper arms holding him securely.

“No!” Benzedrine cried in panic. “Let me go! Marcus!”
“You're expecting Mr Sandman to save you?”

Benzedrine looked up fearfully at the creature that had materialised in front of him. It was something that could only have been created by a disordered mind, so bizarre, it couldn't have been real. A strange mixture of animals and fantasy had been brought together to create this nightmarish creature. The head little more than a skull covered in stretched, leathery skin. Its body, long and thin, moved with the fluidity of a snake. Unfathomably long, spindly arms stretched out from its shoulders ending in equally long slender fingers that moved so theatrically as to almost hypnotise. The legs, whilst in proportion to the body, seemed muscular and lithe giving the creature an athletic air. Dressed entirely in black and gold, Benzedrine realised to his horror that this was a warped and terrifying nightmare version of his brother. Over three times Mr Sandman's height, the creature grinned broadly, its dry, leathery skin stretching unpleasantly across its face as more vines wrapped themselves around the struggling but helpless Benzedrine.

“Marcus! Help!” Benzedrine called, unable to take his eyes from the nightmare towering over him.
“No one can help you now, especially not your brother. He hates you, you know! I'm the product of that hate. I will see his greatest dream come true. Come.”

Hoisted aloft, Benzedrine struggled hard against the vines holding him securely. As the creature moved away in exaggerated but graceful, fluid movements, Benzedrine was carried deeper into the forest. Another vine wound itself around his eyes and mouth. Blindfolded, silenced, held securely and in the hands of his brother's own nightmare creation, Benzedrine knew his life was shortening by the second and he was sure beyond a doubt that there was no one who cared enough to try to save him.