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A siren went off in the distance, waking Francis. He groggily opened his eyes and momentarily wondered if he had been sleeping or knocked unconscious again. Men were shouting in the hall outside. They seemed distressed. More sirens began to blare. Gunshots echoed just outside the room. Francis, sore and exhausted as he was, perked up. It all sounded pretty promising. He managed to straighten so he was sitting mostly upright in his stone chair when the large door to the room burst open and Martha leapt in, gun in each hand and blood spatter across her face. She was gorgeous.
“Hi Sweetheart,” croaked Francis. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I missed you.”
“Hi Babe,” said Martha, grinning widely at him. Her teeth were tinged pink with blood --it was adorable. “Sorry I took so long,” she said when she reached his side, “but there was this whole secret conspiracy sort of deal I had to unravel to even figure out where you went.”
She kissed him soundly. Francis let out an appreciative little moan though it might have been partly due to the pain in his split bottom lip. He licked his bleeding lip as Martha set a gun down in his lap, the metal warm from use, so she could have a free hand to check his restraints.
“I finally started putting things together when I found out Hopper was still alive,” she explained as she fiddled with the metal holding his wrists to the chair.
“That was a doozy,” agreed Francis leaning as far forward in the chair as he could, trying to get into Martha’s space. Her presence was intoxicating. “You know, he had threatened to take me to the desert of drug up, but instead I’m cold and painfully sober. What’s that about?”
“I can’t open these,” said Martha, giving his restraints a final push.
“I think there’s some sort of kill switch or release switch thingamajig over on the far wall there,” said Francis. “You know what really got to me, though?”
“What’s that?” asked Martha over her shoulder as she darted across the room to find the switch.
“Steve.”
“Augh! Steve!” exclaimed Martha in agreement. “He was Hopper’s inside man right from the get go!”
“I never knew!” said Francis. “Steve, he’s one slick dude.”
”You know, I really thought we had a bit of a moment back there in Orleans, he and I,” said Francis sadly. The restraints opened and then vanished into the stone chair after Martha flipped a switch. He chose picking up the gun Martha had left on his lap as his first move over that whole rubbing at his wrists like everyone seems to do in the movies -- though his wrists did feel kind of sore. “Once you’ve shared gummi bears with someone, you think you know them, you know?”
“Don’t get up!” exclaimed Martha. Francis sat back down in surprise. Martha hurried back across the room to his side. “You’re pretty pale,” she said, touching his forehead. “I think you’ve suffered a lot of blood loss.”
“All I heard just now was that you think I’m pretty,” said Francis cheekily as he stood up. The entire room began to move and he had to sit back down again, this time heavily. “Shit,” he exhaled in surprise.
“You’re always pretty,” cooed Martha. “But right now I think you should maybe let me help you up --slowly!”
“You’re so smart,” said Francis adoringly as he put his arms around her shoulders and let her help him stand. “Wow, it sure is dizzy up here.”
“When was the last time you ate, Babe?” asked Martha.
“Hmmm,” was all Francis managed to say because suddenly there was all these growing black spots dancing in his vision.
He heard voices and multiple footfalls sound from the hallway.
“Okay, time to go,” said Martha between grit teeth.
Francis leaned heavily on her side and she put an arm around his waist to steady him. His head was tilted at an odd angle and, despite wanting to help her shoot their way out of there, his eyes kept drifting closed.
“You’re going to have to be a big boy and walk for me, okay Babe?”
“Walking is boring,” muttered Francis but he managed to keep his feet under him as Martha started for the door.
“Feel free to shoot some bad guys, too,” said Martha when they reached the open door.
Francis went almost cross-eyed trying to watch her from such close proximity -- or maybe it was that whole blood loss thing Martha said he had. It was hard to focus his eyes, but he didn’t want to miss anything. Martha was his T-Rex and she was about to kick some serious ass. He watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath before leaning out into the hallway and firing. She fired off five rounds, each one dropping one of the five men waiting for them with guns drawn. Not a bullet wasted, not a target missed. It was beautiful. The moment the fifth body hit the floor, Martha was already pulling him out of the room and down the hall.
“There’s a boat waiting for us,” she explained as they went. “We just need to get out that Emergency Exit at the end of the hall. Think you can make it?”
“With my eyes shut,” said Francis with a crooked smile before his eyes fell shut again. Consciousness was beginning to get more and more difficult to hold on to. What was that about?
“I swear, if you die after all the trouble I went through to save you, I’ll.. I’ll kill you,” threatened Martha.
Francis forced himself to open his eyes again. Martha was hurriedly walking them toward the door at the end of the hall with the red ‘EXIT’ sign above it. It was so close, yet so far away. Francis kept his eyes on the door willing his feet to hurry up. More running footfalls began to echo in the distance behind them.
“Didja kill Hopper?” asked Francis.
“No,” said Martha. “He disappeared.”
Despite his determination to be a good damsel and help Martha save him, Francis’ movements were getting even more lethargic as they trudged down the hall. It was more like a speed-trudge, but it was still not fast enough and he could hear those running footfalls getting closer.
“Knowing him, he’ll pop up at the most inopportune moment,” croaked Francis.
“Inopportune for him,” replied Martha, “because I’m gonna bang his ass.”
Francis choked out a laugh of delight at her words. The Exit sign was so close, now. They just needed to get out that door and then, if Francis remembered correctly, it was just a 130 foot dive into the ocean.
“That sounded strangely sexual,” replied Francis, tripping over his own feet and nearly causing them both to fall. “Should I be worried?”
“Can you swim?” asked Martha, mostly dragging him by this point.
“In a pool? Yes,” said Francis. “In an arctic ocean? Well...”
“There they are!” shouted a voice behind them. Francis twisted his head around, chin still resting on Martha’s shoulder, and raised his arm to fire three rapid shots.
“Damn, I love you,” breathed Martha.
“I love you, too, Monster,” replied Francis feeling a bit out of breath from just the effort of shooting. “Wanna get outta here? Let’s go to dinner.”
“I want sushi this time,” said Martha as she pushed open the Emergency Exit and they stumbled, blinking hard, into the bright sunlight.
The base was on a rocky, little island that looked like it must be north of Scotland. Francis wasn’t sure because they didn’t tell him where they were going when they kidnapped him days (weeks?) earlier despite how many times he had politely asked. The wind stung ice-cold against his face as they made their way over the lichen covered rocks to the edge of the small island. When they reached the edge, Martha grabbed a small, red packet from inside her jacket and unfolded it.
“That’s a neat trick,” said Francis as she placed the unfolded lifejacket over his head and pulled on a string to inflate it.
“This is going to be shockingly cold,” she warned.
“You’re shockingly beautiful,” said Francis.
Martha grinned and took his hand. Together, they leapt off the edge of the cliff into the freezing ocean waves below. It was shockingly cold, Martha was so smart. It took some time for Francis to be able to take a breath after they had crashed into the frigid water, the cold feeling like it momentarily collapsed his lungs. Those pesky black dots were back dancing across his vision, but then Martha came into view. She was treading water in front of him. She motioned to a boat just yard away from them and then started pulling Francis as she swam toward it.
A lifesaver was thrown to them and Martha managed to cling to it and get drug in the rest of the way. Two sailors were waiting when they got to the ladder. Francis wanted to ask about the guys, but found that he couldn’t speak. They helped Francis and Martha both up and then the little boat was burning away as fast as one could in that turbulent ocean. The movement made Francis feel dizzy.
Martha was quick to wrestle him out of his torn, bloodied, soaking wet clothes once she got him into the cabin. He honestly did not mind. She put him into the small bunk bed and covered him in blankets before pulling off all her wet clothes and climbing in with him.
“You’re safe, now,” she whispered through chattering teeth.
Francis cleared his throat a few times before finally finding his voice. “My hero,” was what he whispered in reply and he meant it.
Martha kissed him and held him tight as they both shivered under the blankets. It was good.
“D’you mind if we stop by the hospital on the way to dinner?” he asked after a few beats.
Martha laughed but it came out slightly hysterical. She must have been really worried about him. He felt a bit guilty about that. He held onto her tighter.
“Okay, Babe,” she said and kissed him once more. “We can go to the hospital before dinner, but only because you asked.”
“Thanks,” managed Francis, though he wished he could think of something wittier or more romantic. Martha was so perfect. They should totally get married. It was then that those dancing spots in his vision took over and he fell back to sleep, or unconsciousness, whatever. Either way, it was much better to do so while laying next to Martha than cuffed to a big weird metal chair --no contest.