by Lucian Bane
Oh God, he didn’t understand, there were no police in this. The town had turned a blind eye long ago, anything to keep the curse from touching them and their families. Master said… she froze as it hit her. What if Master had been wrong about that? What if people didn’t really know about everything?
“Tell me you will, that you’ll do it,” he growled, his voice trembling.
“I will, I will!”
After waiting in the dark for what felt like an eternity, she heard the sound again. Straining to make it out, she realized what it was. “It’s the auditorium. He’s… he’s assembled them in the auditorium. That means he’s going to do a public preparation. He won’t do it in here.”
Chapter Three
Solomon didn’t like the terror in her voice at announcing that. “What is that? What is a public preparation?”
“He’s going to do it in the auditorium, during service!”
Service? “Like church?”
“Yes!” she hissed, her voice choked with fear.
Solomon turned to the door and rammed his body against the edge of it where the hinges were. After a dozen times, he felt them to see if he could shake one loose. The bottom one was stuck. He shot his hand to the top one. “Oh God. I got it!” he whispered.
“Please hurry!”
Millimeter by millimeter, he pushed the metal piece up. When he could grasp the top, he gave it vicious wiggles until it came all the way out.
“Hurry, please!”
He wanted to know what the fuck they did during preparations, and yet decided he didn’t. Not in that second. They’d get out first, and chat about it another time. Like never.
He used the metal bolt from the top hinge and banged on the bottom one, trying to loosen it. The sound reverberated about the room, like a death toll.
“Shhhh,” she said, sounding worried.
“I have to!” he huffed, whacking without stopping and checking it every third hit. After an eternity, it finally moved. “I got it!”
“Yes, yes,” she whispered.
He finally got the piece wiggled out after what seemed like three forevers. “Hold them,” he hissed, giving them to her, feeling like they might make good weapons if it came to it. Like gouging their attacker’s eye out.
“Okay,” he whispered, grabbing hold of the hinge and tugging. “It’s working!” The heavy door groaned louder with every tug, as if warning the assembled masses above that they were escaping. Finally, the hinge let loose of the metal holding it.
She grabbed his arm tightly. He froze, listening only briefly before shoving the back side of the door all the way open. If company was coming, standing still wasn’t going to give either of them a single advantage in that room. The door was hard to move, and he realized it was dead bolted on the other side. Shoving, he got a crack big enough to slip through and helped Chaos out after.
“I still can’t see a thing,” he whispered, holding her hand tight.
“We need to go right. Th-there’s a place that leads to a mine-shaft.”
“Are you sure?” he hissed, feeling along the passage walls.
“Yes, I’m positive.”
His fingers discerned uneven earth walls and his nose agreed. Dank, old earth. God, he couldn’t believe they had made tunnels down here where they tortured people to cleanse them from a joke of a curse. What are they really up to, he wondered. And then, why?
“How does Master know me?” He needed answers to as many questions as he could get.
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding upset over that mystery. “I didn’t ask questions.” Dread and shame weighed down her words.
“Okay, don’t worry. We’ll figure it all out together,” he whispered.
After it felt like they’d gone a mile, he stopped. “Is that… water?”
The sound of her breaths moved like she was trying to see all around them. Please, please let her not be lost.
“We… Oh God, there was a turn, we should have taken a right. I didn’t think we’d gone far enough.”
“What is the water?”
“It’s the aqua ducts leading to the river.”
“Is it big? Is there a way out of it?”
“I-I’ve seen a kind of grate, but I don’t know if it opens or if it’s big enough.” She sounded worried. “Let’s go back, we have to go back.”
They slowly crept back down the tunnel the way they’d come. She felt along the wall ahead of him, making it feel like forever. Every fiber in him screamed that Master had found out they’d escaped from their cell and was in the tunnel, searching for them. And as desperate as he was to be able to see a goddamn single thing, no light meant nobody coming.
“Here! I found it!” She slowly moved them in another direction.
“How far?” he whispered.
“Uh. Maybe a hundred steps.”
It was a good guess by her tone. “What are we looking for now?”
“We’ll run into a door that leads out.”
“And if they’re there?”
She tightened her grip on his. “Then we… run back to the water exit and try there.”
He hated to doubt every solution, but he had to know all the options. “And if we can’t get out there?”
“Then we go directly inside and make a way to escape, find a way out.” Her words shook with a desperate urgency as they slowly moved in the darkness. “The building is ten acres long. It’s a huge building. We can make it without being noticed. I know every square foot of the asylum. It was my childhood playground.”
His skin crawled with that confession as he imagined her roaming halls encrusted with layers of insanity and only God knew what else since the church converted it to… something much worse.
“How long have these tunnels been here?” he asked, trying not to receive too many details via the soles of his bare feet. The floor was solid, and he wasn’t sure if it was cement or just dirt. Or both.
“They were here since I was a child, maybe before, since they were working on them already.”
“And are you sure nobody knows about them?”
Several breaths later, she mumbled, “I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know what is true, what is real, what is what.”
The confession reminded him of how precarious the situation was for her emotionally. To have everything you ever believed in turn out to be a lie—it had to be a hard milestone to swallow. “But as far as you think you know, these rooms down here were added for preparations?”
“Yes. And desecrations most of the times.”
Desecrations. He still wasn’t clear on what that actually involved. A Desecration for every sin. Clearly that meant punishment of some kind. But what kind? His brain really needed to know that, and yet didn’t. “Tell me about the desecrations, Chaos. I need to know.” He needed to be ready in case.
“Why would you want to know this?” she hissed, distressed.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think I needed to know.” He refrained from calling her Beautiful, but it was hard. He had nothing else to call her. He didn’t like calling her by her sick, ceremonial names, Silence or Chaos.
“I don’t think you need to know.”
Her reply was more of a beg for him to let it go, but Solomon persisted. “Please, just tell me.”
The darkness echoed with her gulp followed by a shaky gasp. “I can’t.”
“Is it painful?”
“Usually,” she hissed, sounding angry. “And… always scary.”
That wasn’t hard to believe. “Scary how?”
“Just… things.”
Solomon was ready to give up getting any significant details. Judging by the amount of distress in her tone, it was too scary to talk about without sending her into a mental state he didn’t want her in right now.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, stopping. “This is it. The door. This is the door!”
Thank God. He felt along the cool metal with her. Both their hands found the handle at the same time
and they pushed on it.
“There’s a dead-bolt,” she whispered.
A few seconds later, a loud clonk sounded with the release of the lock and the door opened an inch. Dim light lit the narrow crack. It looked like it was just turning dawn. They needed to hurry before daylight arrived.
“What’s out there,” he whispered as they opened the door more. “Is it covered or what? Where do we go, which direction?”
“We run straight to the forest. It’s maybe… five hundred feet from here. I know the forest, I can find a place to hide. I have hiding places!”
They slipped out the door, their hands clasped tightly together as they listened and looked as far as they could see, which wasn’t far. A narrow foot path wound up to meet a hill covered in dense fog. The sight fit the horror of their situation like a glove, and the dread hanging in the still air whispered their imminent capture.
In a near crouch, they made their way to the top of the path. Solomon eyed the blanket of white air fifty feet before them. He wanted to race into it, but instinct said they’d be entering a web. Before he could think, she yanked him into a run toward it.
Not wanting to waste a second, he released her hand so they could run faster. Every breath, every second, each heartbeat, he felt the crawl at his back. Something there, something coming for them.
Twenty feet more. Then ten. Ten feet from the monster on the other side, waiting for them. The monsters were all over, his skin crawled with the knowing of it. Like they were running in the bowels of the beast and there was no escape. Ever.
Panic hit him when the fog seemed to open up and swallow Chaos as she entered it. His back and legs filled with light pin-pricks and he fucking tripped. The ground raced up and slammed him in the face, knocking the wind from him. Blinking, he fought to see, realizing he was in the fog, he’d made it. But he couldn’t move. His legs, his body, they were numb. His head was too heavy to lift.
“Solomon!”
He fought to open his eyes while his heart fluttered like a terrified bird in a cage.
“Solomon! Solomon!”
Chaos screamed his name from a distance.
God no. He fought to open his eyes again, to think. God no, please.
The world spun as he was lifted up.
“Leave him alone!” Chaos screamed. “Leave him! Leave him!”
She was still far away. Please let her escape. Please let her be safe. Run, he fought to say. Run Chaos.
He managed to open his eyes. The world was upside down and sloshing around in his vision. His gaze landed on Chaos. Terror clutched his throat in icy fingers until he couldn’t breathe. No. No, no, no. Dark figures dragged her. Dragged her thrashing body. Fight them! Fight them! he screamed in his mind. Don’t… let… them… take…
Chapter Four
It was the pain that woke Solomon. But it was Chaos’s screams over his own that shot his terror through the roof. Needles. A thousand needles. Ice needles. Freezing. The sharp pain hit his face and he jerked his head to the right, fighting for air not filled with the ice water needles.
“No, no, no!” Chaos cried.
“Silence her,” a deep voice said.
The needles continued to hit him no matter where he went or how he tried to escape, while hanging there in some faraway space. Hanging so long, he was sure he was in another time, maybe even another dimension where the relentless bite of ice couldn’t reach his naked body.
Panic, fear, and exhaustion raced and fought in his mind and body until he lost track of everything. Maybe hours had passed, or days, he didn’t know. He didn’t even know how long it had taken for him to be no longer there, unable to feel. He was just glad that he couldn’t. He didn’t know where he was, what he was, he was just glad the pain had stopped. He knew it was a place in his mind, and he wondered if it was like the place Chaos had gone that one time. In this place, it was safe and warm. It had his beautiful Chaos there, smiling at him while they laughed and made plans for their future.
****
Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh.
Solomon struggled to hold on to the sound. Somebody was sweeping nearby. He was moving. Moving to the sound. Shhh. Shhhh. Shhhh.
“I got you, I got you.”
He turned his face toward the warm words and the breath grew hotter, louder.
“Solomon?”
He knew that voice.
“Please,” she whispered. “Come back to me. Please be okay.”
Chantilly? No.
He struggled to open his eyes and finally felt them blinking. But there was only darkness. He tried to reach up and touch the person close by, but his body wouldn’t move.
“Master said you did good,” she whispered.
Master.
Panic jolted through him at that name but all his body could do was tremble and strain to move, run, escape.
“Okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, shhh, shhhh.”
Solomon remembered everything then. Where he was, the escape, the capture. “C-c-c”
“Don’t talk, don’t talk, shhhh.”
Pain radiated through Solomon’s body. Soon he was trembling out of control and Chaos fought to hold him closer. Where were they? Was Chaos okay? He was so cold.
He finally managed to bring his hand up and touch her face. She brought her lips to his and kissed them over and over. He tasted the salt of her tears. Her warm breath felt like hope and light in the dark.
“C-c-c Chaos.” Her name finally dislodged from his throat.
“I’m here,” she wept, rocking him. “I’m so sorry I called,” she said. “I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
Solomon finally managed to grab her hand and brought it to his chest, smashing it to his heart. He needed to feel the good things, remember the things that gave him hope and desire to fight. Fight the horror gripping his mind and body. “K-kiss me,” he gushed, the shaking taking hold of him again. Solomon devoured her lips the second they meshed to his. “Don’t stop,” he gasped, latching his fingers in her hair, holding on, holding her to him like she were life.
****
Solomon woke to the sound of metal clanking.
“Wake up!” Chaos whispered.
The panic in those words bolted him up. He looked around the inky darkness as a trembling Chaos fought to help him stand.
They were coming again.
The door opened before he could think what to do, and a bright light hit his eyes.
Shadows advanced and panic hit, turning him into a wild man. He swung his fists, grabbing and yanking at robes, kicking and clawing, teeth snapping for anything to sink into. “Run! Run Chaos!”
Chaos screamed like she was struggling, while labored breaths blasted around him, fighting to get smelly, rough material over his face. Solomon thrashed his head in every direction, trying to escape it.
“Grab him already!” one captor growled.
Solomon roared when his wrists were cinched roughly behind his back and the sack closed tightly around his head. His face hit the floor and sent his adrenaline into overdrive as he screamed through the material, squirming and grunting under the pressure between his shoulder blades. Fuck! He couldn’t breathe!
“Be still!” a gravelly voice nearly begged.
Solomon’s ragged breaths blasted out of him in rage and terrified bellows. All while Chaos begged. Begged and screamed and sobbed for his mercy.
In answer, they yanked him half way up and dragged him. He fought to get his footing, but his muscles still weren’t working right from the water torture the day before. “Run Chaos, run!” He choked and sputtered on the words, his throat burning.
“I’m not leaving you!” she shrieked. “I’m here, I’m not leaving, I’m never leaving you!” she wept bitterly.
Solomon’s heart hammered as he remembered the Master’s words when they’d first been captured. “Six days of preparation. Then the desecration of desecrations shall finally come.”
Six days. His mind spun as he struggled to remem
ber how long it had been.
The answer brought a terror that slowly suffocated him.
Day two. It was only day two.
Solomon gave up struggling, his head hanging as the noise of the congregation, an awful cacophony mixing with the pain and growing confusion.
And Chaos. Chaos crying. Screaming. Always and forever it seemed.
They were singing. A dreadful droning, monotonous tune to call up the dead. He made out only shadows through the scratchy material over his face. It all flickered bright then dark, dull then sharp.
Being naked in public somehow added to his terror. Added to the depravity, insanity. They forced him to sit. He thrashed and fought when he felt them strapping him down. In mere seconds, he was bound, hands and feet, and even chest, to the chair, his throat tearing with roaring screams of horror and protest.
Solomon realized the singing had stopped and all that was left were the screams of him and Chaos, echoing around him in the eerie silence. He panted and listened, trying to understand what was coming. He made out the mass of humans. They were still there, quiet now. Watching.
“Beloved children!” Master boomed into the silence. “The day has finally come that we have all longed to see, it is finally here!”
Solomon’s breaths quickened at the sudden applause and rumbling, like they were banging their feet on wooden floors.
“Six days of preparation. And the seventh?”
“Desecration!” The crowd yelled the word as one, stomping the floor until it sounded like a herd of insane cattle stampeding.
Chaos let out a long scream that ended pitiful and broken.
“Chaos!” he roared at her. “I love you! I love you, do you hear me?!”
She screamed again and wailed, and the crowd cheered more, making Solomon sicker.
“The queen wishes to be here but she isn’t feeling well,” the psycho yelled. “Holding the curse at bay with her own shoulders has taken a toll. Soon, she will rest as our Beloved Solomon Gorge…” he roared, “takes the fullness of the curse into himself. Freeing!” he yelled on. “Those who have suffered in the darkness… of this light.”
Solomon fought against the straps, but they were made of something that wouldn’t give.