Not knowing what she should do, worrying she was taking to long, wondering if fire rained from the ceiling when the crowd grew bored, Integrity moved hesitantly toward the sign, squinted through her eyes to try and limit its damage. Oh, please help me.
Even her scream was covered by the music when the floor fell away from beneath her. She smacked her wrist against one side of the pit, the floor hard and unforgiving against her bone. When she crashed to the floor below, she clutched it impulsively, cringing away from the imminent death she felt sure would swoop upon her at any moment.
She waited.
And waited.
Finally, fearful that her attacker would be looming in a corner, watching her in amusement, she cracked one eye open. The space was very dark, especially after the light from above. The intermittent flashes from the neon sign shone down into the pit, revealing pieces of her surroundings like slow flashes of lightening.
She was alone.
Scattered on floor were strands of straw, and the walls were formed from bales of the stuff. Integrity wondered wildly if an elephant was going to be dropped on her from above, and glanced upward in fear. Nothing moved, but the light blinded her once more. She clenched her eyes shut and waited for her vision to return, straining her ears for any sign of approaching danger. At least the music's quieter down here.
Feeling more rational, able to block out the music more effectively now, Integrity studied her surroundings. The walls were identical, formed twelve bales high and eight bales long. The trap door was far from her reach.
Walking to one wall, Integrity attempted to scale it, suspecting that falling into a pit did not qualify as “winning.” The bales were packed too tightly together, and she could not find purchase for hand or foot. Frustrated, she backed away, looked at all four walls once more. To her right, she spied a dark strip near the bottom of the wall, and she moved closer to inspect it. A gap--small, but real. She shoved her fingers into it and began to tug. Some of the straw broke free under her grip, but the bale did not budge. Stubbornly, she set to work dismantling the bale.
As she worked, she discovered that the bales were actually staggered, enabling her to remove the bottom bale without upsetting the stability of the rest. She had cleared more than half the bale, beginning to wonder why she was continuing to do this, when she realized there was a tunnel opening behind it. Excited, she doubled her efforts, flinging the straw behind her like a dog digging up a lost bone. Only once she had uncovered the space did she have second thoughts. The tunnel, small and low, was also incredibly dark. She had irrational visions of lurking crocodiles, waiting to snap her head from her shoulders. Then again, vampires are “irrational,” too.
Wondering if she could now dislodge the bales of straw and stack them so she could escape back into the room above, Integrity tugged at a few bales, but found that they crumbled in her hands, just as the first had, rather than shifting the bulk that pressed down on them. Integrity sat down on the floor, crossed her legs, and peered into the gaping hole.
“What are my choices here?” she said, her voice barely audible above the thrumming music above her. “One—I can sit here and do nothing; they'll either come get me or send something down the tunnel after me.” She mentally crossed option one off her list. “Two—I can go down the tunnel and meet whatever's waiting for me at the end. If there is an end.” She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the tunnel, knowing she would only see blackness. She sank back and sighed. “Great. Wonderful. Such lovely options.”
An image of the straw around her bursting into flames forced her into the tunnel, despite the choking sense of claustrophobia she was fighting. If she moved wrong, she would bump against the rounded walls or ceiling, only increasing her paranoia. Even though she couldn't see anything, she closed her eyes, forced herself to take a few calming breaths, and worked on deluding herself that she wasn't in a tiny tunnel, crawling toward hungry alligators, chased by fire and bloodthirsty vampires. She somehow managed to force herself to inch forward on hands and knees, heading deeper under the torture chamber above. The music began to fade behind her, feet of cement separating them, pressing down on her, waiting to crush her. Maybe the alligators aren't so bad, after all.
She was glad she hadn't been crawling any faster when her head smacked against the end of the tunnel, but it still hurt. After she'd rubbed her scalp and stared blankly at where she thought her fingers were, she began to feel around her. The tunnel did not continue. It did not turn right or left, just ended. Feeling like toothpaste being forced from a tube with the cap still on, she started to hyperventilate—there wasn't room to turn around, and she didn't think she could crawl backward quickly enough; surely the tunnel was running out of air. In a panic, she tried to stand up. It took several seconds for it to dawn on her that she could stand, that she was. Groping along the walls, she found an icy, gritty metal ladder. After a deep breath, and a pep talk, she began to climb it. The music began creeping back toward her.
Once again, she bumped her head at the end of her tunnel. Hands damp, fearful of falling, she cautiously felt above her head until she found a large metal wheel. Pictures of submarines floated before her darkened eyes as she braced herself and tried to turn it. Nothing. She tried the other way. Still nothing.
Unhappy with the situation, panting to be free of the blasted tunnel, Integrity propped one foot against the opposite wall, leaving the other on a rung of the ladder, steadied herself, then reached up with both hands to force the hatch open. Straining, fearing it was impossible, she nearly fell when the wheel did move under her pressure. Clinging to the ladder, heart thudding painfully, Integrity allowed a moment for the dizziness to pass. She proceeded to turn the stiff wheel, alternating between one hand and the other, never letting go of the ladder. Finally, it would turn no more.
Arms aching from being held up for so long, Integrity crawled further up the ladder and braced her shoulder against the hatch, tilting her head uncomfortably to one side. Images of light and space goading her on, she levered against the door with everything she had. It rose slowly, and Integrity had an awkward moment of trying to move further up the ladder, lever the door completely open, and not fall back into the pit. When the metal hatch fell back on the floor with a clang, Integrity drug herself off the ladder and allowed herself to collapse on her back, chest heaving. Man, I never thought I'd miss the ring, she thought, remembering the fights she had been forced to compete in, back at Westmarch. What I wouldn't give to be fighting a psycho or two right now. It'd be much easier.
Є
Outside the window, jostling for position, the crowd watched avidly. The girl had risen from beneath the room. Lying on the floor of the narrow aisle straight ahead of the door, several were arguing to open it, hoping for a better view of what was going on. The king ordered the two goons guarding the last girl to move in front of the door. Sulky, the crowd drew back, once more craning their necks for a view of what the girl would do next.
Evan, standing back from the crowd, was pacing nervously. Blood, thick and unnatural, dripped intermittently from the tips of his fingers. The only one to notice was the mortal, rocking back and forth in the corner. Every time a drop would break free from his flesh, descending in a flash to the floor, she would flinch.
Є
Still laying on the floor, her breathing returning to normal, Integrity glanced to her left at the door she had originally come through. “Huh,” she said to herself, “I could have avoided the Tunnel of Doom if I'd just gone straight in the first place. That's cheery.”
As she rolled to her feet, she couldn't help but laugh at herself. “A room where fire appears from nowhere and looming shadows sweep you off into the unknown, and you're afraid of the dark? Way to go, Integrity. Definitely Destine material, there.” Standing once more, she rolled her head from one side to the other, most of the tension having left her body. She didn't know if she was exhausted or stupid, but at least she wasn't freaking out anymore. At this point, being
burned to death didn't seem like a real possibility. She felt like she had sneaked behind all the machines at an arcade—her only danger would be shoving her finger in an outlet.
“Well, since I'm here...” She set off down the narrow walkway, careful not to bash into the wall or any of the junk on her left. There wasn't much to see until she neared the back wall. In the dim light, she stumbled over a metal ring, the size of her fist, that had been cemented into the floor. Muttering, she shifted all her weight to the other foot and closed her eyes until the mind numbing pain receded. Once more in control, she knelt to study the ring more closely, wondering what possible use there could be for a ring in a floor. She assumed it was part of the building's original construction since the cement flowed unbroken and uniform as far as she could see, but it didn't help her any to know that. The only other place she had seen a ring like this was in the prison cell in Westmarch, and chains had extended from them. Thankfully, this one was bare.
Stuck, unable to do or see anything, she carefully wound herself between some random stuff and back to the main aisle. She had passed the flashing “Danger” sign now, and felt her face grow warm. Note to self: giant flashing signs are probably telling the truth. Rubbing her wrist where she'd bumped it on the way down, she looked around again.
There's just too much junk, she thought, wanting to stomp her foot like a child. How in the heck is anyone supposed to wade through all of this and find a way out? She kicked a nearby dais, and it slid slightly. Bending over to study it, she mumbled, “Nice, it's not even all real. This is a freaking prop. It's made out of Styrofoam, for crying out loud!” She straightened up, pushed her hair out of her face. You'd think they'd at least spring for the real thing when they're trying to kill me.
Her neck and shoulders were stiff from how tightly she'd clenched her muscles in the tunnel, and Integrity rubbed at them with one hand. With a sigh, she tilted her head back and looked above her. There was the stupid swaying platform, the ceiling, the wall, a door...
A door? What was a door doing two stories up?
She frowned, puzzling at the scenario, then shrugged. “Well, it's not easy,” she told herself. “It's worth a shot.” Glancing at the platform again, she muttered, “As long as I remember not to spontaneously combust.”
Now the problem lay in how to get up there. There wasn't much that was tall enough to reach that high, and little that appeared as though it would be stable if stacked. The platform seemed to be about halfway between the floor and the door, maybe ten or twelve feet in the air, and Integrity grew nervous as she realized it was her only option if she wanted to reach the door—she'd never make it up two stories, but she might make it, one story at a time. She took a deep breath and began digging through the junk, hoping to stumble across something useful.
Є
“Oh, well done! She's spotted the door!” the king said, mild amusement in his voice. He clapped his hands lightly together, ever restrained.
Evan stopped his pacing and glanced toward the window. “What door?” he asked, then pulled back as though he wished he hadn't spoken.
“The high one, of course,” said Jydda, petulantly. “That's not saying much,” she was quick to tack on. “The other girl was trying to get to the door, too.”
“True, true,” the older man said, “but this one might just succeed where she failed. If she'd only watched her step--”
A man with wild, dirty blonde hair, interrupted. “This is getting old. When are we going to eat?”
Distracted by Integrity's movements, the king waved to the man carelessly. “Feed on the remaining girl. There's no point in continuing the show once the main event has ended.”
Two men and a woman descended on the corner. No one watched. No one even glanced over. Who cared if they squabbled over her like the last glass of Kool-Aid?
Є
Integrity blew the hair out of her face in frustration. This isn't working. She walked over once more to collect the hula hoop, which had rolled all the way to the unicycle before stopping. She hauled it up and drug her feet back to the starting point. The hoop's just plain too big, she finally admitted, unexcited at the thought of another dig through the pile of junk for something she could tie the fabric to that she could also throw.
The long swath of silk, with a pastel hue of some kind that was distorted under the disco ball and flashing neon, was the type used by scantily clad women who twirled through the air, twisting it around their legs or arms as they contorted themselves. Integrity assumed if it could support them, it would support her. At least, in theory.
Uncovering a bowling pin, the girl decided to give it a shot. She was sick of digging through random crap, getting poked by sharp objects unexpectedly. She was glad she'd bled no more than a drop, all said and done, with the roomful of vampires on the other side of the door. She didn't think it would take much to pull them inside.
Tying the material around the narrowest part of the pin, praying that it would stay in place, she took her position and lobbed it to the platform, high over her head. The pin made it past one of the chains that held the platform up and landed on the wood, sending the whole contraption shivering along, but the pin didn't roll off or come back down. Discouraged, yet hopeful, Integrity tugged at it gently until it fell off. She caught it just before it clocked her in the head. Kicking some junk out of the way, she shifted her position slightly, wished she knew how to throw a boomerang, and tried again.
She felt a rush of elation as the bowling pin miraculously cleared the chain and fell down on the opposite side, letting the fabric glide past in a loop. She lowered the bowling pin carefully, untied the fabric from it, and savored the moment. She'd actually done it!
Weaving her way between the items on the floor, praying the silk loop would reach, she sought out the metal ring anchored to the floor. The fabric was long enough, and she crouched down and set to work.
She didn't know any fancy knots. She wasn't even sure she was tying the square knot properly, but she was on a high from her recent success and didn't care. She felt, somehow, that this was going to work, that she would be successful. Maybe positive thinking really works, she thought fleetingly, then pushed the thought aside and tugged on her makeshift rope, testing the knot's strength. It appeared stable, and she looked at the swaying platform above her, suddenly less certain. It's moving an awful lot. She peered through the gloom to see her “rope” tighten, then fall slack, in an irregular pattern. The doors at the back of the room are starting to look better and better. Picturing herself falling from such the height of the platform, she swallowed. At least it would be over quick.
Integrity went back to where she'd started, near the flashing “Danger” sign, and studied the layout once more. There was just something about that impossible door, twenty feet above her, that drew her, and she knew she didn't dare take any other route out of the room. So how was she going to make it there without killing herself?
Є
Evan was itching to know what was going on, but dared not draw near the window once more. He'd already lost it and lashed out once; he couldn't afford to do so again. He glanced at the two guards posted before the door that led to the room, then looked away again. He could probably get past them, but the council was not likely to let him get away with it. He could take down two, not a dozen.
What in the world had possessed her to go into that room? On her own? While no one was looking? He had wondered if someone had forced her through that doorway, but he knew she was just perverse enough to do it herself. He raked a hand through his hair, returned to pacing behind the crowd.
At least she'd made it this long. It didn't give him much hope, but he had started with none whatsoever.
Є
It had taken long enough to find another strip of silk that Integrity had grown concerned. If the crowd grew bored, she had little doubt they would do something to spice things up again. As she hurriedly located the bowling pin where she'd carelessly tossed it, she noted absently tha
t the music may as well have been white noise at this point—no matter how loud it was, it couldn't maintain its high level of obnoxiousness forever. Thank heaven for small blessings, she thought, grimly.
Tying the new piece of material in place, this one darker than the prior, though it's color was still indistinguishable, she lobbed it once more toward the platform, aiming for the opposite end this time. Her shoulder was protesting the repeated motion, and she attempted using her left hand, but was quick not to repeat that mistake twice. She could only imagine the laughter that had erupted at that spectacle. May as well not make this any more enjoyable for them that it already is. Jerks. Forcing herself to not glance toward the crowd on the other side of the window, she threw again.
Eventually, she was able to snag her quarry and get the ends of the new strip of fabric tied to one of the doorknobs at the back of the room. She had searched and searched for another option, but had finally been forced to admit that there was nothing else that would bear the weight of the platform, and her, without toppling or sliding. She hated to even touch the doorknob, and her hands shook the entire time. She was so focused on not accidentally jarring the knob enough to open the door, waiting for it to turn of its own accord as her doom rushed forward, that she couldn't force herself to check that her knot was secure, or even that it wouldn't just slide off the knob at the first provocation. It'll have to do, she decided as she hurried away. She was aching to run, but didn't want to do so in front of the audience. She couldn't help but glance back once or twice to make sure the door hadn't been opened by something dark and dangerous.
Back at her initial anchor point, she was forced to pick apart her knot at the metal ring, a painfully slow process, in order to take up the slack in the still mobile platform above her. She got it as tight as she could, frustrated that in the process of tying it she always managed to let some slack in. The platform wasn't as dangerous as it once was, but it was far from rock steady.
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 26