by Ben Hale
Creeping black fog seeped under the door down the hall. At each cell it passed it flowed through the bars. By the time it reached Robar's cell others had begun to scream again. The sound reverberated throughout the prison with a haunting tone. Robar's gaze did not leave the darkness spilling under their door.
Advancing to the second door of bars, it curled up their surface like a sinister caress. By then the hall had filled to waist high. The hallway lights flickered, and like a dam had burst the inmates shrieked. By unspoken accord Ugly and Robar retreated to the rear of their cell.
The Dark ignored them at first, and seemed content to explore the room. It climbed the walls and touched the ceiling. Then it seemed to draw a breath, and the shroud thickened. It darkened to the point that Robar could no longer see the door, and the small cell suddenly became much smaller.
Ugly stepped away from the wall. With a mad smile on his lips, he reached out and touched the Dark. The shadow shaped into a hand and reached out to him. Ugly flinched, but smiled broader when nothing happened.
Then other hands appeared. Tightening around Ugly's arms, they drew him in, heedless of the big man’s resistance. Ugly's smile faded as the Dark shaped into a pair of large jaws, and he shrieked as it snapped shut around him.
Robar shuddered. The screams of the other men were relegated to the background as Ugly's cries took precedence. Survivors had claimed in the news reports that the Dark played on a person's fears first, and that its voice whispered into your mind. Witnessing it was terrifying enough, but for now it seemed the Dark had no desire to approach him.
Robar knew it was only a matter of time. He'd accepted his fate before he'd gone to prison. Dying at the hands of the Dark may not have been what he imagined, but it was essentially the same ending. He didn't resist when the shadow advanced toward him.
Three feet away the shadow seemed to pause. It thickened, preparing to advance, but it did not. Instead it retreated, leaving Ugly standing in the center of the cell. Gone were the features that had made him human, gone was the form of man. In its place stood a very different creature.
His skin had blackened like paper in a fire. Muscles like corded steel had raised him to almost seven feet in stature, and stretched the cheap prison uniform to the breaking point. A short mane of green fur had grown across his shoulders and back, visible through the tears.
Releasing a low snarl, the creature turned to face Robar, revealing that a short toothy muzzle had replaced Ugly's mouth. His head had tapered to the front, while his eyes had gone opalescent white. The jaws split open in a horrible example of a smile, baring his teeth. Then he lunged.
Robar sidestepped, and Ugly slammed into the concrete wall. Leaving a head-sized imprint, he rebounded with a throaty growl. Robar leaned in and punched him in the side of the head as he rose, knocking him to the floor. Ugly scuttled to the side and climbed to his feet, far more agile than he'd been before. Throwing his arm out, he backhanded Robar, launching him across the room. Robar bounced off the bed and tumbled to the floor, tasting blood.
His vision clouded, and in that instant Robar knew two things. If Ugly connected again he would be dead, and that no one was coming to the rescue. He was on his own.
With fear knotting his throat, Robar rose to his feet and reverted to his SEAL training. He ducked a swipe and struck Ugly in the chest, hard. Air burst from his lungs as the blow struck below the ribcage. Catching the loose arm, Robar tried not to cringe as he felt the spiked hair under his fingers.
Before Ugly could recover, Robar yanked him into the bed frame. Metal clanged on bone as Ugly's forehead split, sending blood spraying onto the white bedsheets. The blow knocked Ugly to his knees, momentarily stunned. Quick as a cat, Robar leapt behind him and wrapped his arms around the tapered head.
Ugly bellowed and reached back, clawing Robar's arms. Clenching his teeth as the claws drew blood, Robar grimly tightened his grip, pulling the head sideways. Ugly's movements became frantic as his airway was cut off, and he staggered around the small cell. The Dark retreated wherever they went, and Robar continued to pull.
Ugly's breath was now a desperate wheeze, and he threw his arms back. By chance or intention, the clawed hands managed to get a grip on Robar’s shoulder. Knowing it was his last opportunity, Robar threw his strength into a twisting yank. There was an audible crack, and Ugly went limp.
Robar collapsed to his knees. Weakened from the adrenaline and exertion, he stared at the Dark that had encircled him. He could hear the other inmates in their cells, and knew they were no longer human. A glance revealed that the exterior of the cell had gone dark. Above, the lights in his cell flickered.
"What are you waiting for?!" he shouted, his anger lending strength to his words.
Silent, lethal, the Dark formed hands and jaws. The light above went out as the Dark advanced. Even without seeing the shadow Robar could feel it approaching. He closed his eyes, his thoughts turning to the family he'd abandoned in his youth.
And the Dark swallowed him.
Chapter 37: Solitary
Robar waited . . . but his mind remained his own. Instead of hearing the sinister whisperings of the Dark, he heard the former inmates break out of their cells. Steel groaned as the bars were torn from their places, and metal screeched as claws dug into it. The muffled grunts and shuffling were interspersed with sub-human growls and furious thuds. Before long a great rending indicated at least one had gained the hall. Within an hour three more joined it.
Robar remained where he was until it became evident that the Dark wasn't going to attack him. Finally driven by hunger, he felt his way to the front and ate some of the food that the guard had shoved through the slot. He kept his motion quiet, unwilling to alert the creatures now prowling the halls of the prison.
Every so often one of them would sniff outside his cell, causing his adrenaline to spike, but each time they moved on. After a few hours had passed he was forced to recognize that he couldn't just stay in the cell. At best he had two days of food, and that was if the creatures didn't find him.
Unlike many of the inmates, he'd never contemplated escape. After what he'd done he considered his incarceration due justice. But now he was faced with death by starvation unless he could break out of the strongest prison in the world—within forty-eight hours.
He prowled the cell on cat's feet, searching for something he could do. The darkness was absolute, making it impossible to even see his own hand. He assumed that was because of the Dark, but couldn't be certain because the cell block had no windows. Early on he checked the power by scooting the bed into the center and putting his hand close to the light. Encased as it was he couldn't access the wiring, but if it had been on he would have at least been able to feel the heat.
A day passed and the only thing he'd been able to find was a loose bar from where Ugly had struck it. Without anything else to do, he rationed his food and worked the bar. Many times the creatures passed his cell, but they didn't pause. From the distant clanging it sounded like they had been unable to breach the stronger doors at the end of the block.
Robar worked the loose bar back and forth, trying not to think about his mounting thirst. By the end of the second day the metal had begun to give, and he put all his weight behind it. It still refused to budge. Realizing he needed more leverage, he turned to the bed. Large and heavy, it took some finagling to get it into place. He took his time, not wanting to sweat and waste the water inside his body.
Eventually he got it into place. One foot of the bed rested on the floor, while the top split the space between the damaged bar and a solid one. Bracing the other end, he pushed off the wall. In a low grinding of metal the bar bent. The next moment it snapped free of the concrete at the bottom, causing him to land on Ugly's body.
The bed clattered on its side, the sound echoing down the hall. Robar eased himself to his feet, straining to see if he had been heard. The padding of feet announced that he had, and a moment later one of the former inmates stood outside R
obar's cell. The creature's presence gave him an idea that he hadn't considered, and he picked up the bar. Then he reached it to the food slot and poked it through. By the impact and grunt he knew he'd made contact.
There was a low growl—and then the creature launched itself at the solid door. Robar smiled grimly as claws tore at the steel, and readied himself for a fight. His food was gone, he was on the verge of dehydration, and there was no way he could get out on his own.
But they could get in.
It was a desperate plan but he had no choice. If he didn't do something he would die of thirst. He gathered the sheets from the bed as a second creature joined the first. Together, they clawed at the door. Knowing it would take time for them to breach it, he wrapped the blankets around the base of the bars. Then he retrieved his sole possession.
Gouged into the wall, a small hole could easily be covered with a pile of dust. He reached in and pulled out the lighter. His first cellmate had been a smoker, and had smuggled the contraband in through a malleable guard. After discovering his stash the guards had beaten him and left him in solitary, where he'd died from his injuries.
Collecting the item, Robar sparked it in his hands, and felt a rush of relief as the flame flooded the cell with flickering light. Then he moved to the center of his small cell. With the lighter and the bar in hand, he waited.
It took them an hour, but by then there were three of them. The door bent from their fury, and then the weakened hatch snapped. Claws hooked the edge of the door and ripped it open. In an instant they were fighting to get into the small space in front of the bars.
Robar tensed, but did not attack. If he attacked them too early he might kill them before they made an opening. If he struck too late they would get in and tear him to shreds. He had no doubt that he wouldn't survive if the creatures got inside.
The thud of flesh on bars drew the attention of a fourth, and then a fifth creature. All of them fought for the chance to claw their way in, but the space was too small for more than two. Still, it sounded like one was dragged away by its companions as another took its place. Within ten minutes one of the bars was ripped away.
Concrete cracked and crumbled from the onslaught of flesh, and the creatures pushed their way in, eager to reach him. The bars shuddered, and Robar swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. He forced himself to wait until two more bars had been ripped free.
The gap allowed one creature through. It lunged through the space created when Robar had gotten his weapon. Its hairy arm reached for him, and Robar decided that was enough. Avoiding the searching claws, he stooped and lit the bedding he'd tied around the bars. Fire engulfed the sheets, momentarily causing the creatures to recoil. Wielding his bar like a staff, Robar brought it down on the creature's arm.
Bone snapped, audible over the snarling creatures, and the arm withdrew. Robar stepped in and jammed the end of the bar into its throat, crushing its windpipe. Fighting for breath, it was yanked from view to be replaced by another.
Robar brought the bloody pipe down on its head, crushing its skull. It too was replaced by a shrieking Twisted. Lit by the dancing firelight and shadows, he fought the former inmates as they came for him. The last he allowed to live until it had snapped another bar. Then he pounded it until it didn't move.
His chest heaving, Robar listened to ensure no others took their place. Then he cautiously moved forward. Step. Listen. Step. Listen. He worked his way over the slain creatures and dying fire until he reached the outer door of his cell. For the first time in ten years, he stepped into the hall without shackles on his hands and feet.
The sense of freedom was slight, but it brought a smile to his lips in spite of the dire situation. The elation faded quickly, and was replaced with a resolve to escape. Step by cautious step he worked his way to the guard station that rested twenty feet from his cell.
The door had been left ajar, no doubt by the fleeing guards. He slipped inside and squinted into the dim light. A trickle of the firelight from his cell reached this far. He tried the light switch, but it didn't work. After some searching through the desk he found a high powered flashlight.
It turned on with a satisfying click, and he blinked at the sudden brilliance. To his surprise it did not shine the length of the space. Thirty feet from him the beam faded into darkness—even though it didn't touch a wall.
He took a few steps in that direction and stopped when the beam suddenly revealed the end of the room. Retreating, the wall disappeared. With a start he realized that the Dark was still present, and its power stopped the light thirty feet from his body. For whatever reason . . . the Dark kept its distance from him.
A shuffling footfall caused him to jerk back to reality. He covered the flashlight and then eased the reinforced guard door shut. Locking it behind him, he searched the room.
The room was long and skinny, and contained only a couple of desks and monitoring screens. At the far back he discovered a door, and after some searching found the key that opened it. He slipped inside and closed it behind him. Then he shined the flashlight around the small space.
A smile of triumph spread across his features as the armament was revealed. Shotguns, rifles, and pistols lined the walls. Stacks of ammunition and grenades sat on the shelves under them. Night vision goggles hung from hooks next to riot gear, and combat clothing was folded above boxes of emergency supplies.
Spotting cases of water, he quenched his thirst while he changed and armed himself. Racking the slide on a Russian assault rifle, he felt safe for the first time as the bullet slid home. Slinging the loaded weapon over the kevlar vest he'd found, he further outfitted himself with a shotgun, several grenades, and as much ammunition as he could carry. Then he loaded a pack.
More ammunition, food, water, flares, and batteries for the flashlight all went into the bag. Last he donned a helmet with attached night-vision goggles, and strapped a pair of pistols to his thighs. Grunting from the weight, he shouldered the bag and stepped from the room. Leading with his shotgun, he strode from the guard station to find a creature at the door to his former cell.
The shotgun spit its lethal cargo, tearing into the fiend sniffing at its dead companions. Twenty steps later he encountered another, and put it down as well. On cautious steps he worked his way out of the prison, and thirty minutes later he gained the exterior.
He blinked at the grey vista, surprised by the level of light. It was like a gray fog had settled over everything. He couldn't see the sun, but there was sufficient light for him to make out a handful of bodies, a few vehicles, and the exterior wall of the prison. Beyond that he could just see the trees in the distance. It was impossible to see further. Mercifully, the place was deserted.
After some work he got one of the prison trucks to start. Before he left, he reentered the prison and made three trips to get more ammunition and guns. By the time he was done the riot room had been cleaned out. He paused and considered whether he should go back for more. Deciding against it, he revved the engine and turned it onto the road west.
The gray expanse slipped by in eerie silence, with only the sound of the truck to break it. Several times he passed black creatures, but they could not keep up with the speeding truck. Alone in the Dark, Robar wasn't sure if he was free.
Chapter 38: The Horrending Dagger
Tess, Kyle, Sophia, Katsuo, and Iris walked through the nearly abandoned Sentre. As a former member of the Brokins Tempest team, Katsuo had been evacuated when the US military had been manipulated into destroying the underwater city. Since then he'd transferred to Tryton's and become friends with several of the Tryton's players. Shorn had made it back from Rox in time, but had suggested they take Katsuo in case they needed the firepower.
"I can't believe they let us through," Katsuo said, and cast a glance back at the Voidlings patrolling the entrance to Tryton's.
"I told you they would," Iris said, obviously annoyed that he had doubted her.
Iris's forged message got them past the Harbinger se
ntries at Tryton's entrance, but that was the extent of what it could do. From then on every step they took invited punishment, and everyone but Iris struggled to contain their nervousness.
Prior to Alice's takeover, the gigantic trees and paths of Sentre had been filled with mages walking to and from ensconced shops and entertainment. High above, the treeways were host to eateries, shaded paths, and other stores.
Great rivers and gurgling brooks wove between the trees and climbed the branches, flowing in a fashion that defied natural laws. Animaries, clothing shops, and other structures were nestled between the waterways, trees, and paths. Nearly all had closed their doors.
"Are you sure the Recollection is still open?" Sophia asked. Her voice betrayed her fear. "I mean, if anyone asks why we are here, are you sure our excuse will hold up?"
"The Sentre and Recollection are still open to the public," Iris insisted. "Every time I've gone to see my mom it's been open."
"And yet it's patrolled by Voidlings," Kyle said, his eyes on one of the floating creatures gliding nearby. Wisps of smoke exited the jaws as it exhaled, but it did not approach.
"Stop acting so nervous," Tess said. "You're making even me suspicious."
Me too, Iris said into her mind, then threw her a look. Tess could almost feel the tension floating off her roommate, prompting her to respond with an apology.
I'm sorry about the risk you are taking.
Just because I'm trying to help my mom doesn't mean I'm not helping you, Iris shot back. It's not like I'm joining the Harbingers.
Tess didn't respond. She had no desire to get into an argument with Iris over her mother. Instead she turned her attention to her friends' conversation.
"Delections is closed," Sophia was saying, her voice full of regret. "Their lemon spheres and frosted strawberry cakes were divine."