by N. M. Brown
“What-, what does that mean?”
“Time to go I think.” Stepping out of the hollow, Echo left before McQueen followed. He was happy to straighten his back, but was suddenly yanked backwards, and his hands pulled together.
“Oi!” McQueen cried, but looked to see the same happening to Echo.
Quick like rabbits, their hands were tied behind their backs and McQueen started to struggle but froze as knife tips threatened his kidneys. Looking towards Echo, he saw that she wasn’t. If fact, she wasn’t resisting at all instead, moving as shown and keeping her distance from the knives. With great revulsion, McQueen took her lead and the longer they stayed down here, the more he realised he’d have to put his faith in her. Yet as they were slowly moved through the tunnels Echo suddenly turned and levelled her gaze at him.
“What?” he growled, feeling his back strain as it begged to straighten.
“Don’t eat anything they offer.” She stated, in a tone that left no room for argument. “Whatever they offer, don’t eat anything.” She repeated and as soon as the words left her mouth, his stomach growled.
“What? Why not?” But Echo had already been shoved away, leaving McQueen nothing to do but huff a breath and hop that they’d seen the last of that dark, dank hole.
◆◆◆
The great hall was much the same to McQueen’s despair. The candles overhead still flickered, and the fire pits roared, but any crackle of sound was overthrown by the thunderous applause of stamping feet and howling growls. Every kid edged towards them, their snarls growing louder with nothing in their eyes but excitement.
As a bad feeling grew in McQueen's stomach, he was transport back to a memory long ago, when he’d taken a school field trip to a local museum. There had been a small Roman settlement close to Dublin and the tiny museum had been filled with trinkets, buried treasure and long paragraphs no one bothered to read. The only thing McQueen had found interesting was mention of the great city of Rome and its Colosseum. He'd tried to imagine what it was like in the gladiator arena hearing the crowds roar and only the bravest, strongest allowed to leave. He now, had no doubt his unimaginative mind hadn't done it justice as sticks were branded at him like swords.
A rabid scream brought McQueen back to his senses and a hot, sweaty sheen coated his skin. He could feel his heart racing and as he was shoved down the aisle, he could see the mighty Shade awaiting them at the end.
The King of the Under-ert sat on his throne of twisted roots, the gnarled wood appearing to have grown with the sole purpose to provide such a seat of power. He had one leg hooked over the arm, while his whole body was relaxed like a skinny cat while one hand gently turned a formal, ancient looking staff on its end.
To McQueen’s disgust, he saw that Shade not only still wore Red’s blood across his face and chest, but her red bandana was tired around his wrist. In fact, the closer he walked, the more McQueen saw. Fresh bruises covered the boy’s knuckles, while cuts still seeped where he'd hit teeth, cartilage or even bones. Wendell hadn't had it easy, he knew that, but this was just more proof. With every fresh wound McQueen saw, more blood pounded in the Detectives ears and he vowed this abuser would be served justice.
Suddenly like the flick of a switch, the room went silent and both Echo and McQueen froze. He hadn’t moved, but all eyes were on him as he hitched a grin that pulsed empowerment.
“Welcome back intruders.” The would-be-King purred. “I see our home has been kind to you.” McQueen didn't dare remove his eyes from Shade, but he knew both he and Echo were a state. Dishevelled and dirty, they would smell like a dump and that was being polite. However, compared to some of the kids around them, they were pristine.
Suddenly, with a sharp kick Echo and he were dropped to the floor in front of the twisted throne. McQueen’s knees protested and he could already feel the bruises beginning to bloom, but even as he tried to rise, something hard was poked into his back.
“More than kind.” The feminine voice spoke up and from the shadows of Shades throne, the girl appeared. She had surprised McQueen before; her well-mannered tone and her clean clothes. She was a Queen among the peasants. Walking forward, she came to a stop right beside her King. “They survived the night. How disappointing.”
“Isn’t it just.” Shade answered, his crusty fingers trailed up her arm, stroking her like a good pet. “But fear not my Tigress. That will soon change.” McQueen felt a shiver slid up his spine, but he refused to show it. He wasn’t as well versed in this world as Echo, but even he knew not to show fear in a situation like this. Instead, he did what he knew best: he repeated the letter of the Law.
“I am Detective McQueen of the Rippling Police Department. You are holding an Officer against his will. Let us go, and you will be dealt your justice swiftly.”
A slow, lazy smile curled Shade’s lips. “A lawman you say? And tell me lawman, what do you think to my Kingdom?”
McQueen swallowed, feeling the dryness that coated his teeth as his throat begged for some fresh water. “I think your Kingdom is nothing. I think you play pretend in your hole, wrecking homes and families for your game of dress up.”
Shade threw his head back with a laugh and with only a slight delay, the whole room laughed with him.
“Do you really want to aggravate the keeper of our fate?” Echo snarled through gritted teeth. “Is that what your cleaver Detective training taught you?” McQueen check himself. He was allowing his anger to get the better of him and if he was going to deliver Wendell and the other children justice, he had to first make it out of here alive.
As the laughter died down, Shade threw his arms wide and as he did, a thunderous roar went up in response. “A game lawman? Why, of course it’s a game. We love games down here!”
“What I meant was-,” But McQueen’s words were drowned out as the roar continued. Shade just looked around in pleasure, feeding off the admiration. Daring to look too, McQueen saw the faces of the children were wild with anticipation. They didn’t know what he or Shade was saying, but the truth of the matter was they’d been trained. Like the good audience they were, they approved everything Shade said, applaud every command and move ready for every attack.
Shade grinned as his masses continued, their cheers growing feeding off one another. With a suddenly leap, he left his throne, springing forward until he squatted balanced on the balls of his fee, nose to nose with McQueen. “I wonder… How did you find me down here?” Head swivelling back and forth, he looked between them, a crazy glint in his eyes suggesting he was enjoying this all far too much. “Two elders in my lands; two! I can’t be having more of you down here to spoil my fun.”
“We can spoil a lot more than your fun.” Echo spoke, drawing the mad child’s gaze. “Or did you think you were safe down here in your hideaway?” McQueen watched as Shade’s gaze narrows in on Echo, his nostrils flaring as he wondered what other threats might descend on his home. “You have a traitor amongst your people. A betrayer, who’s led us down here from the Upperlands with a trail. We found one of your subjects and and it was easy from there.”
“She?” Shade’s head cocked to the side, needing to know more.
“Wendell; pretty little thing, with her blue dress and blonde hair.” Echo described. “She was left out just like a welcome matt. It was easy finding her near that service entrance and then what the path that lead us all the way down here? How could we not find you?”
McQueen saw the recognition on Shade’s face, but the twisted mask of rage next was not what he’d been expecting. He let out a loud snarl that ripped through his lips instead. “Wendall was not one of us. She was once our sister, but she was led astray. The Upperlands tainted her and those who are tainted are banished."
"So, you admit to killing her?" McQueen jumped in, the children around them paying attention. If only they could understand, McQueen wished, maybe then he could save them all. “You killed Wendell?” He repeated louder, hoping some among them might recognize the poor girls name.
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br /> “Death is but another great adventure.” Shade answered with a cold, heartless voice and straightened, taking the attention of his people with him.
Walking back a step, he stopped side-by-side with Tigress who stood perfectly still awaiting her King. Looped a loving arm around her, McQueen watched while she hummed with pleasure as he stroked the side of her face. A pet to its owner or slave to its master; that was the dynamic McQueen saw before him. But nothing with right down here, everything was back-to-front or up-side-down; children overpowered adults, death was accepted and living – was rejected.
“You can’t hide down here forever!” Echo cried after him, swatting away a stick that prodded her to shut up. “More Elder’s will follow. You can’t keep this up. Give us what we want and-,”
But Echo’s words were cut off as a stick was whacked against the back of her head. The crowd roared at such violence, but Shade quickly squashed it down.
“I think we’ve seen enough!” He called and a ripple wove its way through the children as their King sat back on his throne. "We can not let these Elder's spoil our day. "
With a wave, Shade let out an animalistic growl that vibrated up his chest. The children around them began to fidget with much enthusiasm and in that moment, McQueen realised that the two of them might not be the main event. It was as if the children held their breath and you could taste the anticipation in the air.
“Wait?” McQueen called out as he fell to his knees at the edge of the room; his unease rising. “What are you going to do with us?” But Shade didn’t answer, instead he looked out across his people with a calculative gaze, the tension building. “Wats happening?” McQueen asked Echo, but as he turned to look over his shoulder, he saw that their guards had gone.
Echo had turned too and slowly her eyes widened. “Oh…” She breathed and to his surprised, shifted herself forwards towards Shade’s throne. “Quick, get out of the way.” She whispered and McQueen moved.
His arms tied around his back made it difficult, but like a lumpy worm, he managed. As they both collapsed at the feet of Shade’s throne, McQueen heard it. It was the sound of a tea tray chiming as unsteady hands brought it out into the garden, or the sound of metal pots clanging. It echoed down the closest corridor, getting closer and closer and all the children went silent, listening too.
“What is it?” McQueen asked but jumped from his skin went Shade slammed his fist down on his throne arm. The first vibration trembled up McQueen skin, as did the second and third, calling the room to order. Echo didn’t answer him and after a heartbeat or two, McQueen could see why. How could you explain what he saw next?
It was what had once been an old, vintage pram, its creaking wheels still rolling despite being bent out of shape. Wedged into the crib, a large, oily pot sat and its previous, crusty contents dribbled down the sides. Ugly, rusted spoons clanged together off the edge on the bassinet and making them ring like a dinner bell. It was then, as the rich, warm smell of meat rushed up McQueen’s nose, he realised what this was; dinner time. Looking around the room, every pair of eyes were glued to the pot and seemingly from nowhere, bowels, cups and plates had appeared in every child’s hand.
Eyeing the meaty pan, McQueen wondered what was in it: rat, mouse, bat or bird? His stomached cramped again, reminding him how hungry he was, but Echo’s warning sounded clear. Don’t eat anything, she’d said, so hands still tied McQueen observed instead.
The contents sloshed over the edge and there was a collective gasp as the thick stew tumbled down the side, its grey colour spreading thinner and thinner and yet still no one moved. It was then that McQueen heard the other noise, a faint, soft noise that was barely audible; a repetitive murmur, playing on a loop. Hushed and whispered under their breath, it took McQueen a moment to see it came from the cooks, their voices bubbling as they pushed the pram to the centre of the room. Heads bowed; three little girls moved the pram in earnest, their small, frail arms shaking with effort.
“What - Who are they-?” McQueen whispered to Echo as his ears tried to pick up the words that whispered from their lips, but his breath caught in his throat as the girls lifted their heads to look straight at him. Or at least, they would have, if they had eyes.
Each girl’s face was gaunt with hunger and white as a sheet. Their clothes hung from their bodies and their lips were bleeding with dry cracks, but it was their eyes that killed McQueen, because they simply weren’t there. Hollow sockets watched him, the dark empty holes freezing him in his place. It wasn’t until the pot was placed in the centre of the room and the three girls left, did McQueen allow himself to breath.
Flicking his gaze to Echo, she looked only at her lap and he couldn’t find the words. Horrors and pain awaited anyone who ended up down here and the longer McQueen remained in this compact Hell, the more he thought they might not make it out of there alive.
Two thumps of Shades’ hand brought McQueen to his senses and all he could do was watch in shock. He couldn’t speak, because no words came to him. He couldn’t question because he didn’t know what questions to ask. He had never felt an out-of-body- experience before, but he suspected it was very much like this; looking out of your own eyes, but not seeing a single thing…
The children around the room were on their toes, weapons gripped in their teeth or at their waist, all ready to move at a moment notice. Shade stood, collecting a perfect clay bowl from Tigress, its edges unchipped and its curve deep. He, in the silence, waltz forward, his long, lean legs carrying him over the sand until he stood over the pot.
With a delicate hand he scooped out his share, his dirty, bloody fingers dipping below the surface and lofted it high. The bowel quivered under the weight of the food and allowing the excess to slop to the floor, Shade slowly made his way back to his throne. Apprehension vibrated in the air like static, but Shade didn’t hurry, slipping his fingers into his bowel and pulling out a large, square chunk of meat.
A chorus of groans sounded in the room as every child – starved to the bone – watched their great leader sit back and leisurely licked the meat, savouring the taste on his tongue before placing it into his mouth whole; juices dripping down her jaw.
McQueen waited for the children to move, but still they remained rooted to the floor; eyes hungry with need. Only when Shade swallowed did McQueen feel the atmosphere change. It was as if someone had lit a match, the friction on the head still building against the coarse surface but it had yet to produce a spark. They were waiting for that flash, so agonising to wait for, the tension so high, and it would only take a moment to change…
Shade flicked a finger – one solitary finger – and the hall exploded all at once.
◆◆◆
“They were like rats?” McQueen breathed as he sat slumped back in their home-away-from home. The egg-shaped curve of the walls had been uncomfortable before, but McQueen was too numb to feel it now. He felt chilled to the bone.
“Rats?” Echo asked, her head lolled back in total ease despite the prison they resides in. “That’s a mellow description.”
“How?” McQueen rubbed his hands up and down his face, his eyes scrunched closed as the last hour flashed through his mind. “How can they live like this? How can this be real?” Gritt crunched under his fingers, falling from his eyebrows and hair. “This is crazy! This whole place it crazy!”
It was like a swell of unbridled blame twisting in his heart as he saw everything in his mind once more; for everything he couldn’t do, every child he’d failed to save. It was a ridiculous notion, he knew that, he’d only just found this place, but from now until the end of days he would remember their faces and the guilt would always linger with it.
Chaos had reigned in the Great Hall as kids flung each other sideways to get to their food. McQueen had gasped a breath every time a child took a sucker punch to the gut or received an elbow to their eye. Even Echo, the woman as hard as nails winced at the sound of flesh thumping flesh. Yet it was the sound of one soul destroying, strangled
scream that championed above the rest.
“Oh, my Lord.” McQueen had breathed as his eyes found the source and he came to the full understanding of what the Under-ert truly was.
