by Wolfe Locke
For Luca, the worst were the brief periods of intense awareness as long shadows plagued his mind, flooding him with fear as hits of adrenaline ravaged his body. His mind assumed that every sound he heard in the night belonged to one monster or another. Judging from the sounds of nails against stone, Luca knew the assumption wasn’t entirely wrong. The car was moving a little as things better left unseen passed by.
The truth, though, was that even staring out into the night at the moving shadows was preferable to the alternative: having to stare into his father’s dead eyes. Luca wasn’t sure if he could free himself, and he was too scared to try, and until he was ready, few other options existed.
Sheer panic flooded Luca’s body as the windows of the car went completely dark. The car’s suspension groaned as shadowy figures stepped onto the hood and the trunk. Luca heard the sound of bestial growls and sniffing of a predator.
Luca knew what they were, more monsters. Actual monsters, not just the nightmares that plagued his thoughts. He held his breath, trying to silence the sounds of his body. He heard talking in a language he had never heard before. His mind almost stretched to its breaking point as the figures jumped off the car and began milling about, sniffing the air. Luca closed his eyes, completely paralyzed by an absolute fear. Dad, save me, please. I don’t wanna die.
When Luca heard the monsters move away, passing by the car and down the road, the floodgates opened of his emotions, and he cried. Tears flowed freely down his face as he sobbed. It was then that Luca knew he wasn’t getting out of here alive. Even if somehow he got free from the car, he was still crippled. He wouldn’t be able to outrun any of those things from a wheelchair, and that’s assuming the road would be clear enough for him to pass over it in his wheelchair.
For the rest of the night and into part of the next day, Luca remained in place, unable to gather the courage to try and free himself to escape. When the sun came up, Luca caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was covered in blood, and it clung to him in coagulated lumps. Even his father’s body was starting to change, appearing bruised and stiff as decay set in.
Eventually, as time passed, Luca soiled himself when he was unable to move from the spot. By midday the next day, Luca was ready to try and get out. His body ached all over from being cramped in the back of the car. The weight of his father's body shifted more on to Luca, making it difficult to breathe with the increased pressure against his lungs. Flies began to swarm, landing all over him, crawling over his face and his eyes. From outside the car, Luca could see a group of crows waiting patiently to feast. Their otherworldly gaze was never leaving him. He, like so many bodies on the road, was marked for death.
As he grew weaker, Luca knew he needed to escape. Though he had no idea how to make, that happen. Luca had no idea where it would be safe to go if somehow he managed to escape. Whenever Luca tried to think of what would happen once he was free, he couldn’t imagine any ending that didn’t result in a terrible death.
"I'm all alone now," Luca realized as he talked to himself, his voice low. The noise was somewhat startling to him. It was the first time he had heard a voice in days. "First Mom, now Dad. It's just me. I have no idea what to do."
Luca looked towards his dad, saying, "Dad, I need you, please; I'm sorry. Help me." But Luca received no response from the man, only the steady rot of his father's body and the smell of his filth as the flies crawled, the bugs and the maggots keeping him company.
Before nightfall, Luca finally found the courage to try and get free, not wanting another to spend another night in the car, fearing what night would bring. But when he tried to move his father’s body off of him, Luca found his arms lacked even the little strength they had had before. No matter how hard he pushed the body, no matter how hard he tried to pull himself out from under it, neither budged. His little bit of strength was exhausted.
The more he struggled, the more Luca noticed the disgusting smell of fetid decay. His hands slick with blood made it difficult to gain any traction to grab onto anything. Luca lost more time as he broke down and cried at the helplessness of his situation.
He was cold, his stomach hurting from hunger, his head pounding from dehydration. Luca knew his body was likely fighting all types of infections. He wasn’t going to survive this. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness.
In the middle of the night, Luca summoned the last reserves of his energy. With one last effort, he grabbed his father by the arms and found them too stiff to maneuver or bend. Not wanting to give up, Luca tried to roll the body on its sides, but blisters that had formed on the skin burst. The skin itself ripped as noxious fluid spilled out, causing Luca to throw up again and pass out from the effort.
Completely exhausted, Luca let himself give into hopelessness. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was too weak to even escape from under the body that pinned him in place. The only option he had left was to wait for the release of death to take him.
With dawn on the horizon, Luca lay delirious and barely clinging to life. Nearby Luca thought he heard the sounds of people calling out searching for survivors. In a haze, Luca watched in fear before ultimately deciding his desire to live was stronger than his fear of dying. Monsters or not, delirious or not, Luca decided to answer the call.
"Here. I’m over here. Help me," Luca croaked with a raspy voice near-mute from dryness. "Please, save me; I’m trapped. I don’t want to die. I need help."
But the voices didn't turn toward him. Luca heard the footsteps walking away, and their voices became harder to make out. Luca broke down into his last cry, an anguished wail of hopelessness.
"Hey, do you hear that, Dale? It sounds like somebody is crying over there. They might be trapped; let's check it out," said a masculine voice.
Somewhat strengthened by the realization he might be saved, Luca shouted as loud as he could, a rattle more than a shout that came out as little more than a whisper. The effort was doing damage to his vocal cords, but he hoped it would do. "I'm over here; please help me."
"Hey Pat, it's coming from that car over there," said Dale, his voice raised with concern as he moved toward the car. "Sounds like a kid. Let’s do this. He probably needs our help. You know if it was one of our kids, we would want someone to help them."
For the first time in days, Luca felt hope that he would get to live after all. He was saved.
Chapter 3: The Enemy Within
The two men approached the car cautiously, suspicious of the open door and the stains of blood, eyeing with caution the claw marks that marred the roof of the vehicle with deep gouges.
"Oh damn, Pat, it reeks like somebody died over there. I don’t think this is a good idea. Let’s leave it alone and just piss off," said Dale, his eyes fixated on the car as Pat nodded his agreement.
Hearing the two men so close to him, Luca tried to move, even as his body groaned and protested in pain. He wanted to make noise and draw their attention towards him. But the process only exhausted him further. The sounds of movement startled the two skittish would-be rescuers.
Before they ran away out of earshot, Luca screamed as loud as he could muster. "Please, it's my dad; he’s been killed. I’m trapped in here with him."
Luca heard a sharp intake of breath as the two men drew in close. "Jesus Christ, there's a kid under all that? Fuck, man. That’s all you, Pat. This one is on you. If this goes south, it's your ass.”
“Fuck it. Just get the kid out of there," responded Pat, his voice a combination of pity and disgust.
Within seconds, Luca heard the sound of a hand pressing against the car’s frame as the man named Pat looked into the car. Upon seeing Luca, Pat gave him a weak and pitying smile.
"I’m here, kid; I got you." Large male hands grabbed onto the shredded hem of his father’s pants, dragging the decomposing body off of Luca. Pat tossed the body to the side, and it landed unceremoniously on the ground, splitting open.
The sudden movement scared th
e buzzing flies, dispersing them before settling back on Paul’s body. From behind Pat, Luca could hear Dale suddenly hurl.
The body out of the way, Pat was able to get a good look at Luca. He frowned when he saw the kid’s clothes were ruined, stained from blood and filth. "Sorry, you went through all that, kid. What's your name anyway? I’m Pat, and my companion over there is Dale," Pat said, his voice sympathetic as he tried to comfort Luca.
With Luca’s voice cracked and damaged as it was from thirst, disuse, and sudden screaming, the boy croaked out a barely audible "Luca."
"Alright, Luca, I’m going to pull you out nice and easy. Don’t be scared, ok?" said Pat, trying to reassure the boy as he reached into the car and began pulling Luca out, picking him up as soon as he was able.
As soon as Luca was finally free, the emaciated crippled boy leaned into the chest of his rescuer, hugging him tightly, and sobbed. The two men looked at each other in embarrassment, and Pat was unsure how to respond, doing the only thing he could think of and hugged back. "It’s ok, kid. Your safe."
Dale looked on in disapproval, trying to make eyes as if to say, Leave him. Both men knew the boy was a liability, having realized it as soon they figured out the overturned wheelchair on the road belonged to the boy.
Seeing the disapproving looks, Pat spoke up. "I’m going to take him with us. He’ll die if we leave him here. Besides, he’s light, barely anything more than the skin on his bones. I’ll carry him if I have to, you know those things lay low when they’ve fed, and with his blessing, we should be fine."
Hearing the two men talking about him, Luca stirred. "Where are you taking me?" he asked with a hoarse voice, barely more than murmuring. Feeling desperate, Luca struggled in Pat’s arms, trying to point to his wheelchair.
Pat responded to Luca’s flailing about by tightening his hold on the kid, trying to avoid either of them getting hurt. Pat was completely prepared to put the kid to sleep if needed.
As Pat felt the kid settle down, he lessened his grip on the boy. Looking down at the load he was carrying, the dying body of a boy who didn’t need to die alone, Pat had an expression of regret and sadness on his face. "Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s easier if I carry you. We’re heading to the only place that’s really safe anymore. Ground Zero, the entrance to what they are calling the World Dungeon."
Luca nodded in confused understanding, knowing at least the destination was safe. An escape for the nightmares of the last few nights. Before taking off, Dale walked over and whipped out his canteen, helping Luca to have a drink.
Luca tried to not seem disappointed when food didn’t follow the water. However, Dale still saw the look of disappointment, responding with an explanation, "I don’t carry food on me, kid, sorry about that. Those animals can smell it."
The road was eerily quiet except for the buzzing of flies and the caws of the carrion birds. Dale walked ahead, scouting for survivors and salvageable gear, making sure the path was clear as Pat walked behind, carrying Luca cradled in his arms. Dale raised his hand, giving the signal to halt in place. A trail of fresh blood led away from a broken windshield.
Pat placed Luca on the ground and raised a finger to his mouth in a command to be quiet as both of the men pulled out long bowie knives they were carrying on their person.
They followed the bloody trail with a nod to each other, each coming in from a different direction. They returned seconds later, after finding some manner of grisly discovery that neither disclosed. Without a word, Pat put the knife away and picked Luca back up. Noting that the boy had passed out in the short time of his absence, he ignored Dale’s pleas to abandon the kid.
Both of the men seemed unnerved as they began walking the road again, wincing each time broken glass crunched beneath their boots. Each of them tried to ignore the murder of crows feasting on the dead that littered the roadside in a gruesome parody of slaughter.
Most had been victims of the monsters unleashed by the dungeon to rampage, while others had been killed through the negligence and malice of other people.
The contrast was alarming. Just a few days earlier, it would have been an oddity to see what had been one of the busiest highways in the world shut down. The streets were choked full of abandoned and damaged cars on both sides of the road, utterly dead across all 8 lanes.
As Pat carried the unconscious boy in his arms, he noticed that the kid began tossing and turning, struggling against whatever nightmare was plaguing him. His skin appeared pale and blotched from fever. As Pat surveyed the nightmarish hellscape around him and the blood that dyed the road in red blotches, he couldn’t help but draw the conclusion in his thoughts.
Why wouldn’t the kid have nightmares? Even more so, Pat was reminded of the state that he had found the boy in. Remembering the shredded body of the man the boy had been trapped under, the boy’s father.
"What a damn pity. I’m glad my kids didn’t have to see me go out like that," he thought. Pat had a pretty good idea of what the kid’s nightmares entailed.
Dale circled back to check on Pat and make sure he wasn’t lagging too far behind, shaking his head in disapproval as he saw Pat still carrying the cradled form of the unconscious boy. But Pat ignored it. A little compassion was the least that he could do, considering what awaited the boy where they were going. It was still a more compassionate fate than to be left on the streets to starve or wait for death.
The two men and the dying boy pressed forward, being careful as the roads grew more congested. Even with his blessing, neither of the men felt confident in their safety.
They weaved methodically in and out of the abandoned vehicles, trying as they could to avoid getting too close to the cars or parts of the road that showed signs of damage, also avoiding dead bodies and pools of blood.
The two men learned what many among their numbers had learned the hard way. Monsters didn’t just roam these roads; they nested here.
They had a rule. A rule that the two of them had developed out of necessity for survival. To generally avoid drawing close to signs of damage, dead bodies, or blood. Though like with the boy, exceptions happened.
The pair was anxiously avoiding bringing attention to themselves. Though they saw no immediate signs of the monsters nearby, that didn't mean they were safe, and both of the two men acted accordingly. With utmost caution.
The duo had come across many firsts since becoming stranded on the highway, as so many others had. Following the emergence of the giant stone gateway, that was the entrance of the World Dungeon. The portal to the other world rising up into the air amidst the outlet ruins. With the appearance of the entrance to the World Dungeon, so too had the monsters appeared. A calamity on the race of men.
But another mystery existed. They had been introduced to the humanlike yet alien beings that called themselves elves. Neither Pat or Dale had known each other before but had quickly taken to each other. They shared a common value. Both had tried to fight off the monsters attacking their families rather than cry and deny what was happening. Near-death, the elves had interceded and offered their protection in exchange for service and sacrifice. Neither Pat nor Dale liked the arrangement but knew they had no other choice but to carry their water. Each of them knew they had no other options. Both had families who had been trapped on the road and saved by the arrangement.
Pat shuddered at the memory of the previous few days, pushing the memories from his thoughts. At least he tried to. Images flashed across his vision as the memories forced themselves up, superimposing on his consciousness as the worst moment of his life replayed itself.
The memory of fear as the black-furred monsters, the Hellhounds as they were called by the elves, tore into the metal of his vehicle with long yellowed claws, tearing through it like paper. The feeling of hopelessness as he kicked and hit and stabbed the monster to no effect. The memory of his youngest daughter crying in fear. Her frantic, desperate begging that he do something, begging because she didn't want to die, and the memory of his wife hold
ing their son as she prayed.
That was the lowest point of my life, Pat thought, even as he carried the unconscious boy in his arms to his doom. Of course, I was going to say yes when I was asked. Even a slave knows life is better than the alternative. Resentment and anger welled up inside of him towards the elves.
He thought of the fair-skinned elf who had tapped on the window during the attack, a gloating and demeaning smile on his face. He offered to save them all, Pat’s whole family, but only if Pat agreed to serve him. No questions were to be asked, no refusals, only assistance and deliverance.
Pat knew Dale was in the same position even if they never spoke about it; why would they? It didn't help their situation at all to talk about it. It only made the guilt worse.
For a short while, there had been a third man among them. A third who had balked when the elf had revealed what the debt owed would entail. A third who had tried to go back on the deal once the terms were known and payment was expected on what was owed. What Pat remembered the most was the way the elf smiled with genuine joy when the man explained why he just couldn't go through with it.
