The sand was hot and scratchy. Pieces of it stuck to the beads of perspiration on their arms and faces, and where the sweat drizzled out of his pours, it became as thick as mud. Their feet now left long drag marks behind them, and the dunes stretched on in front of them.
For a while they had been watching a dark shape on the horizon. If it wasn’t a mirage, it might have been a shelter. Earlier, he’d thought he’d seen clusters of trees, but Trey hadn’t. This time was different, because this time it was something they could both see.
They trudged along, their bodies fueled with the hope of finding shelter. If it was only a mirage, Roger had decided he would lie down on the sand regardless of what might prey on him. Desperation had kept him moving through the oppressive heat of the afternoon sun despite his frustration at having to leave the comfort of the trees where there was shade, food, and water.
However, none of these doubts could stop his feet from trudging onward, and he wondered if Trey felt the same way. They’d stopped talking a while back, each of their throats too sore to talk much. Now they just communicated through gestures and grunting. It didn’t matter that both of them longed to return to the forest; they both knew that the path to the second trial lay somewhere across the ocean of sand. So, Trey continued to follow his fish, and Roger trudged through his glitter.
Roger could pretend that he would give up, but he knew deep in his bones that he wouldn’t. He would trudge through the sand until the heat sucked every drop of moisture out of his body and he had nothing more to give to this horrid planet.
He watched his feet rise and fall, focusing his energy. Occasionally, he would look up to see if they were still heading in the right direction and that Trey was still beside him. After awhile, he was surprised to notice the building wasn’t moving into the background, but with each slow step, it was actually solidifying.
207
Kristi Brooks
“I think it may actually be something this time.” Roger said, his voice nothing more than a scratchy whisper.
Trey started to say something, but all that came out was a dry click. He reached for his canteen and tilted it up just enough so that a couple of drops could slide down his throat.
“Yeah, I know,” he finally managed to get out. Then the oppressive heat and stillness of the desert pushed itself around them.
Even though Roger had thought himself on the edge of exhaustion, he now moved faster, the sand kicking higher into the air with each step. The half-empty canteen thumped against his leg, beckoning him. It had been taunting him all day, even more so since Trey had taken a drink. Now he pushed his thirst to the back of his mind, channeling his energy into making it to the shelter.
He drew within a couple of feet of the building and stopped. It didn’t appear to be a shack or house but a factory housed in a corrugated steel and cinderblock building.
“Where would they get a factory?” Roger asked, mesmerized by the idea of an Obawok assembly line.
“I wonder what those green dudes made?” Trey said.
The entrance shimmered and thinned.
“Did you see that?” Roger asked as he felt himself fall one step further into the rabbit hole. One minute, the building was as solid as the sand, but then, the space where it was filled with static and displaced particles.
“Man, how could you miss that? It was there, and then it was just…I don’t know, gone.”
Roger walked to within two feet of the door and put his hand against the doorway as it pulsed. He pushed his hand through the invisible barrier that lingered in the entrance. At first, he felt a slight tingle, but he continued pushing, entranced by what he felt. Once his hand was entirely through the door, the tingling subsided, but he was horrified when his flesh suddenly pulsed out of reality. He jerked it back and felt the air around him pop as he stumbled back in the sand.
He stared at his hand, turning it over and flexing each of his fingers. Everything looked normal, and when he rubbed his hands together he was relieved to know that it felt the same. He turned around, intending to mention something to Trey, but stopped short when he saw that Trey was staring at the sky as the suns sank into their horizons.
Last night, Roger hadn’t really studied the sunsets, but now he could see that all of the vibrancy actually came from the larger, orange sun. Even though most of the sky was enveloped in reddish, purple tones, the horizon that the yellow sun, was now resting on wasn’t as affected by this phenomenon. As he looked at the yellow sun he noticed for the first time that it also pulsed like the building in front of him. One second it would seem like it was so thin that you might actually be able to see right through it if you tried hard enough, as if it were a ghost in this strange world; the next, it would glow so brilliantly that it could have been a large yellow disco ball. The dusk had grown deeper in the few seconds they’d been staring at the sky, and he knew they were going to have to do something soon.
He looked back at the strange building, uncertain of whether or not he should try to make it through the night inside its unusual remains. The Obawok might have once had something similar to nuclear power. If this had been some type of facility, then it might be dangerous for them to spend any amount of time within its walls.
As he debated, a shrill noise pierced the air. The tortured sound bit straight through his skin and went directly to his bones. As a young boy in Southwestern Oklahoma, he had heard the call of coyotes and other wild animals, but it had never sounded like this. The call was so vivid he could feel the pain and hunger in its voice as if it were his own, and he knew if its owner ever got him, it would be the end.
“We’ve got to go inside, right now.”
“Reading you loud and clear, buddy,” Trey said as he launched himself through the door. He paused for a second in mid-air, then completed his arch as his body rolled onto the floor. Trey immediately stood up, and his eyes widened. He began pointing frantically to something behind Roger, but while his lips moved, no sound came through the barrier.
Without pausing to look behind him, Roger took a deep breath and walked into the building. His skin erupted in a wave of sensations, and his nerves tingled as if his skin were being taken apart and resewn directly onto his body. Just as he thought he was going to breech the barrier, something inside pushed back. Earlier, he’d felt something similar, but it was only a trivial amount of resistance compared to what he was feeling now.
He tightened up and shoved back. The force tightened momentarily, then gave, dumping his body on the ground with a thud that vibrated his bones. He rolled over and looked at the ceiling. As far as he could tell, he was all there; he just had a slight headache and his jaw and elbows throbbed together in pain.
Once the pain subsided, he propped himself up, wincing at the pain as he looked around. The thinning effect on the outside of the building had not stopped once he had crossed the threshold.
“That was the coolest feeling ever, better than riding a fifteen foot wave,” Trey said, his face flushed with exhilaration, one of his goofy smiles covering his face.
“Yeah, the coolest,” Roger said, wishing he had even an ounce of Trey’s enthusiasm. “What do you think this place was?”
Boards, braces, and covered objects were overtaken by fuzziness, making them ghosts before they once again snapping back into reality as they watched.
“I don’t know, but it reminds me of these abandoned buildings in the old warehouse district where I used to live,” Trey said, looking around as he spoke.
“Where did you grow up?”
“The waves on Long Beach, California. You?”
“Mulray, Oklahoma.”
“Oklahoma, that’s one of those square ones in the middle, right?” Trey said, chuckling.
“Almost,” Roger smiled. “It’s got a funny panhandle on the side.”
Their lighthearted mood was broken as another ear-piercing cry rocked the twilight, but this time it was much closer. Roger covered his ears, trying to block the shrill echo that wa
s filling his head. He had never heard a creature on earth release a sound like this. It sounded like metal rubbing against metal or fingernails on a chalkboard amplified to the power of ten.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I saw those creatures coming just before you came through.”
“How do you forget something like that?” Roger asked as he spun around to look at the doorway and saw a shadow approaching in the form of a large wolf-like animal. Its head was drawn to the ground, but Roger knew that it had been the voice behind the potent screams. “Help me find something to push in front of the door.”
“There’s those,” Trey said, pointing toward a stack of burlap bags in a corner of the room.
Roger pushed himself up off the ground and jogged to the stack. As he reached for one of the top bags, the pile vanished and he fell through them.
He could hear Trey running toward him, but he was too dazed and stunned to move, he knew that his head was where the bags should have been. Roger could see their outline above him, and as he was pushing himself away, the air around him shifted, leaving half of his left hand trapped under the mountain of dead weight. He screamed and the beast returned his call of pain.
Roger wrapped his free right hand around his left arm, and leaned back, pulling as hard as he could, but nothing moved. Trey dropped to the floor beside him and yanked back on Roger’s hand. It jerked back a small amount, but a lightening strike of pain seared through his arm. He looked over Trey’s shoulder and saw that the creature was now standing on the other side of the entrance.
Its face greeted him with a bloody stare so intense that Roger actually forgot about his hand and the pain strumming through his body. It had a short, wrinkled snout that didn’t seem right on such a large, feral creature. But then it opened its mouth.
Roger was mortified to see two rows of razor sharp teeth emerge from that small mouth, and he began frantically tugging at his hand. The creature’s harsh breathing echoed around him, and he could almost feel the hot, stinking air pushing against his skin.
As he and Trey were both tugging at his arm, the weight of the bags disappeared once again and his hand was released, sending them both sprawling against the floor. Roger got up on all fours and scurried to the right, moving even deeper into the factory. Trey backed into the darkness with Roger, neither of their eyes leaving the door. As they watched, the creature backed up and hunkered down like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.
It jumped through the door and became suspended in midair just like Trey’s body had been when he’d leaped through. But unlike Trey, the front half of the creature began to change before its front paws had pushed through the barrier. The dark brown fur around its muzzle grew dull and white before it thinned to almost nothing, revealing muscles that were twisted and dry. After a few seconds, they too withered away completely.
However, the half of him that hadn’t yet crossed the threshold remained fully intact.
“It’s just the part of him that actually entered the factory,” Roger whispered to himself. Beside him, Trey nodded his head but said nothing.
The rapid decay continued as its head now hung against his weary body and the skin dried and fell off revealing bones and mummified organs. Once these bones were exposed, the barrier released the creature and its lifeless body crashed to the floor.
For a little while nothing happened as Roger stared blankly at the body. Then, some of the other animals drug the half of the body on their side into the surrounding darkness. The only thing left of the pack was the small trail of blood that had dribbled from their leader’s body.
Roger inched forward on his hands and knees, his flesh tingling with each step, waking up from its long relationship with numbness as painful jolts shot through his nerve endings. The sound of movement startled him. As he turned around, he was relieved to see that it was only Trey walking toward the door.
When he got to the skeleton, he crouched down and placed his finger against a rib bone. The entire skeleton crumbled under his touch.
“Dude, now that’s something,” Trey said, a tilted smile inching across his face.
“Yeah, something.” Roger looked around, his eyes trying to pry into every shadow covered corner. “I think we probably need to get away from the door, just in case there are others that can get in.”
“Whoa, let’s wait a minute here.” Trey’s smile dissipated. “I’m not so sure I want to move any deeper into the place The Twilight Zone built.”
Roger stood up and walked toward the far end of the room. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high with metal crossbars running the length of the building. The floors were concrete and the cinderblock walls were covered with heavy layers of peeling tan paint. Boxes and shadowy pieces of equipment were stacked haphazardly as far as he could see, and many of them were covered with drop cloths.
“It’s not something I look forward to, either, but I want to stay in front of that door even less.”
Trey looked into the darkness outside the door and then toward the end of the building Roger was facing. After a few seconds, he shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “The fish is going with you, so I’ll follow him.”
Roger looked at his feet and saw none of his blue glitter on the floor. He squinted into the darkness but saw no trace of Trey’s fish either. For a second, he felt caught up in a sense of panic, a fleeting worry that he’d been abandoned by his extra sense. It may not have been something he’d originally wanted, but now he felt naked, as if he were nothing more than a child looking in the mirror.
Old nightmares about something that was half-man, half-machine, hooded monsters, and vials of glowing liquid took shape in the dust and darkness in front of him. The man’s scream became visible and stroked his cheek with a wispy finger. Roger froze until Trey’s voice broke through the smoky vision.
“Well, if we’re gonna do this, we need to roll,” Trey said, stepping into the shadowy underworld of his nightmares until they dissipated and fell, leaving Roger alone with his doubts. “This was your idea, you coming or what?”
“Sure.” Roger blinked, but the darkness was the only thing in front of him. “I was just wondering how we were going to find our way in the dark.”
“Dude,” Trey said, smiling as he reached into his bag. “I almost forgot.” He pulled two thick black candles and a box of matches. He handed one of those candles to Roger. “I snagged these from the room, thought they might come in handy.”
“Looks like they did,” Roger said, giving himself a mental head smack. He’d brought everything from toothpaste to toilet paper, but nothing as essential as a candle and matches.
Trey struck a match and the small light blossomed in the darkness, throwing spiky patches of orange and ebony across his face before he lowered it to the wick of each of their candles.
“Let’s get this going, then,” Roger said as he and Trey marched into the shadows, their makeshift beacons lighting the way.
The metal made a deep impression in the gnome’s cheek, and although she’d been a little more successful in getting information, she could feel her stomach clench and churn. The dark delight of retribution she’d felt when the torture had begun had faded and was now replaced with a disgust so deep it had become more pervasive than a thousand worms wriggling through her stomach.
One of the giant blisters on the gnome’s chest popped with a light, wet smack, and she cringed when the liquid touched her forearm.
“How do I get to his chambers?”
“I…I’m not sure,” The gnome sputtered and began twittering rapidly in his own language as Del pressed down even harder.
“Not sure?”
“No, no, there is…there is a passage. The door is in his office.”
Del knew that the gnome was only telling her part of the truth. There were at least two doorways Six knew of, and she was sure this gnome also knew where both of the entrances were.
“Where is the President now?”
“In his office,” The gnome muttered, brok
en.
“Well, how am I supposed to get to his chambers unnoticed if he’s in his office?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to have to think about it.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from flinching as she pulled the metal fork back and a section of his skin came off with it. As she returned to the stove to reheat it, the room was silent except for his wheezing breaths that came in giant gulps as he tried to breath around the blood that oozed from a mark just to the side of his mouth. The sound was amplified in the room, taunting her guilt. For a second, she thought about what she’d become and her grip faltered, but she forced herself to close her eyes and remember that she was doing this for Trulle. She felt her resolve tightening, and she wrapped her hand around the handle until her knuckles burned as hotly as it did.
“You know more than you’re telling me, and you have to realize I’m up against a wall here. I am going to die, and I know it. The President will hunt me down, torture me to the brink of sanity, and kill me. So, I’m obliged to do the same to you unless you give me something I want. And what I want is directions to his chamber that won’t get me immediately caught and killed.”
He glared at her through eyes that were little more than slits in his swollen face, but he said nothing.
“Don’t you have an answer, someway for me to get in without using the chamber entrance?” she asked again as she pushed the metal into his forehead, making sure to get the soft spot between his eyes.
“Ow…Ghetzy horfta may.”
“Gongia English.” She demanded, clicking her tongue in rapid succession and pressing down even harder on the fork.
His eyes widened when she spoke to him in gnome. Most gnomes communicated in a series of clicks and hand gestures, but they could communicate using a very basic form of their language, which was what this gnome had resorted to doing.
“Fine,” he spat as she pushed down on the handle.
His breath came in sharp, uneven rasps as she lowered her arm. Blood had mixed in drool that ran down the corners of his mouth and dripped onto the dirt floor.
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