The Ready Guardian

by C Utigard

it was again: a noise. It sounded like a rat or a mouse screeching—no, it was the squeal of rusted hinges.

  Hinges? he thought and opened his eyes. The door!

  …He couldn’t move.

  Paralyzed by a complicated mix of swirling emotions, Daniel’s breath froze in his throat and he stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

  What is real?

  All at once, he clenched his fists and broke free of his bodily prison. Rolling out of bed, he landed on his knees, scrambled to his feet and rushed out into the cafeteria. The difficult door to the main hall was open and there was something strange slithering through: a golden parallelogram… light had invaded the temple entrance.

  Rushing to the door, Daniel was momentarily stunned. He had forgotten the power of sunlight, but he remembered it now. It was as fierce as the light of the desert sun, white hot, sizzling, and he put his hands up to shield his eyes. Squinting through the haze, he was dimly aware of a silhouette, blurry against the shining light behind—a man. Daniel realized his moment of salvation had at last arrived in the form of this new visitor to the temple, and for a moment his mind was so deeply disturbed that he couldn’t think of anything to say, but ran towards the stranger, stuttering and stumbling.

  “Th- th- the door!” he managed to blurt.

  …But it was too late.

  The door slammed shut, filling the temple with darkness.

  Andrew Dawson blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes. He was surprised by the sudden submersion into darkness, and it took a couple of seconds for his mind to process the wild-eyed man before him. A vagrant taking shelter? The door, he’d said—what about the door?

  “That was our only way out! The only escape and you closed it!”

  Escape? Andrew was beginning to feel threatened and his hands tensed into fists unconsciously. He was sweating a little, probably because of the high-energy rambling of the vagrant. What was this place? Pews and a podium were evident in the dark, and stained-glass windows. A church of some kind, but Andrew couldn’t recognize the denomination from within and the exterior certainly hadn’t given it away.

  There was discomfort behind his ears because the sunglasses atop his head had gone askew in the confusion, so he brushed his short black hair back and hung the glasses from his t-shirt. His dark eyes flitted around the room, taking it in, avoiding the awkward stranger before him.

  “What’s your name, buddy?” he said at length.

  “What? Well, I’m Daniel but you’re not listening—”

  “That’s great, Dan,” Andrew interrupted, patting the pale man’s shoulder, “but you wanna hit the lights? It’s a little weird talking in the dark.”

  At that Daniel stopped and stood blinking in the dark. He couldn’t believe it, his hope for escape had slammed shut before him and now he was being ignored. His hands were shaking. He was filled to the brim with despair, torn between breaking down and lashing out.

  “Weren’t you listening?” his voice was buzzing like a nervous presenter’s. “There are no lights—well, there is one, but that’s…” he’d been about to go off on a tangent, so he stopped himself. “We’re trapped here!" he said. "Stuck! There’s no way out!”

  “What are you talking about?” Andrew smirked and walked past the worried little man. There was a thump and a curse: he'd walked right into one of the heavy pews. “Damn! What did I tell you? Will you get the lights?”

  “There are no lights!” Daniel insisted, his eyes still a little funny from the flash of sunlight. Flecks were dancing across his vision, but they were the least of his concerns. Who was this man and what was he thinking? And why wasn’t he listening? And why wasn’t he concerned about being trapped?

  The realization struck Daniel harder than the sunlight had and he gasped, choking on the lump in his throat. “It’s… it’s… it’s you!” he said, his ragged breath burning the back of his throat. “You’re the one!”

  Andrew sighed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Y-you’re… the sneaky stocker,” Daniel’s jaw was hanging open, “the one that’s been filling the fridge. It’s… you…”

  “Stalker?” Andrew shook his head, frowning. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about and maybe that’s my fault for barging into your place. Sorry, alright? I just never noticed this building before and wanted to check it out. Is it a church or something?”

  Daniel’s mouth moved, trying to form words, but no sound escaped. His brain was on fire, re-mapping itself at an unprecedented rate. Grimacing from the pain, Daniel clutched at his scalp and forced himself to speak: “But you must be him! No one comes here but him,” he said, then groaned from a flaring of his headache.

  Andrew Dawson didn’t like the situation he was in. Dan was making him nervous; he didn’t get nervous. His eyes lingered on the door.

  “Alright,” he said, “I’m obviously, you know, disturbing you here, so I guess I’ll take off.” Carefully, he made his way to the door with Dan watching in silence. “But you know,” he added, “if you don’t want visitors, you really should think about getting a sign or something—just a thought.”

  Then he tried to open the door, and found that it wouldn’t budge. Cocking his head, Andrew pursed his lips and tried again with both hands. Nothing. The door was shut tight.

  “Hey listen, bud,” he said over his shoulder, “is there some kinda trick to this door here? I, uh, I can’t seem to get it.”

  When Dan didn’t answer, Andrew turned around.

  “Dan?”

  Daniel cleared his throat. “Hmm, yeah?” he said weakly. His thoughts were racing much too fast for him to vocalize. He was calculating, strategizing. After so many years, so much time in this place… he hadn’t had to think fast in a long time and it was hurting him. What was going on?

  “I just asked you if there’s a trick to getting this door open. I’d like to leave, you know, sometime today.”

  The stranger was tapping his foot and his arms were crossed. Having gone three years without human contact, Daniel’s social skills had become rusted. He felt intimidated by the stranger’s body language and stepped backwards without thinking about it. The hairs on the back of his neck tickled.

  Scoffing, Andrew shook his head and stared Dan down. “Alright, yeah, thanks. Good answer. What the hell’s that supposed to mean, anyways?”

  “I told you,” Daniel whispered, lowering his eyes to the floor. “We’re trapped here…”

  “What?” Andrew’s voice thundered. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What was that?”

  “We’re trapped!” Daniel repeated, his gaze flitting between the stranger and the floor. His shoulders were slumping and he suddenly felt very tired. He was depressed too, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the missed opportunity for escape, or was it something else…?

  “Funny guy,” Andrew said, smiling. “You’re a funny guy. So we’re trapped, cool—for how long? When can I get outta here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Right…” Andrew said to himself, trying to think. It was obviously some sort of game, some sort of trick. Whatever it was, it no longer felt innocent. “Listen, I’m gonna do you a favour, okay? I’m gonna tell you how long I’m gonna be trapped here, and then you’re gonna tell me how to get out—understand?”

  “I can’t…” Daniel protested, his hands starting to quiver.

  “Oh yes you can Danny, yes you can you little freak. Tell me how to unlock this door or so help me I’ll put you right through one of these windows—fuck it.” He’d given himself an idea and was done talking with the creepy little temple priest. Andrew headed for the dim room near the back of the main hall: the cafeteria.

  Unsure of himself, Daniel followed behind at a cautious distance. He thought he was blabbering about something, but he was so frightened of himself, of the adrenaline coursing through his body, of the resultant shakes and chills permeating his core; frightened of the stranger, of the situation, of the nature of reality and t
he pain and confusion in his mind; so frightened he was beside himself, watching the auto-piloted Daniel-vessel stumbled through the dark like a child seeking his parents’ room after a nightmare.

  In the cafeteria, Andrew was looking for a weapon or an implement, anything he could use to smash out a window. Three years ago the room had been a mess of chair limbs and debris, but the mess had been cleaned up and Daniel had placed his favourite chair leg in a cupboard along with his other favoured escape tools. Andrew, in a rage, picked up a chair as Daniel had done years before and smashed it against the nearest window with more force than Daniel could have ever mustered.

  The chair, of course, shattered. The window did not.

  Andrew wheeled about and came towards Daniel, who was standing in the doorway leading to the entrance. “Reinforced windows, huh? This is your little game, ain't it, pervert...? You think you can trap me here? You think you can trap ME?”

  The stranger kept tapping himself in the chest with his finger while he talked—why was he doing that? Daniel really didn’t like that and he was really, very intimidated by the stranger’s erratic behaviour. Manipulated by fear, Daniel staggered backwards and tried to throw the cafeteria door closed, but the stranger was too quick. He caught the door before it shut, stepped out and slammed it behind him, filling the hall with darkness.

  Andrew couldn’t see a thing and stopped for a moment. He tried to open the cafeteria door to let some light in, but