Time Maze

The Never-ending Race

Encroaching darkness made any attempt at orientation impossible. All Tyson and Marcus could do was hope that a portal would pop out in front of them and envelop them.

Being swallowed up by it would mean going to a different time and place. However, the alternative of being caught by the monster that was after them sounded like a far worse fate, something that they couldn't walk away from.

"Hurry up! It's catching up to us!" Tyson yelled.

"I am trying, man. I am trying," Marcus responded, breathing heavily.

Still, he did his best to make his legs move faster. He tried to focus all his remaining strength on the power of his leg muscles, the same ones which burned in the effort since he had rarely practiced them before.

Just as Marcus thought he achieved enough momentum to keep on going, the most horrible thing he could imagine happened, he went down. It was as if his legs gave out on him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't get them to start moving again.

"Tyson! I am down! Help me, man!" Marcus screamed as loudly as he could.

Before the panic of being left behind could settle in, he felt Tyson's strong hands trying to pull him upright. All he accomplished was bring himself down as well. There was no way for Marcus' tired legs to keep him moving.

"We're done for!" Marcus lamented as he heard the thunderous approach of their pursuer.

"Not yet! Not on my watch!" Tyson said, attempting once again to lift his friend up.

He managed to slightly raise him off the ground, but before he could rejoice at the accomplishment, they both fell tumbling to the side. However, instead of hitting one of the closeby walls, they went down a steep surface.

It was such a long journey downward that Tyson started wondering if he had suddenly turned into Alice in Wonderland, falling down an endless well. However, before he could get lost in his imaginings, they hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Ow, that hurt!" Marcus said, rubbing his head.

However, Tyson didn't even attempt to take stock of his injuries. All he focused on were signs of pursuit.

Only upon hearing no sounds besides his friend's loud complaining did Tyson manage to relax and check how his body was faring after the long fall. Furthermore, he worried that his friend might have a concussion having had two injuries so close to each other.

The last thing someone like Marcus needed was a head injury. He was unreliable as it was, and a concussion would only exacerbate his condition.

"Marcus, are you okay?" Tyson asked.

"Just a bit queasy, and my head hurts. I think I knocked it on the wall on our way down." Marcus said.

"Let me check," Tyson said, feeling his way through the dark towards Marcus' voice.

Before he could reach his friend, a bright light blinded him for a second. He had to close his eyes tightly and slowly open them up, getting them adjusted to the brightness.

While doing so, Tyson could barely keep his heart from escaping his chest from terror. Having been through so many things, a sudden appearance of light didn't bode well, in his opinion. It was disorienting and odd, which he didn't like.

Once his eyes finally adjusted, Tyson saw Marcus using his phone's flashlight to illuminate the way.

For a few moments, all Tyson could do was stare at Marcus in disbelief.

"Marcus, have you had your phone with you all this time? Did you go into the lake with your phone on you?" Tyson asked, trying to control his anger.

"Yeah. Why?" Marcus asked, oblivious.

It was clear to Tyson that his friend failed to understand that a torch would have been quite useful. It would have been good both to light their way as they ran and reveal the identity of the thing that was after them. Marcus seemed unable to connect the dots, and Tyson wasn't sure if he should laugh or slap some sense into his friend.

"How is it still working?" Tyson asked, ignoring his friend's ignorance about the usefulness of a cell phone in their situation.

"It's the newest waterproof one," Marcus explained.

"Have you tried calling for help?" Tyson asked.

"Huh?" Marcus asked, clearly confused.

"Nevermind. Give me that," Tyson said, taking the phone from his friend.

The first thing he did was check the reception, and even though it clearly showed there was no reception, he attempted to call 911. He hoped that at least the emergency services worked in the odd place they found themselves in.

To Tyson's disappointment, he didn't manage to get through. He knew that it shouldn't have surprised him. It was clear that the tunnels they were in were beyond what the general public ever saw unless they were as unlucky as Tyson and Marcus.

"No service. Okay, sit still, and I'll check you for injuries," Tyson said, shining the torch on his friend.

A spatter of blood that he saw in Marcus' hair made him gulp audible. There was a cut on his friend's head, and he knew he needed to do something about it. However, it took all his self-control not to just turn his head away from the sight of blood.

Ever since Tyson was a child, he had problems with it. That was especially true if it was someone else's blood. The psychologists told him that the cause of his strong reaction to it could have been a consequence of childhood trauma, but none of the solutions they offered helped.

Of course, Tyson knew when it all started. He still remembered the day his father came home covered in blood as more blood dripped from the wound on his head. Young as Tyson was, he was terrified by seeing his father like that, so vulnerable. From that day on, he started having issues with seeing someone else's blood. The problem had persisted into adulthood.

"Tyson, what is it? Why are you so pale?" Marcus asked as Tyson stared at him with a frozen expression on his face.

"You're bleeding," Tyson said.

"Oh, sorry. I'll stop the bleeding." Marcus said, trying to put some pressure on the wound he couldn't see.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll do it. Just hold still." Tyson said.

"Do you still have that mouthwash you carried at the party with you?" Tyson added.

"I sure do. It never leaves my pocket." Marcus said, pulling out the mouthwash and giving it to Tyson.

"Okay, give me your t-shirt," Tyson said.

"What? I need it," Marcus replied.

"You have the shirt. I need it to stop the bleeding." Tyson said, not entirely sure that he was doing what was supposed to be done.

"Fine," Marcus grumbled.

Then he took off his longsleeved shirt only to put it back on once he removed his T-shirt.

Tyson poured the mouthwash on what he believed to be the cleanest part of the T-shirt and put it on Marcus' wound, applying pressure.

"Aargh, that hurts," Marcus exclaimed but made no attempt to stop his friend.

"I know, but it will help keep your wound from getting infected since I have no idea when we'll see the doctor or any other place besides this damp hole," Tyson said.

"What are we going to do now?" Marcus asked.

"Rest. I really think we need some rest. We've been running around so much, and I still haven't even gotten over the hangover. When we wake up, we'll think about our next step." Tyson said.

"That sounds good," Marcus said, already yawning.

Though Tyson wasn't sure if Marcus should be sleeping in his condition, he believed they would be in far worse danger if they didn't rest. Thus, they stretched their legs on the cold ground and fell asleep before they could note how cold it was.

They didn't even have the time or presence of mind to note that the hole they ended up in was much different than what they had encountered so far.