Book 1 - Puppets

American Mysteries

America shoots up, breathing heavily.

'It's dark.'

His head swivels around, only to be met with more black. He feels around for the devices, only to come away shaking and empty-handed. He forces out a laugh, trying to shake away the flashes of memories before he ended up here.

Gnarled, bony fingers. Spinning. Black.

America rubs the sore marks on his shoulder with his free arm.

'Now, I'm here in some musty room with no supplies and water dripping on my head. Ewww...'

He wipes the moisture off his face with a disgusted noise. Putting his hands in front of him, he slowly stands and feels around for a wall to follow.

'I probably look like a zombie,' America thinks with a smile.

'Man, I liked the snacks I had in that bag. I wonder where it went...'

He shuffles forward, and his fingertips meet a rocky surface. He carefully walks along the wall, gently brushing his hands against the rigged surface beside him. 

His eyes are still wide open, trying desperately to see anything. Then, a red light, no bigger than a pea, blinks in front of him. 

'Wait...'

It's around 8ft in the air and turns off just as suddenly as it had appeared.

America jumps out of surprise and stares at the spot. He waits a few moments, and it flashes again.

"What the fuck?" he mutters.

The crackling of speakers echoes against cave walls. America's head swivels around.

'Why does it have to be so fucking dark?!'

His eyes began to burn due to the strain of trying to focus on nothing at all.

"Now that's not a very nice word, now is it?" a voice cooed sardonically from above.

"Who the fuck are you? And where am I?" America shouts to the ceiling. 

America flinches at the way his voice wavers.

'I can't let some creep know I'm scared.'

Chilling laughter floats from the speaker, which America decides must be right around where the flashing light is. America glares up at the dot's location but flinches every time it flashes into view.

"You're in a maze," the voice answers with a smug tone.

Before America can say another word, the speaker's crackling stops.

Silence. 

'The loudest noise on the planet is the silence of being ignored,' America muses.

The only sounds left to accompany him are his own breathing and the distant echo of dripping water. America could've sworn he heard distant footsteps, but he can't be sure. America's hands tremble, and he clenches them into fists.

"For the kids... for Russ. I can't panic now," he mumbles with a shaky breath.

He takes a deep breath and unclenches one hand, trying desperately to remember anything that could help.

'Magic.'

America pauses before throwing his hands in the air out of exasperation.

'Wow, I can be an idiot.'

America summons it from his chest and lays his other hand on the cold, unfeeling stone. There is a slight pull near his heart, and he feels familiar warmth rush to his hand. A glow grows from his palm, forming a small light.

It's dim, about as bright as a Zippo lighter would have been.

America waits for his eyes to adjust to the area now bathed in a pale blue hue. The glow casts long shadows into the crevices of the rock walls.

"Now to find a way out of here," America mumbles, "I have a crazy guy to kick in the balls."