Dangerous Games

Chapter 14 part 2

There was just enough light for me to make my way along the corridor, although with my hands extended at arm's length, like a blind man feeling his way through some unknown space. As I moved, the stationary air gave the sensation something similar to trying to walk along the bottom of a swimming pool. Even my own not-insubstantial body mass wasn't capable of creating some sort of air movement. No, no. Swimming pool's the wrong word. It was like trying to walk through the vacuum of outer space. Well, somewhere between the two.

As I walked, doors gradually swam into focus to left and right, looming out of the darkness like immense black tombstones, then swooping past me. If it's possible for something to swoop at the snail's pace at which I was going. Normally, one's eyes would get used to the low light level, but mine never did. The darkness itself was still and unchanging, with a constant dream-like quality, which gave me the impression more of floating like a disembodied spirit rather than walking along on carpet. Half floating, half sliding through deep murky water. That's the closest I can get to describing the sensation of moving along that corridor.

If I'd been on Earth, I could have walked – not even run, but walked – from one end of that corridor to the other in no more than a few seconds, but in this dark, swimming-pool world, it was a different kettle of fish entirely. All time ceased to matter there. I had no idea whether I'd been walking for a few seconds or hours, but eventually I came to the end. I knew I'd come to a dead halt not because of any change in what I could see – half see – but because I stubbed my toe against the far wall. A sudden stab of pain shot up my leg, mild in itself but my senses, deprived of any other sensation, heightened it to the level of agony. I didn't mind. In fact, I welcomed the pain as a sign that I hadn't actually died and been consigned to limbo. No, I really was here, in body as well as in mind.

I felt forward. The cold hardness of the painted brickwork – another welcome sensation – and, on top of it, a painted wooden window sill. I was standing in front of a window. Was there glass in this window? Another exploratory feel – yes, there was. I was standing in front of a glass window, and yet I could see nothing beyond.

I must be able to see out, surely. After all, where was this ghostly light coming from if not from somewhere outside? Certainly not in here. I pressed my nose against the cold glass and put my hands up against the sides of my face, in the way that people do who are trying to shut out the light from the room behind them.

At first, nothing, then as I peered further it seemed as if I could make out shapes moving. They were either far away in the distance and large, or close to me and very small, just on the other side of the glass maybe. These things didn't seem like people, or vehicles, or anything that I was familiar with. The only thing they reminded me of was swirling mist. It was as if this building or possibly even just this floor of the building were suspended timelessly in space surrounded by an infinity of swirling fog and mist stretching endlessly in all directions.

There was nothing to be gained from looking out of that window, nothing that could help me in any way. I slowly turned, to be faced by the seemingly endless black tunnel again, disappearing indefinitely into blackness. The lift door and, I hoped, the road back to life lay somewhere out in that darkness. I was immediately overcome by the simple overwhelming desire to go home. This oppressive darkness perpetually encroaching on me, was soul-destroying, almost permeating my skin and filling my lungs. I'd had enough of it, and all I wanted was my nice, warm bed. It was time to start walking again.

Pushing through the gloom, I was suddenly transfixed by a single, loud human scream. It was as though a sudden bright light had gone on and been immediately extinguished leaving the scream itself as the afterglow that you get in your eyes as they're plunged back into darkness. I couldn't pin-point where it had come from, but it must have been somewhere up ahead as I had only gone a few paces, and the only things behind me – as far as I knew – were the window and the nebulous, swirling fog beyond.

The sound itself had held real terror, but like the nosebleed and the stubbed toe, I welcomed it as a sign that reality could penetrate even such a non-place as this. Besides, it was the first human voice that I'd heard in, well, I didn't know how long.

The next was my own. "Is anyone there?" I shouted, expecting to hear my voice echoing along the cold, painted walls. No echo. I paused.

"Is anyone there?" Again. A longer wait this time. Nothing. The darkness had swallowed my words without a trace.

But I hadn't imagined that scream – a woman's scream. I know I hadn't. I resumed making my way forward into the darkness, watching the doors come and go to my right and left at regular intervals in an endless procession, determined to find the owner of that sound and to help her if I could. If nothing else, it would be someone else to cling on to in this dreadful world.

I could hear the echo of that scream in my head, but not actually in my ears, so it was more in hope than in expectation that I moved forward. However, things were about to look up.

It started as something half-imagined at first, more of a memory than a sound, but as I pushed onwards it became more and more clear, until it crossed a threshold in my mind and I was sure. Somewhere up ahead, a woman was whimpering. In fear or pain – or both – I couldn't tell, but she was there. I thought I'd risk calling out again.

"Is anyone there?" It suddenly occurred to me whatever was terrorising this woman might well be out there in the darkness somewhere waiting to pounce on me, but it was a risk I had to take. This time there was a reply.

"Help me!" It wasn't a scream, in fact it was rather quiet, but I heard it distinctly. Up ahead – I couldn't tell how far away. I speeded up, changing from a half-walk half-stumble to a proper walk.

"I can't find you. Keep talking to me," I shouted.

"Help me!" The call came again. I moved my head from left to right, hoping to locate how far away the sound was. Couldn't be far away, surely.

"I'm here. Behind this door."

"Which door?" I was walking quite fast by now.

"I don't know."

Suddenly it seemed as if she were behind me. Had I walked past her? "Keep talking. I can't find you."

"I'm here. Please find me. I'm scared."

I sensed I was very close. "I'm going to bang on the doors. Tell me when I bang on your door."

I reached over to one of the dark tombstones on my left. The painted door felt hard and cold under my touch. I banged as loudly as I could.

The woman screamed again, with more intensity I thought. "Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!"

"No, no. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to find you. Was that bang on your door or not?"

"No... I don't know... Bang again."

My fist hit the door again, and once again the sound died the moment it was born.

"No"

"What about this one then?" I reached over to the other side of the corridor, to the first door's companion. Bang!

"No"

"Look, I'm going to keep banging on doors. Listen carefully and tell me if I'm getting closer towards you or further away."

Bang! Bang! She said something, but I missed it.

"Didn't hear. Say that again."

"Further away. You're getting further away."

I moved slowly along the corridor the other way, banging on the doors as I did, and alternating between the different sides.

"You're getting closer. Wait. That's it. That's my door."

"This one?" Bang!

"No"

"This one?" Bang!

"Yes" There was a note of hope in the voice. I might have been the first human voice this person had met in months, years, I don't know how long. "That's my door."