Falling Farther

Two

"Gregor?  What's wrong?" Luxa asks as I step into the great hall.

"Do you remember the gnawer terrorizing the villagers near the edge of town?" I say, unsure how to explain.

"Yes, they've been asking for you to kill it for a long while. Did you?"

"I think so. But it was no rat."

I explain what I saw, and its ability to spout flames. She looks shaken, and I don't blame her. "I hope it's not some new mutant species," I say, attempting to add humor to the awkward pause.

"Gregor, I think I know someone. Someone who might know what's going on."

Oh? And who's that?" I ask suspiciously.

"His name is Plutonian."

A few days after hearing his name for the first time, I find myself telling this dark-eyed stranger the details of my life, from start to present. He listens intently; almost too intently. "Sir, now that I've finished telling you what's going on, can you tell me anything?"

"Gregor, you were attacked by a hellhound. Probably straight from Tartarus."

"Like, Ancient Greece, underworld Tartarus?"

"Yes. And before we continue with this conversation, I need to take you somewhere. I am surprised that this hasn't happened sooner, your aura is so strong."

"Sir, where are we going? What do you mean aura? Can you explain anything?"

"Kid, I hate to break it to ya, but life isn't always totally explainable."

We're on our way to the overland exit before he explains. "Listen kid, I can't take you any farther. I only run things in the Underland. I've arranged for someone to meet to in the overland. I have to go, so stay safe. Bye kid." 

It perplexes me that he doesn't use the usual, underworld goodbyes, but I decide that that is a question for another day. 

When I emerge from the stairway, I see a young man about my age standing near the exit. He is wearing long jeans, an orange adidas sweatshirt, and some tennis shoes. His curly brown hair reminds me of my own. I walk over to him and ask, "So, did Plutonian tell you to meet me here?"

"Yes, I'm to take you there." His voice is deep, but cracks at the "you."

"Take  me where?" I ask.

"Long Island!" He shout as he begins to run. I follow hesitantly, trying to keep up at the same time.