For the second time in thirty years, the entire world has fallen asleep...
Thirty years after the Greymen caused the decimation of her people, high school drop out Rain Collins spends her days learning to pickpocket and hold her booze. Yet she long...
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I bent over, reaching into Dr. Farrah the nightmare's white coat and pulling out the long chain, ripping it from her neck. Though it was delicate, the length of precious metal was stronger than I expected. After two hard tugs, it came loose with a snap. I held up the chain, fingering the small, golden key that the nightmare doctor had used to lead me and Miss Becky through her manic medical maze what felt like a lifetime ago. Then, tying its long, loose ends in a double knotted bow, I secured the chain around my own neck and tucked the key into my sleeping shirt's breast pocket.
Leaving the nightmare doctor's body locked in the interrogation room behind me, I started to make my way through the blindingly bright and vexingly varied hallways, which seemed to multiply and wind off as I explored them. As I walked through the labyrinth, large orange doors replaced the small red doors on the walls. Supposing that one may lead outside—or at least somewhere other than this stark white maze—I started to open the orange doors at random.
The first room was lined with dark, man-sized boxes, rounded on top, dark faces shining with rivets. Iron maidens, a torturing device of days long before the Greymen came, when our people were as ruthless as our invaders. In front of each iron maiden sat two wooden tables, one covered in thumbscrews and pliers and other sharp looking instruments, the other empty save for four leather straps that were roughly the same distance apart from each other as my two wrists were from my two legs. I closed that door.
Behind the next orange door, a feral boar rampaged wildly, kicking up dust in a forest that somehow grew there. I shut the door quickly.
The third room was plain and in its center sat a small coffin. On top of the wooden box sat a photograph. My sister Beth stared out at me from the gilded frame, eyes wide and innocent. I knew that the room was for me, and that I was not safe there. But the choice between fight or flight had long passed and my flight had failed. If this Greyman didn't die, I surely would. I had only one choice. I had to fight.
I edged into the room, trying not to look at Beth's eyes in the photo as I pushed it off of the top of the shiny, wooden box. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Slipping my fingers beneath the thick wood, I lifted the heavy lid with a grunt.
A maggot-riddled corpse lay on the white bed of silk inside. Beth was hardly recognizable.
Reminding myself that this wasn't my little sister's corpse, but rather an Greyman's evil illusion, I did the first thing that came to mind and grabbed the body by its crumbling, rotted shoulders. I shook it. Hard. Bits of the nightmare Beth flew off in pieces and fine dust, choking me. I coughed. The corpse's hands were around my throat in an instant, choking me. Sputtering for air against the tiny, strong fingers squeezing my neck, I choked on the corpse's dust again. I imagined a sword and felt its weight in my hand, the rough leather of its hilt in my sweaty palm. The weapon manifested where I imagined it as I swung upward between us. The blade flew past in a hissing arc, severing the corpse's brittle arms, which puffed up a cloud of dust as they fell to the floor.
A battle-cry erupted unbidden from somewhere deep inside of me as I charged my false sister, sword raised. The blade easily slid through the corpse's chest, and it fell back into the coffin with a thump.
"Greyman," I called out just like before, turning away from the body. "Coward. Fight me yourself."
An echoing voice carried through the air, "As you wish."
A tall, grey man materialized in front of me. No. Not a man. A Greyman. Its body seemed to sway in an invisible breeze, perched precariously atop its long and slender legs. The monster's grey arms were equally as spindly as its legs, but infinitely more menacing with their sets of five sharp, blood-stained claws on the ends of each. Flabby hunks of skin hung loosely from its torso and neck. Its face. I had never looked at a Greyman so close. I silently hoped I never would again. Deep black eyes, clouded over with red stared at me. Into me. Its nose was short and upturned like a bat's. And its mouth. Its mouth hung wide open, revealing a deep tunnel, dark as night. The tunnel beckoned, though the Greyman didn't speak.
Nor did it produce anything. It did not try to kill me. It simply stood before me, allowing me to take in its face and form.
"Why do you guys keep making me kill my sister?" I asked, figuring that a dialogue may be possible with this, the most civilized Greyman that I had encountered so far.
"You fear her end." Its voice was like a thousand whispers at once. Soft and reverberating.
"What do you fear?" I was feeling confident, clever even. Like Billy said, I was special. The nightmare doctor hadn't tricked me—the invaders were just too stupid, too careless. I knew this was a dream, and with just that one thought, I was unstoppable.
"We do not fear," it hissed.
"Then I'll make you," I said.
I puffed out my chest, filling up with courage. I smiled at my great golden lion as it coalesced between us, purple cape flapping behind it despite the absence of wind in the small room.
It roared, then charged toward the Greyman. With a smack, my lion stopped in its tracks as if it had hit an invisible wall. Swiping at the Greyman's saggy face with yellow paws, my lion growled its frustration. When it couldn't reach past the invisible barrier, it started to pace a small circle around the evil creature, keeping a careful eye open for the opportunity to strike.
The Greyman laughed, which echoed like its voice and produced an effect that was not at all pleasant. My skin crawled, but I pushed the fear down and focused. I had to win this fight. Death or glory were the only options I had left and I would not resign to defeat. Not against a Greyman. Not ever.
Letting my desperation fuel me, I balled my hands into two tight fists and pressed them together, extending my arms in the direction of my enemy, just over my lion's furry head. I took a deep breath and pictured my lion on top of the Greyman and tried to believe the image in my mind's eye.A tremor ran up my arms. Another. I was shaking.
My lion's head turned sharply toward the Greyman. It stopped walking its circle and growled quietly, a menacing rumble. It leaped, hitting nothing until it landed on the Greyman, knocking it to the ground. They rolled on the floor for a moment, a tangle of gold and grey, ending with gold on top. My lion tore into the Greyman's goopy, grey flesh, ripping the monster to shreds. I smiled at the carnage. I was really getting the hang of this.
Something sharp caught me by the throat, knocking me off my feet and slamming me to the floor. As I hit the ground, something heavy landed on top of me, pinning me. I couldn't move.
"Pathetic," an echoing voice said somewhere behind my attacker.
I panicked, my breath coming in tiny, desperate gasps. Another Greyman? Or... the same one? No. Impossible. The heavy thing on top of me shifted, pressing hard on my chest. I gasped, trying to take another breath, but fur filled my mouth, choking me with its coarseness.
Before I passed out, a loud crash rang out, followed by an echoing scream of terror. A flash of orange...
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