The Boy and the Animal

Part I | Twenty

"12301997," a voice called into the cell. It came with only the hushed warnings of the spirits trapped in the draft around them and muffled boot strides. In a place where time reflected the hollow construct that it was, the end of that time had come.

But the voice's abrupt arrival did not catch the residents of the cell unaware.

"12301997, step forward. Your execution date has come," the voice continued.

It could have only been the woman's, the very woman who had caused them suffering worse than death; she had not spoken much in the week that passed, but the robotic, precise tone was something not easily forgotten. It had the same hair-raising ring as the shift of the metallic tools in her case. Sharp. Unforgiving. Perfect.

There was no response to her voice, however. Seemingly puzzled by this, yet with a face that remained unchanged from its wrought iron purse, the woman unlocked the cell door and gestured for the guards behind her to follow as she stepped inside. She had her metal case as tight in her hand as her furrowed brows, tucked to her side.

The guards poured into the cell like gel oozing from a faucet. They scoured the cell for its inhabitants, finding only dust and stained brick walls. It was devoid of anything more than decay. There was a long silence as the guards looked back at their leader, and she spent the quiet analyzing each detail of the area. There was no way they could have escaped... Right?

Her sharp eyes scanned each drop of fresh and fading blood on each brick and tile until they were nearly spinning back into their sockets. When the came to a rotting skeleton in the corner, she paused and raised her brow. Its shadow seemed strange somehow. It didn't quite match its owner, and, the closer she examined it, the more alive it seemed.

Suddenly, a slight shuffle sounded in the room. The woman's eyes darted up to the ceiling, but by the time she found the source of the noise it was far too late to react. A figure dropped from the ceiling, smashing on top of her and knocking her metal case across the room. It was Jesiter, who wasted no time in immediately clawing at her and yelling out a fearsome growl.

The guards withdrew their blades and made to defend her, when Dark burst from behind the skeleton and launched himself at them. In his hand was a weapon long than Jesiter's teeth, albeit not as intimidating- the sharpened bones of the rotting body that now lie discarded in another corner.

For one long week, after countless beatings and the threat of a finite ticking clock, he had worked to sharpen the bones, no matter how little energy he had left in him. And now, he held them in white knuckles, cutting against armor and steel blades for their freedom. The thought of failure was cut down with the bones as much as the guards staggering back from his blows.

Jesiter's strength grew at the sight of the man giving his all against the guards that surrounded him. He wrapped his hands around the woman's neck and squeezed it until her face was red and swelling, but she did not let out a sound; she choked, but desperate gasps and struggles did not rise- ever obdurate, emotionless. She suffocated... But she did not waver.

With the woman down, Dark managed to push back against the guards, stabbing one in the throat. One more went down, and, adrenaline running through him like river rapids, he took this as his queue to tear through the remaining men. He did just that, storming through the two remaining that grabbed for him, and headed for Jesiter.

The woman had not quite lost consciousness by then, but they hadn't the time to spare to sit and watch her fade. Instead, Dark hoisted Jesiter over his shoulder and burst through the door of the cell.

The threshold they passed was a divine portal- the final stretch of water as one's mind sits on the precipice of defeat, just as they drink in their advent gulp of air before all is lost. The moment he crossed it, all of the burning gashes and searing wounds melted off of his body, and the realization of escape pounded at his heart and sprung at his step.

Dark ran, and he did not stop running for anyone.

They were the injured birds at the back of the shop, slipping from their cage and flying, straining toward the end of a dark corridor toward a light scarcely burning at the end. As the light grew, their hearts fluttered harder, and their wings flapped faster until they were nearly crying out for the light. To touch the warmth of the sun- the sky they belonged to- was more than to breathe.

Cell after cell flashed by Dark in a blur as he ran. the souls of the bodies who laid limp and rotting cheered him from their eternal imprisonment, cheered those that might have what they could not. Closer. Closer. Dark reached his hand out, grasping for the light. He was almost there. Just a little more and they would be free.

Shing-

With the force of something piercing his shoulder, Dark staggered forward, his feet wavering. He tried to continue on and ignore the gush of warm liquid running down his arms and back, when another screech flung through the air, and a force ripped through his side. The man cried out and fell to his knees, the boy still over his shoulder.

"Darky!" Jesiter called, wiggling in his arms.

Dark refused to let him go, however. As the heavy clack of boots rang through the draft behind them, he struggled back onto his feet and stepped forward. A sharp pain met his thigh. He fell to his knees once more. He rose again. And fell.

Jesiter pushed on the man's shoulders, watching as arrow after arrow tore into his companion's flesh. He winced with each one, but he could do nothing as Dark's sudden strength overpowered his own. Looking out, he could see the woman they'd left growing closer and closer behind them with a bow in her expert hands- a line of Dark's blood leading down to her fierce form.

Before long, Dark had finally lost enough blood to stop him from getting up again. Now, all he could do was crawl with Jesiter on the ground beside him, hand-in-hand. They were so close. His fingers were inches from the bottom of the steps that led to the light that now fell on his face. So close.

Suddenly, the woman's boot collided with the man's head, shoving it against the ground. Jesiter leaped at her, when she grabbed him by the face and shoved him back down. A swift kick to his stomach, and the boy was rendered helpless against the wall, coddling his ache. She rolled Dark onto his back.

Even as he stared up at the woman, watching as she pulled back the string of her bow with the arrow gleaming in the light of his eyes, his mind rummaged through every possible option he had- his hands grasped for the crumbs of his straws. They were too close to end it now. Not after everything...

He was meant to do more... Wasn't he.

"I'm sorry Jesiter."

The woman froze.