Free & Flightless (Trench)

Chapter 1-Josh

Josh

I woke up tangled in my itchy bedsheets, gasping for air like I'm being choked and drenched in sweat. I sat up in a flash, panting and trying to regain my sense of composure. After a moment of rapid blinking, I came to my senses and the horrible knot in my stomach lessens. I threw my head back and exhaled shakily before plopping my head onto the lumpy pillow I laid my weary head on with a huff. It was all the bishops' fault. I was loosing sleep rapidly every night due to their insipid and chronic nightmares they gave me for nothing but fun. They liked watched Banditos squirm like worms. The bishops had this...power...where they could just wriggle their way into somebody's mind, if having a strong enough connection, and basically rot their brain out for the hell of it. And ever since they became aware that I had been the spiteful 20 year old boy with the yellow tape and fiery attitude that'd been helping the growing Bandito revolution outside of DEMA, they singled me out.
Just to see if they could break me.
I refused to budge though, not complaining to my fellow Banditos, and acting fine—well, normal. I had spent my days for the last ten or so years in the Banditos' camps. I'd been there since the beginning torch lit aflame, since the first bishop's attack. I'd just always existed in this world of rebellion and fire, and I felt I fit in with it pretty well too. But one thing was eating away at my mind more than anything—this whisper that swarmed through my head in a strange, inhuman voice. It sounded smug at first, but the voice turned frightened the more it said it. It was a totally normal word, or name rather-so why was it so highly praised and mentioned in this world of bishops currently thriving in my mind?
Tyler.
The name rang through my head again and I stood up to pace. Who could this Tyler be? A bishop? Well, no...they all went by numbers as names. One, two, three, so on. That was the Niners' thing, and everybody wanted to be a Niner in DEMA. It was the only possible way to get out.
But to get that job, a Niner would have to die, and that supposedly never went over well with Nico, the leader of DEMA. Of the bishops. Of their little stupid corner of the world.
Again, the name rang out like a church bell used too often.
Tyler.
Tyler!
I sighed, annoyed, and growled "What?" Out of pure spite. All I knew was that this Tyler was in DEMA, and seemed very important to the bishops. Maybe to Nico, even...? Sometimes the way the name was said sounded affectionate. Other times scared, angry...imagine a emotion, "Tyler" was probably said that way in my mind. Like a broken record skipping and only playing that one spot over and over in a scratchy, distorted voice. It didn't sound like "Tyler", it sounded like "Tÿłėr". Like it was scratched up by pleading fingernails, if a name could be said like that.
I grabbed my army green pack and reached over to the bedside drawer by me, putting in my most valuable possessions. My broken phone that often seemed to give me the one sense of security I could find at times, a small leather bound journal tied with a black string, a pack of yellow tape for vandalism if I was feeling very rebellious, a flashlight, a water bottle that filtered the water inside to be drinkable, some random snacks I had lying around, and a pack of matches.
For if push came to shove.
Because even I knew that you can't go into DEMA alone without no sense of protection. And for me, the only thing I trusted myself with was fire, and even that trust was loose and full of insecurity, as many of my actions were.
I sat on my creaky bed, grabbing my black combat boots, and began lacing them up tightly. I took my yellow bandana from my pillow and tied it over my mouth, exposing my mouth so I could breathe. I reapplied the yellow tape I put across my chest in a X shape, making sure my pants were all good and my shirt was too, before pulling the hoodie up so it covered my eyes and shadowed my eyes. My hair was a mess of brown curls that often got in my way, so I tried to tuck them under my hoodie as best I could. It still stuck out a bit though.
After making sure I had everything I wished to bring, I set off. It was a setting sun, and usually I would turn to appreciate the way the colors painted across the sky like the sky was a canvas and the sun was paint-but today?-today I had to focus. It was time to find out who Tyler was. So instead of focusing on nature's beauty, I walked away from the secure torches' glow and tents of the Bandito camp and off to DEMA.
DEMA wasn't too far from the Bandito's camp. I walked carefully over the large rocks scattered across the ground, making sure not to roll my ankle in the uneven ground and sometimes abrupt holes of the rocky terrain. A small stream was forming, fighting against the rocks to get to its destination, whoever it might be. I stepped through it, relaxed, watching my black boots get water droplets on the leather in a satisfying splash sound.
By roughly 10 PM or so, I arrived at DEMA. The walls were tall and intimidating as always, but I knew the way. I made my way over to the two rocks making a rain drop/tear shaped opening that led to a tunnel. And then I'd be at DEMA. I turned my flashlight on, and was greeted by an unsettling deep corridor with poorly built walls around me. Wood planks were visible, over a cloth-plastic sort of material. It looked like the bishops had abandoned this project. As I thought of the word bishops, it was almost like the bishops' overlapping voices in my head became louder, like turning the volume up on a car radio.
The bishops couldn't track my location or anything—they thought I was still at the Bandito camp currently—their voice just seemed to louden as I thought of them, as I came closer to them even. It was rather unsettling to me.
I walked down the seemingly-endless tunnel for a few minutes, before arriving at a industrial-made-looking door. I pushed it open curiously, and it shockingly opened with no problem. I stepped through the doorway, making sure it closed quietly behind me. I was overlooking a rather pathetic courtyard, or so it appeared. It had a few shriveled plants on it, and a strange statue of a naked man with his arms in a oval shape behind him and above his head, like he was almost praying extremely awkwardly. It was made by a marble looking stone, seemingly flawless, without a speck of dirt or smudge, nor a shape mistreated. I knew for a fact the people there weren't treated like this statue was. The outside life of this place seemed..well, dead, with not a single person outside. Dull and concrete buildings lay surrounding the courtyard, appearing to be in a circle shape. That's how DEMA always looked in the maps. Windows were placed precisely on each building. A few of the windows were open, but one caught my eye in particular, almost seeming to call for me. A single yellow daisy, shriveled up, sat in a glass cup that reflected off of the rising moon, sat on a windowsill of a open window across from me, on the second floor. I could hear voices flowing out of the window, and I wandered closer to it, head tilted curiously. A sinister voice flowed out, seeming to rant or scold somebody. I only half-listened, thinking it wasn't a big deal. Until the sinister voice said "Tyler".