The Fright Train

The Dark Games Part 2

I suppress the automatic tense titter, glancing around. The liquid darkness seemed to shimmer to life, the defining edge of the shadow begins to waver. I whip my gaze to the side at a flutter of wings and leaves, but there's nothing except the looming forest—silent and observant.

"Urm—" I jump at the sensation of cold, elongated, sharp-tip fingernails dragging up my inner thigh, igniting chill as much as pleasure in the pit of my stomach. I consciously curled a palm over my belly, jerking my chin. "I'm sorry. I don't like games."

Crowfeet crinkle around John's eyes. The sick, fearful clump in my throat grows bigger. I notice the darkened blond hair root along his scalp, and for a maddening second, I think perhaps the dark spots aren't from dye or his natural hair colour. For a maddening second, I think perhaps it's dry blood.

"Shame," John drawls, giving a meaningful look.

"Can we go back now?" I don't wait for his answer, feet already retreating.

Whatever his hidden meaning is, I don't intend to find out.

Spinning on my heels, I'm ready half-sprinting away from John. However, I immediately stumble backwards, almost losing my balance.

I try to choke back a gasp when I see the forest behind me.

Or rather, what was a forest.

Because currently, there is only a single pool of abyss stretching out in front of me. All the trees and the roads, the city skyscraper and the pathway and the scent of industrial, modern life were collapsing upon themselves into blackness.

"The game is very simple," John says. My head swivels at John, affixed upon the creature.

John's low, timbre voice had been replaced by a seething, high-pitch shrill.

My skin crawls, and I also dive into the abyss heedless of whatever awaits. But a strong, invisible pair of shackles bolt me in place, and I could do nothing but stare agape, scream stuck behind my clogged lungs.

I stare as the handsome John's features twist and twist and twist—nose flattens, two eyeballs split into ten, mouth stretch into a wide, permanent snarl, teeth lengthen. His clothes melt away into his muscles, which ripple and distort like a wave.

I screw my eyelids shut, sobbing into my shoulder. Sob and cry on top of my heart to muffle out the disgusting squelch of flesh and bones rearranging.

My head doesn't have that much thought at the situation, only a million This is a dream swirls round and round.

I shudder when freezing breath fans the top of my head. I sense, instead of see, a shadow throws over me. The familiar feeling of knife-tip nails trailing along my skin returns, and I refuse to think where the nails are going.

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream," The creature says in its sing-song voice, leaning in. I wriggle against the unseen hold, squeezing my eyes tighter.

Will it pry my eyes open? Will it force me to stare at it until my irises explode and tear up and I go crazy, desperate to die?

"Ask me what's the rule?" The creature continues.

I inhale a sharp, shallow breath. "What's the rule?"

"Good girl. I know you and I will have the most fun," It purrs, pleased. "See? Out of all candidates, only you're the weakest, easiest to break." I let out a whimper, ducking my head between my shoulder blades. "Yes, I enjoy an obedience cattle than a rebellious one. I can try many more things and much more productive with our harvest."

"Are you—" I hiccup, shivering just spitting out the words. "—are you gonna rape me? Or sell me?"

The creature guffaws. "Oh, you're indeed funny. Our species body isn't compatible with humans, and moreover, we're intelligent beings. Unlike your filthy race with your overwhelming sexual desires. No, you'll do something much greater: you shall be our five-hundredth subject."

Subject?

The creature chuckles, tipping my chin up as though it's examining me. "Where was I before? Oh yes, the rule. The rule is: be scared to stay alive and be smart to get out."

"Be scared?" I croaked.

"Yes. Simple, simple. We pride ourselves with our talent in manipulating reality and integrating. You'll be in a containment, of a sort, along with at least ten other subjects. There are twenty-four hours per day. For twelve hours, you'll face your worst nightmares. For the remaining ten hours, you'll have to determine which of your friends are us. If, and only if, you can kill the spy, you're free to go."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Let's say the hormones your brain produces are like cocaine and heroin to us," The creature smiles around the sentence. "Any more question, fun thing?"

"How many people made it out of this experiment?"

The creature laughs. Its nail moves, resting lightly at the middle of my forehead.

"Ten." It says.

And suddenly, an explosion deafens my ears. My head snaps back, and I vaguely register the feeling of something penetrating my brain right through the middle.

"Scream." The creature salutes loudly, right before I drop through hard air.