FANTASY

The door slid shut with a metallic clang. The police officer who had brought the man in taunted him from the other side of the bars, but the man paid him no heed. Why bother to waste his time conversing with those whose IQ was lower than his shoe size? Laugh while you can pig, he thought, I’ve seen things that would make you squeal.

The man turned to study the room, his room, his cell. Lit by a bulb so old that the glass had yellowed, the walls were the drab grey of unfinished concrete. High upon the wall facing him was a small window – barred of course, though he had no reason to escape. A bed lay along the wall to his left, a toilet and sink sat to the right. It was to the sink that the man went first. Scowling at the grimy toilet bowl, he proceeded to ignore the unwholesome scent that wafted from within it.

“God, I hope that’s just mould,” he muttered.

The rusty iron faucet hesitantly released a small trickle of water once the tap was turned to full flow. Cupping his hands, the man gathered enough to wash his face. He peered into the cloudy, mildewed glass of the mirror above the sink. Intense, bloodshot eyes stared back. A haggard face with a weeks worth of stubble framed by wildly tussled brown hair.

Was this what he had been reduced to? No wonder the police had thought him a madman. But inwardly he thanked fate that his appearance had been so thoroughly altered, it would make him less likely to be recognized. And if the police had not come when they did… well, he would rather not think about that.

Tearing his eyes from the horrid image of his tortured visage, the man made his way to the bed. It was a simple construction; rusted metal frame, rubber mattress only a few inches thick, a scratchy-looking blanket – grey to match the walls, almost as if the room had been designed to induce despair. He glanced up at the window again, and was overcome by a paranoid urge to see what lay beyond.

He grabbed an edge of the bed and tried as quietly as he could to drag it underneath the minute portal. The springs protested horribly as he climbed atop the mattress and looked out.

It was an alleyway. Large patches of darkness cowered between the reaches of the scarce streetlamps. The man paused for a moment, watching, listening, before shifting to move away. Then a car drove by, and in the corner of his vision a shape was illuminated in the headlights. He swung around to see the now-familiar shadow retreat to a new clump of blackness.

His breath caught in his throat, his pulse accelerated, the opening of one of his devastating panic attacks. No, he protested silently, this time I will not succumb to the terror. Fighting down hysteria he slowly dragged himself away from the rusty bars that protected him from what was waiting outside. With no other option left but to sleep, he stretched out upon the stiff mattress and drew the lice-ridden covers to his chin. At least until morning he was safe.

“If I can’t get out, no one can get in,” he whispered to himself reassuringly. With a relieved smile, the man surrendered himself to the slumber that had been denied to him for so long.

* * *

He fell through the endless night, aware that he was slowly coming back to himself. Then his eyes flickered open. Darkness surrounded him, total darkness, black as pitch. He wondered if he had in fact opened his eyes yet, if he still lay sleeping and this was no more than some bizarre manifestation of unconscious reality.

He recalled exhaustion, recalled wandering ceaselessly for three days and two nights before finally collapsing in the grass and stretching out to rest. He did not recall the shift from wakefulness to slumber; it must have come upon him suddenly and without warning.

But then he recalled something more. A room, depressing and grey, with bars on the door, like a cage for something or someone. A cage for him. The man shuddered, revolted by the idea. The vision had come with such clarity. Had it been real? No, surely not, how could it have been? He had never been in, nor even heard of such a place. He could feel the damp touch of the soft, moist turf upon his back, evidence that he still lay where he remembered falling. He remained still for a moment in confusion.

A small spot of light shot across his vision. He paused, wondering if he had seen it at all. Then came another speck of luminance, followed by another. He sat up quickly and his head throbbed painfully. Massaging his temples, he looked around him.

A diminutive cloud of sparks appeared to have gathered about him, bathing him in their soft amber glow. His head whirled and his ears began to ring. He shook his head to clear the sound, but it would not stop. Then he realized; the noise came from the cloud, and was becoming louder. A jingling, eldritch melody of such beauty that the man thought he would surely weep.

After a moment, words became apparent within the harmony.

“Go back,” they seemed to say, “You must go back.”

The corona of glitter surrounding the man began to swarm and shift impatiently. He raised his hands as if to defend himself, but his fists would not drown out the coercive song.

“Go back!”

The chimes had become more insistent.

“No,” cried the man, “I must go on, she must be saved!”

Then the cloud closed around him and attacked.

* * *

He was being smothered. He jerked up and frantically fought free of the veil that threatened to suffocate him. Staring around wildly he saw light – light everywhere! – but it seemed to have stopped swarming. The man paused. Swarming light? He blinked down dazedly at the blanket clutched in his fist, the blanket that had wrapped around him and nearly choked him as he slept.

Had he had a nightmare? He could remember nothing more than a fading afterimage of dancing vibrancy. Glancing around the room, he saw little had changed. The lights beyond the barred door had been switched off, casting the outer hallway into darkness, but thankfully the light in his cell remained active. He yawned and moved to lie down once more.

A whispery, skittering from the hallway made him stop dead. Slowly he turned toward the door. The sound came again; a quiet, scrabbling slither that sent stabs of fear down his spine. Gathering his courage, he took a step in the direction of the hallway, then another, another. He now stood only a few inches from the bars. Peering into the dense blackness beyond, he attempted to pierce the shroud. His breath had begun to come in harsh, ragged gaspings and so he swallowed to try to calm himself.

With a shock of realization, he noticed that the hideous, choking gasps had not ceased. It was not him at all! The man sprang away from the door at the same moment a force impacted against it from the opposite side. A black arm reached partially inside, the dim light glinted off the dull scales and dagger-like claws. Unblinking, yellow, lizard-like eyes that seemed to possess their own inner glow stared into him, freezing him to the spot in fear.

“Be gone!” the man snarled defiantly as he found his voice, “You can achieve nothing, I am safe from you here. We both know these bars are beyond your skills to pass. You must have the key.” The figure behind the reptilian eyes let out a deep, rumbling growl that seemed to contain humour and mirth. A moment later, the eyes and arm were gone, the creature’s departure marked by the clattering of talons upon the concrete floor.

The man let out a relieved sigh and steadied himself against the wall so his trembling legs would not give out on him. That had been the closest encounter of all, save the first, and this time the beast had lost, been driven away since it had lacked the knowledge and ability to get to him. He let out a small, joyful giggle of hysteria. That had been too close, he had almost lost control.

A new noise from the end of the hallway cut short his relieved recovery. The scrabbling claws seemed to be coming closer again, and this time they carried an extra note of clinking metal. It took a moment for the man to process this information, and then he leaped to his feet.

The keys! The creature had retrieved the keys!

“Fool!” he berated himself, “Idiot! You told it exactly how to get to you!” But his voice was drowned out by the deafening screech that welled up from within his mind. The cry carried but one word: Escape!

The man felt his terror rising like bile, felt adrenalin rush through him in astounding levels, but this time he embraced it and bent it to his needs. He needed to get out and the only possible way was to risk using this unpredictable, untapped, unpractised power. The power that had destroyed his home during the first attack. His wife and son, cowering behind the livingroom couch as he unleashed this new power at the beast who confronted him. His wife and son who had surely been decimated along with most of the house. Had that only been three days ago?

Once he had drawn all the power he could stand, the man turned to the wall opposite the door. Drawing back a fist, he struck the cement a blow that made the building tremble upon its foundations. A roar from the hallway told him that the beast was coming nearer. He drew back his arm for a second attack. A faint dust rose into the air as small slivers of grey chipped off and fell from the wall. Still it held; he would have to find some other way out.

The starlit sky beyond the window seemed to mock him with its proximity. The man growled and turned to the door, then he stopped and turned back. The window. The window that led to freedom. Nothing more than four rusted iron bars stood between him and escape.

A gleeful snarl from the door alerted him that time was running out. He climbed onto the bed again and studied the bars. Yes, he would break them easily. Reaching out, he grabbed the middle bar and pulled. With a shrill, metal shriek, it came loose, barely pausing to think, he hurled it over his shoulder and moved to the next one. The creature let out a shuddering howl when it realized what he was doing, and began to attempt using the key.

In the time that it took the beast to figure out how the lock worked, the man had managed to remove the second and third bars. As he reached for the last one, he heard the key slide into the slot behind him. He pulled the bar frantically and it broke free. As the key turned, he vaulted halfway out the window, but could go no further; his waist had gotten caught. He breathed the chill night air deeply and pressed his cut and bloodied hands to the outside wall. His hips grazed on the concrete as he forced himself free. A clang came from within the cell. The door was open.

With a savage yell, the man slid from the opening into the alleyway below. Fear and adrenalin saved him from the force of the impact as he hit the ground, climbed to his feet and sprinted away. He would not be able to maintain this speed, but for the moment he had a lead.

A primeval shriek rose through the night behind him as the beast raged at its lost prey. The man ran on, heading for the highway. He would need to find himself a car.
_________________________________________________

He ran down the centre of the busy road. All around him cars whizzed past, beeping their horns at the seemingly insane man who had chosen the highway for his midnight jogging path. The man ignored them, they were a trivial matter, and he had faced greater threats already that night.

Finally, one of the vehicles slowed beside him and a window was lowered. A voice within shouted out at him.

“Eh, do you need a lift?”

The man continued his wild, staggering pace, then stopped as he ran the threads of logic through his head. He turned to the car and nodded. Once again the voice floated from the window and out into the night.

“Better hop in then, eh?”

Inside the car was warm and the man was able to relax a little. Looking into the mirror concealed behind the sunvisor, he saw that his tattered appearance had cleared considerably; most likely the grime had washed away with the rain he had travelled through. He judged that he looked at least halfway sane. Replacing the visor to its proper position, the man turned to study his unknown chauffeur.

Middle aged and slightly plump, he appeared to be the incarnation of averageness. As if sensing his passenger’s quiet curiosity, the driver made an attempt at conversation.

“So what brings you out on a night like this then, eh?”

The passenger made no effort to answer. The older man was undaunted.

“Name’s Isaac McGee, pleased to meet you.” He extended a hand to the other man, who stared blankly and did not move.

“So what’s your name then, eh?” he asked after retracting his palm.

More silence followed.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

The passenger shrugged.

“Ere, you aren’t a serial killer are you?” McGee asked in a low voice.

The other man frowned. Discomfort seemed to become a physical presence within the car.

“Well then, let’s see who is talking then, eh?”

He reached over to the radio and switched it on, turning the dial until he found a news broadcast.

“…escaped from custody earlier tonight. The officers on duty claimed to have noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Though the cell door was reportedly found open, it seems the man managed to escape via the window, but how he managed to remove the bars or open the door has baffled police. It has been guessed that the suspect was the same man involved in last Friday night’s events which left a house destroyed and a community horrified. Ironically, the suspect had been sought ever since…”

The passenger stared intensely at the radio throughout the report, and as he studied his companion, a tingle ran down McGee’s spine.

“…on a related topic, the woman and child rescued from the rubble are reported to still be in a critical condition. Recent information verifies that the woman has fallen into a coma, though doctors are confident of a recovery…”

At this news, the passenger made a choking noise.

“…the pair are being treated at the Bluedale District Hospital. Meanwhile, in sport today…”

The passenger mumbled something.

“Eh?” inquired McGee, turning the radio down to a dull murmur.

“Can you take me there?” the man repeated.

“Where?”

“Bluedale District Hospital.”

“Know those people do you, eh?”

“Yes.”

A silence followed.

“You’re him, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

The silence thickened.

“Why do you want to see them?”

“They’re my family.”

“You don’t plan to hurt them?”

The other man turned and looked at him.

“They’re my family.”

McGee looked doubtful and hesitant.

“Listen to me, the longer I stay with you, the longer you’re in danger.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a fact.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Don’t give me that crap. Now tell me what’s going on. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just take you back to the authorities.”

“If that’s what you want to do, fine, I can’t stop you.”

McGee paused. He turned to look at his passenger, then returned his gaze to the road.

“Okay, sorry, I misjudged you, eh?”

“No, it’s my fault; I frightened you.”

Once again silence reigned supreme.

“So, can you tell me?”

The other man sighed and concocted a story that encompassed what had actually happened. He didn’t want to tell an outright lie.

“Someone broke into our house on Friday night and tried to kill me. I don’t know who, and I don’t know why. The house got wrecked a bit in the struggle before I escaped. He’s been chasing me ever since, almost caught me again at the police station.”

McGee frowned and tightened his grip on the steering-wheel.

“Why the hell didn’t you go to the police right away?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“Probably not, eh.”

The man shrugged dismissively.

“Well then, there you have it.”

“Hang on, if this guy really wants to catch you out, won’t he be headed to the hospital too?”

“I never thought of that…” He frowned. “But it’s a risk I’ll have to take. I miss my family. I thought they were dead.”

McGee sighed.

“Okay then, eh, let’s go see them.”

The passenger replied with a yawn.

“My God man, you look tired, eh? Better get some sleep.”

The man nodded and moved to make himself comfortable as fatigue rose up to claim him.

* * *

He sat up and blinked in the bright sunlight. The impenetrable shroud of darkness had lifted and once again he was able to see his surroundings. A flat green expanse of grass stretched out to every horizon. The sun had a purplish tinge as it shone down from the clear blue sky.

He rose to his feet, and for a moment lost his bearings as he glanced about. All directions seemed to look identical. Shaking his head, the man looked at the sun, trying to judge its position. It was directly overhead. Muttering softly, the man stretched out on the grass again, waiting to see which way the sun would go.

The warmth made him drowsy, and as he slowly drifted off once more, he thought he felt the ground tremble.

* * *

Someone was shaking him. He jerked up and stared around wildly.

“Calm down, eh, we’re here.”

The man looked past McGee and saw that they had arrived at the hospital. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he opened the door and stepped out. He heard sirens approaching rapidly. Yawning, he took a few steps towards the door.

An ambulance came screeching around the corner. The driver did not appear to notice him as it rushed toward the entrance.

“Look out!” came McGee’s voice from behind him.

As he turned, the world seemed to slow down. He saw the ambulance coming closer, creeping along as though it were underwater. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. He raised his arms as if they could defend him, and then he saw it.

The creature. It was behind the wheel, giggling with insane glee as it drove the ambulance toward its victim. A savage roar rose from the man’s throat as he came to realize that he had lost. Totally framed in the headlights, he lowered his arms to meet the threat face on. Not even his newfound power could help him here.

The lights grew brighter as he was pulled in and consumed.

* * *

He woke up and found he had fallen into a corner again. But still he was comfortable, the padding on the walls and floor had prevented him from damaging himself. The dreams ran through his head, causing him to sit in the corner for a while and giggle to himself. There was an itch in his back but he could not move his arms to reach it. That was one bad thing about the straightjacket, it provided no freedom of movement, totally inconsiderate. The doctor knew he always woke up with an itch once the drugs had worn off.

There came a knocking on the door, and he ceased his mirth as he glanced up. He saw a face through the tiny window. Like a scaled skull with horns and fangs. And those eyes, those hideous, inhuman, yellow eyes.

The doctor had returned for him again.
_________________________________________________

He stared in horror as the beast approached him across the room. Why must the doctor visit him so often? There must be others for it to torment, he had never seen nor heard any, but there must be.

Yet still the doctor crept toward him ceaselessly. The man took a few steps backward, but he knew there was no escape this time. His legs began to quiver and his knees buckled. He fell back and lay on the floor unmoving, staring up at the fluorescent light on the ceiling high above him.

And still he sensed the inhuman presence of the doctor drawing ever nearer. He closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate.

* * *

The beast never struck. Hesitantly, the man opened one eye, then the other. The fluorescent light still shone above him, but it seemed closer. Focusing his eyes, he discerned that it was not the same light at all. Slowly lifting his head, he saw that the room was also different.

He sat up quickly and pain rushed through his whole body. Wincing, he rose an arm to his face. It did not seem to be bending properly, so he looked down at it. It was encased in plaster and bandages. Raising the other arm, he saw it was uninjured. Something was covering the top of his vision. Touching his face with his good arm, the man discovered more bandages wrapped about the top of his head. His neck was in a brace, and his legs were concealed by a scratchy, white sheet.

He was in a hospital bed. The heartbeat monitor beside the bed began to beep more rapidly. What in hell had happened to him?

He was surrounded on two sides by thin, flimsy white curtains. An unadorned wall was behind him. The area in front of him though, was open and facing a door.

A man appeared in the doorway.

“So you finally woke up, eh?”

He looked familiar somehow, but the man in the bed could not place him. Seeing his confusion, the other man introduced himself.

“I am Doctor Isaac McGee. I’ve been overseeing your treatment since you arrived.”

“Where am I?”

“Bluedale District Hospital.”

The patient nodded slowly.

“How did I get here?”

“Hit-and-run. Don’t remember, eh?”

“No.”

“Do you at least remember your name? You had no ID on you. Who are you then, eh?”

The patient ignored the question.

“How long have I been here?”

“Eh, about a week.”

“A week?”

“You were in a coma.”

The man frowned at the doctor.

“According to you, I’ve been in a coma for a week… but I can almost recall events of the past day or so… so how exactly does that work?”

“Coma fantasies most likely. It’s quite common, and can seem very real at times. But what is reality, eh? Sometimes I wonder if anything is what it seems to be anymore.”

Doctor McGee moved closer to the bed, an intent look on his face. The patient frowned in sudden suspicion as a memory surfaced.

“Why don’t I see, or at least hear, any other patients?”

The doctor smiled. It was not a warm smile; rather it sent chills through the helpless man.

“You were always my only patient.”

Without warning, Doctor McGee grabbed the pillow from behind the man’s head and held it up. His eyes had become a sick, acid yellow.

“And now it is time for you to rest.”

He brought the pillow down over the man’s face. The patient thrashed about, bones cracking and breaking anew as he struggled vainly for air. The agony was distant. Everything was distant. He felt as if he were floating away in an ocean of midnight.

He knew he would die if he did not hold on, but he did not care. Floating further, he became aware of a spot of light that was rapidly growing larger and nearer. He flung himself at the speck, knowing that it was his last hope. Light flooded into him and he was swept away with it.

* * *

His eyes flicked open. He was still lying in the grass. The sun still shone above him, it did not seem to have moved. Had he been asleep a minute? A day? A week? He did not know.

Blinking dazedly, the man became aware of another presence next to him. He turned quickly and saw… nothing. Then he felt it behind him. Again he turned, and once more there was nothing other than the breeze.

“I know you are here. Show yourself.”

He heard a low, grumbling, guttural chuckle behind him. Spinning to face it, he watched as the presence grew into form.

At first he could see nothing more than a slight ripple in the air. The ripple slowly grew denser, until he was able to make out a shape. A very familiar shape. The man backed away as the beast grew into a full physical body. It leered at him.

“So, you have come finally. I knew sending you away would not last.”

The creature laughed at him again. Thin black lips parted to reveal needle-like, razor sharp teeth. Even in full sun the beast’s eyes seemed to glow.

“Let us not postpone this battle any longer, beast. Get to it now and be done with it.”

The creature crouched down low, ready to pounce. The man let his power run through him, steadying him for the fight he must endure. The beast wiggled a narrow, black, forked tongue at him, as if it wished to provoke him.

Then man and beast clashed. Their strengths met in a shockwave that made the ground tremor and rumble. If they fought long enough, the man knew that they would tear apart the very fabric of the world. He could not allow that to happen.

With a sudden burst of power, he launched himself at the creature, which sprang aside fluidly. Overbalancing, the man fell forward. The beast leaped upon his back. The man saw in his mind’s eye the creature’s raised hand, the claws shining in the sunlight, before it brought them down upon the base of his skull.

The world turned black.

* * *

A message shone briefly on the dark screen of the goggles: PROGRAM TERMINATED.

He sighed and raised the goggles away from his eyes. Then smiled at the person next to him.

“That was great.”

“Thanks.”

“I really think you may have something here. I’ve never seen Virtual Reality this convincing. I almost thought me and that creature were actually fighting.”

“Well, you know we’ve come very far in VR lately. So you liked it, eh?”

“Definitely. It was clever how you added yourself in, even though you looked different I knew it was you. But Isaac McGee? What kind of name is that?”

The designer turned a darker shade and smiled sheepishly.

“Come, we should get that stuff off you.”

Awkwardly, the goggles were removed, followed by most of the electrodes.

“So what did you call that creature I was fighting again?”

“A human,” replied the designer, taking care not to cut the wires with his claws as he put them away.

“Oh, right.”

He removed the last electrode from his green-black scales.

“Damn thing nearly beat me too.”


THE END