C. Schmidt - Hock City

Pretty boy.

The wind rose beneath the man with the scar’s feet. The force lifted him a few inches more from the ground. Maintaining his balance was a struggle at first. He knew at this moment that there was no time to waste, the Desert Dwellers were near. He pressed down, running with every inch of his muscle. The power in front of him was unyielding.

Suddenly, he saw what seemed to be Langston, in front of him; he was surrounded by sand soldiers. The sounds of his muffled screams alerted him. The man with the scar’s eyes widened; his teeth clenched. He began to move again, but faster. Faster than the wind around him. Within seconds, time seemed to have stood still. He launched himself into the air. His roar was boisterous, even more ferocious than the largest predator imaginable.

Desert Dwellers clutched their weapons. They began to attentively look around, as they felt the thunderous vibration near them. They positioned themselves in battle formation, in order to prepare for what was coming.

The man with the scar screamed again, “Evaelo miho ebba! Evaelo miho ebba!”

Desert Dwellers wondered from where the sound was coming from. The man landed fiercely on top of some of the sand soldiers, crushing their limbs into particles. Back from whence you came! Arms, legs, skulls; fragments of what they were. But they stood again just as quick as they fell.

He shot slugs into the crowded area of sand soldiers, slowing them down but not exterminating them. Grabbing a sword of the fallen, he used it against the others. The clash of swords rang throughout the once quiet – and desert environment. Grunts and the octave of anger filled the air. The man with the scar thrusted and swung at his challengers with swift fluid motions.

Langston, in utter awe, remained hidden. With each swing by the man, Langston ducked. He moved his head as if he was in the battle himself. He lowered his head in pain after overexertion during one of his movements.

“Ouch, shit.”

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch alarmed him; it caused him to raise his fist.

“It’s me, Mr. Langston; it’s me! C’mon, let’s go!” said Jesse.

“What about… we can’t leave him!”

“Hurry!”

Jesse ran towards one of the run-down homes nearby. The front door and windows were boarded up while the roof partially caved in. Movement could be seen from within, as residents watched the action from the darkness. Jesse pushed open the fickly wood gate, running into the backyard. In the rear was a car, behind it was a rusted swing and playground. The car, which was a convertible, and sat on its rims. Tires were stacked around the front and rear of it.

“Pull the top down! And the back seat forward!” Jesse shouted, as quietly as he could.

He and Langston pulled the top down. They then pushed the back seat toward the front of the car. A hole, carved out of the floor frame of the car was revealed at this moment. The hole was large in diameter – large enough to fit an average-sized person. Beyond the hole was even more darkness. It had an entrance that provided only a slight reflection of light, which led to a murky area.

Good grief, more darkness? Langston shook his head, overwhelmed with exasperation.

“Man, we really gotta go down there?”

Jesse tapped the edge of the metal frame with a rock.

Clank, clank, clank!

Desert Dwellers nearby heard the sound. Some rushed toward it. Jesse pounded the stone against the frame again, while Langston looked around nervously. He could still hear the war between the man with the scar and the sand soldiers behind him. A rope was thrown up seconds later – what seemed like hours later. Jesse tied the rope to the back of the car’s seat.

The seat moved back into its original position after pulling on the rope. It acted an anchor as Jesse slid down, thus concealing his getaway to any followers. He dropped down quickly, as if he had escaped an event like this several times before. Any faster and he probably would have set the rope on fire, leaving Langston burnt to a crisp.

The thunderous noise of battle became muffled, leaving only a consistent vibration around them. The sound of water could be heard as Jesse hit the bottom of the tunnel.

“C’mon, Mr. Langston! Hurry!”

Langston pulled the seat back, grabbed the rope and dropped into the hole. He held onto the rope like it was the last one he would see. He swung from side-to-side while he hung, mentally and physically suspended in the air. He cringed as the Desert Dwellers ran past, hoping that he did not alert them to their location. The sounds of footsteps drifted from his ears.

Relief.

Darkness and Langston didn’t get along. They were adversaries ever since his arrival into this city. He looked up toward the entrance, hoping to get a glimpse of light. A slight beam of light could be seen, but nothing that would illuminate his surroundings enough to calm him. He had to rely on his resolve; he slowed his breathing and kept moving.

Finally, his shoes touched a layer of fluid. The bottom was near. He let go of the rope and dropped a foot down into a few inches of water. Jesse continued to move ahead of him at a steady pace. He used a lighter to brighten the path ahead of them. The sound of rodents and other creatures of the night moved around them.

“Stay close, Mr. Langston; its real dark down here. There are lots of tunnels. You don’t want to go down the wrong one!”

“What’s down the wrong one? Jesse? Jesse?!”

Langston continued to follow, even though he was hesitant.

The sound of dripping water in the confines of a tunnel, felt like the whisper from a creature in the dark. It echoed on the walls and caused the hairs on Langston’s arms to rise; torture. Langston couldn’t help but check over his shoulder as he walked behind Jesse. He saw the same sinister, empty area. The more uneasy he came with the more he looked. He could feel the wind above him, as his fingertips grazed the rough interior lining of the metal walls. Soon the water that once covered his shoes dissipated.

“Over here, Mr. Langston.”

Jesse walked up a set of wide steps, standing near a gate made of long rod-iron bars. At first glance, there was no way to open it. He banged on one of them.

Clank, clank, clank!

Langston gawked at Jesse’s action. Scattered light flickered before them; in front of the gate. Some of the light darkened as a figured moved toward them. The figure became larger in size as it came closer. Its shadow walked parallel on the walls, as if the shadow was another person in itself. The figure held a staff with a bluish flame at the top of it.

An elderly, baritone voice rang out.

“Though light shines, it falls.”

“Peace within the light shall protect us all,” Jesse replied.

“You may enter.”

The person, whom was covered in a long blue robe with a hood that hid all but its mouth – waved one hand over the iron gate. Its hands were long, dark and elderly. The gate opened, and Jesse entered without reluctance. Langston followed, but at a more cautious pace. He moved past the person in the robe, while finding himself staring to get a better glimpse of who and what it was. He peered into the hood, but could see nothing. Jesse yanked his sleeve at this moment.

“Mr. Langston, c’mon!”

The person in the robe watched as Jesse pulled Langston down the tunnel with haste, fumbling over the various debris around them. The person was gone when Langston looked back again.

“Who was that?” Langston asked.

“A Gatekeeper. We have to keep goin!’”

They arrived at another set of stairs after a couple of quick turns. The stairs shook and creaked with each step. At the top, seven doors were suspended in the air. They each were positioned around a circular platform.