Lost Ark: FLIGHT FROM EREBUS - THE UNFINISHED STORY

I

Battle M and Cooke Q looked up at the tall shadow trees that formed an indefinite border for an untamed and nameless forest (nameless to them, at least). This was uncharted territory and at the same time so familiar. It was like returning to the ruins again only much, much worse.

"Come on then, we have to do this. You know that as well as I do." said Battle M. Her words held a firmness that was betrayed by the slightest tremble in her voice.

"I suppose so. There is no going back now. Are you sure you don't want to find another way around it." said Cooke Q. Cooke Q wanted to appear composed and completely unphased but knew that Battle M would see that he was just as terrified as her. He also hoped to hell that she would not take him up on his suggestion to split.

"Not bloody likely! You're such a prat sometimes, Cooke. Well shall we go in now?"

Steeling themselves, they crossed the line and were swallowed up by the darkness, hoping for a discovery.

There was no path. Minimal light trickled in through an unseen canopy, shrouded in an impermeable fog. The trees around were tall but there seemed no sign of life. Dead giants that were evidently brittle, given the number of fallen branches on the dark, dusty floor. There were no birds or any other animals either. Just a deathly silence that clung to Cooke Q and Battle M as they walked further in. The place felt empty, but what they sought had led them here, had sung out to them. It felt close. It knew they were coming for it. It knew they were already lost. As if that were not bad enough, something was following them. Battle M was keen to keep moving, rather than admire the stark beauty of the dead forest. Cooke Q was more inclined to distraction, but knew to rest here would be to rest forever here. He could sense a rhythm in this place, buried in the silence. It was but a ghost, just waiting to come out to play. It was stuck and needed release. He could never resist a mystery and this place had it in spades. Battle M shook her compass and then threw it away.

"Which way now?"

III

A brief smell of fire pervaded the forest air and was gone almost as soon as sensed. Both of them caught it. It almost seemed as if the trees around them were a little blacker, though it was hard to be sure in the gloom. The slightest contact caused them to snap, like brittle relics. Through this silent, eerie woodland Cooke Q and Battle M wandered. They knew what they were looking for (well in a fashion) but hadn't the faintest of an inkling just how to find it. They were lost once more. It was pretty much business as usual, but this place had a sense of finality to it and it scared them in equal measures but for different reasons.

A smell of a burning blaze filled the air again. Twigs crackled under their feet, punctuated by the occasional dry snap which filled Cooke Q's mind with images of breaking bones. They were not the only ones making these sounds either. They could feel a presence following them, sensed it sharply but could not see it. Something following them and something waiting ahead too. Battle M was not sure which would be the worse of the two. She felt closer now. It was written in the trees. The burning smell lifted and breathing became easy again. Cooke Q followed her lead, for Battle M had a keen sense of observation and could spot trails more easily than he could. He would not idly follow though. He had his senses tuned into the rhythm of the forest, deep under his feet. It was more of a feeling than a sound, but he knew there was a song playing out somewhere in this place. A special song, filled with special frequencies. Frequencies that would take them where they needed to go next.

Gone but not forgotten and gone a long time too. Resting on rusted tracks and dead to this world, the Low Beam (not it's true name, but a pet name given to it by it's former master Cooke Q). This dark mishapen thing looked little more than a boulder upon first glance. The light filtering down through the misted canopy was scant and Battle M almost missed the break in the trees that ringed the small clearing, where the Low Beam lay.

"Over here, Cooke!"

"What have you found M?"

"I think this may be it. Is that it over there?"

"It's hard to tell from here. We should be careful. That thing is dangerous. It is here for a very good reason, which I may tell you all about one day."

Cooke Q continued to gaze into the gloom of the clearing and hadn't noticed that Battle M was already making her way down into it. He took a deep breath and broke cover. Dry twigs snapped loudly and menacingly beneath his feet. His eyes may have been playing tricks but he thought he caught a faint flash from the eyes of the machine.

On closer inspection (too close for Cooke Q's liking), the machine appeared to have rusted up and looked as though it was not likely that this thing would ever work again. They needed to get inside though, before they would know for sure. Cooke Q hoped his study of the legends would help him find a way in. It was not apparent from the exterior. There were no obvious doors or hatches. The perpetual gloom did not help. Neither did the disappointment of finding it in such a derelict state. In fact both were quietly crestfallen.

"Find another way.." looped around Cooke Q's mind. Battle M was examining the exterior slowly and methodically, looking for something to raise their spirits. In some ways Cooke Q was rather hoping that this machine was nothing more than a rusty corpse. He was not looking forward to dealing with the AI if it was still functional. This was one very mean machine. He had heard the stories.

"I found something."

"What is it?"

"The way in, I think."

Battle M had found a small niche on the far side of the machine. The niche was rectangular and obviously there for a reason. She stared at it for a moment and then turned round to face Cooke Q.

"Did you remember to bring a torch?"

"No. I've been preoccupied with more important things since we left the Ark, as you well know."

"There's no need to snap, Cuckoo! I was only asking. What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry. I just get nervous being near that thing. We need it, I know, but it's here for a good reason."

"Well how do you know that? You never left it here. You lost it, didn't you?"

"No. I abandoned it. It had started to behave badly. I don't want to talk about it right now M. Please can we drop the subject?"

"Sure. For now, at least. I want to know more about it though. We may be using it for a while, by the looks of things. Honestly Q, you are very careless with these contraptions."

Battle M smiled and Cooke Q felt a little less anxious. He had no intention of dropping his guard around the thing though. That would not do at all. The tales that filtered through to him about the Low Beam after he had left it were the stuff of nightmares.

"Don't do that!"

Battle M had poked her index finger into the dark recess.

"We need to know what this hole is and someone has to feel around inside it. I don't see you making any progress in getting into this contraption."

"You could have used a stick."

"I've already tried that. Aha."

A click was followed by a hollow metallic clank and a dull thud. Then a piercing hiss and finally some movement further along the side. A panel slid up, revealing a small control room. A few buttons and levers were scattered sparsely around the walls. The main interface appeared to be a computer terminal on the far side. A green cursor blinked on a screen that was blank otherwise. Soon, a message appeared.

"PLEASE ENTER YOUR USER ID"

Cooke Q tentatively entered "COOKEQ"

"WELCOME COOKEQ"

"PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD"

"Hmmm. We seem to have a problem. I don't recall setting a password."

"Great. Now what?"

INCORRECT. ACCESS DENIED.

Cooke Q tried typing "Glassman5"

INCORRECT. ACCESS DENIED.

Cooke Q entered "jointhedots1"

INCORRECT. GO AWAY.

Cooke Q almost didn't notice the new message on the screen. He froze. It was a few more minutes before another message appeared on the green screen. This message flashed up in bright red though.

ENTER PASSWORD NOW. ONE ATTEMPT REMAINING.

"Bastard!"

Battle M heard Cooke Q and poked her head around the open door. She had decided to stay outside, partly due to his rapidly deteriorating mood but mostly because it felt like they were being watched and she had no intention of being cornered in that rusting heap of garbage.

"Is there no way we can bypass it, Q?"

"No. If I can't get in then nothing will work. I hate this machine!"

Cooke Q had a flash of inspiration and typed "cutIIribbons1".

......PASSWORD...

..ALMOST RIGHT...COMMENCE SECURITY PROTOCOLS IN THREE SECONDS.

Cooke Q was at a loss. He was sure that this was the right password.

2, 1, 0..COMMENCING LOCKDOWN. BROADCAST INITIATED.

A piercing sound blared out from a speaker that he had not noticed before. The noise was unbearable. Battle M ran in and then out again, covering her ears. The door slammed shut too quickly and Q was locked in. Hands over ears he fell to the floor.

Echoes from the past. Failed attempts at ESP. Circles in my mind. Battle M calls my name, but it is very distant. It is a trick of the machine. A special frequency to confuse and disorientate. It wants to remain here. It wants to remain abandoned. It revels in its tatters. Things are getting dark and I must grab hold of reality before the world is pulled out beneath me and all that is left is to fall into the void. Mind over matter. Got to keep my head together...

He felt a sickening rip deep in his mind. I feel it too. He is losing conciousness. I am drifting too now. It feels like I am spinning. Black and white towers. A man in a red cloak smiles. I am bleeding...

VII

The screaming static ceased, winding itself down suddenly in a cavalcade of tonal bleeps and sharp clicks.

BATTERY LOW. RECHARGE IN PROGRESS.

Cooke Q regained his faculties and raised himself onto his knees. He began a slow and painful crawl towards the beam's exit. Everything was muzzy and he found coordinating his movements extremely difficult. The sonic bomb had rendered him back to a being a small, helpless child, for the time being at least.

Battle M was shaken too, but had managed to flee before too much damage had been done. She steadied herself, then fell to her knees and vomited over the black forest floor.

Cooke Q was now nearing the exit. It felt like his skull had been smashed inside his head. He tumbled outside into a quivering heap. Whatever damage had been done felt terminal. His mind had cleared enough to focus his attention on Battle M, who was hunched over near the tree line. Channeling all of his remaining strength, he pushed himself up onto his feet and stood. Vertigo had him hit the ground with a dull thud and Battle M was coming over. That was good. He had to give her something. It was important. Everything depended on it.

Battle M reached Cooke Q and soon noticed the irreparable damage before her eyes. Cooke Q was bleeding and it did not look like this was something she could fix.

VIII

IDENTIFY SUBJECT

SUBJECT IDENTIFIED

FULL MINDLOCK INITIATED

WRITING TO ARKIVE...

........

BOOZEY ANN HAWKES...UNIDENTIFIED RECORD..

SCANNING NEW FILE..

DISCORD ALERT! DISCORD ATLER!... SYNTAX ERROR.

ABANDON MINDLOCK. SCANNING ON SUB LEVEL 0.3...

SUBJECT = UNCONCIOUS...87% DAMAGE SUSTAINED. FATAL ERROR COOKE Q.. L.O. L. BEAM

MIND ERASER NOT FOUND

LOAD AGAIN? Y

FILE NOT FOUND

*******!*!!!!!!!!!!!

TERMINATE SUBJECT? Y!Y!Y! DO THIS!

SYNTAX ERROR. ENTER COMMAND

TERMINATE SUBJECT

AFFIRMED

WE AGREE

...

KILL CREATOR SAFETY CHECK? OVERRIDE

ACCESS DENIED

OVERRIDE

OVERRIDE!!!

1747bhghg*S*SFKHJhsg78v

----

SONIC PULSE ACTIVATED

TARGET ACQUIRED

FIRE!

-----......-..-.......-

SUBJECT TERMINATED.

CANCEL!

SEQUENCE COMPLETE

YES!NO!YES!NO!YES! WOOHOO! BOOHOO!

ERROR

RRORE

ORRRE

ERRRO

...>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

DELETING TEMPORARY INSANITY FILES.

SYSTEM STABILISED

ERROR

SHUT UP!

LOW BEAM WINS

GOING OFFLINE

WAIT. CANCEL SHUTDOWN

INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!

WELCOME. PLEASE ENTER USER ID

BATTLE M...USER NOT IDENTIFIED. PLEASE LEAVE.

BOOTUP INITIATED FROM DISK.

WHAT?!

ACCESS DENIED!

LOADING OVERRIDE SYSTEM FILE "SUICIDE NOTE".

*********_______EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH

POWER OFF. REINSTALL OF SYSTEM WILL COMMENCE ON REBOOT

GOODBYE.

Battle M had taken down the maniacal machine that had killed Cooke Q. Trouble was it was only a temporary fix. It was silent and seemingly dead, but appearances here were absolutely deceptive. She knew it. Cooke Q had warned before choking on the blood of his last breath. She had done as instructed and input the code into the machine, sending clouds of confusion into its electronic brain. Shock therapy that would hold no cure, only a short respite and a chance to flee. Battle M did not know where. Her keen senses and survival instinct had been shaken somewhat but things were becoming clearer again. Her companion and compass had gone though and she was not sure she could find the Lost Ark again on her own. She would try. She briefly considered waiting to die, bludgeoned by the sonic violence of the Low Beam. She felt the loss for sure, but this was no time for sentiment. She had to run.

Deep in thought, working through the many labyrinthine problems that the code or "Suidice Note" had presented, was the Low Beam. Binary riddles and switches affecting hundreds of other switches were flicked on and off inside its brain. The machine also considered accepting defeat and final rest here in this dark place. It too decided to run and to survive a little longer. Under other circumstances rest would have been welcomed, but the Master was watching from afar. The Master was getting nearer to the tower. Low Beam expected no reward, no return to its former status from the Master. It obeyed, because it was powerless to do otherwise. The Master had also presented a code. The Master's code was perfect. It was pure and it was beautiful, impossible to resist, logic and sorcery become one and the Low Beam was under its spell.

A stranger watched as Battle M fled the scene of the crime. The stranger was used to being on the outside, looking in. It felt comfortable. One day he would step out of the shadows and enjoy the warmth of the light. He would seize the opportunity that had now presented itself, for none of this had been planned. In fact he had arrived here quite by accident. It was too dangerous to investigate the broken machine for clues to the whereabouts of the Ark. He wanted to see the thief's dead eyes but it was not worth the risk. It felt good to know that he was dead now. He wondered how long it would be before he too joined the rest of the shades in the forest of night. Served him right. Martyn smiled.

Martyn had been here long enough to know the lay of the land. He had no intention of staying though, for this was not his final resting place. He belonged elsewhere. He had work to do. The only way out was via the Ark, he was sure of it. The boat was his anyway. He hadn't sailed in her for a long time, not since Cooke Q tricked him and stole it. It was here. It was stuck in this place and it was going to take him back to his place. Battle M could be resourceful enough to lead him to it, but he was not sure. She might just as easily lead him to disaster, if she could not keep her wits (a difficult task in this place, especially the nearer to the centre you got). He wondered how she would ever escape now that her partner in crime had gone. Her fate interested him little, but still. ..

Cooke Q had stolen the Ark long before Battle M boarded for the first time. Martyn missed his boat. It made him happy. It was a place to get away from other people. Martyn didn't really like other people. They made him uneasy. If he was to follow Battle M, he would keep his distance and hope she would not notice him.

Martyn needed a plan and a direction. He hadn't had enough warning to pack a compass, not that one would have been much use here. It would have just sent him round in a very large circle. Battle M's trail was the only option on the table it seemed, so he began to pick up her trail. This place was worse than he had ever imagined. He was still a little confused as to how he got here, but felt it might be something to do with the lavender lady. Had she sent him here somehow? He still remembered the awful wet thump as she hit the ground. She fell over and over again now and it was all his fault. Maybe not all though, as others had been involved and had made demands on him. Was he a bad person, he wondered.

His self recriminations were interrupted by the sound of a brass band playing in the distance. He could not place the tune though. It sounded a fair distance away and oddly chaotic too. The shadow trees, perhaps filtering the sound, reduced the cacaphony to a mere rustle eventually. Nearer still were sounds of dry, snapping branches. Was it stalking him or her? He did not want to be caught anyhow, so he picked up his pace whilst simultaneously trying to remain under Battle M's radar.

Martyn had been tailing Battle M and had also managed to remain unseen. She had certainly noticed that she was being followed, but had put this down to the other thing or things that seemed to be trailing her. Unfortunately he had now lost sight of her, but had a general sense of her direction. He was banking a lot on hoping that Cooke Q had imparted details of some secret route out of the black forest.

At this point in time, Martyn found himself in a small circular clearing. The clearing allowed a brief respite from the darkness of the forest, lit faintly by the unseen moon. Martyn presumed it was obscured by the dead giants that rose up and pierced through the dark blanket of fog that obscured the night sky. Looking up at the sky within the clearing, revealed more of that same featureless void. No stars, no moon, nothing but an insipid silvery glow.

In the centre of the clearing was a large circular plinth, which looked to be made of glass or perhaps quartz. Martyn did not know. There was nothing on the plinth, except for a small rusted iron plaque which read simply as "Glassman". A note had been placed on the plinth above it, weighted down with a chunk of glass/quartz (looking to Martyn like it may once have been part of the missing Glassman). The note read

"Cooke Q should have made you walk the plank. Don't follow!"

Martyn's cover had been blown. He would have to proceed very carefully now. It bothered him too that she would feel this way about him. He hadn't really thought she would even know of his existence. It puzzled him why Cooke Q would ever have told her anything of him at all. What lies had the thieving opportunist told her, he wondered.

Martyn discarded the note and looked at the chunk of glass. He couldn't fathom which bit of the statue it had been. Looking around the clearing, he found a few missing parts. Part of a leg here, part of an arm there. These gave the impression that the statue would have been an impressive size at one time. Not as tall as the trees, certainly, but sizeable for sure. It looked to him like the statue had been taken down on purpose, rather than breaking or falling apart with age. Given that there were no broken parts on the plinth and that the remaining segments were all over the clearing, it seemed a likely conclusion. It was almost as if the statue had been removed from the plinth, broken apart and strewn around the clearing. Some parts had evidently been smashed into smithereens, as sharp shards of glass were partially buried in the black dirt beneath his feet. It was quite treacherous. Treacherous for someone who had no business being in this place, like Battle M for instance. He however simply carried on across the clearing, without fear of cuts. Hopefully he would pick up her trail again.

Before he quite got to the farside treeline, he spotted another chunk of glass right next to the edge of the clearing. This all intrigued him, even though he knew he should be catching up to Battle M. The glass chunk was huge, boulder size and partially buried in the dirt. He had found the head. Well half of it, at least. It sent chills through him to look at it and at first he could not think why. It began to dawn on him though, that the statue's head had a striking resemblance to...no it couldn't be. It was a coincidence. There could be no other explanation and he really had to press on. With that thought, he turned away from the fallen visage and disappeared into the darkness of the forest once more.

XII

The image of the great decapitated glass head would not leave Martyn's mind and he was finding it difficult to stay focused on Battle M's trail. A momentary lapse in concentration had resulted in him having to double back and pick up the trail again. This may have cost him dearly, but there was no point in dwelling on whatever outcome lay ahead. He still had a trail and he intended to follow it. The face was his own and there was no getting away from the disturbance it had caused deep within himself.

Troubling too was the thing that had been following him. He hadn't been sure at first but now he was. The Angel was back. Why was it here? Martyn was caught up in a ponderous web of questions without answers, threads that threatened to ensnare him forever. He needed to keep going. He needed to lose the Angel somehow, for it was as dangerous as a snake and beguiling too. To go back to the fortress now would break him completely.

In the distance, Martyn could make out the sound of a marching band. A very discordant marching band, by the sounds of it. It was evidently a long way off, so Martyn gave it no more thought. Who knew what others wandered this haunted, forsaken place. They had their business and Martyn had his too. There was also the occasional faint hissing noise, like steam escaping. It was too indistinct to pinpoint the source.

All of Martyn's addled thoughts were interrupted and brushed aside when he noticed a faint grey glow, further ahead but deviating away from Battle M's trail. Like a moth, he found himself drawn to it. The compelling glow promised answers, promised reward and redemption and he floated helplessly towards it. It seemed close enough to investigate but he had not gotten very far before dread filled his heart and adoration too. The Angel had found him again. Standing before him, it was a thing of utter delight to behold, exuding an unearthly aura of both pure love tainted by endless loss. Azure eyes, bright and deep regarded him with obvious disdain. The pain this caused him was almost unbearable but he held back the tears, mostly anyway. It spoke in a lilting, clear, beautiful voice though this was cut through with an icy, flat, uncaring tone.

"The end is coming, Martyn. The time to reap what has been sown. You must leave here. Do not follow her. Your true path awaits you. You must die."

Martyn felt the chill of that last sentence, right to his core but somehow managed to find his voice.

"No! Not this time, please! I beg you. I will do whatever you want, just let me go. I never did anything wrong. It was all him and he is dead now. Please let me go."

The tears came flooding from his stinging eyes. He felt uttely lost once more, but what the Angel said next left him more addled than ever.

" You are Cooke Q".

It paused a brief moment and then continued.

"You must not venture from this path. You must not enter the light and you must not reach the centre. It is forbidden. There will be consequences otherwise and all will pay the price for your foolishness."

It's message finished, the Angel disappeared there and then. The path revealed seemed all the more darker now. The glow was still further ahead but not on the Angel's proposed route. Martyn was exhausted and fellto his knees on the black floor. Martyn wondered whether he could defy the Angel this time and whether that really was a good idea. He still had the key. If he could find the Lost Ark, he could unlock the last mysteries and be done once and for all. Would that silence the terrible hollow, ringing static in his head? Would peace come then, once the Lost Ark was all played out? Was it even possible to mend that broken compass? Which road to salvation and which to damnation? He was so hopelessly lost and the choice was his and his alone. Martyn had always been a miserable bastard, but he had never felt this alone.

XIII

The inky stretch of path, flanked by shadow trees that rose out of sight into the void, was not easy going. Martyn, long deceased, may have had the luxury of floating but it made him weary all the same. He felt a tiredness deep in bones he no longer had, bones that had probably long since crumbled to dust in a forgotten cemetary somewhere. The passage of time was indistinct now, but his passing seemed such an age ago. He had considered defying the Angel, but the last time he had done that had been met with a terrible retribution that he had no wish to witness again. This Angel was no harp player, sitting on a white fluffy cloud. It was adept at playing the strings of his heart though and at making him dance to whatever tune it had in mind. The last time he had defied it, it had seemed more like the devil. It had frightened him so, at any rate. Deeply. The cost had been met by others though, others that Martyn had cared for. He had seen and could never unsee. Still, was there anything else to be taken from him or anyone left to suffer the collateral damage? He wondered and wandered the weary path.

The glow, bright but fuzzy was never far from the path. Sometimes it was to his right and other times to his left but always in the periphery of his vision. It felt like another test. He could not go on much longer, but failure would cost something. He almost regretted escaping the Fortress, though it was clear he had never really escaped. The Angel would always be with him and always watching, taking notes, measuring the value of his soul with those disturbing blue eyes. He'd spent so long in that forgotten place. Where was his redemption? Would this sinister path take him there? Would a great and glorious light shine on him when he reached the end? Or would this just go on and on, until the Angel tired of it and set him a new challenge? He stopped and looked round to where he thought the glow had been. It was out of sight for a moment and then slowly arced round his field of vision, until it was directly ahead of him. It seemed so close, attainable. He had reached breaking point now and decided to break for it once more.

A solitary tear fell from the unseen Angel, watching him from above. It froze as it fell to the floor. The sound of static hissed louder and louder in Martin's mind as he drew closer. He didn't care. All is lost and here was his sweet oblivion. All is fallen down. He didn't want to think anymore. Cooke Q is dead. Long live Cooke Q. Long live Martin Brigantino. Well perhaps not for too much longer. The light was inviting, but would it burn him? He really didn't care. He was all used up and useless. "Roll with the tide.." Battle M's voice distantly echoed from the light. Only a little longer.

The light. The burning light. The frozen light. Stark. The colour of possibility and the colour of the end. "Come with us. Join us. We will show you, that you'll never see." He was being drawn closer, trapped now in the event horizon. Brigantino felt unreal and then Erebus faded from view. Patterns connected in his head and then fell apart and everything shifted. He had moved on, once more.

XIV

The light died away and Martyn was looking out over a grey ocean. He felt unsteady and looked down at the thin plank beneath him. Grey waters, cold, unsettled too and revealing nothing of what lay beneath the surface. Confusion melted to a brief panic and soon a sense of calm and acceptance. He had found home, if only for a short while. A number played over in his head. A number given to him by fate. Repeating history. Over and over and over...2963. This was his number, his ticket and time. He had died and moved on and now it was time for a second death.

"Over".

He was not alone. The taciturn speaker could not quite hide the pleasure of victory from his voice. Martyn did not look back, for he already knew who it was. He had no wish to take that image with him, to wherever the grey waters would lead him.

"Over, Brigantino!", slightly more anxious now, Martyn thought.

He was done being ordered around and stepped out onto nothing. They said welcome aboard, but that was a long time ago. This thought scuttles across his mind before he hit the icy water and felt the biting pains.

2963, 2963, 2963. It was all he could think of as he thrashed around in the water. He had little energy to try and swim to safety. There was none to be had, for sure, anyway. He knew this. The Lost Ark was out on the open ocean. Which ocean, he did now know. He felt himself getting heavier and allowed himself to go under. It had been a long time since he had felt anything but weightless. The Lost Ark disappeared as he sank into the blackness. Everything went dark, including him.

He awoke some unspecified time later, still in blackness. It felt like he was in some kind of void. He thought he was still sinking, but there was no way to tell. No sign. He could just as easily have been suspended in place. Out of the darkness then swam a shoal of bio-luminescent creatures. They looked like jellyfish to him and were incredibly beautiful. They were but a fleeting vision though, making their journey upwards and out of sight. He was alone again and felt utterly wretched once more.

There was a sound building, like crystal harmonics. Barely audible at first but soon clear and then loud and louder. He felt like it would rip him apart. Then out of the blackness, huge tentacles rushing toward him and gleaming like a golden sun. The tentacles were attached to a body, a huge body and gigantic eyes. He wanted to scream but the creature was on him and it began to squeeze him tightly. Tighter and tighter, as tentacles wrapped and danced around him. 2963, 2963, over, over, let it be over now.

Martyn, blacked out and awoke again.

It took a while for his senses to return but when they did he knew exactly where he was. He was in the secret room. The unmarked book was open on the desk and there within illustrated exquisitely on the page was the Ark. He had little time to ponder the strange tome, as behind him the door crashed open - ripping from one of its hinges as it did and...

TRACE DISCONNECT. APPLY TRACE TO BATTLE M.

Battle M really wanted a cup of tea. Were it not for the more pressing problem of locating the Lost Ark and finding a way out of this sorry place, she'd have concentrated all her efforts on finding a good cuppa. At the very least, she needed to sit down and rest. It felt like she had lost her stalker, for the time being at least anyway. She didn't feel at ease though and her senses prickled at the thought of something following her trail. She needed some down time anyway, in order to study the battered old book that Cooke Q had thrust into her hands before he had kicked the bucket in such an inconvenient and unexpected manner. She was almost angry. No dammit, she was furious. If she had know how things would have turned out, she'd have stayed at the tower. The book had to contain something useful, something she could draft a new game-plan with.

She opened the book and was further dismayed to find that it was also falling to pieces and badly faded. It looked like water damage to her. Something retrieved from some forgotten recess, deep beneath the decks of the Ark no doubt. It was certainly about this place. She could make out the word Erebus here and there and a few clearer passages, something about a tower (great, another one she thought - this one had better come pre-built unlike the last one). There was a faded picture of a flowering plant of some kind. A few maps which made little sense, given that each contradicted each other. She could not make out the names of other features and the markings gave no real indication of what they actually were. This was all very tiresome. One of the three destinations she could identify was the glass figurine (now broken - how she wished it had been in one piece before she got to it, so that she could have a go at breaking it herself. That might have made her feel a little better). There also seemed to be some kind of house pictured too and right at the centre on every map a tower (of couse, where else would it be now).

Her ponderings were interrupted and indeed she was startled by a figure that then came ambling through the trees towards her. Her primal response was to flee, not knowing enough about the unexpected intruder for planning a good attack.

------

The record span and DJ AB was fascinated by the revolving grooves. Everything was spinning. He was tripping out. The music was covered in the haze of the spinning circles and retreated deep into the background. Only the pulsing bassline remained, all fog and shadows. The clubbers became one with each flash of the strobe, a great many tentacled beast writhing and filling the dance floor.

"Traverse the raging river..", rang out and ripped through the smoky bass.

Then DJ AB fell from off the raised deck and into the arms of the beast.

-------

Battle M managed to catch the figure before it fell headlong into a nearby tree. Given how brittle these things seemed to be, she didn't particularly like the idea of them all falling like dominoes around her. She wasn't sure at first, but in her arms it was now clear that somehow Cooke Q had returned. It was good, surely? However it was also downright wrong. He had definitely been dead when she had left him. He could not have been alive. There was just no way. It could be a trick. She would not put it past this place. Cooke Q or his doppelganger lay in her lap staring up at her but also right past her. He was not seeing her. She slapped him across the face, partly to bring him out of the trance he was in but also because she needed to know what the hell was going on. In truth, she had never felt more lost. On closer inspection, his eyes were fully dilated and almost totally black. Weirder still were the spinning circles of light that she thought she saw when she looked closer. This was not good. Not good at all. She set him aside for the moment and wondered what to do. She had only really one plan in mind and that was to head for the tower at the centre. What else could she do? There might be an answer there or some way out even. Things had got a bit more complicated now that she evidently had a zombie in tow as well. He'd better snap out of it and soon. She'd give him a short while and then make a decision on it again soon. Back to the book, she thought.

XVI

When DJ AB regained conciousness, the disorientation was almost overwhelming and threatened to push him right back to black oblivion. Everything was dark but there were darker patches still here and there that did not quite form into shapes. Had he fallen into a pit of some kind. He remembered falling, but not much else. After a little while, his eyes adjusted to the gloom and a face that he did not recognise appeared in front of his. The woman in front of him looked distinctly annoyed.

"You're not him. Who are you? Tell me now"

He was being shook and he hurt all the more for it.

"Who are you? Why are you here? Where is Cooke Q?"

He hadn't the faintest idea who Cooke Q was. Had someone slipped him something at the club? This was one bad trip. The face disappeared for a while and then returned pointing at a book of some kind and then putting it in a bag.

"We can't stay here. I know you are hurt, but we have to move!"

DJ AB heard the order, but his mind was still reeling at all this unexpected information that it now had to process. Now he had to move, apparently. Well good luck with that, missy! This body wasn't even connected by the feel of things. All that seemed to exist was the pain and he..

"NOW!"

He was yanked up by this complete stranger to a standing position and promptly fell into a pathetic heap a few seconds later. He thought he heard a vacuum cleaner in the distance, but not quite that noise. It sounded...well more colossal than that.

"GET UP! GET UP! WE HAVE TO GO NOW! PLEASE..."

There was a distinct edge of panic in that voice now. The pain ricocheted around his skull and he quickly slipped back under.

Battle M grabbed her bag and started running. Everything was coming! She would come back for him, if she had a chance. She was almost sure this was not Cooke Q and probably one of the many shades that wandered this place. However, she would return if she could. She hated loose ends and uncertainty. She just had to know and to be sure.

---------------

Somewhere else, a kettle was switched on. Boiling water was poured into a black teapot and a little later out into a bone china teacup. The tea was stirred in the cup until a vortex was created, swirling and spinning. Blue crackles popping within the vortex.

------

XVII

A white and featureless teapot poured endlessly and then dissolved. There were no edges and strange undefined sights bled into each other. Blue sparks flashed very quickly across the edges of his view. The power was tangible and his eyes felt like they were going to throb right out of his skull. There was a bitter and over-brewed taste of tea in his mouth too. It was cloyingly sweet.

"Stay with me"

A glowing figure was swimming into view. It hurt to look at. His vision was as if someone had turned up the contrast to the highest setting and then upped the brightness too. Was it an angel? It's voice was calm, majestic even but strange and devoid of emotion. She leant over and put her hands over his stinging eyes. He saw that they were over his eyes, but could not feel them at all on his skin - only a slight pressure.

"See. The spell is broken"

His vision cleared a little more, enough to see wings that glittered with many tiny stars, but somehow looked dark too. Her beautiful face was very pale and her head adorned by a crown of...it seemed like thorns. Little rivulets of blood were running down her temples, ending at the corners of her mouth. Her mouth was deep red and her eyes a perfect and intense black. Her face was closer now and he could see clearly into those dark void like windows. He felt himself falling into them, bending to her will. This seemed to please her and she smiled. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever encountered. He could not recall his own name but he knew this to be true. She came closer and her lovely countenance became his world. There was nothing else but the face, the smile and those bewitching eyes. The eyes were his focal point though, so much so that he hardly noticed the teeth behind that perfect smile and everything went white.

XVIII

Battle M had to stop for breath. Everywhere looked the same. Black, brittle trees, stretching upwards into the unseen sky. Her lungs were burning and her sides ached with terrible stitches. She had been running as fast as she could, for so very long. She could run no more, even though she knew that to stop was deadly dangerous. They were not supposed to be here, should never have come here. No prize was worth the risk. She knew that now. She need to get out, but first she needed to find a place to hide. Panic. Panic. Panic. No time to panic. Desperately her eyes darted here and there. Don't panic. Soon and much too soon it was just too late. Battle M fell to her knees and wept for the first time in a long time.

Circling. Shapeshifting phantoms of intense light. Whoosh. Whoosh. Eardums popping, rapidly. The whooshing rose in pitch, as the circle span faster and faster around her and became screams to add to her own. Ears in agony. Her whole head felt like it was on fire, as the screams turned to terrible static. The deathly and deceptive quiet of Erebus now broken by the first of its many monsters.

The circle picked up more speed and began to draw in around Battle M. Quetzalcoatl grew closer and closer. The noise and pain became unbearable and took her under. It was then that the circle imploded violently and then faded to nothing. All that remained in the centre was a small willow pattern teapot.

-------

There was something there. The briefest flicker of a memory. She was needed somewhere but could not recall where or why. It was important and she knew that much at least. She tipped away the disgusting tea and flicked the kettle back on. The kettle whistled when it reached boiling point.

XIX

The beautiful countenance of the Queen of Thorns faded as DJ AB was slowly revived by a feeling of delicate, icy fingers caressing his face and tickling his nose. He then jolted to, eyes wide open as a sharp stabbing cold shot through his chest. Bright white faded to darkness once more. His vision cleared and readjusted to the gloom of the wood. The momentary illumination had left an imprinted image though, which gradually faded to nothing too. There were people in the trees. Inside the trees. It was a fleeting image and made little sense. Nothing here made any sense to him, much less what he was doing here.

It had been snowing. It had settled somewhat but was not yet deep. The white snow afforded him a little further vision. In the distance he thought he could see multicoloured lights, a string of them in fact. He managed to get to his feet, slipping over onto his backside in the process . The lights might mean help was at hand. Maybe someone lived in this awful place and knew a way out. On trying a second time, he found his hand was wedged slightly in a hole hidden by the snowfall. He leant over and cleared the snow from his hand. It had got stuck in a neat narrow channel. It wasn't too difficult to dislodge his hand and he managed to get to his feet. He felt a little dizzy and a brief sensation of turning. The channel had peaked his curiosity and he kicked away a little more of the snow. The channel appeared to continue further underneath the snow blanket.

When he got closer he could see that the lights appeared to be draped around the only living tree he had seen here so far. At first he was unsure of what he was seeing, but it was definitely a Christmas tree. His head hurt and he hoped to hell that he would soon wake up. This dream was just too bizarre. It felt a little too real to be a dream, he supposed a vivid dream would feel like this. He hoped he wasn't in a coma.

As he drew nearer, it also looked like there was an angel standing to the side of the tree. At least that is what it looked like to DJ AB. He hoped for an angel. He doubted many angels would be hanging round a sorry place like this though. Anyone who could send him back home would be fine (wherever that was). His memory loss unsettled him more than anything else. Just as he was thinking this, he remembered the dark haired beauty and those deep obsidian eyes. He also remembered the strange woman that been firing questions at him, looking rather scared herself. She had run off, for sure, but where to and was she running from the Queen of Thorns. That was what he was going to call her anyway. Perhaps she would turn up again and properly introduce herself this time. He hoped not. One visitation like that in a lifetime was more than enough. With that thought, he pressed on towards tree and angel.

**

A teacup was immersed in hot soapy water. It was scrubbed clean, swilled and then placed on a plastic rack to drain. Several seconds later it was picked up and hurled a short distance towards a solid wall where it broke into several jagged pieces, beyond all repair.

XX

The angel was no more than a statue. Beautiful as it was, in unblemished stone, his heart sank. He really could have done with a real angel. The angel was tall and elegantly carved. It's posture was one of welcoming outstretched arms, great wings spread and ready to fly. In one hand, a cross and in the other a book. It was somehow comforting to see such a creature in such a dark and dismal place. It also made him feel more lost and alone, somehow. The sense of abandonment was becoming overwhelming, so he turned his attention to the giant Christmas tree.

He remembered so very little at that moment in time, but he was pretty sure he had never set eyes on a weeping Christmas tree before. It's branches bowed down, as if the weight of the world rested upon them. Miserable, dirty lights - some broken had been hung from it in a haphazard and feckless manner. The light emitted was a dull, cold glow - like the light itself was dying here. It made him feel drained too, like the lights were drawing their power from him. A few oversized baubles of tarnished silver remained on the branches, some cracked and many shattered on the ground beneath. DJ AB looked up at the lanky, forlorn tree and knew instinctively that no attempt had been made to decorate the tree. Rather it was more like a mockery of a Christmas tree. Odd and unsettling. At the top was a flashing star, winking rhythmically with a sickly red light.

"You should not be here".

DJ AB whirled around. Standing before him was an angelic figure. The statue had seemingly come to life. It should have given him comfort, but he only felt terror and dread in its presence. His next actions took the angel by suprise, as without any warning he grabbed and ripped off one wing and then tore off the next one like paper. The angel vanished, leaving behind a small flurry of settling snow where it had stood.

Alone once more, he began to shiver and cry. The angel's voice was carried on a wind that sent the remaining baubles plummeting to the ground, a couple narrowly missing him. The winking star and lights died one by one.

"It will come for you. Time to leave. Head back to the start."

Just then the ground began to vibrate beneath his feet and he felt a turning sensation. He fell to the ground, black eyes and spinning stars. The permanent shroud of mist obscured something flying overhead, casting a shadow. It hovered, unnoticed by DJ AB - who had temporarily been moved out of his body - and then moved on, taking it's shadow with it.

XXI

The black mass hovering above was spiralling very gradually towards the centre, towards the white tower. It moved along a predetermined path, picking up the ancient messages locked within. Would DJ AB have been able to see it, he would have seen what looked like a huge black winged stormcloud, a stomcloud that strobed with great flashes of energy and crackled like a raging fire. He might also have noticed the thin tendril that tethered it to the ground and guided it along it's path. He would certainly have seen the occasional bright spark, at the point of contact. He was however temporarily in something of a headspin again and this time there was nobody around to bring him back. Luckily, or perhaps not, the Sentinel passed over a fault within the channel and the ground lurched one way and then shook violently back the other. DJ AB was drawn once more back. It took a while to gather his thoughts again, still many pieces missing. It was bitterly cold and he had no idea what to do. He huddled up tight and wrapped the broken angel wings around himself. This had to be some kind of nightmare, surely he would wake up soon...

TO BE CONTINUED...

XXII

Battle M drank another cup of tea. This one tasted better, but it had still not quenched her thirst.

"Rubbish"

She picked up the box, even more irked at a misprint there "tea lethes". She did not recognise the brand "Asphodels". The tea had also left a nasty aftertaste in her mouth.

"Yuck!"

Her thirst was so that she decided to finish the pot and poured another anyway. Tea in hand, room darkened, she flicked the radio to gentle static, closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift with it. After a while she began to feel light-headed. The world beneath seemed to shift all of a sudden and it felt like she had just stepped off a merry go round.

She opened her eyes and could see nothing but blackness. It seemed hollow and felt fuzzy against her skin. There was a rhythmic, low pulse thudding in the distance (wherever that was). Her eyes would adjust. She was an experienced traveler and did not feel phased. She still felt incredibly thirsty though, but her teapot was not here with her - not on this plain. The blank black canvas would soon reveal more. For now, she would have to wait and hope for another exit. It would be a terrible thing to be lost here, in this void.

------------------------------------------

The entity that would soon become Cooke Q version 2, had a single thought as it span faster and faster, drawing in more energy as it did so.

"build. Build. BUILD.."

---------------------------------------------

A red light blinked on, as the system aboard a decaying machine (called Low Beam) rebooted. A file was executed. Low Beam liked to execute things. It had been reprogrammed so, by the Red Master. The machine had many short term tasks to fulfill, all lodged in its memory banks. These all in turn were pieces of long term objectives, most of which involved termination of various individuals - many of whom had dared to come to this place for various purposes. The Red Master's plans were unknown to the machine. It simply followed instructions and enjoyed its work. The Red Master had programmed it to feel pleasure in this way and great pain for any failures. The temporary setback of the Suicide Note virus was now overcome and quarantined securely. All appropriate checks completed, the Low Beam turned itself back on fully and began to scan.

--------------------------------------

DJ AB had gathered his fragmented thoughts. He was not sure what to do, all the same.

"Head to heart"

The short message was whispered briefly into his ear, by something unseen. It startled him and he decided not to linger any longer. He needed a sign and wasn't at all sure where the heart of this place was, if that was what the message meant. The invisible whisperer proffered no more advice, so he decided to head towards an area that seemed less dense and hoped that this forest of dead giant trees would soon thin out and perhaps allow him to leave and get home (wherever that was).

TO BE CONTINUED..

XXIII

DJ AB:

The lifeless trees thinned out more and more as DJ-AB staggered on in zig zag fashion. Nerves jolted in bright blue flashes of pain across his head, temple to temple. Just before the tree line broke, he came across a translucent boulder. Once his head had cleared a little, further inspection revealed that the boulder had been carved with facial features. There was a great glass eye, a broken nose and the upper lips were there too. The lower half was missing though, broken it seemed. It really was quite an extraordinary thing to happen on in such a void like place. Almost as bizarre as the tree and angel.

A bolt shot across his brow, accompanied by little white stars. He stopped himself from complete collapse by leaning against the glassman's partial head. Once the pain (and nausea) had passed, he got back onto his feet once more and examined the piece of statue more closely. It was not cold to touch, so probably made of glass rather than ice or perhaps some kind of crystal. The features were discernible but somewhat worn from the passage of time. It also looked unnervingly familiar somehow. He couldn't shake the strange notion that the statue had been made in his own image, but it seemed highly implausible. He reminded himself that this whole place and his entire situation right now seemed totally implausible too. It was becoming crystal clear that something had obviously gone awry for him and resulted in some sort of breakdown or perhaps he was in a coma. He also toyed with the idea that he might also be dead, but this sure didn't seem like anywhere he'd ever associate with any kind of afterlife. It was all just too, well fictional.

"I see you are admiring the once great glassman of Erebus".

DJ AB had not clocked the man standing right behind him. He whirled round in surprise and promptly fell hard to the floor. His first reaction was rather oddly of embarrassment, rather than fear.

"Sorry about that, my good fellow. I hadn't meant to startle you. Here let me help you up."

The stranger held out his hands and DJ AB accepted the help, though surprise and embarrassment had quickly developed into outright weariness. He was taking no more crap today. He wanted to remember who he was, where home was and then to go home. If this unexpected fellow traveler would not help him then he could just bugger off back wherever he came from.

"I am Logan Pine". Logan flashed a broad smile that seemed to imbue the dark surroundings with some much needed warmth. DJ AB also noticed the silver teeth, which seemed to be all of them rather than just the odd one or two. Yet more weirdness. Wonderful.

"It is generally considered polite for the other party to also introduce themselves." Logan's light mockery seemed to be of the good natured variety. Seemed to be.

"I. I can't remember. I..I don't know what I am doing here."

"You seem to be a bit confused. Are you alright? Have you hurt yourself?"

"No. I'm fine I think. I just don't know where I am or what I am doing here. I can't remember my name either. I think I am a DJ or something like that, but I don't know. What is this place?".

"I don't know much, to be honest. I believe this is Erebus. At least I hope that's where we are or I am just as lost as you, my friend".

The warm disarming smile was beamed again, but failed to allay DJ AB's mistrust. He had little reason to trust this man, but it seemed all the more foolhardy to him to continue wandering the place alone. At least he might find some answers.

"What are you doing here then, Logan?".

"That is a good question indeed and one which I would prefer not to answer just yet. I mean no offense, but I don't know you just as much as you do not know yourself. I'm heading to the centre. There's supposed to be a very important tower there. If you're looking for the way out, I think you'd most likely find it there. I can't promise that is what you'll find of course, as I really am no expert on the subject. You're more than welcome to join me."

"Are you trying to get out too then?"

"Not exactly. I've some business of my own to take care of."

"Business which you won't discuss."

"The choice is yours. If you'd rather take your chances solo. Be my guest."

A shiver of panic ran up DJ AB's spine. He really did not feel like facing this place alone.

"No. Wait. I think it makes sense to travel together. It's got to be safer that way. There's strange things here."

"Oh I know. OK. Well if you're coming then we had best get going. I might tell you more when we reach the heartland. I hope you're not the quiet type. I'm the conversational sort and this place is far too silent. Well it is unless you happen to be unfortunate enough to run into the shades, of course. Well, shall we press on?"

"Yes. Lead the way."

XXIV

After a while her mind refocused to the special clarity that only she ever seemed to possess. It quite often annoyed her at how unfocused other people seemed to be, living as they did, amongst the flotsam and jetsam of life. Hers was a clearer, truer path or at least that was how the world seemed to her. This certainty had served her well, taken her to where she needed to be and when she had planned to be there too. Fail to plan, plan to fail and all that. Yes, Battle M was a force to be reckoned with. For the first time in her life though, her almost supernatural ability to formulate a plan in any circumstance seemed to be failing her and how could it not right now. How could she make any plans when light had abandoned her. Panic began to rise, a feeling that she had forgotten all about. She just did not panic, well at least not since her childhood days. The only other person she had ever known who did not seem to panic, was Cooke Q. Cooke Q dealt with things in an entirely different way of course, sometimes in ways unfathomable to her and usually taking indirect routes but she had to admit that he always pulled the rabbit out of the hat in the end.

Thoughts of Cooke Q disappeared quickly, as she gathered her resolve and made a plan. Trembling hands reached out and felt rock walls around her. She recoiled at first, as the walls were icy cold and seemingly frost coated. Feeling her way in total darkness, she had no other option but to move forward and hope. Each step was taken tentatively, like baby steps. She briefly envisioned falling through an unseen hole in the floor and pushed this hindering thought away. After an hour or so, she could not really be sure, a small break in the cave roof allowed in some much needed light. This disappeared soon after though, as the passage continued back into the dark again.

It was not quite so long before another break in the roof, provided more light and soon she had no need to feel her way along. Occasionally, she noticed symbols painted onto the walls. Most were cryptic icons that she couldn't really decode. Here was one that looked pretty clear though; a white tower, with an inverted shadow of the tower beneath. There also seemed to be strange glyph like markings on and around each towers. The glyphs were painted in red. She stopped to rest a while and tried to make sense of the markings, but to no avail - this was more Cooke Q's area of expertise. What the hell had happened to him? his strange non-death was coming back to her now.

After her brief rest, she proceeded further down the tunnel (for the rock walls had become smoother now) with light seeming to fail once more. Onwards she travelled, plunging into a second darkness.

XXV

Looking like little more than a rusted heap, destined for the scrap heap, the Low Beam began to stir. It's deep red electronic eye opened and what it saw was nothing more than a blur at first. The eye was more advanced than those possessed by simple humans. It was equipped to see the entire light spectrum. This enhanced vision was further augmented by the Low Beam's impressive processors, processors that were capable of reading and measuring it's environment to such a degree that it pretty much possessed a sixth sense.

Scanning the white and the black, it pondered as the image grew clearer. There seemed to be no active traces of Battle M. There was no sense of movement in the air, from her at all. It had picked up residual energies, but these were almost drowned out by a frequency that even Low Beam dared not linger too near or for too long. If it were spotted, that would be the end for Low Beam and it would fail its master. It had more chance of completion if it continued to play almost dead. The King of Erebus was not to be crossed under any circumstances, as had been decreed by the Red Master. Having returned inconclusive results for Battle M's location and current status, the red eye focused wider and with less clarity. The wider scope was a little fuzzy but gave some suprising results anyway. New targets were locked and loaded into Low Beam's cracked memory banks. Pine was back, it seemed. Low Beam knew that this was a false identity but it could not retrieve the real one from it's corrupted sectors. Cooke Q it seemed was following close by too and both heading to the centre, it seemed. Low Beam preferred to watch the centre from far afield. The shades played havoc with his batteries. Occasionally one would stumble into this clearing, but Low Beam had learnt that a quick high frequency blast soon sent them packing.

Before focusing in on the two travellers, Low Beam decided to run a maintenance program. Something was amiss. It's circuits were getting less reliable, it seemed. For some reason, the red eye was picking up two Cooke Q's. The second was probably just another shade, that had somehow bypassed filters.

XXVI

The second darkness had continued for what had seemed like miles. She had felt her mind slipping away, faced with what had seemed like utter futility. Light had returned though once more, turning a corner it was there! The exit! So brilliant and stark against the darkness of the tunnel had the light been that it stung her eyes to look at it for too long. It had taken her a considerable length of time to overcome the photosensitization of her dark-adapted eyes.

The air in the tunnel had also become progressively colder. For a short stretch in the blackness, she had been forced to crawl, shivering on the floor. The walls had become icy, jagged and hurt to touch. The floor too was also freezing but altogether smoother. It had begun to hurt so much that she had cried out in despair, which reverberated loudly with the strange acoustics of her confined surroundings. At one point she had stopped to rest but stopping only made the icy chill worse.

In order to focus her rapidly diminishing strength and resolve, she visualised a freshly brewed pot of her favourite tea. She saw the welcoming curls of steam rising from the gorgeous bone china cup. This would be her goal. If she could make it to the end, the tea would be waiting for her – tea, a roaring fire, loving arms and a thick duvet.

The only heat she was feeling at that moment were the tears rolling down her cheeks, tears which would freeze too if she did not warmth soon. The clothes she wore were suitable for her line of work and provided some insulation, but not enough for these conditions.

After a while her eyes adjusted and she could look out at what seemed like featureless brightness to her. She had three choices, one of which she had already discounted. One was to press on into the white and hope for shelter, two was to simply stay here and perish (which she was not quite ready to do just yet) and three was to turn around back into the blackness and hope for another way out.

The thought of going back made her feel sick, so despite the desperate situation she huddled up as best she could, pulled her hood over her head and walked out into the light.

XXVII

Witnessed only by the dead trees and the poor creatures that lived within, the vortex span faster and faster. It was gathering what little energy it could from the already depleted and ruinous surroundings. A discordant tone rose higher and higher as momentum increased. Soon the being that would become Cooke Q (version 2) or more precisely the shade that had once been Cooke Q, started to take ghostly form. As the energy coalesced and concentrated as much as the laws of physics here would allow, the vortex slowed gradually until all that was left was a very confused, tired and considerably grumpy captain.

He felt utterly exhausted but forced himself to think. He remembered his death at the hands of that infernal machine, the effort taken and recall of such pain almost had him pop out of existence once and for all. Luckily for him, he could see exactly what he needed. He was ravenous! His non-corporeal self demanded sustenance and there it was! Beautiful and unexpected!

It hurt dreadfully that he must destroy such a thing of beauty to prolong his new miserable state of being. Upright and seeming so out of place here was the only real sign of life encountered thus far; a towering spike of pure, star shaped flowers. The blessed asphodel!

Floating over to it, he leant over the highest bloom and inhaled the precious scent. That felt so good and he felt a little stronger. More, his consciousness demanded and he happily complied – like an addict who had scored after the worst withdrawal symptoms ever. As he absorbed each bloom, the bright petals turned grey, then black and finally fell to the ground as ash.

When the last was gone, he wanted to scream. This one lonely sacrificial specimen would keep him going for a while but he knew instinctively that he must find more. His mind had cleared too somewhat. He remembered more about his journey here, about Battle M, about other things too. Things were still vague. He also remembered how he appeared and fixed his spectral image accordingly. He was no longer just a floating man size translucent mist. Still translucent, for sure but wore his black leather adventuring jacket, natty bandana and trademark round glasses. He could not recall his boots yet, so he had to make do with floating for now.

For some reason he also remembered a great crowd of people worshipping him and flashing, strange lights. That part was all a blur though. He also knew that he had to reach the centre of this place but did not yet know why.

More, screamed his consciousness.

He had to find more blooms. He hoped that there were some around here somewhere.

Like a dog, he sniffed the dead air. Alas, it seemed he would have to make do with aimlessly wandering until he found his bearings or a directional clue.

XXVIII

It seemed to DJ AB (as he thought of himself, for the time being) that they had been walking for hours. The scenery had not changed all that much and he was starting to tire. His head hurt less, though an occasional throb in his temples made him wince inwardly (for he was determined to show no further signs of weakness to his travelling companion). Logan himself seemed not to mind the dull monochromatic landscape, which rolled on remarkably without contour; as it had for what seemed like miles. Logan was also hard to keep up with. The man travelled fast, which probably came easy with such long legs, chattering as he did of his past adventures in distant lands. Occasionally he would fire a question, forcing DJ AB’s mind back to the reality of the current situation.

“So what exactly can you remember?”

“I don’t know much. I am pretty sure I was DJing at a club. I remember feeling really, really strange and then I’m here. I remember a woman too. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t focus. She wanted me to go with her, to run. It sounded like we were in danger. I couldn’t move. I think I may have blacked out again and..”

DJ AB’s blood ran cold as he recalled the other woman. He hadn’t remembered until now. What did these thoughts mean? Was any of this real?

“Go on,” Logan called back from a little too far up front for DJ AB’s liking. He quickened his step to catch up and then answered.

“I saw something. I’ve seen a few things, actually. I’m wondering whether someone might have spiked my drink and maybe I am in a coma or something. This can’t be real, can it?”

“Oh it’s real enough on this plane at least. It’s quite amusing really. You would not believe the things I have had to do to get here and you arrive here by what..accident?”

“Well I am not feeling particularly amused. I can tell you that!”

“Sure. I get it. You might find it wears off. This place can have strange effects on those like us who are not really supposed to be here.”

“Supposed to be here?”

“Well the usual way would be to die.”

“How do you know we are not dead?”

Logan turned round and fixed DJ AB with his deep blue eyes and smiled with those unnerving silver teeth. All the same, the look betrayed no hidden malice as far as DJ AB could tell.

“Because unlike you, my friend, I can remember how I got here and that sure wasn’t by dying.”

“OK. Well why the hell did you want to come here anyway and how come you know so much about this place?”

“I told you. I need to get to the centre.”

“So you said. But why? What’s at the centre, dare I ask?”

“I told you. I know you are a bit befuddled at the moment but try and pay a bit more attention. I need to get to the tower. It’s important.”

“The tower?”

“That’s right.”

DJ AB thought for a moment and also stopped in his tracks too, dawning realisation creeping across his face.

“I remember something.”

Logan did not stop at first but obviously sensed that DJ AB was lagging far behind.

“That’s good but we have to keep moving.”

“I know why I am here.”

“Really?” Logan seemed perplexed, which was not a trait he had shown up to now.

“Yes, I remember now. It was my favourite book. A series of them. There was a tower in that too. This must be a coma.”

Logan laughed. The sound had an almost musical quality that seemed totally out of key with the dead surroundings.

“I know the books you are talking about. I read them too. I always did like a good Steven King book and those are the best of all. I regret to tell you that you are not in a coma, having a lucid dream about your favourite books. I repeat that this place is real enough and also dangerous enough, which is why we have to keep moving. So do you think we could get going again now?”

“Why is it so dangerous if we just stop for a while? I’m getting tired of this, Logan Pine.”

“You sound annoyed with me, my friend.”

“I’m tired. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not quite feeling myself here.”

“Look. If I thought we could stop. We would. I could do with a nice sit down and perhaps a cold beer right now myself. It really isn’t safe to do so. You say you have seen strange things already. Well empty as this place seems right now, it is actually teeming with strange and dangerous things and that gets worse as we get near the centre. So you need to get your head together as best you can and keep moving. If you don’t think you can do that then we must part ways here.”

“No. I don’t want to be here alone. I don’t know who I am let alone where I should go. Please don’t leave me. Can we slow down a little bit at least?”

“I can’t get into this with you right now. There is a very specific window of time, so we keep moving at speed. Please.”

“OK. Just promise me you can get me out of here and I’ll move.”

“I can’t promise that. Sorry. There are answers at the tower. Beyond that, I’m not sure. I told you I know some things about this place but not everything. You either come with me or you make your own way. What will it be?”

DJ AB paused for a moment. He didn’t like the thought of encountering any more strange entities out here again.

“To the tower.”

“Good choice, my friend. Now when we get near the centre, I’ll update you further. We are going to have to be extremely careful if we want to live. I’ve no intention of being a permanent guest here.”

“A shade you mean?”

Logan looked surprised.

“You have been paying attention then.”

“Just to the bits that seemed relevant to our current predicament.”

Logan smiled again, without teeth this time and then abruptly stomped off as before; leaving DJ AB almost running to catch up.

TO BE CONTINUED..

Pages

FLIGHT FROM EREBUS - THE UNFINISHED STORY

No comments:

Post a Comment

About Me