Escape Time
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The sun rose slowly, creeping up like a slow-moving mountain. In the early morning light, the city was a dark stain on the horizon.
“We have to find shelter,” I said quietly. “And fast.”
“Why?” asked Giselle. “We’re fine here.”
I nodded toward the wall of the mist ahead, which had grown taller and wider since we’d been forced inside the building. The fog was moving closer. It would take only one breath to be caught up in its sticky embrace.
“Because that’s not mist anymore, it’s poison gas. You saw the way it killed those soldiers? If we stay out in this stuff for too long, it’ll kill us as sure as if we were dead. We need to get out of the open.”
Giselle frowned. She looked around her at our surroundings, but all she could see were buildings and streets. “How are we supposed to do that?”
I shook my head, looking back the way we’d come. There wasn’t much there. No cover or hiding places, no trees or hills where we might hide. We were trapped on an island of stone and cement. All around us, mist clung to the ground like smoke.
“That way,” said Etta, pointing across the plaza toward the street that ran down between two apartment blocks. There was no traffic at this hour, and most people were still in their houses, asleep after another hard night’s work.
As if the mist knew what she was doing, it parted just enough so she could walk through without getting wet.
“Come on!” she called. “We can’t wait any longer.”
She led the way into the street, which was empty except for our group. The fog closed behind us, clinging to the cobbles. We made our way toward the apartment block. As we walked, I could hear voices and the sounds of a busy marketplace echoing from the buildings on either side. It must have been a market day.
There were a few lights burning in windows as we passed, giving us enough visibility to avoid obstacles. Etta went first, then me. Giselle followed, with Giselle’s little dog trotting along beside her. The dog seemed happy enough to go wherever she wanted.
“Keep going straight,” said Etta, when we reached the entrance to the apartments. She pointed up at the second-floor window above us. “There should be some sort of door there.”
I squinted against the light coming through the glass. It looked like the kind of door you might find in a bank or office building, and I didn’t think it would open easily. Still, it was our best chance for safety, so I pulled my knife and went to see.
The handle turned under my hand, and the heavy wooden door swung inward. A hallway lined with doors stretched away before me. The ceiling was low overhead. Above it, a skylight let in the soft morning sunlight. I stepped into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so we could follow if we needed to.
Etta hurried in right behind me. Then came Giselle and the dog, and finally, with a final glance over her shoulder, Etta pushed the door shut again.
The hallway was dimly lit by a single lamp mounted on the wall beside a stairway leading upstairs. The air smelled faintly of wood polish, and it felt pleasantly cool after the stuffiness outside.
I took my flashlight off my belt and clicked it on. Etta was standing at the end of the hall. Her face was white and her lips were pressed together in a thin line, but otherwise she looked okay. The others weren’t far behind.
“This is one of the apartments,” said Etta. “At least, that’s what it looks like from here. Let’s find the stairs.”
There was no sign of anyone else inside. No one sleeping in front of the TV or cooking dinner, no one sitting at the table eating breakfast. Just empty rooms and silent halls. We headed for the staircase at the other end of the hall.
It was dark up above, with barely enough light filtering through the windows to give us some illumination. I moved forward, staying close to Giselle and Giselle’s little dog. It had already begun following me around like an obedient puppy, sniffing at my clothes and whining now and again.
“What are you doing?” Giselle asked. “You don’t know what’s down here.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not planning on exploring.”
I heard movement at the bottom of the stairs, and Giselle’s dog growled low in its throat. Something large came crashing down into view, bouncing off the wall at the foot of the steps, then sliding to a stop with a heavy thud.
It was a body covered with long black fur, but it wasn’t alive anymore. Its arms were flung out to either side, and blood was dripping onto the gray stone floor. When it lay perfectly still, I realized it was dead—no pulse, no heartbeat, no life left in it.
It hadn’t been here long enough to get cold. It was just one more victim of the mist. And it looked exactly like the creature in the mirror.
The rest of our group was gathering around the corpse as well, staring at it in shock.
“Who was that?” Giselle whispered.
“Someone who couldn’t run fast enough,” I said. “Maybe they got lost and fell.”
“But why does it look like someone in the Mist?” asked Etta.
“I have no idea,” I said. “It might’ve come from the other side. Maybe it’s some kind of monster.”
“No,” said Giselle, “there are no monsters.”
The dog whined and pawed at the ground.
I knelt down beside it and picked it up. It wriggled free and began to bark and whine at me. I set it gently back on Giselle’s shoulder.
“Let’s check out the rooms up here,” I said. “Then we can decide where to go next.”
We started up the stairs, but halfway up we stopped. A door opened at the top of the stairs and a woman stepped out, carrying a small child wrapped in her arms. She looked at us curiously, then smiled when she saw that the dog was on Giselle’s shoulder.
“Hello there!” she called. “Where do you come from?”
“How did you get down here?” I asked.
“My husband brought me,” said the woman, and the baby giggled softly.
I frowned. That explained how the mist had gotten this deep into the town. Someone must be living below us, and probably for a while. But how were they feeding themselves? How could anyone live down here when it was so dangerous?
I shook my head and kept climbing the stairs. This place was getting creepier all the time. If the fog didn’t kill you, something else surely would.
I reached the landing and walked down another hall that ran parallel to the first one. I’d only gone about twenty feet before I heard Giselle gasp and fall to her knees. There was a sharp smell of fresh blood in the air, and I knew right away what it meant: someone had been attacked.
I grabbed Giselle’s arm and helped her up. When we were both standing, I turned around to find Giselle’s dog, barking fiercely at the entrance to an open doorway across from us. A man stood there holding a kitchen knife in one hand and a severed head in the other. His face was covered in blood, but it wasn’t his own. The head belonged to whoever he’d killed—another victim of the fog.
The dog lunged at him, its jaws snapping shut with surprising force. The man screamed and stumbled backward, dropping his weapon on the floor. He clutched at the animal’s neck and pulled, trying to get free. But the dog refused to let go.
Its teeth tore through flesh and bone and ripped a piece of meat clean out of the man’s skull. It tossed its head back and swallowed, then dropped the mangled mess back into the bloody puddle at its paws.
I stared at it, unable to move. What was going on here?
“He was a friend of your husband’s,” said the man, wiping tears from his eyes. “I told him to wait outside for you.”
Giselle put her hands over her mouth and started trembling violently.
The man glanced toward us again. “I’m sorry about the mess,” he said. “I hope it doesn’t bother you too much.”
“No,” said Giselle. “Not at all.”
She turned slowly, staring at the open door in front of us, and I followed her gaze. I couldn’t believe it. It was the room from my dream—the very same one I’d seen in the reflection in the mirror downstairs. It was identical to the scene I’d witnessed earlier today, right down to the blood spattered on the floor.
The whole room looked as if it had been hit by a bomb. Everything was overturned; furniture had been smashed and scattered all over the room. The walls were splintered and torn, and the ceiling above was crumpled and charred. There were even bits of fire floating in the air, like wisps of smoke or clouds made of ash.
I looked down at the body on the ground beside us and recognized it as being the same one I’d found in the basement.
I turned and looked at Giselle, and her eyes met mine. They were wide and horrified, and she was still shaking.
“Who did this?” she whispered. “What is happening? Why are we seeing the same thing twice?”
I wanted to answer her, but nothing came out. I just stood there, staring at the carnage.
“You know this isn’t real, don’t you?” said the man. “It’s just a reflection of what happened in here a while ago.”
He took a step forward, and Giselle moved quickly to block his path with one hand. The dog growled and snapped at him, but the man held its fur back and pushed past her. He reached the mirror and stared at himself for a minute, then turned away and left us alone.
I watched him go and then glanced back at the blood spattered on the floor. I couldn’t believe that this was all some sick joke.
“Do you think he’s really gone?” said Giselle.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I don’t hear anything behind us anymore.”
She nodded and wiped the hair away from her face, leaving a bloody trail in its place. Then she turned back toward me and smiled weakly.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I can’t believe he tried to hurt you.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “He surprised me, that’s all. I don’t understand why he killed that person in the first place.”
“That’s easy,” said Giselle. “Maybe it was because they were in his way.”
There was a sudden loud clattering noise on the floor below our feet, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the wall several times in succession. I glanced down at the dog. Its ears twitched toward the sound, but its eyes never left mine.
“Did you feel that?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. “But I think it’s over now.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the staircase behind us, where the dog had disappeared. I could still hear its growls and barks echoing through the hallway.
“We should get out of here,” I said.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door, but she shook her head.
“Wait,” she said. She stepped aside and motioned for me to follow her, and when I hesitated, she took another step forward and put her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes were filled with tears again. “You saved me,” she whispered. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Her words touched me deeply, and I reached up with one hand and stroked her cheek gently.
“Don’t say that,” I told her. “This was all my fault.”
She leaned her head against my hand and closed her eyes, so I continued, trying to explain myself.
“Please don’t blame yourself,” I said. “He would have killed us both if you hadn’t acted as fast as you did.”
She smiled and let out a small sigh of relief. Then she took my other hand in hers and pulled it around to her waist, where our fingers intertwined together.
“I’m not sure I want to leave yet,” she said. “Let’s stay here awhile longer.”
I squeezed her hand in response and felt her warm breath on my face. We stayed there for a few minutes until we heard footsteps moving rapidly down the hall outside the door.
Giselle and I exchanged nervous looks. Neither of us had a weapon or anything to fight off whoever was coming. And even worse, I wasn’t sure if the man who’d attacked us upstairs had really left or was just hiding somewhere in the shadows waiting to strike again.
A moment later, the door crashed open and the dog burst into the room, charging directly at Giselle before skidding to a halt just a few inches in front of her. It stood there looking at her with its hackles raised and its teeth bared, but Giselle didn’t move and seemed to be unafraid.
“Easy boy,” she whispered, and I saw the dog relax slightly. It sat down, lowered its ears, and turned its head toward me instead.
“Good girl,” I said, smiling.
The dog barked and licked my hand as Giselle pulled it closer to her. She rubbed its fur gently between her palms, and the muscles along its spine relaxed completely. Then she stood up and looked at me.
“I’ve got to go now,” she said, still smiling. “My friend will be wondering where I am.”
She reached down and scratched behind the dog’s ears, and it began whining softly. When she started to walk away, the animal jumped up and tried to follow her, but she pulled it back and held it still, staring at me with an expression of worry and uncertainty on her face.
“What?” I said.
“Will you come with me?”
“Where?”
She hesitated for a moment and then pointed toward the stairs, where the blood still pooled on the floor.
“Down there,” she said. “There are people who can help you.”
***
Giselle led the dog away from us and toward the door that had opened behind her. She kept a tight hold on its collar as they walked, and I saw the dog’s tail wagging eagerly behind them.
When she reached the door, she stopped and waited for me to join her, and once I stepped into the hallway with her, she closed it behind us and locked it quickly. Then she turned toward me and gave me a quick smile.
“Thank you,” she said, and her smile widened into a broad grin. “I’ll see you soon!”
Then she took off running down the corridor, holding the dog tightly by the collar and laughing loudly as she ran.
“Bye-bye!” she shouted over her shoulder to me.
Before I could even ask her what was going on, the dog bolted after her and disappeared into the darkness ahead of me. I stared stupidly after them for a minute, trying to understand what was happening, but Giselle was already lost from sight.
I turned around and headed back toward the stairs, feeling completely confused by everything that had just happened. Why would she bring me to this dark stairwell? What kind of help could anybody offer me down here in these ruins of a building?
And then I noticed that the stairs were glowing faintly from within. The light was coming through cracks in the walls and ceiling above my head, illuminating the steps in a soft golden glow. I stopped and leaned against the wall next to one of the openings.
After a few seconds, I realized that the light was coming from deep inside the stairs themselves, where they curved down into the dark distance. I stepped closer and peered inside but couldn’t see much except for a faint blue shimmering haze. It almost looked like water or smoke or steam, except I knew for certain that none of those things existed here.
Then I remembered something else: I’d seen something similar at the bottom of the stairway outside when I first arrived on Earth. Back then it had been a clear, transparent fluid that flowed across the ground and disappeared beneath the stone steps.
It must have formed naturally underground, where I’d never been able to go, or perhaps it was some kind of magical substance. Either way, it looked like something I should definitely avoid touching.
But there were no other options. So I stepped through the opening and found myself standing at the base of another long flight of stairs. As far as I could tell, there was nothing else in front of me besides more empty darkness, so I continued walking until I reached the top.
It took me a couple of minutes to reach the end of the staircase, which ended abruptly at a blank wall. I tried to open a portal again and failed twice before finally getting a tiny hole open in the air about three feet high and wide enough to crawl through. When I reached the other side, I felt dizzy and disoriented, as if I wasn’t quite sure what was real anymore.
The world below was just as dark and barren as the land around me. There was only a single dim star shining somewhere up above, but otherwise, it was completely dark and silent. A cold wind blew through the opening in my wall, making the grass sway gently back and forth.
Once I managed to calm myself down, I stepped forward until I saw the edge of a large structure off to my right. As I drew near to it, I saw that it was made out of smooth gray stone with small windows set into each side, and it looked to be several hundred yards long, stretching all the way through the forest in a straight line.
At least, that’s how it seemed until I saw two tall towers jutting out from the front of the building, reaching up into the sky and blocking out most of the stars. I recognized their silhouette immediately as a church steeple, even though it was far too large to fit anywhere I’d ever seen a church before.
And unlike any other church, I’d seen on Earth, it was clearly abandoned and in terrible condition. Its roof sagged ominously, and weeds and vines sprouted everywhere from between its cracks. There were even some trees growing inside it, which made the place look like a huge ruin instead of an actual building.
But there was something strange about the church that reminded me of the manor house I’d seen in London, and that gave me pause. Even though I wasn’t sure exactly how many churches I’d visited since arriving on Earth, it was hard for me to believe that every single one of them had been perfectly maintained.
If all churches were in such good shape, why did I think that the manor house in London was anything more than just an old building in need of repair?
As I watched, a pair of pale blue lights appeared out of nowhere, floating toward me from directly underneath the main tower. They grew brighter and brighter until they were almost blinding in their intensity, and I shielded my eyes from the glare as I walked toward them.
Just beyond the front entrance was a narrow stone road leading straight down the center of the building, which stretched on endlessly in both directions until it merged with the darkness at the end of the street.
The whole thing gave me the creepy feeling that I was entering something far larger than a church, and the idea unsettled me for some reason I couldn’t explain. But I kept walking down the path anyway.
As soon as I passed under the entrance arch, the doors closed behind me. Then all the lights shut off, plunging the entire place into darkness so complete that I was forced to turn on my flashlight once again. Once I’d finished turning everything back on, I took a step forward and started looking around, trying to get a sense of where I was.
I didn’t know much about churches, but I assumed this one would be bigger than the others because it was obviously intended to hold more people. And yet as big as it was, I still hadn’t seen anyone else walking around or even approaching it.
The only living thing I saw inside was a single rat scurrying over the stone floor towards the far corner of the room. It seemed to be the only animal in sight as well, and I wondered if perhaps the animals on Earth weren’t allowed inside the churches at all. That certainly sounded reasonable to me after seeing what happened to the dog when we tried to visit Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London.
As I stood there thinking about those things, my flashlight finally began picking out details around me. For a long time, I’d been staring down at the floor in front of me, but now I turned to see what other parts of the church were like.
I found myself gazing at a huge cross embedded into the wall next to the main entrance, which must have taken hundreds of men to lift into place and put together. And there were several rows of pews running down either side of the main aisle, which led to a central altar at the back of the room.
It was a massive piece of marble, probably more than thirty feet long, and shaped like a giant book lying open flat.
And then suddenly, the entire room came alive all at once. A dozen glowing orbs of light shot upward from different spots throughout the building, forming a ring around the middle of the room and slowly drifting in my direction.
By the time they reached the front of the altar, the light had grown bright enough that I could actually make out faces inside each one, and they were all human. The largest orb was about fifteen feet away from me and was floating directly over the main entryway, which was also lined by a row of pews.
As the ring drifted closer and closer to me, I heard someone speak inside one of the orbs.
“Welcome, Master.”
The voice was deep and masculine, but it was definitely female and definitely coming from inside the orb in front of me. “Who are you?” I asked.
She didn’t say anything else, but the orb moved closer and began drifting right in my direction. Just before it got close enough to touch me, the ring stopped moving, and I found myself looking into the eyes of another woman standing right in front of me.
She was wearing a long white robe that flowed down the entire length of her body, and she had a pair of thin silver wings sprouting from the top of her head and spreading out across the back of the robes. In addition to the wings, her face was beautiful and angelic and looked vaguely familiar to me somehow, although I still couldn’t figure out why.
“My name is Mary,” she said. “And you are welcome here.”
That surprised me. I couldn’t recall ever being welcomed anywhere before. It felt a little weird to accept the offer, but I decided to go along with it anyway. “Thanks,” I replied.
Then she gestured behind me and added, “I’m sure you want to see your son, don’t you? Follow me, please.”
As I started walking forward, the woman in the orb floated back up and vanished into the ceiling, leaving the ring to continue floating toward me. When I finally arrived at the front of the circle, two additional women stepped into view from opposite sides and began walking beside me.
I recognized one of them as another priestess named Anna, who’d been in charge of my training during my stay at the Temple. But the other one was unfamiliar, and I didn’t know how old she might be. All I knew was that she looked very tired and was carrying a small black case over one shoulder that appeared to contain a variety of medical supplies.
It took us almost ten minutes to walk all the way through the church until we finally reached an open door set into the left side wall. The doorway led outside onto a terrace overlooking some gardens, but there was no railing surrounding the balcony and so I was forced to keep my hands firmly planted against the cool stone of the building itself in order not to fall off the edge.
As I walked out onto the terrace, I found myself facing a beautiful garden of flowers and plants and trees, with the mountains rising up on each side of me in the distance. I glanced back at the church, noticing for the first time that its doors were open now and that people were streaming out of the main hall to follow Mary and Anna, who were waiting at the center of the garden.
The End