Dimensions

Chapter 14: A Dark Windowless Room

Written by @pen-to-the-paper

Carina

I wake up in a dark windowless room. There are two other people by my side, slumped against the wall and propped up only by the cold brickwork, and as I rush adjust to the black room, I can begin to decipher their faces.

"Dylan? Clara?"

But they're asleep - or drugged. Unconscious.

After several unsuccessful attempts at franticly waking them up, I conclude that they will be unconscious for a while longer.

Instead, I decide to be productive with my time and examine the walls, looking for a way to escape by gently feeling along every surface. There is no apparent exit except for a tiny, heavily barred window; facing away from the sun so as to let in as little light as possible, and a wrought iron gate locked by a heavy padlock.

After many uneventful minutes of searching, I give up and lay against the cold stone wall.

Those minutes evolve into hours, and still I am alone, in exactly the same position, motionless and statue like. Feeling nothing except the cramp in my back.

Eventually the light dims even further as the grey sun sets in the west.

I hadn't even noticed that there was a tiny bit of light.

I didn't know the light was there until it was gone.

I roll up my jacket and place it on the hard floor in an attempt to get some sleep. However, the hard floor does not match my soft back, and falling asleep takes much longer than I want. Even so, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

***

As the sunlight creeps through the gap at the edge of the trap door, my eyes flicker open. Expecting to find myself out in the wasteland, it takes a moment to remember and adjust to the fact that I am in a dark, windowless room, with no idea of who captured me and is holding me prisoner.

My stomach rumbles with hunger and my back aches from sleeping on the hard stone floor. My mouth is dry and begs for water.

I turn my neck stiffly to see Clara and Dylan sitting silently in the corner, gripping each other's hands tightly.

Thank the Lord they're awake.

I stagger over, my legs still stiff for sitting for so long, and embrace Clara into a tight hug. "Clara! You're okay! And Dylan? How did you get out? Well anyway, I'm so glad to see you both."

Dylan cries out in pain as Clara pulls away.

I look down and see his blisters. My dislike of Dylan evaporates as my scorn turns to pity. "Dylan! Your legs, they're really bad. They could get infected, we really need to get you some help."

Clara talks for the first time since we met back up.

"Woah Carina, calm down. We need to get out of here first."

I blush. "Yeah, I knew that, I was - er - just testing you."

She scoffs "Yeah right."

"Okay, I'll help Dylan, you pick the lock." I try to organise the group. For one of the first times ever, people actually listen to what I say, and Clara does what i instruct her to.

I rip off a part of his trousers and create a makeshift bandage as I redress the wound.

"Carina - I think I've got it!" I hear a voice from behind me.

"Really! What?"

"It's all about leverage- think about it," I see Clara's face puzzle over my theory, then light up as she works it out.

We both lean against the door, leaving Dylan burning up with fever on the damp floor.

"1, 2, 3!"

Together, using all of our strength, we push and pull and try to shake the door about. But no matter how hard we try, the door doesn't budge.

But it is no miraculous escape as we are met by a pair of harsh grey eyes.

***

Once we have been forced back into our seated position, the grey-eyed man, Horace, talks to us sternly.

I try to argue but Clara takes a different approach.

She takes Horace's wrist gently and guides his hand to rest over his heart.

"You feel that? It's a heart, right?"

I frown. What is she doing?

"Please, show us you have a heart and get a doctor. Please. He's badly hurt. There's a chance the wound could get infected and one of that size could cause him to die. You have a heart and you have the power to save him. I know you can- all you need are clean bandages and something to clean it with. Or are you going to let a young innocent teenager die?"

"I can't help him." He says, wavering slightly.

"Do you have parents?" Clara asks.

"They died." He replies, his grey eyes glistening.

"Would you save them if you had the power to?" My friend replies.

"Of course." He says automatically.

"Exactly. Dylan is a human and he could die. Dylan is just as untitled to a life as your mother, and father, and every other human being. Please, do some good." Clara begs.

"Fine, but at a price." He gives in.

"Okay, let's get it over with- what is it?"

"I want the crown. I want to be king. I know who you are, Clara, and I want your role. I want to rule for the last days of Earth. I want to be the last monarch. And I want peace."