Time Again

Chapter 14: Two types of Wicked

"Courage, dear heart."

~C.S. Lewis

Adelle

    Everything was dark and disgusting.

A putrid smell permeated the air around me. My eyes strained against the murky darkness, my ears picking up muffled thumps and a hoarse scraping sound that had the hair on my arms rising with goosebumps. Curiosity had me moving my feet across the crude stone floor but my arm was snagged by a hand wrapping around it. With my heart in my throat I whirled around until I came face to face with Wes.

"Please tell me I'm not travelling again," I feared the sickness that followed.

"No love, this is a dream," came his whispered reply. I nodded and continued across the room to a thick metal door, Wes cautiously trailed behind me. He was even over-protective in my dreams. Testing the handle, it swung open without a noise, which I was grateful for. Stepping into a small chamber, I found a single torch and nothing else, just smooth stone walls and a burning torch. Looking back at Wes I found him running his hands up and down the walls. I started to do the same, looking for anything that could mean something. Brushing my hand over the sconce of the torch the sleeve of my sweater caught on a nearly invisible button. I jumped back into Wes as a grinding sound came from the wall. The stone blocks started to slide in and to the side, opening a doorway to a small flight of stairs that led to a hallway lit by industrail lighting. Walking cautiously down the hallway the muffled noises were becoming clearer and I feared what was at the end. Wes kept glancing back and around us. There were only two doors; the one we came through and the one at the end that sat slightly ajar. As we neared the one at the end I was finally able to hear the distinct and agonizing screams of a man in excruciating pain.

    I halted, causing Wes to run into the back of me. Looking down at me Wes mimed the motion to be quiet and placing his body in front of me we crept forward slowly until a sickening wet crunch followed by a piercing scream had Wes running blindly into the room. Entering the room I wanted to run right back out; a bruised and bleeding man was suspended from the ceiling by big steal chains with his hands stretched above his head. His chest was bare and covered in so many bruises that I couldn't even see the real color of his skin. Bleeding cuts were littered all over his body and his left eye was so swollen that he couldn't even open it. Blood painted a horrific masterpiece over every inch of him. My disturbed gasp had him looking right at us. This was a dream, he shouldn't be able to see us.

"Wes," his broken voice rasped.

"Shut up!" A man, dressed similarly like the Cumacht, lashed out and cracked a metal studded whip against the man's back, eliciting an inhuman scream as he arched away, rattling the sickening chains.

    At that Wes shot forward, bringing up his fist to drive it into the face of the Cumacht but right as his fist would have made contact, it kept on going and Wes stumbled through the man. Looking back at me with a bewildered look Wes again turned on the man and charged him like a running bull. Wes brought his arms up to wrap around the Cumacht's waist but again resulted in just going through him.

"Wes this is a dream!" I cried as he got up to charge again. My words brought him up short and soon realization dawned on him.

"No, no, no," he murmured, harshly running his hands through his hair.

"Wes-" I reached out to touch his arm but he spun away from me and marched up to the man hanging from the ceiling.

"Kyle!" Wes yelled, inches away from the man. I flinched back at the desperation in his voice.