Chapter Four

The Ordeal

...a lone man wakes in a deserted world. Bleeding, his memories gone he must navigate a strange world to find his way home.

Soundtrack

ePub Download

The Ordeal - Chapter Four

Written by Edward Shaddow

I stood and stared at the massive beast slumbering before me. The white neon lights bathed its dark blue body in an etherial glow, adding to the otherworldliness surrounding the creature. Even sleeping, the power contained within rippled beneath the surface of its cold, metal exterior; sending shocks down my spine and freezing me in place. It twas neither serpent, nor stallion, yet it bared the marks of both. From the outside it was more snakelike, sleek and powerful, like a cobra waiting for its chance to strike at an unsuspecting enemy. While a powerful steed lay within, aching to stretch its muscular legs in an all out charge, plowing down anything that stands in its way. It was a thing of pure beauty, and I was going to ride it.

“Now you’re talking, Snow Cap.” Hugin said landing silently on one of the water pipes running along the roof of the car park. We both stood quietly in awe for a few moments, breathing in the energy that seemed to radiate outwards from the machine. My body slowly returned control to me, enabling a simple “Yeah...” to escape on an outward breath. I couldn’t believe it, a perfect 1967 Shelby Cobra GT500 Mustang just sitting there waiting for me; simply beautiful.

“When you find yourself able to move again, the key box is in the control room over there.” Hugin said, motioning his beak towards a glass paneled room sitting alone in the shadows.

“Sure...” I replied, only vaguely aware that I had said anything at all. My eyes took their time to tear themselves away even as I began walking in the opposite direction. In my peripheral vision could see Hugin shake his head sadly.

For the most part, my trip to fetch the keys was happily uneventful. Apart from the thick layer of dust that seemed to blanket everything, the control room was void of anything unusual. I navigated the small space around the absurdly large desk that occupied over half the room, trying carefully not to kick up a dust storm in the process. The key box was easy enough to spot, hung in prominence on the rear wall, the keys conveniently in the lock. A faded yellow sign kindly reminded me that ‘You Scratch It, You Bought It!’ as I opened the box.

“Put it on my tab.” I said, reaching for the distinctive cobra shaped key ring. I had almost turned around before it caught my eye; the brown leather sheath shone in the dull light from the windows, the dust obviously hadn’t penetrated the sealed metal box. Now that, I thought picking up the small knife, might be useful. Hearing the echoing calls from my feathered companion I quickly attached the knife on the back inside of my jeans, covering the exposed hilt with my bloody shirt. With steed and sword, onward we shall go I thought, leaving the dust to itself.

It became obvious, as I approached the car, that the raven’s cries were not directed at me, he seemed to be addressing the Mustang directly. Elements of a one sided conversation could be heard from the short sharp caws and chittering noises he produced as he leaned down from his perch, almost making direct eye contact with the headlights. The echos of my footfalls betrayed me and the conversation quickly ceased, Hugin’s attention was redirected towards me.

“Talking to yourself in the headlights huh? I guess you’re still a bird under all that sarcasm and razor sharp wit.” I said, not hiding the huge grin that spread across my face. A harsh caw, aimed at the car rather than me, was his only reply. Guess I hit a nerve. Ignoring the piercing gaze I was now being given from above, I moved to the drivers side door, gently stroking the sleek body of the car. Odd, I thought, as I lifted my hand, no dust. Just as I was about to mention this fact out loud, Hugin chose that moment to jump down and land noisily on the bonnet, his pure black eyes still fixed steadily on me.

“You riding shotgun, or hood ornament?” I said, shaking his gaze and my train of thought.

The key slid soundlessly in the lock and the drivers door opened gracefully, allowing the smell of old leather and fuel to assault my senses. Inside it was just as it seemed, a real rev-head's dream. Grinning ear to ear I eased myself into the soft leather bucket seat, hands eagerly upon the steering wheel. Various gauges filled the drivers side dash, the polished chrome and glass shining softly, protecting the needles that sat quietly waiting to jump to life at the turn of a key. I ran my hands over the interior, as if feeling it made it any less of a dream. “I don’t care if I am dreaming any more,” I said to myself, “as long as I stay asleep long enough to get this engine purring.” I rolled down both driver and passenger door windows, “Stop scratching my paint and get in!” I half yelled leaning out my window. Not bothering to wait for a response I adjusted everything that needed adjusting, including the knife that was now digging itself into my back, and with an air of excitement brought the engine to life.

Mountains trembled and the world shook as the engine turned over, the roar of a thousand jungle cats erupted from under the bonnet and began to purr in unison. Ah, the pure unadulterated power aching to explode and shed the bonds of it’s capture in this concrete cage; magnificent! I let the machine idol for a moment, revelling in the sounds and vibrations of a thousand controlled explosions mere inches away from me. Hugin sat silently at the front of the car staring beadily at me. Grinning mischievously back at him I released the handbrake and eased the Mustang into first gear. Allons-y! Rumbling forward slowly I manoeuvred towards the faintly glowing exit sign, that hinted towards a small tunnel of light at the far end of the car park. The movement of the car had forced Hugin to leave his perch for more stable ground, the dark swallowed him up as he flew off, obviously choosing to take an alternative route. Free from my winged chaperone I was able to open the Mustang up and shake any cobwebs that she might have collected in the dark.

First quickly became second and second became third, as my foot eased on the accelerator. The concrete pillars began to flash past me quicker and quicker as the needles jumped behind their glass cases with each gear change. My eyes narrowed and focused on the deceptively long and winding obstacle course my mind created in front of me. Violently spinning the steering wheel, I veered in between the rushing row of support columns forming my own personal slalom course. Let’s see what she’s got. Kicking it into fourth the beast responded by lurching forward, as if it’s own chassis was struggling to keep the engine contained in it’s metal shell. The wind rushed passed my window filling my ears with static noise punctuated by the low thrum of the motor as I weaved recklessly between the concrete polls. Sighting the quickly approaching far wall that signalled the abrupt end of my joy ride my hands and feet acted in unison and without thought; rapidly engaging the hand break, clutch and steering wheel I executed a perfect right angle turn, mere inches from the last column. Smoke tore from the wheels as they screeched and slid against the smooth concrete floor, leaving thick black tire marks in a perfect quarter arch. Without loosing velocity or momentum the hand break disengaged and the Mustang was once again propelled into the black, heading forward towards the growing light of the exit.

The faint glow of sunlight that bled into the underground grew rapidly into a blinding burst of light, causing me to slow down and shield my eyes. I had apparently grown so accustomed to the scant light emitted by the overhead neons, that natural light seemed as foreign as a violet sky. Travelling at a speed more suited to the current environment, rather than that of a race track, I pulled into the exit tunnel and waited the few seconds while the boom gate slowly raised. That now familiar fluttering of wings and scraping of claws sounded as Hugin alighted on the open passenger side window, looking as bored as only a raven could.

“Got that out of your system now?” he said lazily looking behind him.

“Don’t give me that, you would have done exactly the same, given the opportunity.” I said, defending my joy ride “besides, it pays to know how far you can push something.”

The raven emitted what sounded like an annoyed humph before hopping onto the centre console, resting between the two front seats. “You certainly are good at that, no doubt there. Just remember Bright Boy, some things tend to push back, and in most cases, harder. Take a left.” He then proceeded to clean his beak on the console under him.

“What ever you say boss...” I said, slamming on the accelerator, shooting out of the exit ramp and on to the main road. I didn’t bother looking, the screeching caws and dislodged feathers said it all.

***

Driving through the empty city was surprisingly peaceful; no traffic to worry about, red lights meant nothing and I simply ignored speed limits. The road I had initially woken up on turned out to be the only road in or out of the city, like a settlers village in the old West; a modern city built either side of the highway. Side streets occasionally appeared, ducking between the tall concrete and glass giants, but mostly it was just one road stretching on forever in to the distance. Initially the abandoned cars had provided a challenge, stopped dead on the road exactly as if everyone had simply turned off the engines and got out, locking the doors behind them. Dodging and weaving between vehicles gave some amusement for a short time, but the further I drove out of the city the larger the gap between cars became. In fact it had been quite a while since I had seen any, heading in either direction. The city had melted away, skyscrapers gave way to smaller, older buildings and the interval between traffic signals and signs became longer and longer. Gaps of lush green patches could be seen between buildings, quickly growing into a blur as I leaned on the accelerator and brought the Mustang up to a comfortable cruising speed. The entire time Hugin sat silently perched between the front seats looking thoughtfully out the windshield.

The blur of alternating buildings and greenery gave way rather suddenly to solid and constant red, as we left the city behind and entered into the surrounding desert. Like an ancient pier stretching off forever into a vast ocean, the highway became the only connection to humanity in this eternally shifting mass of crimson waves. I checked the rearview mirror, and watched as the sands swallowed up the city without a second thought. My mind entertained the thought that I was a fool to even get up this morning and I’ll soon be adding to this desolate wasteland. Mummified in a Mustang on a road to nowhere while the raven and his buddies pick at my flesh, vying for the best bits. I think I’d rather have died laying in the street, letting the rain wash me away, at least then I would got some peace. Imagine having to listen to the bird and his mates as they picked at your bones. “Guys! You should try the thigh, it’s so juicy and tender, absolutely perfect!”

“Hey, I’ll swap you some for a strip of arm, the sun’s dried it out perfectly, just like that jerky we had a few weeks back.”

“I’m still tasting those eyeballs, man they’re making my beak water just thinking about it!” On, and on forever. A cold shudder ran through me as the scene played out in my mind. Hugin turned his head at my movement and regarded me hungrily for a moment before returning his attention to the view outside. Creepy frickin bird.

My eyes began to search desperately around the car for something to take my mind off of the many ways I could die out here, that for some torturous reason, kept running through my head. The car was void of distraction, except for the small glove compartment that so far had remained shut to my inquisitive nature. As I leaned over the passengers side I momentarily blocked Hugins view, dislodging a cry of annoyance from my feathered companion. Springing open, the glove compartment yielded very little; a small folded map that showed the city I originated from (apparently called Midgar, the hotel obviously named for the city) and one long red road leading out from both directions to the edge of the page (fat lot of help that was). Half a crushed packet of cigarets (I don’t smoke, well at least I don’t think that I smoke), a couple of pens, a faded and well read copy of American Gods by Neil Gaiman (pass). Ah, hello. I produced an ancient cassette tape from the depths of the recess, its labels had long ago fallen off and was slightly warped from use. Straight into the tape player it went, it clunked and thunked as the mechanism engaged and quiet static filtered through the speakers.

A strong and familiar riff suddenly exploded from the static. The drums thundered every beat and an earthy and electric guitar filled my ears. Yes! I pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses from the glove compartment and cranked the volume knob up as far as it would go. I looked at Hugin who in turn was looking expectantly at me. My head began to nod as I opened to the music, the flow of energy fed down to my foot and pushed down on the accelerator, without even thinking my throat opened up and soon my voice was added to the hell raising tones of Bon Scott, in a harmony that could only be appreciated by the tone deaf. “If you want blood, you got it!” Rock in my head, a strapping stead beneath me and the open road stretched out before me, what more could I ask for?

Next Chapter...

Artist

AC/DC

Song

If You Want Blood (You Got It)

Reason

Being and Australian Author I had to work these guys into the story some how. Highway to Hell was too obvious and I prefer this song anyway. Anyone seen the movie Empire Records? “Hi Joe!”

‘You riding shotgun, or hood ornament?’ I said, shaking his gaze and my train of thought.