Chapter 2

John woke up because the reek was unbearable. The stench was irritating his nostrils and, as it moved down his throat, he felt like it was suffocating him. The odor seemed to be a mixture of sulfur and rotten meat; it was so intense, it was penetrating his brain, making him feel nauseous. He opened his eyes and realized he was surrounded by complete darkness. John blinked a few times to make his eyes adjust to the conditions a bit faster, but it didn’t help; he still wasn’t able to see anything. How was it possible? He did wake up, after all, didn’t he? At that moment, he spotted a slight movement on the ceiling. John squinted his eyes and focused on it. The ceiling looked damp and very dirty and his first thought was that perhaps Cindy had mold in the apartment, which wouldn’t even be very surprising, but he thought he would have spotted it by now. Just then he felt a slight bump as his body gently swayed because of it, and it occurred to him that he was, somehow, moving. John nervously moved his head from left to right and realized he was in a cage.

“What the fuck?” he thought and slowly sat up. It wasn’t until then that he felt his arms were heavy. He looked down at them and saw them cuffed with thick chains. The bracelets were tightly surrounding his wrists and every move he made with his hands was accompanied by an unpleasant and disturbing metallic clink. As he was sitting and doing his best to comprehend what was happening, he saw his legs were also chained.

“Holy Christ, what is happening,” he whispered, terrified, completely awoken. His eyes finally got used to the darkness, and he realized that the ceiling, and the walls, were, in fact, still, their movement was an illusion, because, to put it more accurately, it was actually him moving along them.

John got up, and looked around with alarm; he was in a cage and there were bars around him! The top of the cage was open, but the bar-walls were too high to even try to jump over, not to mention the fact that the shackles were firmly attached to the floor. He couldn’t go anywhere, there was no chance to flee. He turned around to see what he was lying on. It looked like a pallet filled with straw and some feathers, covered by a blanket with holes.

The smell became more intense, and even though John covered his mouth, he started coughing and felt like he was about to throw up. He leaned against the bars and realized he was being transported through a long, dark tunnel, built of damp walls, lit with only single torches attached to them. Very weak flames flickered lazily on the top of each of them, but they were so far apart and the light was so ineffective their presence made little difference.

The cage was wobbling precariously and John could hear the squeaking sound of wheels below him, which, desperately needed some oiling. He was petrified, and his breath was becoming shallower due to the stress, as his eyes were moving nervously, trying to spot as many details as possible.

“It’s a dream, it has to be; oh God,” he cried out, his eyes filled with tears. John was able to feel drops of sweat dancing on his skin, falling down his spine, irritating his eyes, making his lips salty. At one moment, he heard the sound of something in the distance. What was it? Chants? He looked down his legs and it occurred to him he was wearing his winter pajamas, the flannel ones, which Margaret had bought him one Christmas. He liked them, they were warm, cozy, soft. For one, absolutely crazy split second, he thought he was glad he was wearing that particular pair of pajamas as the long sleeves and legs were preventing the shackles from irritating, perhaps even cutting his skin. He was even wearing his leather skin slippers on his feet!

“What the fuck is happening?” he thought, feeling his mind was consequently heading towards a panic attack. His pulse was so insane he had a feeling his heart was about to jump out of his chest. At the same time, most probably due to the adrenalin flowing through his veins, he realized he was able to see and hear everything clearer. Someone else was there.

Someone was breathing. In front of him. It was a heavy breath, the kind that is characteristic of long-time cigarette addicts. And that someone was walking. Yes, he was now able to hear the steady steps. He stood and took a few clumsy steps forward, to see who or what was operating the cage and because it was approaching one of the torches, John squinted his eyes to sharpen his vision and bent his head a bit to make sure it was on more or less the same level as the mysterious breather. He stopped his own breathing to focus entirely on gazing into the blackness ahead of him, when the slight glow started casting a bit of light on…

“Oh! Jesus!” John shouted and jumped back immediately, as swiftly as the chains allowed him, bumping into the bed. He saw a creature about five feet tall, hairy, dirty, its face was covered in weeping sores and pus-filled sags of skin. He was pulling the cage alone! His muscles visible under black robes, and, as the torch cast some light on the cage, it turned its head 180 degrees and looked straight back at John. The view was horrifying, John covered his mouth as he keened in terror, and swiftly stepped back. The creature smiled, revealing his rotten teeth which must have been very sharp back in the olden days and, as its whole body was moving ahead, it was looking at John, staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Finally, when the tunnel became dark again, it turned its head forward. Before passing out, John had a feeling he heard a crowd cheering somewhere ahead. It was then that he vomited, and lost consciousness.

John woke up sweaty, breathing heavily, and paralyzed with fear. He sat on the bed, looked at his wrists, and made sure that there were no chains on them and turned the night lamp on. The chains, obviously, weren’t there, but he spotted the goosebumps that covered his forearms. Petrified, he looked around and saw Cindy sleeping peacefully right next to him. He took a deep breath, and felt himself calming down. An unnaturally strong thirst seared his mouth, so he quickly drank water from the glass on his nightstand, and dried his lips with his hand. Then, after a few minutes he went back to sleep.