The Waystation [Part 3 of 6]

Weird Fantasy / 929 words

NOTE: If you just found this, you might want to read the previous episode… or, better yet, start at the beginning.

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As I wait in my prison, I can’t help but wonder whether I could have done something differently to avoid the chain of events that followed. But try as I might, I cannot find a single moment that could have affected the outcome. I believe with every fiber of my bones that my fate was sealed the minute I stepped onto that damned train.

But I’m getting ahead of myself again…

The two men with the top hats had vanished as soon as I’d sat down.

I looked back at the woman. “Where the hell are we?”

She smiled. “Let us dispel right away any illusion you might have that you are in a position to ask questions. You are not. Now that we’ve cleared that up, how about you start by telling us your name?”

I had assumed that, by now, she’d have known everything about me. The question caught me by surprise. It also made me uneasy… though that may have been because of her tone and fake smile.

Either way, it drove me to caution.

“Eric,” I lied.

“Last name?”

I crossed my arms. “Why are you asking me this?”

Her smile widened. “Have we not mentioned that you are not to ask questions? You are only required to answer. Please state your full name.”

“Eric Caldwell,” I blurted out.

She closed her eyes for a moment, though the smile never left her lips.

While she wasn’t looking, I tried to stand but found that I could not. And yet, I was not bound — at least, not in any physical fashion.

Somewhat distressed by this discovery, I looked around the room — if you could call it that — to try to find something I could use to my advantage, the slightest glimmer of hope…

All I saw was white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor… even the table, the chairs, and the woman’s dress were all white. The cleanliness of it all was also impeccable. I could not spot a speck of dust, a stain, a crack, nothing.

“You should not lie to us.”

The woman sounded upset, but when I turned my gaze back to her, she still was smiling her impossible smile — it even seemed more pronounced now.

I shrugged. “You wanted a name. I gave you one.”

“Your real name, please.”

“No.”

The smile remained as she stared at me. “It will do you no good to resist.”

I said not a word.

“Why did you take the train?” she asked.

“Who wants to know?”

The words had barely left my lips that I felt a deep, piercing pain run through my veins. I clenched my teeth but managed not to scream.

“You can’t say that we did not warn you,” she smiled at me brightly. “You must obey. Why did you take the train?”

“I’m looking for my sister,” I breathed out.

“What is her name?”

I was tempted to ask what hers was, but I did not wish to feel that searing pain again. I did wonder, though, why she was so obsessed with names.

“Gail,” I lied again.

“Last name?”

“Caldwell, of course.”

The creepy smile lingered, though she did not bother to close her eyes this time.

“Still you resist. That is not good. We shall give you some time to reflect on your behavior. Next time, we will require full cooperation.”

Before I could even blink, I found myself in a new location… here, where I write this now.

This room is much smaller, and with a more traditional feel. The walls are of a brownish-green color; the floor made from rugged rocks; the ceiling black. It doesn’t feel clean, or safe. There is an unpleasant smell that I still can’t place, even though I’ve been sitting here for two hours now. There is a small barred window, but no door. A chair and a desk are set against the wall, right under the window, with a cot on the opposite side.

I do not know how much longer they intend to keep me here.

Although I write ‘they,’ the truth is I do not know. It is more of a gut feeling. Like the woman was conversing with someone else while her eyes were closed. And she did say ‘we’ when she talked. This all suggests that she is not acting alone.

Could they be working for the Company? Though I cannot imagine any of this is legal… contract or no contract.

I’ve climbed on the table to look through the window… What I saw terrified me, though it is difficult to describe. But I will try.

Whatever structure my prison is in was built at the very edge of a cliff. We are so high up I cannot see the bottom. All I see, when I look down, are clouds. Above those, however…

It should be sky, but it is not. Instead, a mass of whirling colors hurls stars toward the clouds. Every time one goes through, there is a piercing scream, as if someone had been skinned alive. And within the colors, there are shapes. Humanoid shapes that twist and spin in unseemly motions. At times, they grow so large that parts of them spill out of the colors. In these moments, their true appearance becomes apparent, however briefly. Slimy, sickly green skins with putrid flesh and wounds that ooze pus. Some of them have brownish scales, others dark black feathers. I never saw faces and considered myself blessed for it. I will not look again.

I feel a pull… I think I am being summoned.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

Read Part 4 here.

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Text © 2021 by Alex S. Garcia.

Image by John Ioannidis from Pixabay, edited by me.