The Warrens: Sam by Nicola Collings (best large ebook reader txt) 📕

                Sam was almost running at the pace they were going, but as the corridor sloped down, the stone went from a soft, friendly brown to a sinister grey blue.

                “Wha... Wha...” Sam tried to say, but panic started to rise, choking in his throat as the corridor got smaller, narrower and deeper into the darkness.

                The shadows changed, moulded, shifted from spiteful candle light, to shadows that weren’t cast by any light, but were there purely because nothing else was; they occupied the whole tunnel, they weren’t just shadows and darkness, they were what lived in the absence of light, truly evil. These were the shadows that were alive; shadows with a voice.

                Sam was forced deep into the earth, and only when the men slowed their pace did Sam notice the tunnel widen slightly and an iron structure coming into view, into the light of the two torches that were mounted to the walls. Other than these two torches, there was no other light source. The iron structure was a pair of black gates, the iron tendrils curling into intricate patterns. The padlock that held them glared at Sam, hungrily and yelled it’s harsh click as one of the men unlocked it and opened the gate.

                “Wait...no...” stammered Sam when he realised what the men intended. The paused, exchanged glances and proceeded to force Sam behind the gates.

                “Stop! No!” yelled Sam, trying to push back against the men and escape, somehow, but the men pushed him forwards with ease. Sam could only watch as he was pushed to the floor and as the men locked the gates. Sam leapt back up and grabbed the bars, clawing desperately for the men who stepped away, swiftly.

                They gave him one disgusted look and then turned, taking the torches off the walls and leaving Sam in the darkness, the cold, with only the memory of a tiny ball of light getting smaller and smaller and smaller...

Part 3: The Depths

                It was then that the full realisation of doom laid it’s heavy head on Sam’s shoulder. The tiny spark of hope in Sam’s mind, overwhelmed by fear, was trying, unsuccessfully to spurt out it’s weak light. As the only option for Sam was now to walk into the darkness, that was what he proceeded to do, feeling his way along, his breathing coming out on agonising wisps. Tears welled in his eyes’ Sam had felt hopelessness all his life, he’d grown up with it, but this was what true hopelessness was. Outside of his deep, underground prison, Sam knew he’d always find something beyond hopelessness, because he had the whole world to look through, but now, he didn’t have the world. He couldn’t search for something beyond hopelessness because he could see, quite clearly that there was nothing there. Nothing except darkness...

                Time, Sam started to realise, didn’t seem to matter down here, in the depths. It felt like he’d been walking for days, yet there was no way of knowing whether it was night or day, no way of knowing when to sleep. It also occurred to Sam that they’d taken his watch, his phone, left him only with the clothes he wore- which were the same as when he’d first laid down on his bed in a drunken stupor. To Sam, it became a routine of walking, getting tired, sitting down, getting up and walking again. It was hard to tell when he slept, the minutes (if there were any) seemed to blur into one. One long second, dragged out.

                His eyes soon adjusted to the darkness, to the point where he could see quite clearly. The hallways all looked the same, some had caved in, some were half filled with water, others were alive with fungi that glowed a blue, green colour.

                It was incredibly hard to distinguish one place from another. Everywhere looked the same! The same long corridor, the same long minute, both dragged out forever...

                The longer Sam spent in the dark, the more be began to think back, his mind grasping for some happy memory to indulge and loose itself in, but finding none, nothing but the one dark room at the centre.

                Pain soon joined him, following him. Always just out of the corner of Sam’s eye, did he see Pain stood with him, smiling, laughing, comforting. It was good to have company. Sam knew he wasn’t alone.

                It wasn’t long before Sam slumped to one side, leaning against the cold stone, his memories failing him. He could barely remember life before this...this...

                He didn’t have the courage to call it a horrible catastrophe. Nor did he want to call it a kidnapping, or a life changing event. Nothing had really changed. He was still alone, still hopeless, still forgotten, vermin.

                In fact, that whole concept amused him! Sam started to chuckle, Pain laughing along with him; his chuckling lead on to a maniacal laughter, after he thought of all the people, even Alex, who probably wouldn’t have noticed him gone!

                All that was left behind was an empty apartment down the backstreets of The Wynde.

                He thought of The Wynde, or what little of it he remembered...the black buildings, gargoyles, black-haired people, disciples...

                Who were the people? Where was he? Whoever the people were with the black war paint, they’d pay.

                Sam’s amusement turned to anger, although only momentary, since Sam didn’t have the energy.

                He was so tired...so tired...

                The Warrens...

                It occurred to Sam, while he was sleeping. Sleeping? Sam couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not. This place just didn’t seem real anymore. He could feel his mind slowly slipping away. He’d suddenly burst into fits of shrill, insane laughter and other times he’d burst into tears, crying like a little girl. Other times, he’d be so angry, he’d launch himself at the walls, spitting, punching, kicking until his knuckles were blue and bloody! He’d scream and yell at the top of his voice, coherent words didn’t matter anymore; just the noise was proof that he was still real.

                Despite this, the memories of the men who’d done this to him were crystal clear; men, clad in black leather, black war paint, heavy artillery...

                The people of the Warrens!  Sam pictured a man, long black hair that look like it’d had been dragged backwards through a bush and then back combed, black leather trousers, big black boots, a bare chest beneath a sleeveless black, leather coat and black paint on his face, arms and chest.

                What made Sam even more angry was the fact they were there in the first place. He should have hated the people of the Warrens. He should have hated his former friends, the people of The Wynde. All of them.

                Maybe it was the losing of the ability to think rationally, or maybe the loss of his sanity, or maybe even Pain whispering to him in his ears; all Sam knew was that he hated the people who forced him to live like this, his whole life!

                Boundary.

                The very word felt vile in his mind!  He wanted to kill them all!

                And then Sam felt cold. He was sure he’d starved to death...or drowned from passing out into half-flooded tunnels. Every time anger clouded his thoughts and Sam yelled, punching and scratching at the walls of his never-ending prison, he’d come out of his rage with blood red knuckles. Every time he hit out, the evidence seemed to vanish.

                Time seemed to vanish.

                Was he sleeping? Was he dead? If he was dead, then how was he still here?

                So cold...so very, very cold...

                “Hello? Help me! Please...”

                The female voice floated through the tunnels, the letters floating in front of Sam’s face. For a moment, he didn't know what they were. He didn't recognise a sound beyond the usual slow drip of water, or whistle of the icy wind.

                “Hello? Please, someone!”

                The voice grew louder. Sam stood up. Could it be...?

                “Is someone their?”

                Sam wanted to reply, but it’d been so long since he’d responded to anything other than thought. It just didn't seem...natural.

                The girl stumbled around the corner, looking all around, wide eyes, her hands out in front of her, feeling for any obstacles.

                Was she blind?

                Sam was confused, he could see quite clearly. He stepped out in front of her.

                “Is someone-” she gasped when she felt his face, then screamed, and then fell silent, her hands still on Sam’s cold cheeks.

                “Who are you?” she sobbed, tears running down her rosy cheeks.

                “My name...is...Sam.” Sam was surprised by his own voice. He’d not heard it in so long. His mouth was dry.

                “Sam... what is this place? Please help me.” As she continued to sob, Sam noticed her hair; long and blond. Her neck was a pearly white and around it hung a silver chain with an ‘A’ hanging from it.

                “Please, say something.” She sniffed, her hands moving down to his shoulders.

                She smelt different. Strange. Artificial.

                ...Boundary...

                Pain whispered to him.

                ...Boundary...

                Sam felt the angry beast rise. He reached up to her neck. The girl gasped, her breathing speeding up.

                ...Boundary...

                “...Boundary...”

                “Yes! I’m from Boundary, yes! Please help get back there! I can’t see a thing in the darkness!” she whined.

                Sam hated her whining. He hated her smell, her hair, her crying.

                “Plea-” Crack!

                He neck budged as he head dislocated and her spine snapped. Her body fell to the ground, and Sam could still smell her. He knelt next to the body, the scared face of a girl pasted over a skeletal frame. He ran a finger over her neck and down to her breasts. She was naked.

                So this is what did this to him. The emotionless look of someone who took too much pride in their appearance. He put his face to her neck and drank in the scent. He would remember this. He would sniff out the rest of her kind, and kill every last one of them.

                He sank his teeth into the flesh of her neck, and tasted her. The taste of something processed. Processed and re-heated then re-frozen and then micro waved.

                He remembered the taste of her blood.

                He would remember it for a long time to come.

                Sam followed Pain through the tunnels. He’d had got bored of walking, walking. It was time to let Pain lead the way.

                And of course, Pain led him to a dead end...

                Sam was about to turn when he noticed something strange. The tunnel was angling upwards. They never did that!

                What had Pain found?

                Sam looked at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t sealed by a cave-in, or rubble, or over grown with poisonous fungi, in fact, he couldn’t even hear the sound of dripping.

                And then he saw the tiny, while shaft coming from the ceiling.

                What was it? Sam hadn’t seen this before! He reached out to it, realising he could put his hand right through it! It felt warm...

                He looked at the ceiling, where the shaft of light peered through a crack. He stood beneath it, and looked back at Pain, who nodded.

                Pain leapt into the dark air. There was the sound of a thump, and exploding rubble, breaking stone. All around Sam, rubble fell away from the ceiling, mixed with sand. 

                Sand?

                He was blinded by white, his eyes stinging as he looked up, caught a glimpse of blue and white. He clamped hands over his eyes and backed off into the shadows.

                So this was an escape to the desert? He could just leave now and exact his revenge on Boundary.

                Wait! He shouldn’t rush this! There were things that needed settling.  Not only this, but there was something new within him; a new sense of strength perhaps? Whatever it was, it kept him from desperately struggling for freedom, as Pain wanted him to do.