[Original Novel] The Background of Your Memories, Part 14
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Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13
It will all be worth it once we’re over this damnable wall. If there was ever a way to turn back, I can no longer avail myself of it. All I can do is trudge onwards through this cavalcade of confusion and fear. The only way out is through.
John slapped my back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I looked up at him in shock. “We’re really at the top? Really?” He gestured to a doorway in the far side of the room. “See for yourself kiddo.” So I did. Expecting it to be over, or at least that we’re now in the home stretch.
Instead, a maze stretched out before me. This entire time we’d only been scaling its outer wall. I cried out in frustration, fell to my knees and wept. John knelt beside me. “What did you expect? You didn’t think this was it, did you? Oh dear, you did. You sweet, sweet Summer child. Pull yourself together, will you? If they came this way, and we both saw them do it, they would’ve entered the maze. And all entrances to this maze eventually lead to the center.”
I did feel somewhat heartened to hear that. “But then, why a maze? Isn’t the point of a maze to keep you lost, so you don’t make it to the end?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t make a lick of difference to us, since we’re not gonna wander through it like a couple of rubes. Why do that when you can walk along the top?”
Just as he said, there was a pathway with railings along the top of the walls comprising the maze, bridges spanning the gaps at modest intervals so you could cross from one wall to the next as needed. I peered over the railing, realizing in the process of surveying the walls around us that this maze is also some sort of city.
The same doorways, windows, walkways and stairs I first saw on the outer wall could be found here as well. As I watched, black figures milled about far below, going about their business...whatever that may be.
So much concrete. Such hard, uncompromising forms. It evoked disgust for some reason, but also some nameless attraction. I was so absorbed in it that I only noticed a nearby wall moving because of the vibration felt through my feet.
A grinding sound accompanied the wall’s movement. A long low pitched sound of concrete scraping against concrete. Presumably, as John said, to bamboozle intruders. But aren’t we intruders?
You’d think there would be defenses along the tops of the walls as well, unless John is somehow the first person ever to discover the way to get up here. Who would build something like this, I wondered. Who would choose to live here?
As if in answer, a long procession of the black figures emerged from a doorway in another nearby wall. From this distance I could at last see the truth. They were the black robed, bird skull creatures from the tapes.
They moved along rhythmically, doing a strange sort of shimmy shake dance. Perfectly synchronized, though I couldn’t imagine they rehearsed. Their movements grew hypnotic, hips swaying, knobbly jointed hands swinging two and fro.
“Servants of Croctaw” John whispered. I turned and stared. “Did you say Croctaw?” He seemed surprised that the name meant anything to me, and asked if I’ve heard it before. “It’s probably nothing, but...I mean, it’s just...when I was really little, I used to get so scared when it was time to sleep. I hated lying in bed in my darkened room.
There was this triangular patch of shadow in the furthest corner of the ceiling which I could swear moved sometimes. When I could make myself look at it for a minute or two, details would appear. I imagined I could make out an ever-shifting...corner crow. That’s what I called it.
A shadow crow, who dwells in corners. Who takes the shape of the shadow which collects there like a fluid. His wings form two of the points of the triangle, his beak forms the third. It’s never the same points from moment to moment, though! Ever-shifting, morphing from one position to the next.”
John whistled. “That’s him alright. Sounds like he’s had his eye on you for a long time. If I were a betting man, I’d say he’s using your parents to lure you in.” My heartbeat quickened. “For what purpose?”
He recounted our narrow escape from the parking garage. The impossible cyclical mass of sharpened metal wire, and those rusty, whimpering scroggs. “Same thing they all want. More followers. The Grycler is the master of the city. Has it on lockdown, probably always has.
The foundry is the domain of something else. Something I’ve never seen and never want to. However savage the Grycler is, some still manage to escape from it. There is no escape from the foundry. At least not that I’ve ever witnessed.
This...maze city...is the domain of Croctaw. Those skull wearing fellows in the black robes are his followers. All three vie for control of this realm, for control of all dreams. Each like a feudal lord, defended by its own army of serfs.”
The more I understand, the less I want to. I’m not even supposed to be here. That piece of shit doctor was supposed to turn the helmet off when I asked him to. I at least feel relieved that I brought a guide, though it would be more accurate to say that the guide brought me.
Looking down into the maze at desperate stragglers, hopelessly lost, makes me glad to be up here. At least I’m not one of them, wandering endlessly through these cold concrete passages. That’s something.
“Something wrong?” John looked mildly concerned. “Oh nothing, it’s just...I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t my life, you know? I should be at home now, with Mom and Dad. None of this was supposed to happen, I just can’t…”
I tried, but failed, to find the words I wanted. John crossed his arms and sighed. “Is that all? Kid, nothing is “supposed” to happen. It doesn’t work that way. We all build a story in our heads to make sense of life, but life isn’t actually a story. It doesn’t play out the way stories do, where everything that happens has some later importance, and it all ties together satisfyingly in the end. Life is just stuff happening to you.”
He doesn’t understand. There was never any chance he would, he hasn’t been through what I have. We walked for hours in silence after that, as I didn’t particularly want to hear any more of his pronouncements about my life, or how I should feel.
Along the way, I noticed more of those robed, bird skull creatures. As before, they marched along doing their bizarre rhythmic dance. More and more of them the further we walked. I started to wonder if perhaps we were headed to the same destination.
I still wasn’t in a talkative mood, but my curiosity got the better of me. “Where are they going?” John confirmed my suspicions. “Same place we are.” He pointed to a tiny sliver, just now visible on the horizon. “That’s where I’ve seen them take people. Your parents are being held there, I’m sure of it.”
I didn’t relish the thought of arriving there only to wind up face to face with thousands of those things. So far they fled whenever spotted, as if fearful. Would they become bolder with the odds more strongly tilted in their favor?
The hours wore on, though with no sun or moon there’s no way to keep time, so I cannot say for sure how long we’ve been walking. The tower looms larger and larger, slowly resolving itself as a massive, tapered cylindrical column of concrete.
We pass another isolated traffic sign. Then awhile later, an entire traffic light, the sort with the dangling signal with red, yellow and green lights. I stopped briefly to press the crosswalk button, but evidently it’s not hooked up to anything.
“We have to keep moving” John urged. “Why did you stop?” I gestured to the button. “These don’t do anything in the real world either.” If he was amused, I couldn’t tell. I left it alone, and we resumed our mind numbing trek towards that distant tower.
Peering down once more into the labyrinth, I saw teams of the robed figures hauling loads of lumber. Where they get it from, I cannot say. I haven’t seen a single tree so far. The reason for their toil soon becomes clear when, at the bottom of another passage, I see them painting a colorful outdoor mural onto a wooden wall panel as it’s assembled from individual planks.
Stay Tuned for Part 16!
Good writing and novel