FICTION: Bad Trip part 7 - Behind the Lights
This is the continuation of the Bad Trip series.
The earlier chapters can be found here (part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)
BAD TRIP part 7
Taylor slowly backed away from the door. He wondered if it would hold against the force of the beast charging straight at it. He anticipated contact at any moment now. His eyes were glued to the door, to the whole wall, hoping it would stay in one piece. He was inching his way back, one very slow step at a time, unsure of what his next move should be. Especially if the door won't hold the beast on the other side.
There was an almighty thud, as the half human creature made contact. The vibration of many of the wooden planks verified their looseness. Taylor knew his time was running out. He continued to back away, wondering to himself why he didn't turn and run. But his muscles were too frozen with fear to produce the response he desired. As he put more distance between himself and the door, starting to breath some life back into his frozen muscles, he felt something, on his right shoulder.
He turned slowly to see a human hand resting upon his shoulder. He turned further until he was eye to eye with a familiar face looking back at him.
"Taylor, welcome to stage two!" The Master of Ceremonies was beaming a big smile as he gestured, arms wide open to the space Taylor now found himself in. The old barn had changed, perhaps whilst he was fixated on just who had their hand on his shoulder. But whenever it was it certainly wasn't an old barn now. Bright lights shone down upon him, as he tried to see out into the cavernous space around him. Unable to make out what was behind the lights, he turned to the Master of Ceremonies, as if to ask "what now?"
"Come over here and take a seat." Taylor was lead to the centre of a large stage where two very comfortable looking chairs were placed. He sunk into it, deeply. He didn't realise just how weary he was.
"What happened to the barn? And that creature outside?"
"All gone! You don't need to concern yourself with that any more. You're safe here, with me, and our wonderful audience." The lights went down and Taylor was able to see what was out there. A very large audience looking back at him and the Master of Ceremonies. And the roar of the crowd as they were mentioned left Taylor feeling more convinced that this was no dream. Or certainly no ordinary dream. And besides, he had never had anyone try to rescue him from a dream before.
"And tell me Taylor, this look here, what is it you were going for exactly?" Taylor had forgotten the wires on his head, all hanging down towards his shoulders. He was wanting to take them off and store them somewhere safe. But the beast chasing him down had distracted him.
He started to remove them, feeling a little embarrassed from all the inquiring eyes on him. "It's nothing. I don't know. I guess like the beast before, just one more thing I don't understand." Taylor tried to explain, without mentioning Jim's attempted rescue.
“No leave it, maybe it's your lucky charm.” The Master of Ceremonies sat relaxed in his chair, looking at Taylor. He was dressed in a purple suit, with his hair slicked back, and a never ending smile. Whether Taylor wanted to resist this experience or not, he found himself falling under the Master's spell.
“Yes, maybe it was,” Taylor half whispered, uncommitted as he was to the comment.
“So tell me Taylor, and do speak up, what was that experience like? You out ran the beast. You survived.”
Taylor thought about the question. “Do people actually die, or is this part of some elaborate show? And how would one find out. Testing that theory out and being wrong leaves very little wriggle room for a return effort!”
“I don't know, I mean what exactly did I just survive?”
“Oh now, don't be bashful. Look at your performance.” The Master of Ceremonies turned and pointed to a large screen behind them. They were watching a presentation of highlights from Taylor's efforts to outrun the Minotaur. Taylor watched closely, looking for any footage of Jim. “What if they caught him on film? Where will that leave me?” Taylor thought, as he continued to scrutinise the edited version of his desperate attempt at survival.
The audience applauded as the Master of Ceremonies commentated through the video. Taylor's thoughts drowned out much of it. He wanted to know what happened next. And why.
“So there you have it, Taylor. You escaped the clutches of our friend, the Minotaur.” The audience erupted on cue with the previous statement. “He is such a crowd favourite. They just love him! So how are you feeling right now?”
Taylor hesitated. “Could that beast really have killed me out there?”
“Oh of course he could have. This game is very real, I assure you. Here, let me show you some different footage. From one of the other contestants.” The presentation changed from what they were previously watching. Now on the screen was the recording of another contestant in the game. One who wasn't so fortunate. Taylor watched as the unfortunate individual was run down by the Minotaur. He stopped watching at that point. The Master of Ceremonies started talking, but the noise of the crowd drowned out all other sounds. He started to convulse at the thought of what he had just witnessed.
“So what happens now?” Taylor enquired.
“Well, you survived stage one, but stage two is a doozy. You'll love it.”
“Are there any beasts to outrun?”
“No, it's more about the gadgets. And some of them are deadly. But not all. You have a fifty-fifty chance, I suppose!”
“And then what?”
“Do you mean after that round? Well, then comes round three, of course.”
“When does it end?”
“End? You're only just getting started. There's still so much more entertainment to be had, isn't there audience.” Taylor had forgotten about the audience. He had managed to block them out of his awareness, with the aid of the bright lights pointing right at him, obscuring their presence. Until they reminded him through the aid of sound.
“Round three; we call this round “The Maze”. You'll be amazed! Get it!” The Master of Ceremonies had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. But it wasn't so much the case with Taylor. He just sat in his seat, blankly staring at the presenter doing his thing. He kept going over what he knew, or what he thought he knew, about this whole experience. What could possibly be behind it all. He hoped desperately that Jim would return to finish what he started. And perhaps he could receive a long overdue explanation to this whole ordeal.
“And if I don't make it through the maze?” Taylor muttered half a question, in the hope the Master of Ceremonies would give him something to relieve the anxiety that was coursing through his veins.
“Don't be like that! Of course you'll make it, I have great faith in you. We all have great faith in you.” He gestured for more audience participation. They didn't let him down. Taylor wondered about his faith. Why would he have faith? Based on what? Is the game rigged? Was he meant to survive, but be traumatised in the process? His head was filled with questions. Questions that he had no one to ask.
“All right then, it's time to bid our audience farewell, and get you ready for the next episode.”
The lights went down, leaving just enough for them to see the exit doors. The Master of Ceremonies stood, and motioned for Taylor to follow him off the stage. They walked along a corridor, past many side doors, until stopping in front of one.
“Just go to the second door on your left,” the Master of Ceremonies instructed him. “And when you get in there, shut the door behind you, and read this. Keep it hidden until then.” Taylor was handed a small note, and he placed it discretely into his front pocket. The Master of Ceremonies put his hand on Taylor's shoulder once more and pointed to the wires still on his head. “It's a good look. May just save your life.” He entered his room, and shut the door. Taylor made his way to the second door.
Once inside he shut the door behind him, and looked around. He was in a small room, with a couch in the corner, and a small desk. Not much besides those. He reached for the note and opened it.
“When you get into the next stage, plug the wires back into the box. Switch it on. Jim will get your signal.”
This fiction is my own work, written for Steemit
Image Credit: Pixabay.com
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