rainclouds.
In a split second a coco-colored tidal wave is sweeping through the community toward me.
Recalling Rufus’ statement about prayer, I tuck into a ball and ask God to protect me.
An invisible bubble surrounds me as I’m engulfed by the torrent.
When the flood subsides I’m crouched in the middle of a barren, deep orange-colored desert.
The sky is a crimson red. There is a storm drawing near. Cumulus clouds, dark as soot, increase in the distance and are fast approaching.
“I’m going to need your help, Sentel.”
“Detach me for a moment. I’ll scout the land.”
I twist my prosthetic equipment to painlessly remove it.
My skin seals over the exposed portion.
Sentel morphs into a large, flat-chrome starfish.
Taking it by one of its points I fling it as far as I can, like a Ninja throwing star.
It curves to the left and in mid flight the five points twist and separate.
They expand to form five more complete starfish that circle and span out, and repeat.
The plethora of silver patterns congregate with one another to fabricate a spiral staircase.
Speaking in unison, Sentel’s voice speaks as a multitude, “We need to continue down.”
Their bodies rotate as they hover.
As I ascend they magnetically keep my feet from touching their surface.
The ground far below turns to dust while the sky condenses into a flat plane.
“Now what, Sentel?”
A hand breaks through the surface. Reluctantly I take hold of it.
Sentel’s segments condense together and bond to my nub, reshaping into a chrome arm with the promise ring still there.
With a firm grip I’m pulled through the compact partition.
My stepfather Jim is standing in front of me when I’m brought to my feet.
It’s been 15years. The age shows on his face and in his eyes.
I recall someone mentioning he looks like Sean Penn, in his later years.
I notice the resemblance now.
For a moment the bitterness in his stare calms. Then the coldness returns.
A large, grey and black hyena sits beside him.
It appears we’re standing in a massive meteor crater, surrounded by rugged mountains.
Adelle’s comment reminds, “The other realm, where the cascade canyons are. Vera Boas…”
“Glen was just by here,” Jim comments. He studies my face closely.
“So what’s this I hear about you trying to get to the facility?”
“I’m trying to save Mom from this place.”
“Well, I can’t let you do that…Tamforeh,” Jim instructs. The hyena lunges.
I instinctively hold Sentel out in front of me.
The dog goes for the chrome limb.
Just before its rabid teeth sink into the shiny metallic flesh, Sentel relays a command.
I utter it and in an instant thick spikes shoot up from all along the silver limb’s surface.
I feel the energy of Jim’s creature draining with the points protruding from its pierced head.
Jim’s mouth is agape. His fists ball tightly, then release. “You did a good job.”
Sentel relays the command to disengage.
The spikes retract, freeing the lifeless creature.
The mountains rumble as they level to rocky hills.
Steel-cable-lines are connected to the peaks. They travel out over a bottomless gap.
“This is the only help I’m going to give you, son.”
I’m not with Jim anymore.
I’m standing in the center of the metropolitan area where the contest first took place.
It is mid afternoon and people are going about their business.
A well-dressed man wearing a suit and tie and dress hat brushes against me.
Turning he admits, “Rockefeller Plaza is over that way.”
Continuing my exploration of this major city I approach a street vendor.
The man wears a white apron, and a disposable tissue paper cap, standing alongside the hotdog cart, and points with a pair of metal tongs and instructs, “Rockefeller Plaza is over that way.”
An attractive woman wearing a red skirt and matching heels steps out of a classy side restaurant.
Our eyes lock; her beauty captivates my heart.
When I come within talking range she speaks softly, “Rockefeller Plaza is over that way.”
This has to be an important clue. I have an idea.
A couple is just stepping off a city bus that’s pulled up, when I tell them,
“Rockefeller Plaza is over that way.”
“But how do we get through the Grand Central Tunnel?” they question in unison.
I’m not picking up on anything from Sentel or Rufus.
There’s a repetitive advertisement I’ve noticed throughout my sightseeing experience.
It’s even on the side of the bus. “Sem and Nell will get the job done,” I recite.
Pleased, they smile and the woman opens her pocket purse.
“Sem and Nell will get the job done,” she agrees, and hands me a token for the bus.
I have doubts about boarding.
The driver does not have a face. It’s all smoothed over.
There is no nose, only slight impressions where the eyes should be.
What’s even creepier is, all the passengers have blank faces also.
A harsh robotic voice blares over the bus intercom “Doors will be closing.”
The driver’s vacant appearance turns to me.
I step on board and insert the coin into the bus-fare token-box.
I realize I’m holding my breath when I proceed past the blank-faced seated passengers.
Once there I stand at the back of the bus.
I take notice of the route, posted to the curved roof where I wait, as the bus pulls away.
We approach a solid cement overhead bridge with a tunnel that leads below the city.
A metal billboard posted above the entrance reads: “Grand Central Tunnel.”
“Sem and Nell will get the job done,” I whisper as we enter the swallowing darkness.
There are three cords above my head: a blue, white, and silver one.
Believing these levers are to indicate your stop, I wait a moment to see if there is an end in sight.
Outside an indistinguishable blurred image, appearing to be a white square flies past.
I realize I’m no longer in the bus. I’m standing in the tunnel. A similar image is up ahead. Inside the square that I’ve approached are two upside-down triangles, painted black.
They’re separated by one that’s upright.
A ladder extends beyond the roof of the tunnel, above the symbols, and a manhole leads below.
I contemplate the markings. They must be a clue to a pattern.
Down, up, down…then maybe up again?
Reflecting on my journey here, I traveled down through the water portal.
Then I went up using the water ladder, then down.
I went up with Sentel.
Jim brought me down, then up to the city’s top surface.
So I should travel down and then up. Complicated, I know!
And my assumption is just a guess.
Who knows where these portals lead, and what the proper sequence is if there even is one.
I grab hold of the rungs and proceed down the ladder.
As I’m descending I’m haunted by the couples’ question about this tunnel.
Why were they the only normal ones? And what causes the passengers to lose their faces?
015: Through Sheol, Pt 2
The ladder leads to an underground train station.
A girl with a blank face stands behind the counter of an information booth.
It serves as a knowledge center.
Her personal concerns help to solve the answers I’m seeking.
/> She asks me exactly what it is that I’m wondering, starting with…“Where are you going?”
Almost as if I already know the answer, I respond as though it were common knowledge…
“I’m going to the same place you’ve just come back from.”
“I’m worried about my angel,” she shares.
It’s strange how our roles have shifted, but most things here make no sense.
“You thought you had a chance going double or nothing,” I say sympathetically.
“Do you think I will ever see Isaiah again?” I’m starting to understand. Her angel is missing.
“It’s difficult to get into the banished realm, and then to come back from it,” I explain.
“How are you going to get there?” she inquires.
“The conductor is going to drop me off at the end of the line.
“He’s been looking for an item I own.”
I take out the pencil and pad of paper from the green duffle bag, revealing the items he seeks.
With them I jot down the word that could have saved her heavenly guardian.
The subway car arrives in the station, and I run off to catch it.
I stand to the front, while inside the speeding transit shuttle.
Coming to our final stop, I see that the tunnel ahead is blocked off.
The conductor steps out from his control section seeking the items which he desires.
The train pulls away, returning in the direction from which it came, after I’ve exited.
There are three directions in this latest subway area for me to choose.
I consider the route by escalator, which leads upstairs; or the other one which leads down.
It feels instinctively right that I travel forward.
From the boarding platform I approach an opening in the crumbled-brick subway-wall.
The walls beyond the opening of the tunnel, are made of hardened lava, and widen outwards.
The walkway transitions to a narrow plateau.
All around me is a violent, illuminating, rising jet-stream of water.
It’s time. I recite the word written on the note page “Resurgence,” from the end of the plateau.
Heavy rocks rumble beyond the geyser.
I gasp as a stone leviathan’s massive head, and long neck emerge through the powerful spray.
It instructs from