The Not-Particularly-Excellent Adventures of the Keanu-Spawn
Written by Anakin McFly
« Chapters 1–2
« Chapters 3–8
« Chapters 9–14
Group B: Shane, Perry, Jjaks, Chris, Matt, Tommy
They tumbled out of the portal onto the hard stone floor of a room bathed in a pervasive dark red glow. It was a high room of clean-cut architecture, made symmetrically of stone with no exit or entrance anywhere in sight.
In the centre was a deep, man-made square pool of water that shone red in the untraceable light.
"What is this place?" Chris asked, his voice echoing off the walls.
Jjaks reached out a hand to the wall. The stone was smooth and cool to the touch. It went all around in an unbroken circle.
"Everyone okay?" Perry asked.
A chorus of half-hearted 'yeahs' filled the room.
Shane walked to the edge of the pool and crouched down. He stuck a finger in the water, and then let the rest of his hand fall in as he squinted at something down on the side of the pool.
"There's a-" he started, then broke off. He wasn't sure what it was, but... Shane took his hand out of the water and shook off the droplets. It felt like normal water, not toxic waste or something.
"There's a what?" Perry asked, walking up.
Shane pointed. "That looks like a door," he said, the red glow of the rippling water casting a strange reflection on his face. "Down there."
"It's really deep," Tommy said.
"Very insightful."
A pause. Matt left the pool and went back to the side of the room, following the wall, looking for a break or a line that might indicate a door... He looked upwards. The roof was a perfect dome of bare stone.
Shane got up and walked over to the side of the pool closer to the door. He hesitated. "Do I go in, or does someone else want to volunteer?"
No one else wanted to volunteer.
Shane looked at the pool.
Then he shrugged and jumped in, treading water for several seconds, then taking a deep breath and going underwater as he let the weight of his clothes help him down towards the door.
It wasn't a very good door, if it was a door. It looked sort of like the opening to an old oven of the sort that Hansel and Gretel once stuffed a poor old woman into when all she wanted was to have them over for dinner.
Shane fingered the sides of the door; it was shut tight, with some kind of stiff bolt holding it there. And a lever, next to the door, but he had no time to wonder about that before he felt his oxygen going and kicked himself back up to the surface for air.
"It's a door," he said, gasping for breath as he gripped the side of the pool. "I can't open it, but there's... some kind of lever there..."
Shane took another breath and went back down. He grabbed at the lever. Tugged it upwards. And then it gave as the momentum propelled him back upwards, with a strange whooshing noise that suddenly filled the pool and-
"Get in!" Shane yelled once his head broke the surface and he realised what was happening. "Quick!"
"What?"
"The water's going down! That door's the only way out I can see-"
They jumped in, with the exception of Tommy, who stood by the side looking panicked. "I can't swim-"
"Just get in!"
"I-"
Finally the teen steeled himself and leapt into the water, Shane grabbing him as he started to sink below the surface.
"Downwards," Shane said, turning his head as Tommy spat out a mouthful of water and attempted to unintentionally strangle him. "Kick downwards. Don't kick me. ...I SAID, don't kick me!"
Jjaks came over to assist and got several panicked kicks in return.
The water was receding fast, taking them further and further down until soon all they could see was the ceiling above and the sides of the pool rising up all around; and the door, ahead, getting closer and more distinct in the red light.
#
Group A: Conor, John C, Johnny U, Nelson, Paul, Tod, Jesse, Kip, the cornflakes guy.
It took a moment for them to realise that the blast of freezing wind was not part of the interdimensional travel and showed no signs of stopping; nor that their vision was going to get any clearer, and soon, fumbling steps to steady themselves against the force of the gale met packed snow and frozen ice and they realised that the white, white scenery didn't seem intent on changing any time soon.
The cold cut deeper with each passing moment
"What- ... – happened-" Johnny yelled, his voice blown off by the wind as he struggled to regain his footing, arms flailing for a second.
The cornflakes guy was whimpering in the cold, crouching down with his arms hugging himself and rocking slightly, teeth chattering, on the verge of tears. Paul got hold of him and tried to pull him back to his feet. "C'mon, we can't-... here-...-t up-"
Nelson pointed a finger at the convenient mountain face some distance from them, shouting something; Conor agreeing and starting to walk-
"Dimensional travel," John Constantine muttered helpfully. "We could be anywhere."
"MOVE IT, PEOPLE!" Conor yelled in a frustrated attempt to make himself heard over the wind. "DO YOU-.... – FREEZE TO DEATH -...- -ERE?"
The party of nine started moving, buffeted sideways by the wind that stung their faces and exposed skin with pricks of ice. They huddled together, grasping for each other lest the wind blow them too far astray, those in the centre partly shielded by the others.
The cornflakes guy was full out crying now. He seemed adamant to just stop right where he was and die if Paul and Tod would just let go of him.
"J-... – leave him," Nelson said. "-'s his choice."
"Nah," Jesse said. "Might n-... – him for food- I'M JOKING, I'M JOKING!" he yelled as he was suddenly met with glares.
Getting closer to the rock, they scanned the mountain face for signs of openings that might mark a convenient cave, stopping by a promising dark narrow gap just wide enough for one of them to crawl through that produced echoes when Conor shouted random stuff inside.
Conor yanked Jesse by the shoulder and steered him towards it. "You first," he said. "Get in there, you cannibal."
Jesse looked at the dark gap with trepidation. "What if there's something in there?"
"Then if it kills you, we can use you for food. Move it."
Jesse stuck a tentative foot through the gap; then grabbed hold of the edges and pulled himself up, looking into the darkness; a step inside – the wind ceased hitting him as he entered; then he yelled as his foot slipped and sent him sliding down a slope to the rock floor below where he hit his head.
Blinking away the red that threatened to flood his vision, Jesse crawled into a sitting position and looked around. The cave went deeper into the mountain. How deep, he neither knew nor wished to find out, gazing with fear at the numerous dark openings he could barely make out in the little light that fell through the opening.
"Watch your step there!" he called out to the others, making their way down after him. "There's a slanted bit."
Inside was marginally warmer. Not much, but around the temperature of a regular cold winter's day back where some of them lived.
Tod was the last to reach the cave floor. "Can't see anything in here," he said.
A disinterested flick of a cigarette lighter was heard courtesy of John Constantine, and an orange flame popped up in the dark. It did little to break the darkness.
"We should start a fire," Kip suggested.
"Sure," John said dryly. "Got any firewood, or are you volunteering yourself?" He flicked off the light and wandered off to glare philosophically at one of the dark openings.
Johnny sank to the floor, hands around his knees in an attempt at keeping warm. "What do we do now?" he asked. "Wait for rescue?"
"No one knows where we are," John said, having failed at intimidating the dark opening. "Everything was chaos. You all saw it."
"Someone has to know," Nelson said.
"Says who?" John countered.
"Okay," Conor said, dropping down some distance from Johnny. "So no one knows we're here. And we don't know where we are."
"Might not even be on Earth," Johnny said distantly.
Paul dropped his head into his hands and sat there looking glum.
"Someone has to know," Jesse said faintly, repeating Nelson's words. "They brought us here, they gotta know we're here. They have to. They have to bring us back, I... I gotta get home..." His voice trailed off, then the half-whine: "I'm cold."
"Then don't just sit there," Nelson said. "Move about. It's warmer that way."
"If we stay here no one's going to find-" Kip started.
"They won't find us anyway!" Conor shouted. "It's only the nine of us here, can't you see that? Just the nine of us. From that... uh, piece of black thing we were on. And now we're here, and the others aren't, so... so they must have been transported someplace else altogether-"
"-all dead for all we know-"
"-and the whole thing definitely did not look controlled or planned to me-"
"-yeah, shouting keeps you warm too-"
"-shut up, Nelson! And... and bottom-line is, we're on our own."
Silence.
"I'm thirsty," Kip said cautiously.
"Lots of water out there," John said.
"It's frozen."
"That's ice for you."
More silence.
Kip eventually scrambled back up towards the opening, the frosty wind hitting him hard as he stuck his head out and tried to scoop a handful of icy snow, his fingers numbing with cold. He managed a pathetic few scrapings that melted on his tongue and did little to assuage his thirst.
Kip crawled back in. "John? Can you lend me your lighter?"
The lighter was tossed through the air and gratefully caught.
"Thanks."
Back out the opening, Kip flicked the lighter. Nothing. He tried again, and a flame appeared only to be instantly blown out by the wind. He crouched down and cupped his right hand around the lighter to shield it from the wind, and tried again. He got a lasting flame this time; but it remained annoyingly upright and refused to melt the ice fast enough, then went out.
Kip grimaced. He looked down at his shirt and attempted to rip part of it for use as a wick. His shirt refused to be ripped. After some thought, and already starting to shiver violently, he yanked out several strands of hair and set them on fire, dropping them into the ice.
A miserable ashy puddle formed as the fire burnt out. Kip shook his head in despair, and then the cold got too much for him to take and he returned to the relative warmth of the cave.
"Got your drink?" John asked.
"No." Kip returned the lighter.
"So we're just going to die here," Nelson said rhetorically.
Paul made several inaudible noises from behind his hands.
"Got a better idea?" John asked.
#
Group D: Neo, Eddie, Ke- I mean, not-Tim. Yes.
Not-Tim looked up as the common room door opened.
"...You," Eddie said, looking disappointed.
Not-Tim got off the sofa. "Didn't you make it out?"
Eddie nodded, eyes searching the carpet and door for a safer place to put his gaze.
"What- where's everyone else?"
The teen shrugged. "I don't know." His left hand grasped the door, subtly barring the way out. "Where's Jack? Did you kill him?"
Looking down to see that last look of decisiveness in Jack's eyes, his hand suddenly letting go of his foot-
Not-Tim took a step closer. Eddie's grip tightened on the door.
"I didn't kill Jack."
"Ok."
"He... sacrificed his life," not-Tim said, Eddie's fidgeting halting at the words – "for me and Neo."
Silence; and then Eddie gave a sudden laugh, cynical in the quiet of the room.
"Right," he said, nodding. "Because you're more important than us." He let go of the door and turned, walking out into the corridor. "I forgot that."
Not-Tim started after him. "It's not- All three of us would have died!" he half-shouted, frustrated at the misunderstanding. "Ed-"
But Eddie had since entered his room and shut the door with a slam.
Group B: Shane, Perry, Tommy, Jjaks, Chris, Matt
Shane let go of Tommy once the level of water had receded enough for their feet to touch ground, and waded towards the door. He gripped at the bolt and yanked at it. It refused to budge. Shane grimaced.
He looked up at the four walls surrounding them, smooth stone in the dark red light that reached up too high for them to see the floor where moments ago they had stood.
Perry splashed his way over. "How is it?"
"Stuck," Shane said, with a futile kick at the door.
"It's probably just stiff," Chris said. "It's got to open. There's no other way out of here."
Shane mopped wet hair out of his eyes and tried the bolt again, putting his strength into it; and then, finally, it gave a little, moving out with agonising slowness.
"What's this place for?" Jjaks asked, gazing upwards at the far-off ceiling. "Who built it..."
"Government taxes have to go somewhere," Shane said, finally sliding the bolt out and looking accomplished.
"A cage," Matt said.
Tommy looked at him. "What?"
"Like it was meant to keep something in," Matt said quietly. "Something that doesn't like water."
Tommy paled. Jjaks and Chris looked around uneasily.
Perry clapped Shane on the back. "Right. Let's get this open and get out of here." He grabbed the metal handle on the door and pulled, the door creaking grudgingly open.
"I don't see anything," Jjaks said cautiously.
"Could be invisible," Matt said. "You hear that?"
There was a soft fluttering in the distance, coming from the direction of the ceiling; the beat of invisible wings far above them-
A slow panic was creeping over Tommy's face.
Chris and Perry finished shoving the door open. A gap yawned in the opening: a cuboid passageway with smooth sides one metre high and one-and-a-half metres across, just high enough to sit in, still throbbing with that same red light.
Shane poked his head in. "Looks safe," he decided, when an inhuman screech pierced the air.
"...What was that?" Chris asked.
Silence.
And then there was a sudden gust of wind from above as something made a sudden swoop towards them, screeching, and yanked Jjaks by invisible talons up into the air.
"NO!" Shane yelled, running towards the centre of the pool to get closer, but still too far away, too far down...
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" Tommy screamed.
Jjaks kicked futilely in the air, grabbing at whatever had got him by the shoulders, trying to pry them off amidst his panicked pleadings: "Don't eat me. Please don't eat me. Don't eat me-"
A sudden ripple above him; and for a moment he saw starved flesh stretched tightly over bones and a gruesome bird head leering towards him, its beak-mouth open to show rows of sharp teeth that no self-respecting bird should ever have...
#
Group D: Eddie, Neo, not-Tim
The door moved.
Not-Tim stopped and stared. There shouldn't have been anyone in there. He had just seen Eddie go into the other room; Neo was still occupied with his computer; there was no one else-
A cough. Fake-sounding, almost, as though trying to get his attention.
Not-Tim glanced towards Neo's room. The steady clack of keyboard keys continued to issue from it. He hesitated, wondering if he should get Neo out for backup just in case... then ditched the thought, proceeded cautiously towards the hitherto unoccupied room, and opened the door.
There was someone in there sitting on the bottom bunk. A mysterious old man, who smiled at him.
"Hello, Mr. Reeves," he said. "I'm the Mysterious Old Man. You may call me Dem."
Not-Tim realised that his mouth was open, and closed it. Then he realised that it was rather hard to speak with his mouth closed, so he opened it.
"-How did you get here?" he asked.
"Teleportation. But that's not important. I'm here to make a little deal with you."
Dem got off the bed and motioned towards the wall. "You see this-" he said, and suddenly a screen opened up where he had gestured, showing a place filled with red light and something squirming in centre-screen; then a flick of Dem's finger and the picture zoomed in to show Jjaks struggling in the air in the fierce grip of some invisible monster.
Not-Tim swore.
"Live TV," Dem explained, as the view panned down to show Shane and the others running about looking panicked.
"What did you do to them?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing much. But I will if you refuse to cooperate. You see, this whole project was going along so nicely until you came along and ruined it. I'm not very happy about that, Mr. Reeves. So here's the deal. I'll rewind time by a week, and this time you don't set a foot into Kenselton Hotel. They continue bringing in characters for the public to have fun with, ripping up the space-time continuum in the transportation process, and you stay out of it. If you don't stay out of it as promised, I will be angry. You won't like me when I'm angry. So how's that sound?"
"Or else?"
"Or else, fifteen metres is a pretty far distance to fall," Dem said. "Doesn't sound like much, I know. But it is. Trust me. So. For the life of Jjaks Clayton: what do you say?"
Dem zoomed the picture in closer for dramatic effect.
Not-Tim swallowed. "How many more people would have died if they didn't escape today?"
"They don't look escaped, do they?"
"They'd got out! I saw them!"
Dem shrugged. "Apparently they didn't like to be shot at, so they ran back in, but there were some technical problems over at Kenselton HQ and everyone inside got randomly sent to different parts of the multiverse. I had no part in it, I swear."
Not-Tim jabbed a finger at the screen. "Then what about that?" he asked, anger rising in his voice.
"I merely work with circumstances," Dem said. "Went back in time to that spot with a Radoenix egg and convinced the locals that it would grow up to be a great and powerful monster that would bring them inexhaustible wealth and good luck. All they had to do was to build it a little home right at that spot to contain it because it kind of liked the taste of human flesh, and to feed it sacrificial virgins every full moon to keep it alive and happy. They don't take much maintenance, you see. One virgin can last 'em a month. Hardy creatures, these invisible radioactive phoenixes. I raised this one as my pet. His name is Fred. We communicate psychically." Dem smiled.
".......................," said not-Tim.
"Well, so what will it be?" Dem asked. "Hurry up. Fred's getting hungry, and if I tell him to let Jjaks live after too long a time has passed, he won't be happy. It's been ages since he had a sacrificial virgin, you see. They got really hard to come by after the sexual revolution. And the nuclear war-"
"How many more would have died?" not-Tim cut in. "If I hadn't come here."
"Oh, lots, I'm sure. Blame human nature. Some folks can get so worked up over a film that nothing would please them more than to kill its characters in the most gruesome way they can imagine. You're a funny species, you know-"
"And they wouldn't die if things remain the same."
Dem shrugged. "Well, yes. But put it this way – you're not responsible for them. You're responsible for him." He pointed at Jjaks on the screen. "He wouldn't be here if not for you. He could be at home now, drinking coffee, reading the papers, robbing a bank... it's your fault he's here."
Not-Tim shook his head. "No. I never meant for this to happen-"
"Ah, but you made him, see? If you had just passed on that script, poor ol' Jjaks wouldn't be on Fred's lunch menu right now. Of course, he wouldn't exist either, but that's probably better than being killed and eaten by an invisible radioactive phoenix that doesn't brush its teeth.
"So, for the last time: One of your characters is about to be eaten by an invisible radioactive phoenix named Fred. If you just say the word, it'll be one week ago and you can promise to go on with your life and pretend that Kenselton Hotel doesn't exist. The evil unethical scientists responsible for this can continue doing their thing. They're happy, I'm happy, Fred's not happy but that won't matter because he'll never know what he missed, and Jjaks won't get eaten by an invisible radioactive phoenix, which, trust me, is a good thing."
Dem grinned.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Forty-two!" Dem laughed. "...No, drats, that doesn't work either. Time's up, Mr. Reeves. Say yes to my deal, he lives. Say no, he doesn't."
"What if he's going to die anyway?" not-Tim demanded.
Dem smiled. "Wrong answer, Keanu," he whispered.
And on the screen, Jjaks suddenly fell out of the grasp of the Radoenix; straight at the stone bottom of the emptied pool where he landed with a sickening crack and was completely still. Shane running up to him, screaming; Perry holding him back, grabbing him away as an invisible beak came down to tear into its meal-
"-But you're right," Dem said. "What if he's going to die anyway? Better he die alone than along with so many others, right?" He flicked the screen off. "I'll be back later to see if you've changed your mind," Dem said.
He smiled and vanished; leaving not-Tim alone in the room with the sight of Fred's dining etched fresh into his mind, his ears still resounding with the sound of Shane's scream.
#
Group B: Shane, Perry, Tommy, Jjaks, Chris, Matt
The metal door was slammed shut, the bolt on the other side slid firmly home, the identical-looking lever pulled and the resulting sound of gushing water refilling the pool that they had just left.
Shane forcefully wiped his eyes with the back of his hand; an angry motion; swallowing, keeping the tears down, getting suddenly annoyed with Tommy's incessant murmured chant:
"I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go h-"
"Shut up!" Shane burst out.
Tommy shut up and lapsed into a trembling silence, thrust once more into the realisation that he was drenched through and hungry and a million universes from home, a home which he was now almost definitely never going to see again.
They sat there in uncomfortable silence bathed in dark red light, still dripping water that pooled at their feet, the air heavy with unspoken guilt-
"We could have gotten out sooner," Shane said quietly. "If... just... opened the door earlier, and just gone-"
"It's not your fault," Perry said.
Matt got onto his knees and crawled past them, further down the passageway. He stopped and looked back. "Let's go," he said. "Let's get out of here. Wherever it leads."
#
Group D: Neo, Eddie, not-Tim
The sound of the door opening as Neo came out of his room; he walked over to the doorway and stood uneasily there.
"I heard... Who were you talking to?"
A long silence, then not-Tim finally turned his head and looked at Neo. He gazed at him for an eternity, not saying a word, a strange sadness in his eyes; and the One felt paralysed where he stood, not daring to move.
Then his eyes suddenly seemed to lose focus, and not-Tim looked away.
"You don't exist," he said softly, lifelessly, and walked past Neo out the door.
It was the gunshot that stopped him in his tracks and made him turn almost robotically to face Eddie's room. Some part of his mind registered that Jack's gun was no longer on the floor next to Alex's body. A sudden flicker of emotion crossed his face; then a step towards Eddie's door, forced and unnatural; a second step, with greater intent this time; and then he was suddenly running to the room and throwing the door open and coming to a sudden halt in the doorway, watching Eddie by the open closet with the gun still raised and the shattered glass of the mirror at his feet.
The teen offered little resistance when not-Tim pulled the gun out of his grip and placed it safely on the table; and the anger on his face subsided into a detached blankness as not-Tim grabbed him in a tight hug and cried.
#
Group A: Conor, John C, Johnny U, Nelson, Paul, Tod, Jesse, Kip, the cornflakes guy.
John Constantine was out of cigarettes. This did not make him happy.
"We can't just stay here," Conor decided. "I'll go out, and... and look for... something that might help..."
"Such as?" Johnny asked.
"Food. Water. People. Maybe we're... in Antarctica or something and there might be a... research base or something nearby-"
"And what'll you do if you find one?" Johnny pressed on.
"Get us out of here."
"Where? Home?"
"Just... uh, somewhere else. For the time being. Until we work things out."
"We never will," Nelson muttered.
Paul got to his feet. "At least we'll be alive. I'll go with you," he told Conor.
"Thanks. Uh... anyone got any extra clothes to spare?" Conor asked, looking hopefully at everyone, especially John Constantine.
They stared at him looking cold.
"It's much colder out there than in here," Paul pointed out, in case no one had fully understood.
They stared at him looking cold.
Paul looked at Conor and shrugged.
"Okay," Conor said in resignation, and the two of them were about to set off into the ice again, when all of a sudden A BUG-EYED MONSTER APPEARED!
"...We're not in Antarctica," Jesse said.
#
Group D: Neo, Eddie, not-Tim
Neo stood out in the corridor looking uncomfortable. He didn't like being told that he didn't exist. He wasn't a spoon. And he wanted a hug too... no. No, he didn't. Not-Tim was creepy. He didn't want him touching him if possible. But he wanted to exist. Existing was good. Like his computer. It was good too...
He felt lonely and depressed and took a step closer to the room.
The other two were just sitting there on the bottom bunk, not-Tim gazing at his feet, Eddie with a strange faraway look in his eyes.
Neo figured that it was probably a good time to intervene. He wondered if a fake cough would do the trick, when not-Tim looked up.
"Neo," he said.
Neo wondered if that meant that he existed now.
And then suddenly there was a BAMF! and a mysterious old man appeared out of nowhere, standing in the room with a psychotic grin on his face as he pointed at a screen on the wall that had previously not been there. It showed a view of a dark cave, something with too many tentacles and bug-eyes taking centre stage-
Not-Tim leapt to his feet.
"Pop quiz, hotshot!" Dem shouted cheerfully. "Far away in a cave on the frozen planet of Hagindaz, Johnny Utah is about to be ripped apart by a bug-eyed alien I've just named Luke. You know the deal. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?"
Not-Tim yelled something incoherent and rude.
"That wasn't really nice of y-" Dem broke off as on the screen, John Constantine flicked his cigarette lighter and set Luke on fire.
"Um," Dem said as Luke flailed his tentacles in agony. "Oh, buggerit."
Dem scowled and vanished.
"..." said Neo.
"..." said Eddie.
"..." said not-Tim.
#
Pitch black. Futile blinking made nothing brighter and did not give him the security to stand. Julian felt at the floor on which he lay. Carpet. Searching fingers went further and paused as they touched flesh; moving cautiously along it; an arm, a sleeve...
One of the others. Julian withdrew his hand and stared in the darkness, unseeing, listening to the soft sound of breathing.
"Hello?" he asked cautiously.
He got on his knees, hands feeling out in the dark for obstructions, and slowly began to crawl away in a random direction; felt someone else lying in his path and hesitated, considered waking them; then belayed the thought. There was no point in all of them fumbling in the dark-
An obstruction, wide and high before him as he spread his hands over its surface, feeling-
A handle. He grasped eagerly at it, feeling it give under his grip. A door. Hanging on, he rose carefully to his feet, pulled the door open-
-into more blackness.
The first panic started to claw at his heart. Julian looked back at the room, out the door, straining his eyes to no avail, and in a sudden fearful moment wondered if he had gone blind.
His grip tightened on the door handle, pulse speeding up, craning his ears for a sound – any sound – other than the breathing of his floormates.
Julian rubbed his eyes with his free hand, blinking, a sudden desperation to see rising in him...
He bent his head, closed his eyes, tried to steady his breathing. Don't panic, he told himself.
He raised his head and took wary steps out the door, moving his hands along to feel the way. Both met walls; a narrow passageway-
"Hello, Dr. Mercer."
He whipped his head towards the direction of the voice, his breaths coming fast once more as backed against the wall.
"Who's there?" he asked.
"It's David," the voice replied, though it seemed to lack Griffin's usual confidence.
"Can you see?"
"What do you mean?"
The voice was closer now. Julian pressed himself further against the wall. "Where are we?"
"Why is that important?"
"I can't see anything," Julian said, needing to tell someone, anyone-
"I know."
"What- what's going on-"
"A game. Just a game." A pause, then: "I hope you won't miss Donnie. He was... in the way."
Another pause.
"This conversation never happened."
Then there was silence.
"...David?"
No reply.
With suppressed panic, Julian felt his way back into the room and grabbed the first person he came into contact with, shaking him awake.
"Wh?" asked Kevin coherently, wondering why everything was dark and feeling drugged and wondering if the two were related somehow, or if someone just wasn't turning on the lights. "What's going on-"
"We have to get out of here. Now. Wake everyone."
"I can't see anything-"
"I know. Me neither," said Julian, feeling someone's leg, raising it and dropping it in hopes that it would be enough to wake its owner.
"Who are you?"
"Julian."
"I'm-"
"Kevin, yeah, I know."
"How-"
"Either he has superb voice recognition skills when it comes to identical voices, or you have a weird accent," said someone else in a half-asleep voice. "Why're all the lights off?"
"Is everyone up?"
"How many of us are there?"
A small thump.
"ARRGH!" Kevin yelled. "You hit my eye!"
"Sorry."
"Why the hell did you do that?"
"I can't see, okay? What'm I supposed to do, just sit here and freeze?"
Kevin whimpered quietly.
"We've got to get out of here," Julian repeated for the benefit of those who had not been conscious the previous time.
"What is this place?"
"I don't know. But we've got to move. David killed Donnie and-"
"What? Hey, I just woke up."
"...David?"
"Yes?"
"What... you..."
"I didn't kill Donnie. Where are you getting your information from?"
"I... thought..."
"Thought what? Just because I killed two people doesn't mean I'm responsible for every murder in the world."
"But just now... you said-"
"-Guess what, Kev. You don't have a weird accent after all. Dr. Mercer just has superb voice recognition skills when it comes to identical voices."
"I..."
Pause.
"Where's Donnie, then?"
Silence.
"Donnie?"
Silence.
"I was locked in a room with him for days, if I'd wanted to kill him I would have done it long ago."
"Okay, who's here?" Kevin asked. "Besides me, Julian and David-"
"Scott here."
"Ron."
"So it's just five of us," Kevin continued. "Okay."
"One of you was talking to me," Julian said. "You said you could see in this place."
"Wasn't me."
"Or me."
"Yeah, as though someone's gonna say, 'It's me! I killed Donnie!'"
Silence.
"What do we do now?"
Silence.
# Near Group C He trembled in the dark, not daring to make a sound, feeling the cold barrel of the gun he could not see pressed against his head.
"He's gone now," came the soft voice of Dem from behind him as the gun was lowered. "Thank you, Eric."
"Who was that?" Eric blurted out. "He's one of... us, right? I mean-"
"That's not important."
"Why couldn't he hear you. Who are you?"
"I told you. I'm the Mysterious Old Man. You may go back now."
Eric felt Dem grasp his wrist, and then the darkness fell aside and he was once again back in the cold mountain tunnels.
Something was burning; he could smell it in the air, and then, unexpectedly, voices. Familiar voices. Eric hesitated, looking back the way he'd come. Surely he hadn't been moving in circles-
His torch lay on the ground where it had fallen, its electric beam shining strong ahead. He felt a rush of relief at how it had not gone out when it had landed. This was not a good place to be without a light. He picked it up, glad at its weight in his hand, and made his way toward the direction of the voices.
# Group A: Conor, John C, Johnny U, Nelson, Paul, Tod, Jesse, Kip, the cornflakes guy "Who's that?" Kip asked suddenly as a figure emerged from one of the tunnel openings.
The others looked up from where they had been warming themselves by the burning corpse of Luke, squinting against the flames, until the newcomer was seen to be decidedly human; and then they saw his face-
"What the hell-" John started, as Eric jumped down the last bit of rock, staring at the group, trying unsuccessfully to place names.
"Where did you come from?" Nelson asked.
Eric looked at him. He looked back at the tunnel. He looked at the others. He gestured vaguely at the tunnel. And then remembered that he was capable of speech. "I," he said. "Uh..."
"What's your name?" Conor asked.
The newcomer raised his hands and dropped them in desperation and confusion. "Eric..."
"Don't remember any Eric," Johnny muttered.
Eric glanced back at the tunnel again and looked seriously lost.
"Where did you come from?" Paul asked.
"That... I... They sent me to scout out the place-"
"'They'?" Conor asked warily. "Who are 'they'?"
# Torch clamped between his teeth to free his hands for climbing, Eric made his way up to the small plateau and paused, turning to light the way for the rest of them. Far overhead, stalactites and limestone shawls hung in silent majesty, reflecting bright in the unfamiliar beam from the torch; then they receded back into shrouds of darkness as the group moved on.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tod asked.
"What if the flashlight goes out?" Jesse asked.
"Then we'll be moving in darkness," replied the ever-helpful John Constantine, shaking his leg to dislodge the cornflakes guy.
But soon a faint flickery glow of light appeared in the distance, and soon after they emerged from the tunnel into a wider cave than that they had left. Shadowy figures huddled around a messy but cheerful fire burning by the side, the welcome scent of cooking meat in the air; and nearer to them, someone standing, watching them climb down with what did not look at all like a friendly gaze.
"What-" Conor said, surveying the scene.
"Who are you?" John asked.
The person stared at him suspiciously.
"Tom Ludlow," he said. He cast a disparaging eye over the rest of the group. "Who the f*** are you?"
Group A: Conor, John C, Johnny U, Nelson, Paul, Tod, Jesse, Kip, the cornflakes guy + Group E "...Were you in Kenselton Hotel?" Paul asked, after a period of stony silence in which Ludlow and John appeared locked in some sort of staredown.
"Yeah," Ludlow said, not removing his gaze from John. "Block L, 29th floor. You?" "Block F, 4th floor."
Tod laughed. "They ran out of space-"
People stared at him. He shut up. Nelson muttered something about how they should have done that earlier and saved him the uncomfortable humiliation of sleeping on the floor.
"How long have you been here?" Conor asked as Ludlow released an increasingly pissed-off John from his glare and started walking towards the fire.
"Five days. Wouldn't have lasted one if that squid hadn't tried to attack us."
And now they saw that the source of the fire was not firewood, but a merrily burning tentacled monster with too many eyes.
"Flammable things," Ludlow continued . "They catch fire when they die. Some kind of post-humous self-defence. Ortiz found out the hard way."
The fire had been started right next to the cave wall, such that its flames licked up the stone and heated up a series of narrow ledges, on which several dead fish were being slowly cooked. Near it, a group of five or six teenagers were staring suspiciously at the newcomers. One turned his head and muttered something at the others. They continued staring suspiciously at them, and one leapt to his feet as Tod reached out a tentative hand to the fish.
"That's ours," the teen said, and Tod reluctantly withdrew his hand.
"This has gotta have been planned," Johnny said to no one in particular.
"What?" asked Eric.
"Both groups of us end up in the same place within walking distance of each other, just four days apart. What are the chances it's a coincidence?"
"*hungry*," vibed the cornflakes guy, but no one was paying attention to him. He felt sad. He missed not-Tim. Not-Tim looked after him. Not-Tim understood him and didn't ignore him. ":(," he concluded.
"There might've just been a small pool of possible destinations," Conor said.
Ludlow snorted. "If you're hoping for rescue, you can forget it. No one knows where we are, thanks to the f***ing morons who kidnapped that actor and got us all into this shit."
"Hey, that's-" Tod started, then stopped and stumbled back in pain when Johnny and Conor kicked him to shut him up.
"At least we're free now," Johnny pointed out.
"D'you have any food to spare? We're starving," Conor said at the same time in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
"The fishing pond's that way," Ludlow said. "Get Marlon to catch something for you if you want. Keep your f***ing hands off our own food."
# Marlon James was in charge of the fishing. No one else seemed able to catch any fish; the little things were smart enough to swim away from signs of life.
They had considerably larger difficulty in telling the difference between Marlon and an inanimate object. Most of the time, they were too late.
The fishing hole was located farther back in the cave, where the air was warm enough for liquid water to flow. Kip dropped down beside it and got his much wanted drink.
"...You're... disturbing the fish," Marlon said in mild protest.
The fish in question were strange eyeless creatures that looked more than slightly alien, but Ludlow claimed that they were edible, and no one wished to argue.
Throwing the fish through the flames proved to be a most inefficient – albeit fun – way of getting them cooked, and they finally resorted to acting like civilised humans and placing the fish next to the other cooking fish.
They tasted like chicken.
# Group D: Neo, Eddie, not-Tim Eventually, not-Tim got off the bed and headed for the door. Neo stepped aside to let him pass, watching as he went into the common room.
Crackly noises were soon heard from that direction. Not-Tim poked his head out. "Anybody hungry?" he asked.
Neo looked at Eddie and motioned out at the corridor before going out himself, hands in pockets. Eddie got up and joined them.
A small pile of potato chips, biscuits and other assorted snacks were on the kitchen counter.
"Lunch," not-Tim explained. "I don't think they've resumed the food supply."
Eddie picked up a packet of chips and tore it open.
"The cooks might still be there," Neo said. "We could ask them-"
"Then they'll know I'm here. They'd take me away and leave you two behind."
"Who was that old man just now?" Neo asked.
"I don't know. He says his name is Dem."
"What does he want with you?"
A pause. "He wants me never to have come here," not-Tim said. "Apparently it interfered with his plans for multiverse domination or something. He said he could... rewind time, back a week, and this time I don't set foot here. So the whole operation continues, more of you get brought over, get killed now and then by the public..."
"And if you say no, he kills us anyway?"
"Yeah. But it's twenty or thirty lives against thousands." Not-Tim ripped open a packet of coffee with a bit too much force.
"I thought the others got out," Neo said.
"Apparently they didn't."
# Group B: Shane, Perry, Tommy, Chris, Matt
Soon they started off in silence, following Matt's lead, though in this place there was no chance of getting lost. They half-crawled, half-walked on in the red light as the height of the tunnel varied, hoping for an end, and trying not to think of Jjaks Clayton or whether they might ever see home again.
"I hope this thing ends somewhere," Shane said as they entered yet another corridor and proceeded to make it wetter than it had initially been.
"At least it's not a maze," Chris said hopefully, when they turned around another corner and the tunnel chose that exact moment to branch out into two. A blank wall right ahead of them, spreading smoothly out into the distance; openings at right-angles to it on their left and right.
Chris concluded that the universe hated him.
Matt halted and looked back. He was developing several serious anger issues towards the architect of this place. "Left or right?" he asked.
"Left," Shane decided. "Just keep going left if it splits again. That way we won't get lost."
"If we go left twice, we'll end up moving backwards," Tommy pointed out.
"That's assuming that the tunnels are all at right-angles to each other," Perry said, sitting down and leaning against the tunnel wall.
"What if they are?" Chris asked.
The question hung in the air between the five of them. The absence of Jjaks was suddenly more palpable.
Tommy ran a finger to and fro along the groove where the wall met floor, welcoming the mindless activity.
"Okay," Shane said. "Let's say this is North." He pointed at the wall ahead of them. "We just keep in that direction. So we'll go left now and hope that the tunnel turns right and keeps on more or less in a northwards direction. We'll have to get out eventually."
"What if we don't?" asked Chris, who had developed a sudden penchant for rhetorical questions. "Maybe this whole place is closed up. We don't even know where we are. Like... what if this was just some drainage pipe or something?"
"There wasn't any other way out-" Shane started.
"-Maybe we didn't look hard enough," Perry said. "Or maybe there was never meant to be a way out."
The beginnings of claustrophobia started to rise at the edges of their minds.
"It's not like we can go back," Tommy said, looking more subdued than he had been all his time in Kenselton Hotel. He managed a laugh that sounded fake even to his own ears. "I mean... because... that... that thing that ate..."
He broke off with a grimace, a faraway look in his eyes.
"Left it is," Shane said firmly. "Lead the way, Matt."
# Group C: Griffin, Kevin, Scott, Julian, Ron
"I think I found a light-"
Click.
Light flooded the room.
DEAD ROTTING BODIES DRAPED ALL OVER THE FURNITURE
Light hurriedly un-flooded the room.
The sounds of hyperventilating took its place.
"Did you see... did you see..."
"Whoa."
"Why'd you turn off-"
"NO! DON'T TURN IT ON AGAIN! Just... okay. Okay. AGH! WHO GRABBED ME-"
Ron sighed and turned the lights on again.
DEAD ROTTING BODIES STILL DRAPED ALL OVER THE FURNITURE
Griffin let go of Julian, who stumbled back and tried to compose himself, although composing oneself is hard when surrounded by dead people doing just the opposite.
It's okay, Julian told himself. He was a doctor. He'd seen worse. Except that those tended not to be draped all over furniture and STARING AT YOU FROM THE DEPTHS OF ROTTING EYE SOCKETS-
Kevin looked slightly more than faintly sick.
They started unconsciously moving towards each other, in need for live company.
"What is this place?" Scott asked. "And why's there no smell?"
Julian mumbled something about acclimatisation.
"Anyone see Donnie around?" Griffin asked.
"Let's get out of here," Julian said. "Now."
No one seemed to disagree, so they headed towards the door and got out of there into the relative safety of the corridor. Scott located the light switch and turned that on.
Silence.
"No," Kevin said. "No."
"It's not our floor," Ron said hollowly. "We... There wasn't an end room leading from the corridor, just the stairwell... Different block..."
Scott quietly walked ahead and pushed open the next nearest door. Light from the corridor leaked in and revealed the familiar sight of a Kenselton Hotel common room. Only there were more corpses lying about; most of them down by the floor, huddled together in death.
"What's this supposed to be? The future?" Ron asked when they came over to look.
"I thought everyone else got out," Kevin said.
"Could be an alternate future," Griffin said. He left them and walked down the corridor to the other end, pulling that open; this one opened into the front stairwell, and by the light of the corridor and that spilling out from the ajar door of the small lift lobby, he could make out the painted label on the wall.
"Block H," he announced, his voice echoing in the empty stairwell. "Thirty-second floor." He looked back at the others and gave a weird grin. "Wanna check out the fourth floor of Block F? Chance of a lifetime!"
"If this is Kenselton, all the machines that brought us over should be around, right?" Julian asked as they started walking towards the stairwell, pointedly ignoring Griffin. "Top floor," he continued. "That's where we arrived. Let's go there."
Griffin looked disappointed that no one else seemed interested in visiting the fourth floor of Block F.
"Lights are on," Scott commented redundantly as they entered the lift lobby, the dead, static glow of the lamp casting their shadows on the wall.
Ron hit the call button for the lift. The lighted numbers above it showed it slowly descending from the forty-second floor.
"At least the elevator still works," Kevin said in American.
The lift arrived, its doors opening.
Griffin strolled in. Julian looked at the others, then went in, the rest following after. The door shut on them, and they slowly rose up to the top floor and whatever it might hold.
# Group D: Neo, Eddie, not-Tim "Hello!" Dem said, appearing out of nowhere.
"Stay away from us!" Neo shouted.
"I don't think I will, Mr. Anderson," Dem said. "Now excuse us for a moment-" He grabbed not-Tim, and the both of them vanished from the room.
Not-Tim wrested his arm out of Dem's grip, and met no resistance; they were already at their destination, a small, cosy room with two comfortable squashy armchairs.
"Sit down," Dem offered.
"No thanks, I'll stand."
Dem shrugged and sat down. "I suppose you still haven't changed your mind?"
No response.
"All right. How about I change the deal a little. Do what I told you, and I'll ensure that all of your characters survive. Even the dead ones. Turn back the clock – they don't have to die this time. Jjaks. Alex. Jack. Of course, I'll probably have to make it up with other people, but you don't need to worry about those. They've got nothing to do with you. What do you say to that?"
No response.
Dem took out a most excellently tasty bit of cheese from his pocket and munched on it. One of the great things about interdimensional travel is that you can get the best cheese in the multiverse.
"I'm sure you've noticed something by now," he said. "None of your characters came from where you left them. Most are slightly older, some are slightly younger. Ted's only fifteen, because of... events that happened a while back that put a different time marker on his universe when the machine hooked on to it. Neo hasn't finished the sequel storylines, same reason.
"Others have started families. These are real people, Keanu. They have lives outside of the two hours you gave them. They have friends and family who care about them and would like to know where they've disappeared to. It's been a week. The universes were locked in temporal sync when they got taken. A week here, a week there. There are a lot of parents out there sick with worry-"
Not-Tim gave a cynical laugh. "How's this supposed to convince me to allow even more people to be taken?"
"...Er," said Dem. He put the most excellently tasty cheese away. Though it was most excellently tasty, it tended to distract him from thinking clearly. "Show a little selfishness, will you?" he said instead. "The point is that those people won't necessarily die. They might still have a chance of going home. They'd get over it eventually. Whereas dead people never go home. ...Hang on a bit. Some visual aid might help."
"What-"
Dem vanished.
"..." said not-Tim, but before he had time to wonder if he was trapped in the room and start to panic, Dem reappeared with his arm tight around the neck of a struggling Keanu-spawn.
Not-Tim blinked. "Winston-"
The teen had stopped struggling somewhat, taking relief in the warmth after the stark cold of the mountain cave. "Who are you?" he gasped out, trying to pry Dem's arm from his neck.
"He's the one responsible for your life," Dem answered. "And the one who'll be responsible for your death."
Dem was groping in his pocket with his free hand, looking for his gun. There was a heck lot of most excellently tasty cheese in there. Cheese, cheese, cheese, fishcake, cheese... ah, there's the gun; oh crap, that Reeves guy had just gone kung fu on him and that kind of hurt and whoa that kid could bite; and suddenly Dem felt the gun yanked out of his grip and pointed at him.
He sighed.
Not-Tim shot him, his other arm protectively around Winston.
Dem looked at the bullet hole and shrugged. "You can't kill me," he said. "I'm immortal."
Not-Tim let go of Winston and nodded. "Okay," he said with a wry smile. "Right. But I'm not. Find someone else to play your little game."
And he shot himself in the head.
# 'Caution: Dry Floor' read the sign that greeted not-Tim when he opened his eyes. He stared at it, and then at the subtitle beneath: "Not Suitable for Dead Fish".
Not-Tim sat up slowly and put a hand to the spot on his head where the bullet had entered; there was nothing there now.
He looked up. Not too far from him was a counter, and behind it a teenage boy engaged in an engrossing game of Icy Tower.
Not-Tim got up and walked up to him. "Uh," he started, "where am I?"
The teen glanced briefly at him, then did a double take and half-fell out of his chair, stumbling backwards and taking with him the computer mouse and a stack of papers. He got back to his feet, hyperventilating as he backed against the wall.
"Third mother of Zarquon," he breathed. "It's Keanr Reeves."
Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.
'Keanr'? not-Tim wondered in puzzlement as he went behind the counter to the teen, whose nametag identified him as Taxon. Not-Tim shook him, but Taxon was out cold.
Not-Tim looked back up. On the desk was a standard short-FAQ: "Am I dead? Yes. Really? Yes. Where's the toilet? Down the corridor, third door to your left."
A funny sound from the computer indicated that Taxon had just lost his Icy Tower game. Stacked next to the computer were a mess of dodgy-looking DVDs, including three which proudly identified themselves as the Matirx trilogy starring Keanr Reeves.
Original DVDs were hard to come by in the afterlife.
Not-Tim looked around helplessly. He shook Taxon again, to no avail.
He sat down in the chair and looked at the computer. The computer looked back at him and asked if he wished to start a new game.
What's the worst that could happen? he wondered, then clicked 'Instructions', read through, and in several seconds was happily engaged in a game of Icy Tower.
# Winston had pressed himself against the wall and was in the midst of some serious hyperventilating, his gaze shifting from Dem to dead!not-Tim on the ground.
Dem was looking rather mournfully at the latter. "Bummer," he said.
He looked at Winston. "I suppose there's no point in killing you now, is there?" he asked. "Oh well. Want to go home?"
"What?" Winston asked. "What kind of a question is that?"
"I take that as a yes," Dem said, and teleported Winston home.
Seconds later found Winston back in his bedroom a week after he had left it, feeling lost and confused and wondering what he would tell his parents.
His thoughts went briefly back to the others presumably still in the cave: Rupert, Derek, Martin...
He'd never got the chance to say goodbye.
Chapter 18 »
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