The dull throbbing that pounded away inside Wyatt’s head was threatening to turn his skull into nothing but a pile of delusional mush.
Everything felt heavy; his heart, his limbs, his brain. They all felt detached and useless, like there were cement blocks attached to every able part of him. His aching bones pleaded to be cracked and used, awoken from the deep sleep that the rest of his body was facing. However, he wasn’t able to clearly make out the thought. Everything was fuzzy and incoherent. Everything that his mind was trying to tell him sounded like jarble from another language. Even though he knew from the dirty sensation on his right cheek that he was lying horizontally, he still felt like he was about to throw up.
Truthfully, he couldn’t make out any thought at all. All his brain could register was darkness, and the blackness that were the inside of his eyelids.
Swirls inside of his head promised gruesome outcomes if he dared do anything drastic. It was as if his body was being taken hostage by his brain, offering to stay put in exchange for the ability to move himself.
It had taken a moment before he had finally had enough, and his head could finally function again. The second it did, Wyatt let out a cacophony of lung wrenching coughs that tore through his throat like razor blades. He still didn’t have the energy to bring a hand to his mouth politely. The more his face moved, the more it ended up dirtying itself as it dug itself further into the terrain underneath. By now, his cheek had surely been painted a color much darker than his skin.
He wasn’t sure how much longer had passed before his coughing fit had went away. His throat was left dry and scratched. How long had it been since he had something to drink? He felt like it had been an eternity, and then some.
Wyatt just barely cracked open his eyes. They were crusted and gross, like the result of a perpetual nap. His vision was blurry and unfocused, persuading him to let out a mental sigh before ultimately closing them again.
Ugh.
His head felt like it had been run over by a freight train. Never, before, had he felt this way.
At least, he could register his movements. He had enough of his strength, now, after waiting a while. He brought up his right hand, and rested it on his forehead. He could feel the dirt and grime on his fingertips, but he didn’t care. He’d kill for some aspirin. He could only compare this feeling to waking up at the wee hours of the morning, and just wanting to go back to sleep. Except the urge was a thousand times worse.
Each time one of his body parts moved, it stung. Was he bleeding? He sure felt like he was. He kept his eyes closed, and continued to try and calm his mind-splitting headache. He didn’t even bother to sit up yet. He just didn’t have it in him.
It all hurt, stung with the intensity of a hundred waterfalls. He could feel his breathing was wrong, his chest pressing up against the hard soil underneath him. Even parting his mouth didn’t help very much.
He didn’t know how long he sat there. It could have been minutes, or hours. In his eyes, he felt like he hadn’t moved from that one spot in years. It was like that spot on the ground was his domain, and it always had been. As incorrect as he was, that still didn’t deter him from trying to get up after a while.
He kept his eyes closed, trying to make the headache go away mentally. He placed his hands on the ground flatly, and pushed up. Tucking in his knees and letting out a pained grunt, he finally made it to some kind of position that mimicked one that would beg for forgiveness, on all fours. By the time he stopped moving, he wished he hadn’t. His body was bombarded with aching muscles and weakened bones that throbbed and begged for relief. In fact, he had almost fell back to the ground.
“Auughh…”
He could feel his longer black hair resting on his cheeks, being pulled down to the ground. It felt dirty as well, like he had taken a bath in a mudslide. His clothes were stained with marks from the earth. The knees of his khaki pants were covered in dark blotches of black and brown, and his chestnut colored t-shirt was now the color of bats.
Wyatt opened his eyes. The first thing they focused on was the soft dirt below him, and his arms that kept him propped in the position like he was. He could see the small particles of soil, beautifully untouched and fresh. His first immediate thought was that he passed out in some kind of garden. However, he dismissed that idea near milliseconds after.
He tried to form words, just to make sure that he could. “Wha… I…”
He thought the words he was trying to say: What happened?
He let another distressed grunt escape his chapped lips. He pushed off with his arms, until he was finally sitting on his knees. At first, he kept his head low. It took him energy that he didn’t even have just to do simple things, like use own body. After a minute, he pulled his head upwards, only to have his face ruthlessly scorched at the sight of the sun. He growled, and forcefully thrusted his head back down, stars and swirls filling his vision. His eyes were on fire, like someone had traded his corneas for jalapeno peppers.
He bared his teeth, the pain of it all making his body shiver with torment. He brought a quivering hand up to his face, using it like a makeshift visor, and peered out towards his surroundings.
He was in a field. Long, wistful curtains of grass emerged from the earth around him, dancing in the limelight of the sun. The field went on for as long as the eye could see. Nothing but a sea of green before him. He squinted his eyes, and could barely make out some sort of rugged mountain miles upon miles away. To his right and left, were tall trees that rose higher than any skyscraper that he’d ever seen. They had gigantic viridescent leaves that only piqued his curiosity a little bit more. I’m… near some kind of forest? Or mountain, maybe? Perhaps his eyes were just playing tricks on him.
The skies above his were clear, void of any blemish or cloud. The only thing above him was the sun that continued to pour waves upon waves of light down onto his unprotected face. He could feel the head radiate from his features.
His eyes were beginning to adjust. He removed his hand from his face, keeping his mouth parted as he gazed upon the land with confusion. The air that filled his lungs was insanely pure, and it tickled his lungs whenever he managed to inhale.
He sat and stared. It was the only thing he could bring himself to do. He took deep breathes, and relished the fact that his headache was slowly begin to dissipate. Wyatt was confused and almost delirious. So many questions were running through his head. Where, Who, Why, How, What? Each and every one of the five interconnecting and jabbing at his brain like an arrowhead set on fire.
What was the last thing he could remember? For the love of God, what was it?
Ah, yes! He mentally patted himself on the back when the memory finally came floating back to him. The last thing that he remembered was that he was… somewhere. It was strange. He could remember a mere snapshot from the memory, but he could not recall it being played out. It was like someone had hit pause on that scene in his brain. He could remember sitting somewhere at a table, drinking some coffee and talking to someone. Of course, he couldn’t remember who.
Even though it was the last thing Wyatt could remember, it still didn’t answer any of his questions. In fact, it only added to them.
With a tired groan, he tried to muster up his strength and get to his feet. Unfortunately, the idea didn’t last very long. The moment he tried to balance without the help of the ground or his arms, he tumbled forward—his legs completely giving up on him.
He collapsed back into the dirt, skinning his palms on the earth. Wyatt dove his head back into the soil, and whimpered. He balled up his fists, before letting his body relax. He almost had it. Just… need a minute, he thought. I’ll be ready to go in just a minute.
He felt like he was being acupunctured, like he was a voodoo doll covered with pins. His entire body tingled, and he could feel himself being poked and prodded. If Wyatt had ever suffered from some kind of electric shock, he assumed that what he was feeling now would be similar.
He had to get up. He had to figure out where he was. Lying there wasn’t going to fix anything, rendered immobile or not.
Wyatt narrowed his eyes, flaring them with determination. With another small push up—and a bit of effort—he was back on his knees again, like before.
He was gaining his strength back, slowly but surely. He couldn’t help but wonder why he was so drained in the first place. He set his hands in his lap, and looked up towards the sky, swishing a bit of his hair out of his face. He needed a haircut. It was starting to get a bit long, and too wavy for his liking.
He was in the midst of breathing out a sigh when he heard something.
A sound.
Wyatt stopped in his tracks, his heart thumping just a little harder inside of his chest. He jerked his head in a primal effort to help him hear better. His green eyes were wide. Was it some kind of animal? He surely hoped not. Though, the chances that someone simply passing through this conviently was slim.
He was lost, either way, and could use some help. Wyatt was unaware of just where in the world he was.
He had mixed feelings about the sound, but he had a clear idea of just where it was coming from. He threw his glances over in the direction, and watched expectantly. It crossed his mind to call out. After all, if it was an animal, he could just scare it away. He opened his mouth, and inhaled.
And burst into another fit of throat-ripping coughs.
He brought his hand to his chest, and coughed until he was certain that there was nothing left. A few tears slid down his cheeks, brought forth from the sheer velocity of his hopeless hacking. Each cough put him into further into a deeper state of depression in itself.
Whatever it was out there, Wyatt was sure that it had heard him.
And it was coming closer. He suddenly felt like a giant target.
The sounds resonating from the forest only increased in volume, only confirming his fears. “Who…” He couldn’t raise his voice. He was forced to talk at the same volume as one would in a standard classroom. He needed something to drink, immediately. He squinted, and looked towards the foliage not-so-far away from him.
The bushes on the outskirts of the forest began to rustle a little bit, approximately twenty feet away. He heard a voice, a woman’s.
“I’m getting another reading from over here,” said the female voice. She was talking fairly loud. Or, maybe that’s just another side effect from whatever Wyatt was experiencing. Nonetheless, it made his slight nervousness wane, sending his heartbeat back to its original frequency.
Another voice, this one belonging to what Wyatt assumed was an older man. “About time,” he said. “Been running around all damn day looking for this one.”
This only added to the amount of question’s Wyatt had. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to think about it.
From beyond the brush, two creatures emerged. It took almost a half second for them to find and lay eyes upon him. If Wyatt could have, he would’ve let out a startled shriek. Instead, he jumped, and fell onto his back with his heartbeat taking a turn for the worse. The mere sight of what beheld him threatened to make him even weaker than what he already was.
They were some kind of horse-like creature. They stared at him with gigantic eyes, like the sight of Wyatt was something that made their day. Their large, beady orbs were almost the size of his entire head. Like normal horses, they bore long manes and tails that almost touched the floor. Hell, one of them flicked its every moment of so, like the way Wyatt observed when he was at the zoo. They had heavy hooves, and large heads that only panicked him further. While they were smaller than most horses he’d ever seen, that didn’t stop him from scampering back a few feet in fright.
They were odd colors. One of them was shorter than the other. The shorter one was a bright pink, and the other was a dull orange, like a foggy sunrise.
The pink one bore a large horn. It was planted right in the middle of its forehead, and was roughly a foot in length. It was pointed.
Did the voices Wyatt heard come from them? T-There’s no way. Horses cannot talk. That’d just be silly.
“There you are,” said the taller one, lowly. He wasn’t sure if he had heard him correctly. The near-constant ringing in his ears made sure of that. Wyatt presumed from the voice that the taller of the two was the male, the one that sounded like an older man.
The pink abomination shot him a nasty glare, and prodded his side roughly with one of her appendages, as if she was telling him to shut up. The other obliged, and cleared his throat.
Wyatt was tongue tied, unable to piece together any sort of sentence properly. The desperate questions in his head were so jumbled at this point that there was no way he’d be able to get a proper phrase out. Surely, his eyes were playing tricks on him. He scurried back a few inches, about ready to make a break for it. What… what are you? He felt like he was staring into the eyes of a monster.
The smaller one, the female, must have taken notice of his nervousness. She held a foreleg in the air, defensively. Is she…?
“Whoa, whoa! Don’t run! We’re harmless!” Her voice was like that of honey, dripping sweetness from every single letter that she dropped from her mouth. Her voice reminded Wyatt of his mother. She had some kind of knapsack on her back. She slid it off, and slowly began to open it up. Reaching inside, Wyatt clenched his eyelids shut.
The girl monster pulled out a small, circular canteen, and held it out to him with a kine smile. “Thirsty, hmm?”
Wyatt’s eyes must have lit up, because the male horse snickered.
“Who…” Wyatt started to cough again, and brought his forearm up to his mouth. The two creatures merely watched, as if they were amused. At one point, he was fairly certain that the male horse whispered something to the female. Though, she ignored him. At least, that’s what Wyatt speculated.
“Shhh,” cooed the female. She took a small step forward. Wyatt forced himself to stop coughing, burning his throat, and averted his attention back to the two horse-monsters in front of him.
Never, ever had he seen or heard of these strange creatures before. Although they resembled horses, their eyes and heads—not to include the female’s horn—clouded his thoughts. The fact that they talked only frightened him further. What are you? he found himself thinking.
They continued to take a few steps closer, sending more adrenaline pounding through the young man’s body. “We’re not going to hurt you,” said the female.
Where was he? What were these creatures? What if they were dangerous?
What if they were dangerous…?
“S-Stay away,” Wyatt croaked. He held up a open palm in their direction, like some kind of crossing guard. The creatures immediately halted. The male turned to the female, whispering away once again.
They were only fifteen feet away. Wyatt’s eyes were wide with terror, staring at the abominations with some kind of twisted mix of intrigue and fear. He scooted back a few feet, hoping that his body wouldn’t betray him in any way. While Wyatt was a trackstar back in his high-school days, that didn’t mean squat when he couldn’t stand up in the first place.
“Sorry, sorry!” said the female. The canteen was still outstretched, and she shook it in her grasp as if to tempt him with it. Unfortunately, it was working. “You look awful thirsty, is all.”
Wyatt tried to swallow, but he just couldn’t. He needed that water more than anything. He felt like he had just gargled sand, and pondered if his last meal was the entire Gobi Desert. However, he wasn’t an idiot. He had no idea what those creatures were capable of. What if the water was poisoned, or they attacked him the moment he got close?
“We’re not going to hurt you. Please,” said the male. His eyes kept flicking behind Wyatt. For some reason, he didn’t pay it much attention.
“We were wandering past. We live around here. You seem lost, and we only want to help,” said the female serenely, her voice brimming with sincerity. Wyatt’s heart dropped a little bit, but he refused to let down his guard. He didn’t trust this at all. He had a good deceit detector. Why would creatures like this be so kind to him? Shouldn’t they be afraid just as much as he was? Why weren’t these monsters making any sense?
Wyatt was growing very skeptical. “G-go away. Liars! M-monsters!” Wyatt rasped again, scooting back a ways. Once again, they were roughly twenty feet apart again. The female took it upon herself to match Wyatt’s pace, walking at such a speed so he couldn’t necessarily get away.
“Please, let us help you! We’re not monsters!”
“We’re not out to inflict harm,” the male chimed. He followed closely behind the female. It was obvious that the female was in charge. This only made Wyatt fear her the most. Her yellow eyes freaked him out. They focused in on him like sunny, hypnotic globes that wanted to wrap him in some kind of warm—false—embrace. Wyatt faltered, and slipped. He slammed his shoulder on the dirt, sending a small ripple of pain through his upper torso.
While Wyatt was fairly muscular, he was very susceptible to pain. He let out a small hiss of displeasure, before readjusting himself back into his position. He must have looked like some kind of strange crab. “Please… just l-leave me alone!”
These monsters were up to something. He didn’t trust them. He never believed that there were monsters under his bed as a child, and he was certain that he shouldn’t fall prey to this.
The male flicked his eyes again, occasionally looking from Wyatt, to something behind him. He finally caught on. His eyes went wide as he realized something critical.
Wyatt turned his gaze, and looked behind him.
There was another creature, a large white one, not even five feet away. His eyes were large, and dilated, like he had been caught committing a crime. Had Wyatt had his voice, he would have cried out at the top of his lungs. The sight of the behemoth made him jump, and almost lose his balance entirely. Obviously, it was just as stunned as he was, standing completely frozen.
He’s… trying to sneak up on me?!
“Get ‘im!” shouted the orange male, his voice ringing in Wyatt’s ears like he had just sounded off a gong. The white thing snapped out of it. It charged the young man, while the female dove for her knapsack. The ivory male let loose some kind of stunning war cry, and quickly began to close the short distance between them.
Wyatt barely had time to react. He mustered his strength and rolled to his right, just as the large monster jumped for him.
It was sent sprawling in the grass, colliding into the other male and sending the two into an almost comedic tumble. Limbs and curses were thrown everywhere, giving Wyatt just the prompting he needed to get out of there.
“Get off me, you lug!” shouted the orange horse, who was attempting to push and shove the mammoth off of him. The female ditched her bag, and ran to help her friends get off the ground.
Wyatt turned onto his stomach, and planted his shoes into the dirt.
I gotta get outta here!
It took a lot more strength than he would have thought, but he just barely got to his feet. Unfortunately, he almost immediately fell back down onto his knees, sending him into another fit of coughs and tingling sensories. He compelled himself to ignore it, and tried to get up once more. He wobbled, before making another attempt to make a break for it.
The two ponies had finished untangling themselves, and were just getting to their feet. The white stallion was now the color of the dirt below him, and the orange one bore a small cut to his chin. “Hey! Get back here!” he shouted. His eyes were enraged and fiery.
The adrenaline that pumped through Wyatt’s bones was music to his ears. He shakily got to his feet, and didn’t even try to balance himself before he tried to bolt. Placing one foot in front of the other, he wheezed and panted tiredly in a desperate attempt to get away from the monsters that pursued him.
After four steps, he fell.
This time, he slammed his head into the dirt, sending another round of dull throbbing through his head. He groaned from his new position on the ground, and closed his eyes.
He was going to die. These monsters were going to kill him right then and there. He was never so sure of anything else in his life.
His world was spinning like a dreidel, threatening to send his mind into an unwelcomed insanity that he just didn’t need. No more. Please, no more suffering. I can’t move. If only he could. He would be a mile away by now, probably somewhere safe and far away.
When he opened his eyes seconds later, the three monsters were staring down at him. The males were bearing some kind of grin that made Wyatt sick to his stomach. It was like one a hunter had after he just caught his trophy buck. The female was grabbing something out of her bag. Somehow, she still hadn’t managed to retrieve whatever it was she intending to get. She had an annoyed expression on her face, and she was muttering something underneath her breath.
It was some kind of sack.
The female smiled, kindly. The same one that she had given Wyatt only a few minutes prior to his attack.
“I lied,” she chuckled.
Before Wyatt could even register her words, she thrust the sack over his head, and then all he saw was darkness.
Why?
Why was his skull beginning to throb again? He was certain that he was just starting to get over the pain from the last headache. Even though his entire world was near black, he could feel a bruise welling up on the back of his dome. That stupid potato sack was still over his head, cutting him off from the outside world and preventing him from anything that might ease the fire that burned underneath it.
The outside world.
He could feel a sensation from beneath him. His seat would occasionally rock and jump, causing his body to sway and jolt in various directions involuntarily. He could hear gravel from somewhere, and the sound of wooden wheels turning. The sounds matched that of a horse-drawn carriage. Wyatt wasn’t entirely sure. He’d never ridden on one prior. Never had he really had a desire to.
He still didn’t.
He could hear the sounds of hooves, and they came from directions all around him. The sound was a rusty nail being driven deeper and deeper into his forehead. Perhaps it was just in spite of his last encounter with the horse-like monsters in the first place.
He felt himself grow more and more restless as time went on. He kept replaying the scene prior in his head, like he was fast forwarding and rewinding a movie. Wyatt kept analyzing every single thing, and played out different scenarios in his head. He pondered what would have happened if he just picked his pathetic self up and bolted, or if he could have just fought them off. While Wyatt wasn’t skilled, he felt like a few well-placed punches would do the trick. He wasn’t sure—since he was on the ground the entire time—but it looked like the monsters were only half his size, with the larger one only coming up to what he guessed was his chest.
Luckily for him, his grogginess was beginning to wane. He felt rested, strangely enough. He felt much stronger than earlier. Perhaps that blow to the head was just what he needed. At least he could think clearly. In a situation like this, Wyatt was glad that he at least had his thoughts to keep him sane.
His hands were tied behind his back. That long fact didn’t take Wyatt very long to figure out.They rested behind him, making him feel like he was next in line for execution. He could feel a small chill slither its way down his back.
Where were they taking him? Were they going to kill him?
Those five words. Those five words put together was enough to put a major jolt into Wyatt’s mindset. He could see into the future—his wide, wet eyes pleading for mercy on their own as his head was placed in some kind of guillotine. He had no idea what these creatures were capable of, and at this point he didn’t want to know. He did tuck and roll, back in that field. He did end up getting one of those monsters hurt, albeit it was nothing more than a healable cut. Though he felt little remorse, he wondered if he was going to get his comeuppance for it sometime in the future.
Probably.
More likely than not, actually.
Every so often, the vehicle jerked him, causing him to sway to his left or right. Occasionally, he would end up bumping into something next to him. Wyatt didn’t exactly think twice about it.
“Ugh…” he groaned. Oddly enough, his throat was no longer scratchy and dry, giving him an almost false sense of security. “W-where--?”
From somewhere to his right, he heard an exasperated sigh. “Great, one of ‘em’s awake.” The voice was young, and male. Wyatt hung his head, letting it shake and swing with the movements of the carriage. The last thing he wanted to do was to piss any of them off. He tried to play it off like he was still unconscious, even though he knew it was a stupid idea.
Another voice, this one a little bit older and gravelly than the one before it. “Just let ‘em be, Star. We’re almost there.”
The bruise on the back of Wyatt’s head pulsated. He innately moved his bound wrists around, rubbing his wrists against the ropey material. He tried to slip one of his hands out, but it was to no avail. They were just too tight. He only ended up with sore, red wrists. Well, it was worth a shot. Even if his restraints were loose—which was unlikely in itself—it wasn’t as if he had a plan after that.
His only option was to sit there, and wait to see what the future held for him.
The questions that formed in his head had been slowly sorting themselves out as time went on, though the possibility of asking them were almost next to nil. The silent trepidation was growing inside of him, forming some kind of palpable mush inside of his chest that churned with each and every heartbeat. He let out a small, shaky breath, and pushed the feeling away.
The five minutes that passed felt like a year. Every movement that he made was pure agony, as his unease only managed to increase. His leg bounced up and down like a pogo stick, and his head continued to towards the bottom of the carriage. The sack over his face was quickly becoming just another one of his enemies.
It was weird. The hardly noticeable light that filtered through the very small cracks in Wyatt’s sack had vanished, leaving him in a darkness worse than what he was experiencing earlier. It was almost as if someone had simply turned out the lights. He could no longer feel the wind sliding along his dirt-ridden face. The road underneath the carriage was no longer gravelly, but more so metallic and dull. Wyatt swallowed his spit, and slightly lifted his head up
Near seconds later, his sack was forcibly ripped off from his head.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but it was much easier considering that he was no longer outside. A few locks of his hair had been shifted, placing themselves right in the midst of his view. Blinking and lightly shaking his head, Wyatt coerced his eyes to listen to him, and focus.
He was correct in deducing that he was in some kind of carriage. It was wooden. The entire thing appeared very rickety and unstable, like it might fall apart at any minute. Wyatt immediately felt at risk for injury. In some places, including the floor or the carriage, he could see small cracks in the wood, indicating use and wear.
Upon further inspection, Wyatt deduced that a hippopotamus could have easily rested inside of it, and still have space to roll about. There were two of the monsters in front of the cart. They sported some kind of meticulous silver helmet with emblems that Wyatt couldn’t make out. The creatures pulled the cart along with little to no effort. Neither of them bore horns like the pink female earlier. Perhaps it was just that one? he pondered.
Wyatt turned his attention back to the beings in front of him. Not only did the creatures have horns, but they could fly as well. A yellow monster with small, feathery wings and another silver helmet, was sitting making his way around the cart, taking sacks off of other beings seated all around him. It’d snatch the sacks away before moving to the next one, as if it was slightly afraid.
Upon shifting his gaze and taking in the rest of his surroundings, Wyatt eyes grew wide.
The ceilings rose up higher than any building he’d ever been inside of before, seemingly piercing the heavens and giving Wyatt a slight sense of vertigo. He felt like he was inside some kind of futuristic castle. He could look up and see the different open floors above him. There appeared to be a million of them, and they wrapped around him in a large circle. Almost every inch of the mile-high walls were covered in steel bars that created a strange pattern, similar to that on the helmets of the other carriage pullers were wearing. The spots that weren’t covered in bars were starch white, similar to a hospital. The entire circular room had a radius of about 250 feet, if Wyatt had to take a poor estimate.
He was in a jail.
A prison.
There was only one other thing that surprised him more so than that lone fact.
Inside of the cart, he was not alone. Lumps of varying sizes littered the seats around him.
Other humans.
There were roughly fifteen other seated in the cart with him. All shapes, colors, sizes, genders. Their wrists were all bound together, much like Wyatt’s. A few of them squinted, just waking up from their groggy stupor. A girl a little older than Wyatt had tears freely falling down her face, smearing what little bit of makeup she had left. She mimicked a racoon, now. A teenager next to Wyatt was actively struggling with his restraints, grunting and shuffling his body in a desperate effort to free himself. He bumped into Wyatt fairly often, resulting in him shoving the other teen away, gently.
Most of the humans were just as confused as he was, taking in the sights of both the architecture that hung high and the monsters that surrounded them.
“Rise and shine,” said the yellow monster after he removed the last person’s mask. Wyatt stared at him, as if the creature would set him free with a well placed, sorrowful glance. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t work, and the being turned around to speak to the other things that pulled the carriage itself.
He had to stop and think. The amount of strength that it takes to pull something this big, as well as all these people was astounding. Wyatt was suddenly very glad that that small fight back there hadn’t escalated.
Anyways, his hindsight was the least of his worries. Wyatt was dumbfounded. He simply stared at the other people with astonishment, as well as a deep feeling of dread. We’ve been kidnapped? he screamed to himself. Is that what this is? His wide eyes frantically shifted from person to person, searching for something that he wasn’t even sure of. He opened his mouth, and let loose the question that everyone in that cart was thinking. “W-What’s going on here? Where are you taking us?”
Only about half of the group looked. It was odd that the ones that didn’t turn towards the monster were those who bore bruises and scratches around their arms and faces, like they had gotten into a fight with an enraged cat. Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if all these other people had been jumped like he had, but had put up more of a fight than him.
The dark skinned young man next to Wyatt was growing more and more frustrated, especially upon finally realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to free his wrists anytime soon. When he didn’t hear a response from the yellow monster with wings, he began to holler. “Answer ‘im, man!” His voice ripped through the silence that Wyatt had already begun to know so well.
The horse-creature barely gave the young man a glance, before turning back to his friends. The young man’s upper lip peeled back. Wyatt could hear him seething, but luckily he kept his mouth shut. If the monster was truly afraid of all of them, then Wyatt was glad that it wasn’t looking at the person next to him. Even Wyatt felt a little uneasy.
The rest of the cart went back to minding their own, mainly sitting in their seats waiting for whatever harm was about to come upon them. The cart approached a large jail cell. From where Wyatt was sitting, it looked absolutely massive—the gate itself was ten feet across.
Wyatt looked back at the young man to his right. He didn’t look at day over nineteen. There was a small bruise underneath his left eye, a few shades darker than the color of his skin. He bore a short afro, as well permanent, ugly scowl. He had large lips, and a bulbous nose the size of a large golf ball. Wyatt couldn’t help but notice his clothes: a simple Bucks jersey—one that showed off some rather impressive muscles—and some blue jeans. He looked like a punk, the likes of which Wyatt would currently avoid. Given the circumstances, he set that lone fact aside.
“Psst!”
Even though Wyatt was right next to the guy, he didn’t seem to hear. He was lost in thought, muttering vulgar curses under his breath. After making sure that the monster was busy speaking with his friends, Wyatt turned back to the guy, and tried again.
“Psst, hey!”
This time he heard. He slowly turned his angry glower towards Wyatt. Pearly white teeth were bared, causing Wyatt to shift in his seat a little bit, awkwardly. “Huh?”
“Chill,” he coerced. “Getting angry will only scare them. I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing we wanna do right now.” Wyatt shrugged, while the black guy scoffed, and spat on the wood underneath their feet.
“Whatever. They need to be scared of me. I’ll fuck them up, if I gotta.”
Wyatt frowned, and turned back to the ground. The gentleman wasted no time going back to struggling with his restrains, desperately trying to free himself from his shackles that prevented his freedom. Wyatt looked back up at the rest of the people that were stuck in the cart with them.
Wyatt had never seen a group sadder.
He didn’t have much time to observe, before the cart came to a halt right in front of the barred doors. The yellow being broke his conversation with his friends, and wandered over to the other side of the cart, where he unlocked some kind of fallaway wall. It descended and flipped open, revealing it to be a large ramp that lead straight to the ground.
Wyatt also took note of the monsters that lingered around the exit to the ramp. All of them bore wings, golden armor, and a pointed spear that was already pointing in their direction. It was odd how they all looked exactly the same, either white or black. Wyatt gulped as any thought of escape quickly vanished into thin air. Those wings proved menacing. Getting stabbed was definitely in his bucket list.
“Last load,” the yellow creature shouted to the armored ones. They gave almost no sign that they had heard or even understood his words. They just stared at the group like they were the worst group of people that they ever laid eyes on. He quickly turned to the people on the cart.
“We don’t want any trouble, and I hope none of you of you do either. Please make your way off the cart in an orderly fashion. Let it be known that if you fight or run, you will be forcefully detained. Do not try anything. This is your only warning.”
Wyatt turned to looked at the young man again, but he was staring at the floor again. He could hear his heated breathes pouring from his nostrils. He hoped that the guy had enough sense not to try anything stupid.
The creature went around the cart, one by one, lifting people to their feet and sending them down the ramp. Wyatt was the second to last person off the carriage, with the last one being the black kid. He frowned when the child before him began crying his eyes out when they wouldn’t let him bring his teddy bear along with him. It was left in his seat, propped up like it was a person in its own.
He stepped off the cart, almost tripped over air, and made his way for the large jail cell. A loud bombardment of chattering and voices filled his ears, reminding him of a busy high school gymnasium.
He was almost right.
His eyes went wide when he saw where he was headed.
Wyatt, as well as the other humans in his carriage, were being herded into a some kind of massive, empty holding unit. Looking inside the bars, it must have been at least a hundred feet all around, with tall walls that were stained a somber grey. The only thing inside the room were people.
Dozens upon dozens of people. Humans, just like Wyatt.
The creatures with spears shoved their weapons halfway through the steel bars, evenly spread apart as if they were a makeshift barricade. The yellow one with the silver helmet opened the door, albeit just barely. The humans on the other side made sure to steer clear of the blades, fearing for their lives and what would possibly happen if they tried to make use of the open cell door. Judging from some of their bruises, Wyatt had a feeling that they already knew a bit better. Some of the people in the front even tried to shepherd the younger people away, who had wandered a little too close for comfort.
One by one—again—there were led inside. One of the monsters that held a spear was counting each person that entered. The guy that was next to Wyatt on the cart was looking from the guards, to the door, and back again, multiple times. He sighed, and looked forward again.
Against his wishes, Wyatt was thrown inside of the open cell like a used mule. He heard the one guard count “129,” as soon as the black guy followed behind him. Before anyone had a chance to bum rush to door, it clanked closed behind them. Wyatt could hear the jingle of the locks near milliseconds after.
“This is all for your own good. Every last one of you,” said the yellow abomination, before making his way back to the cart. The guards removed their spears from their positions, taking them back outside their specified holes. The black kid, infuriated, stomped away from the door and deeper into the sea of people where Wyatt quickly lost him.
Wyatt couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t accept the recent events that threatened to turn his life into a living Hell. From waking up in a deserted field, to being attacked and then jailed by monsters. His mind felt completely useless, hardly able to comprehend anything that passed through his line of sight.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Let us out of here!”
“Monsters! We did nothing to you!”
The sounds of protesting that came from the other 128 people were enough to mimic a riot. The moment a few select people took a step closer to the bars, the dozens guards took it upon themselves to jab their spears through their slots. The room was filled with horrified shrieks as those who tried to get closer fell back, nearly getting impaled by the sharp pieces of steel. They scampered away like frightened animals. The room became progressively more crowded, as people fought to get as far away from the blades as possible.
“You hurt us first! We won’t think twice to hurt you!” shouted one of the armored beings. Wyatt couldn’t exactly tell which one, however. In fact, he could barely hear over the panicked shouting. He was a little closer to the guards’ spears than he’d like. “Behave, and step back immediately!”
The guards withdrew their spears moments later. The inside of the crowded jail cell grew warm and chatty, as frightened voices tried to gain information and comfort in the others.
Wyatt turned from the guards to the other hundred or so people that shared the space with him. They looked like normal people. Everyday, average people that Wyatt would probably pass on the street. People who were just as confused and hopeless for answers just as much as he was. People who were scared and afraid for their lives. People who were angry and heated, banging on walls with demands to be set free. People who simply sat in the corners, watching the others. People who cried, unable to believe the lies that their senses were telling them.
A simple look around the room could tell anyone that Wyatt was among some of the only people who were remaining calm.
His wrists were still tied, much like everyone else. His hands were beginning to ache already, cramping and reddening and making the situation just a little bit worse for him. Part of Wyatt wondered if there would be any repercussions to taking off his restrains somehow. Probably, he mused. He didn’t wish to do anything that would spark any kind of unneeded violence. However, this didn’t stop him from hanging onto a sharpened rock that he had found chipped off the cell walls. Just in case.
The crowd slowly began to lower in volume, finally realizing that no one had any answers to their unwavering questions. A mild depression splattered itself across the room, as everyone either took a seat, stood against a wall, or just lied down entirely.
Wyatt tried to analyze it all. Who were these people that were stuck with him? What were those things that resorted to kidnapping him? Where was he, specifically? There were too many questions off the bat that he knew were unanswerable.
These people were absolutely normal, however. He hadn’t noticed a single odd thing about any of them. While Wyatt sat against a wall, organizing his thoughts, he overheard some people chatting amongst themselves. Everyone seemed to have the same story: it was as if they just… poofed, from whatever they were doing, and woke up in some random place before being abducted by the monsters.
Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder why. Why them? None of these people seemed to know each other, or so it seemed. Most of the large group just kept to themselves, and those who did speak to others only did so because they were desperate for some kind of social interaction. It just didn’t make any sense in Wyatt’s mind. There were young children here, with the youngest being the kid from his carriage who was forced to leave his teddy bear behind. Surely, he was no older than eight years old. What did a kid like that ever do to deserve something like this?
As far as Wyatt knew, he was an average individual. As a nineteen year old security guard from the Twin Cities, there was nothing that really set him apart from the rest. He’d always felt that way, frankly. The fact that he was there almost made a hidden curiosity build up inside of him.
From his position on the ground, he turned to look back at the gate. There were dozens guards that constantly watched them with readied spears, should someone make a mistake and give them a reason. Wyatt felt like a prisoner, incarcerated beyond reason. He had never been in jail before now, and so far he was despising every second of it. Not entirely because he didn’t do anything wrong, but because he wasn’t given a proper reason.
For now, there was absolutely nothing he could do except lean back, and rest his head against the cold cell walls. He let the sounds of the other people fill his ears. Wyatt let out a long sigh, and closed his bloodshot eyes.
He had no idea why they were being locked up the way they were, or if the monsters had a justifiable reason or not. All he knew was that nothing good could come out of this. Wyatt Williams was absolutely positive of it.
