Out of the Dark

The world has ended, or so it seems. Something terrible has happened and I’m one of the few who’ve survived, that I know of. I almost wish I hadn’t. Almost. There is a light in the darkness of my life that keeps me going, keeps me hanging on. I don’t know her name, but her face is etched on the insides of my eyelids and it’s her I see, her I turn to, when all light goes out.

I am a prisoner. The man who has imprisoned me is tall and very strong, the soldier-type with muscles pressing against his clothing. He uses those muscles, freely, when I try to resist. I resisted a lot in the beginning but it hurt too much, cost too much. I am strong and fit – or, I was, before. Now I’m tired, and weak, and I hate myself for it, almost as much as I hate that I’ve given in to him.

He thinks I’ve given him everything, that I’ve given up and submitted fully. He uses my gifts against me, for dark purposes. I would have given up, if not for her. I am very careful to keep the secret of her locked tight inside of me.

Something has him furious tonight. He strides ahead of me through the dark, and I can barely keep up. I hurt, and ache, constantly; my mind is clouded with it so I can't focus, can't think.

We are in what used to be the subway, and he’s moving so fast that when he finally heads back up to the surface, I’m stumbling far behind him, and my legs feel like rubber when I see the long flight of broken stone stairs ahead of me.

He disappears out the entrance at the top, yelling for me to hurry my ass up or else. Back in the beginning, I would have made a run for it. I tried to escape a lot in the beginning, but he found me. He always found me, or caught me, and the punishment was unspeakable. He knows I won’t run, that I will kill myself to catch up to him to avoid being punished.

With a grunt of determination, I start up the stairs, trying in vain to avoid the broken steps in the dark. Because my gaze is fixed downward, I don’t see the woman step into the slight light of the entrance, but I sense her coming closer as she descends swiftly and quietly to where I’m standing half-way up.

My head jerks up and our gazes lock. My heart stops. It can’t be her, not here, not in the real world, where he is only steps away. She can’t be harmed, I think, and my first instinct is to tell her to go, to run.

She reaches out a hand and grasps my arm as her eyes bore into mine. Her touch on my arm is warm, and real.

“Trust me. Come with me.”

No time to think about it, to fear what he will do to me, to her, if he catches us. This is my one and final chance to get away. I pull on every ounce of strength left in my abused body, drawing on the image of who and what I used to be, before, as I straighten my shoulders and nod, once.

But before she can pull me into the tunnels ahead, I stop, pulling the thick gold ring he made me wear off of my left hand, wedging it into a huge crack in the wall. I feel immediately lighter without its weight.

And then we are flying down the stairs and into the dark of the tunnels. Neither of us has a light, but my hand is grasped firmly in hers and she is running swiftly through the darkness as if it were broad daylight. I follow blindly, placing my trust in her, as I have since the first time she came to me in my dreams.

I hear a noise, once, but only dimly and then it’s gone, and the only sound is the steady beat of our feet as we fly through the night. And it feels like flying. Like freedom. In that moment, I am doubly determined that we won’t be caught. I have too many questions for the woman whose warm hand pulls me on through the night.

We run for what seems like hours, turning often, and I should have collapsed by now, but my body is pumping pure adrenaline and somehow, she is sending some of her own strength through the hand clasped around mine.

Finally, we come to a dead-end and stop. Momentum has me colliding with her, but it’s as if she was expecting it, and her arms are there to catch and hold me. Breathless, hopeful for the first time in the long months since disaster hit, I allow myself to be fully enveloped in the warmth of her arms, burying my face in the strength of her neck. She presses a kiss to my temple and lays her cheek against my hair, and never have I ever felt so safe in my life.

“Okay, sweetheart, we have to go. We’re almost there. There’s a ladder, here,” she says, placing my hand on a cold metal rung to my left. “Can you climb?” Her voice is husky, and strong. I nod, and then realizing she can’t see me, I open my mouth to speak, but she says, “Good. I’m right behind you.”

She turns me with her hands on my shoulders and I reach out to find the ladder directly in front of me.

She leans forward and whispers next to my ear. “Go slowly. Carefully. There’s a cover at the top, so watch your head. Got it?”

I nod and can’t help but press the side of my head to hers for a moment of suspended affection before I square my shoulders and start to climb. The rungs are slightly damp so I’m careful, not wanting to fall for fear of hurting us both. I am determined to be strong, to find some of the strength I’ve lost. We climb steadily in the darkness and I can sense the top looming closer, so I slow down, and then the top of my head bumps lightly against the underside of a metal cover.

Before I can try to open it, she is pressing me tightly against the ladder as she climbs up behind me, her hands and feet gripping the metal on either side of me. My breath catches in my throat as I feel every dip and curve of her toned body press against mine from behind, and again I feel so safe it makes my eyes tear. When she’s directly behind me, she puts her mouth next to my ear again, and the shivers dance down my spine, again. I’ve felt so numb for so long that my reaction to her has my head spinning. It’s a good thing she has me held tightly against the ladder or I’d have fallen for sure.

“There’s a latch,” she murmurs against my ear. “Hold still, I’ve got it.” I feel her reaching one arm up and there is movement and then the sound of scraping as the manhole cover is pushed up and back. “Okay, quick and quiet we go. Ready?”

I feel a moment’s fear grab my gut at the thought of who or what might be waiting above, but then I grit my teeth and surge upwards, as smoothly and quietly as I can, and land in a crouch on the deserted street outside, scanning the dark with eyes and ears for any possible threat. I feel her land beside me moments later, and then my hand is in hers again and we’re running through the night, dark broken buildings looming all around us like silent sentinels. I should be afraid, but I’m not. In place of the fear that has been my constant companion for months, I feel only a deep clarity and a determination to see this woman in full light.

Not far down, the buildings end and we come to a wooded area that must have been a park once. She doesn’t slow down, veering off the road and onto the grass. We twist and turn through the trees until she stops where it is darkest and wild thicket has grown up and over what was a garden.

She takes a step forward, toward the darkest shadows of the trees, but I pull her up short with my hand in hers. She turns to face me and I strain to see her features, but can see only shadows.

“Your name,” I whisper hoarsely. “Please.”

She steps closer, until our faces are bare inches apart, and then she is threading both of her hands in the hair at each side of my head, as her palms cradle my face. My hands reach of their own accord to tightly grip the muscles of her arms, holding on for dear life as my legs go weak.

“Kathryn. Friends call me Kate, or Katee. You?” There’s a desperate quality to her voice, too, and I’m suddenly sure that my strange dreams of her haven’t been one-sided.

“Devon,” I utter. “We – we know each other, don’t we?”

Kate presses her forehead against mine and it’s a moment suspended in time. “Yes,” she sighs. “Yes, and there’s so much to say. But I need to get you away, get you somewhere safe. Okay?”

I nod, a jerky movement of my head. So much unsaid between us, the air thick with it. But I nod again.

“Safe sounds great,” I say with some of my old humour barely tinging my voice. She nods once too, and then steps back, turning to the trees and pulling branches away from a shape I can barely see there. I move forward carefully, and when she straddles some sort of bike and reaches out a hand to me, I don’t hesitate to take it and slide on behind her, wrapping both of my arms tightly around her waist and pressing my cheek against her back.

The light and sound of the machine are so sudden I flinch, pressing closer as she flicks a few buttons, and then we are lifting up off the ground, through the trees and into the night sky. We hover there for a moment as the bike turns in mid-air.

“Hold tight,” she calls above the whir of the engine. I clasp my hands firmly at her waist as a sign I’m ready, and then we take off. I see the jagged lines of the city whooshing by beneath us, and then suddenly we’re over the ocean and she turns to head south. I know it’s south because the city was once LA and this is the Pacific and south sounds absolutely wonderful to me. And then a thought occurs.

I tap her leg with the palm of my hand to get her attention. She slows the bike enough so it’s quieter, without the wind rushing by quite so fast, and then she turns her head toward me. I lean forward so my mouth is next to her ear.

“He put something in me, under my skin. A sort of microchip, I think. We need to get it out or he’ll find us.”

Kate nods. “We figured as much. I’m taking you somewhere to get a full scan, and so we can take it, or them out. He probably put more than one.”

“We?”

“Yeah. Friends. Allies. You’ll be safe there.”

My eyes drift shut at that word again. Safe. “Okay. Just, don’t take me there until I’m clear, alright?”

“Sure thing. Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I nod, and tighten my arms around her waist, before laying my cheek against her back. I close my eyes and let the world glide by beneath us as we fly on through the night.