Living Madness
Devon ran through the network of caves with no sense of direction while Sam’s distraught voice rang in his ears.
“We can’t just leave her there! We can’t!”
“We must!” The older brother panted as he negotiated yet another narrow turn. Each new tunnel looked the same as the one before, but there was a faint breeze blowing in the darkness. “It’s too late now! And if we don’t hurry, it will be too late for us, too.”
“No!” Sam grabbed his older brother’s backpack, forcing him to stop in his tracks. “That’s not true. If we go back, we might…”
“Might what? Might what, Sam?” Devon growled, immediately regretting doing so the moment a million echoes of his voice thundered all around, possibly giving away their location. “You saw what happened! Face it, Jenna’s dead! That… thing… is not her anymore, okay? Now, let’s go.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. If there’s even a remote chance she’s in there somewhere, I must do everything in my power to get her back. I’m going back to the chamber, and I’m begging you to come with me!”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“No. I’m in love. Not that you know anything about that. You never liked her. No wonder you’re so eager to leave her behind!” Sam spat on the gaping floor.
“Hey! Stop, okay? I didn’t like her the way you did, but she was family, too. I’m sorry, Sam, but this is not the time nor the place for such a discussion. Are you coming willingly or do I need to drag you?”
“Leave if you want, then. I already decided.” Sam spat again and turned back, judgment clouded by a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t control.
It had been like this since the day he met her. Jenna was special. Her soul shone so brightly that he was always blind around her and now… now the abyss had claimed her and laughed maniacally at his defeat, but not for long. He would make everything right again. He always did.
“I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.” Devon buried his left hand in his neck before knocking him out with an upper jab. Sam fell helplessly, head avoiding a jagged edge to the side almost by miracle. The older sibling then started dragging him by the arms, hoping the exit was closer than he thought.
He didn’t make it very far. The thing wearing Jenna’s face stood right at the next intersection, bloody eyes filled with hate beyond measure. Its clothes were tattered and something abominable now slithered where human arms used to be. A pool of viscous black leaked from a dozen of open wounds at its feet.
“Why are you running?” The incomprehensible manifestation gurgled.
Devon laid down his brother and pulled a machete from his backpack. “Don’t talk with her voice, beast!”
“We like this voice.” Not-Jenna cocked its head to the right. “This body, too. Thank you for offering it to us.”
“That’s not what I did.” Devon waved the blade, reminiscing of all the bad decisions he had made over the last three weeks: stealing a copy of the cursed map from the Archaeology Department… telling his brother and fiancée what he did… the rushed expedition to South America with the two of them in tow… touching the golden urn at the center of the underground labyrinth…
“Your beliefs do not change the result. We thank you for the freedom we thought we would never have again. What do you desire in return, savior?”
“Is this a joke?”
“We do not joke.” The thing drew closer. “Ask, and you shall be rewarded.”
“Let us leave, then. My brother and I… we walk and we go our way.”
“Your brother doesn’t want to leave. It has… feelings… for this vessel.”
“No. He loved a woman, not a vessel, not you… whatever the fuck you are!”
“We just are and now we can keep on being. You may go, but he stays.”
“I’m not leaving him behind.”
“We are not giving you a choice.” It hissed. “Don’t abuse our generosity.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have run.”
“You’re not laying a finger on him. Not while I’m still standing.”
“Finally, something we can agree on. Our gratitude is genuine, savior, but it’s not eternal. Goodbye.”
Devon rushed against the living madness. He only had time to see the first of many barbed tentacles ripping his body in two.
* * *
Legends of old speak of the three dark goddesses that one day descended from the skies. Revered at first by the indigenous populace, they were soon betrayed by their evil ways, and their statuesque bodies burned and melted until a single jar of mucilaginous putrefaction remained, not living but not dead either. Legends also say that the three will eventually be reborn.
If only legends didn’t have the nasty habit of being true…
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