Labyrinth

Chapter 1-

Labyrinth- Chapter 1

I'm not big on people. Never was, really. I'm slightly antisocial, not to mention I'd rather go against the crowd than side with uncreative conformists.

So being stuck in a maze on my own should be no big deal, right?

Wrong.

The place isn't simply a maze, like those cheesy corn mazes at the fair with only one dead end and walls you can peer over the top of. Not in the least! This maze is gigantic, stretching literally from California to New York. And did I mention it was underground? If I didn't, then I'll do it now: the maze is underground. It's a labyrinth. Actually, /the/ Labyrinth. The place has lava pits in some corridors, creepy torture devices in others, and everything in-between down virtually every hallway.

Most people never get out. I forget which president designed the place, but I think he's a dictator now. Actually, I think I'd be happy if he rotted in jail for all eternity.

Anyway.

It took at least seventy years or so to create the maze, what with the technology we have nowadays. He made the maze to control population. Each year, there's a drawing, like a raffle for who gets to die. One kid from just about every town is sent in here. It's less populated than what's above ground, but less than ten percent get out of here alive. Most just wander in their own insanity, turning cannibal and praying they won't be eaten by the Minotaur.

Yep, he's real. Not that I've seen him yet. The key word there- 'yet'. He lets no one go unnoticed.

Oh yeah, and if the creepy bull-man doesn't kill you, one of the crazy machines that the creators of this place put in is bound to give you a brutal end as well.

Long story short, everyone sent in here is undeniably doomed.

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My name is Marty Collins. I can remember that I'm sixteen, that I've never talked to guys, that Marty's short for Martha, that I had a pair of blue headphones, that I never paid much attention to politics, and a bunch of other pointless shit about myself.

However, I seem to have lost all memories of what happened when I first got in here. That includes my sense of time, sense of direction, what day it'd be on a calendar, etc.

So when I wake up here in a large, black dome, you can imagine I'm slightly confused. At first I think I've been sleep walking when I see the blackness above me with vague brushes of deep red and magenta streaking the edge of the darkness, like the sky of a light-polluted city.

Then a fuzzy memory of a podium and a truck come back to me, followed by the memory of an elevator taking me below the surface of North America; a memory of fear suffocating me. The Labyrinth. I was chosen, brought here, and somehow, I don't remember how I ended up in this corridor, under a dome.

Shaking my head, I get up. The traces of light are most definitely artificial, I know that. I suck in a deep breath, gripping something tight in my left hand- a pendant around my neck. It's silver. I can't tell what's etched into it. It's far too faded for that. But I can feel something scratched into the surface. Ignoring it, as it's irrelevant right now, I get up and start to walk around. The ground's hard beneath my feet, like cement, but when I look down, it looks like soft, deep green grass.

An illusion. Simple as that- the creators of the place probably want me to waste away in this corridor, thinking I'm in a different reality.

Disturbed at the mental image of an emaciated version of myself staring into the faux sky, I shudder and quicken my pace to a sprint, not caring about how my feet thump on the ground as I run.

Blood rushes in my ears, my eyes on the ground in front of me. I don't bother looking up, not wanting to see an acid river or boiling lava pit, or some medieval torture device. Lights flash around me, and I hear loud noises and psychotic laughter. The worst part about this is that I know it's no nightmare. There's explanations for all of it- the noises are things killing other things, and the laughter's obviously those who've gone insane.

My purple-tipped, dark blonde hair's a shoulder-length mane flying wildly behind me, until I trip over my own feet and tumble to a stop. Yep. My own feet. Graceful, right?

To my utter horror, I'm in a dirt corridor- like the actual Earth. With walls and everything. Made of only dirt. So if something were to slam into a wall, I'm worse off than dead. I look around the hallway and the dimly-lit walls, which were only visible by the slight gleam of an artificial light.

Something's in the corner.

I start to move closer to it, my blue and green eyes narrowed, when it suddenly springs up. It had been shadowed before, so I hadn't seen how truly hideous it was. Actually, it looks more like a 'he', but in the person's state, it's impossible for me to tell.

The once-human looking thing's head is covered with a thin layer of what looks like mold, the same kind you'd see on sour grape. It's stringy and almost fluffy looking, but thin and sparse. Pale yellow, red-flecked eyes bulge out of a minuscule skull, and sores cover the thing's face and body. I can see a place on its mouth where the bacteria growing on the thing's teeth have caused the skin to start to peel away, leaving the flesh that's left around the peeled area to turn blackish green.

Before I can comprehend what I'm seeing, the wasted form begins moving towards me slowly, a hunger in its eyes. I can't tell if it's actually cannibalism or a perverted and sadistic hunger, but I don't want to know. Long arms that look like little more than skin and bones dangle by the thing's sides, and my eyes widen in sheer terror. I can't move. I'm frozen as the thing gets closer. A laugh bubbles in its throat as its eyes grow bigger with a morbid joy. I think I'm gonna be sick. Except if I needed to puke, I'm still so paralyzed by fear I wouldn't be able to turn around. Maybe I could stop the thing by barfing on it!

No, that wouldn't work. The oozing, bloody sores are nasty enough already. I doubt it could be worse.

Three feet.

Two feet.

The thing's close enough to touch me now. There's something behind its back.. A knife of some sort glints in the light. The laughter grows louder, and it smiles, showing half-rotted, yellowed teeth.

I suck in what's bound to be my last breath when a gunfire rings through the cave.

The thing with the sores falls on top of me, blood spurting from its back and its yellow eyes turning sightless and glassy. I scream as it drops the knife and shove the creature off me, scrambling into a standing position and stuffing the knife into one of my worn-through, black combat boots.

Just as I get up, I hear swift steps. I'm shoved into the dirt wall, unable to see who's attacked me, though I bet it's the same person who had the gun.

I feel the cold metal of a gun pressed into my left temple and a smooth, tenor voice says, "Move, and I'll kill you. Are we clear?"

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