Don't Open That Door - GoM 1

9

Out? I was out of the cave and in the open? How the hell...?

Night had closed and it was cold. Covered in sweat as I was, I shivered from head to toes in the chilling breeze. I found myself on my hands and knees on the grass at the edge of the woods, west of the construction site, near the spot where you'd gone missing.

The huge searchlights at the site blinded me when I looked up. The three workers lay around me on the ground, unconscious.

I saw people running to me. Before I could catch my breath, Claire kneeled down by my side and held me up.

"Al! You okay?"

"What happened, Alex?" That was Father Jason.

"I gotta go back..." I muttered.

"What!?"

"No way!"

I met Claire's eyes. She'd understand and deal with the others. "He still has George."

Graham joined us and crouched in front of me. I saw other people taking the workers away, to the ambulance waiting at the site.

"Come, child," said Graham. "We gotta take you to the hospital."

I shook my head and grabbed his arm, mustering my strength to speak.

"You gotta stop them, Dave," I said. "If they use the dozer, George dies."

"Don't worry. I'll have Markus keep that junk away."

"Good. Then go. We've got no time."

I waited until Graham and Father Jason reluctantly left me alone with Claire. Whatever the process to go from The Guardian's maze to the real world, it'd drained all my energy. When they were gone, I looked Claire in the eyes. She wouldn't ask foolish questions.

"I'm going, kiddo. And I ain't coming back without George."

Claire nodded, biting her tongue, her pretty face showing only concern. She knew she couldn't talk me into staying and leaving you behind, and she didn't try.

It was then that I somehow knew The Guardian was around, invisible in the shadows under the trees. And I knew he was waiting to take me back underground. So I sent Claire away.

And here I am. Time doesn't seem to flow down here. I've been searching for you for years, for minutes, for days. And there's nothing here but silence and darkness. And the horror of my growing fears.