Rat Race

Part 6

Freezing cold. Icicles hanging from the ceiling, frost creeping up the stairs, and for some reason Dec is presenting the show wearing skates this week, wobbling precariously on the raised stage of the Takeaway studio. He looks closer at the sheet ice under his feet, and flinches back from his reflection with a scream - behind him are monsters, white faced, black-eyed, all gaping maws with bloody, sharp, razor teeth, all aimed at him. He spins uncoordinatedly around to face his attackers, but on this side of the ice they're gone, or invisible. He reels, dizzy and disorientated, a scream clawing at his belly, into his throat, and tearing out of his mouth, a shrill plea for help.

"Easy, sunshine, I've got you!" Ant says, suddenly behind him, supporting him, his warmth a luxury.

Dec turns into him, seeking more heat, clutching at Ant's jacket - but the jacket comes away in his hands, Ant spinning away from him. He moves easily on the ice, beckoning Dec to follow. Dec tries, but his legs are leaden, unwilling, and he's shivering madly. He pushes himself along weakly, but Ant is too fast, and he becomes a small figure on the horizon just as Dec slips, stumbles, and crashes through the ice into the chill waters below.

Once under, he scrambles madly for the surface, but the hole he fell through has mysteriously vanished. He pounds at the ice with a fist, trying to break it, and kicks with his legs, but the ice is too thick and he's trapped, struggling to breathe.

"Easy, Declan, just relax," Ant's voice encourages him, soothing and reassuring, lulling him into a relaxed state. He exhales, watches the bubbles dissipate, and then sinks, down, down, down.

When he wakes, he is mercifully warm once more, lying on the grass in a meadow. He sits up, a little awkwardly, and looks down at himself in confusion, only to see why his arms and legs feel a little stiff. He's encased in leather, a motorcycling jacket and trousers. There's a bike next to him, and he takes the handlebars, bewildered.

There's a rustle behind him, then a growl. He turns, and his heart starts immediately to pound: behind him are hordes of those monsters from the ice studio, shambling towards him with their cadaverous features sharp and focused on him, their teeth glinting in the sun. He reacts on instinct and leaps onto the bike, revving the engine and speeding off. He feels like he's flying, but somehow he isn't getting any further away from his hunters, and now a new obstacle stands in his way: a ramp leading up to a ring of fire, and a steep drop on the other side.

His breathing quickens, and he swings his head wildly between the two evils he finds himself trapped between. He's not sure which scares him more, the monsters he's never encountered before, or the ring of fire he can remember being defeated by before. He knows what went wrong last time, he reasons eventually, he'll take his chances with plenty of throttle. He revs, and tries to find some moisture in his mouth to get his tongue down from the roof of his mouth. The flames are gigantic, now, and he can feel damp heat prickling at his temples and the back of his neck. He speeds forward, the heat growing and growing, consuming him, blurring his vision and making his limbs tremble and twitch.

He knows as he takes off, the flames catching at him and singing him, that he's made the same mistake again. He somersaults in the air, his bike flying away from him, and he comes down hard on his head and arm. He's insensate for a moment, then the pain in his head takes over, a pulsing, throbbing ache, punctuated by vicious spikes, like barbed wire is being wrapped around his brain and pulled tight. He wraps his arms around his head and rocks, tears leaking from his eyes as he desperately waits out the pain.