The Ill-mannered Door (humorous sci-fi)

41.2: Into the Dark

The creak of the floorboard told me right where to look, and as I spun 'round and readied the bat, a gravelly voice in the dark said, "I told you ole Bart always do his duty."

Dread gripped my heart, and I knew there would be no running for me this time. Bart stood before the only way in or out of this part of the hold. And even if there had been another way out, I knew it was up to me to ensure that the king had enough time to disarm the bomb. If I ran, Bart would surely stop the king, likely quite permanently, and I couldn't have that on my conscience.

As Bart slowly crossed into our circle of light, I couldn't help but notice that his blade dripped blood on the deck. Another sailor whose name I hadn't even bothered to learn had given his life protecting us. I felt immensely unworthy at that moment and terribly guilty.

I turned to the king and said, "No matter what happens, you must disarm the bomb. You can't stop, or all of this will have been for nothing."

"But, Thomas, surely you can't fight him, he--"

"Surely, Thomas," Bart mocked.

"Don't stop!" I shouted back at the king, trying to keep my eyes fixed on the approaching sailor and the bat in front of me.

The sailor's grin widened enough to reveal a set of teeth that would cause a dentist to immediately book an expensive holiday, then Bart said, "Piece o' wood won't help none, and got nowhere left to run."

I wasn't sure what worried me more, the wicked grin or the thought that he might rhyme again. No, it was the bloody blade. Definitely the bloody blade. I also couldn't argue with his assessment that the bat might not prove terribly helpful in the moments to come, but it was all I had, and the strongest bloke in the world couldn't have pried my white-knuckled fingers off of it if he tried.

I knew my best hope was to keep out of Bart's reach, but I had the king and the bomb right behind me, so backing up was right out. I began moving to my left, but after moving a few feet, I realized that Bart didn't move to follow me. He was advancing on the king while keeping a wary eye on me.

Then he spoke what I feared, "Ole Bart will take care o' His Majesty here first," he said with a snort of derision, flicking the tip of his rapier in the king's direction. "Then you and me will have some fun, we will." He gave me a wink and a grin that chilled me to the marrow.

He was baiting me and I knew it. And what was worse, he knew I knew it, and that really chafed. In his mind, I was no doubt a coward with no hope whatsoever of beating him, no matter how drunk he might be. But the bit that chafed the most is that in my heart... I knew he was right.

I saw no other choice left for me. I lashed out with the bat as quick as I could, but Bart was quicker, and not only easily dodged my wild swing but gave me a light slash on the back of my right hand for my trouble. I immediately retreated a few steps, and a quick glance down at my hand showed that the cut wasn't deep, but blood had begun to ooze and it stung terribly.

He chuckled, and I knew he could have killed me instead, but he was toying with me, rubbing salt in the wound of my failure.

I had succeeded in one thing, however, because he now ignored the king and followed me as I backed away. At least he would kill me first, and perhaps the king would have enough time to get the bomb disarmed. I committed myself to stay alive at least that long.

As a part of staying alive, I had to stop the bleeding, so I quickly pulled my shirt off over my head and wrapped it around my wounded hand. It would make it more difficult to hold the bat, but it had to be done. If I didn't wrap it, I knew the blood would make its way onto the bat and it would be slippery and difficult to hold onto.

I began to steal quick glances around me to take note of what I might be able to use against the murderous sailor stalking me. I tried my best to play it off as if I was worried about tripping over some cargo behind me, which was also true. To trip and fall would surely bring me to a quick end, and must be avoided at all costs.

There was a wooden post behind me and to my left, and I began to back my way toward it. Bart came after me, picking up the pace a bit as I neared the post, which I knew to be right behind me. Then I purposely backed straight into the post with a gasp that even sounded genuine to me. My opponent quickly seized the opportunity to catch his prey while it was trapped. He lunged forward, as I knew he would, just as I stepped as quickly as I could to the side and his rapier bit deep. Into the post, thankfully.

The surprise on his face quickly turned to pain and anger when my bat struck down hard on his sword arm. I was rewarded with his scream and the knowledge that I had likely broken his arm. I drew back for another blow, but he was quick to respond, and with one strong pull with his left hand, he wrenched his rapier from where it had stuck in the wood and took a swipe at me that I barely blocked with the bat.

Though I had struck a mighty blow against him, and his former sword arm hung limp at his side, the look of murderous rage in his eyes told me that he was far from finished. He was also quite done toying with me.

I quickly retreated. He came right after, all the while taking swipes at me that I only narrowly avoided. It was clear that I had done a smashing job of stirring a nest of hornets, and knew without a doubt that the slightest misstep would mean my end.

"Thomas!" the king shouted, clearly worried, and even more clearly not paying attention to his task.

"Disarm it, you fool!" I screamed at him, continuing to back toward the darkness, dodging Bart's whipping blade and struggling to blink away the sweat that was running down into my eyes.

The king went back to muttering nervously to himself, and hopefully back to work on disarming the bomb. I knew he had precious little time left though, as I was beginning to tire.

Ole Bart thrust his weapon at me again and I dodged back once more, but my heels struck something and I tumbled over onto my back. I scrambled backward off of the sack that would likely be my undoing, but Bart came quickly after, his cruel grin still evident in the dim lighting.

When my head bumped against a stack of crates behind me, I knew I was at the end of my road. He crouched above me and chuckled as he leered down at me, drawing back his left arm for the final thrust.

"It's done!" the king shouted from somewhere nearby, startling Bart and causing him to turn his gaze away from me.

It might be done, but I wasn't. I swung the bat viciously at Bart's calf and connected with a blow that caused a shriek of pain and knocked him off his feet. He fell hard onto the deck, and I wasted no time in bringing the bat down on his head as he tried to roll away from me. It connected with a sickening thump, knocking him senseless, and I continued to strike until the king grabbed me and yelled, "It's enough, Thomas!"

I flopped onto my back, panting and drenched with sweat, still clutching the bat as if my life depended on it, which it did.

The back of my hand really started to hurt then. In the fear and rush of adrenaline, I had forgotten about the slice Bart had given me. I unwrapped my shirt from my hand and stared at the wound, realizing that it could have been so much worse. I would have a scar there for the rest of my life, but it didn't escape my notice that I was very fortunate to still have my life.

"It's done, Thomas, I disarmed the bomb!" the king shouted excitedly, standing over me.

When I had stepped through that odd door in my room, what seemed so long ago, I had never imagined what would happen to me. The world through the door had looked so inviting, the air had smelled so clean, the sunshine so warm on my skin, the sound of waves in the distance beckoning me, and not a hint of all the danger that would follow. Now, it seemed that the journey was nearing its end.

Then another voice spoke from somewhere in the darkness behind the king, "That is very unfortunate."