"Don't look at them," Daniel said suddenly as the two of them snuck out of Storage and back into the room with the strange fountain—Philip had been staring at it with unease before Daniel spoke, seeing as the water had turned a deep red.
"What?" Philip blurted, startled. The man hadn't uttered a single word since the scare in Storage.
"If you look at them for too long, you'll start to go…insane. You'll get caught," Daniel explained hollowly, staring straight ahead of him. Philip wanted to ask how in the world he knew that, but he settled for nodding slowly instead.
"So…now where?" Philip asked uncertainly, gulping nervously. He didn't exactly relish the idea of asking a crazy man for directions, but he reasoned he wasn't exactly of sound mind at this point, either.
"Just like at Regent's Park," Daniel muttered, leading him down a dark hallway into another room. Philip didn't even bother asking what in the world he was talking about. They entered an intersection of sorts, a large structure with double doors at its center.
"Is that an elevator?" he wondered aloud, walking forward and standing next to Daniel. The man was staring at the elevator doors, frowning.
"It's broken," Daniel stated glumly, "The machinery needs to be fixed,"
Philip rubbed his temples tiredly as Daniel scurried about the "machinery room," pulling levers and standing back to stare at them, shaking his head in frustration…it was exhausting, and Philip was burnt out. He took a seat on the floor and leaned against the wall. It couldn't hurt to rest his eyes for a while.
"Done!" Daniel announced with triumph as the machinery began clanking away. Now they could get to the lower levels, to Alexander. He frowned, the hatred in the pit of his stomach gnawing at him. He absolutely loathed the man, though he didn't know why. Truthfully, he realized, he didn't want to know. He turned toward his friend, eager to return to the ascending room. Philip appeared to be asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically where he lay slumped against the wall.
Daniel hesitated. Should he wake him? Honestly he wasn't sure how the man could sleep in a place like this.
"Red…?" Philip mumbled.
"I'm sorry?" Daniel asked, shaking his head. When Philip didn't answer, Daniel walked over and crouched in front of him. Daniel frowned; yes, he was definitely asleep.
"Well, I suppose I could give you a couple of minutes…" he sighed, about to get up and pace around the room for a while, when Philip stirred.
"Mmph," he announced, rubbing his eyes, "Is it working?" he asked as he fixed upon Daniel.
"Seems to be," Daniel answered, grateful that he was awake, "We should get moving,"
"Right," Philip sighed, getting to his feet and stretching.
"This thing is…safe…right?" Philip asked uncertainly as they left the machine room. The elevator looked decrepit, and Philip didn't relish the idea of plunging to his death in it.
Daniel didn't have a chance to answer as the room suddenly went dark with an ominous thud. A horrible roaring sound erupted, filling the chamber and forcing Philip to clamp his hands to his ears. He slammed his eyes shut, trying to keep the sound out as he emitted a strangled yelp. He cautiously pried one eye open—to his horror, the entire room was moving, walls pulsing as if alive.
"What the hell is that?!" he blurted, stepping back in disgust from a blob of pulsating red tissue that had suddenly sprung up all over the floor, the walls—
"OW!" he cried as something lashed him across the small of his back. He stumbled forward, ending up on his face. He spun; he had inadvertently backed up into a blob of tissue. It squelched noisily at him; he shuddered.
"The Shadow…" Daniel murmured ominously, "It's…close, now,"
"Well then let's get the hell out," Philip snapped, clambering to his feet and leading Daniel toward the elevator. To his surprise, the elevator sprang to life without event. Philip sighed in relief, running his hands through his hair.
"So that's the thing that's after you," he deduced, throwing Daniel a look. The man nodded stiffly. Philip sighed again, nodding back at him.
"Well, at least we-" Philip started, but was cut off by the elevator abruptly shuddering to a halt. The loud roar from earlier returned, and they were suddenly plummeting, the walls of the elevator stained a sickly red.
Neither one of them thought to cry out; there was really no time to react as they crashed to the ground floor with a thunderous crash.
"By the way, you can call me 'Red.' It's not my name, you understand, but I'm sure you will agree it is a name rather similar to a cardigan—fetching, when worn correctly," he said over the radio.
"…what?" Philip blurted, glaring up at the speakers with a frown. He shivered; this was crazy. He had to keep moving, but—
He whirled around as a scratching sound caught his attention. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Red eyes blinked at him in the darkness—eight of them.
He yelped as the spider gave chase, tearing down the icy corridor and shrieking horribly as it went. Philip ran for his life, stumbling feverishly along the tunnel as more spiders emerged, the clacking of their spindly legs a drumbeat to his rising panic.
"No," he mumbled as he collided with a rock in the tunnel. He hurriedly hacked at it with his ice pick, cracking it enough to squeeze past as the spiders gained on him. He cried out as one of them nabbed his ankle; a sharp pain and sudden rush of heat announced that he had been bitten.
Philip grunted as he exploded from the tunnel and slammed into the concrete floor. His knees failed him and he scooted his back up to the far wall, panting for breath. He hissed as his ankle throbbed angrily.
"There should be some insect repellent in the red and white crossed box in that room," Red announced, causing Philip to jump, "Just in case those spiders found your flesh…delicious," he added maliciously.
"You son of a bitch-" Philip growled furiously.
"How does my brain flesh know your fluids are leaking? Because Red tricked you!" the man laughed uproariously, his voice reverberating in the cold metal room, "The spidery tunnel was far from a necessary evil; moreso it served as well-deserved punishment! You thought that my mind had been lost to the ravages of time, but poetic justice has struck with a sonnet, and an eight-legged baptism of fire!"
"Go to hell!" Philip wanted to cry out, but a strangled whine is all that emerged. The pain was going up his calf, now, moving up his leg. He swallowed, removing his boot and trying to ignore that the spider had bitten clear through it as Red giggled hysterically.
"With justice now served cold, I hope that we can be good friends," he jibed happily, "Now: reclaim the key and go-go juice, and find a way to the mining monster!" he instructed.
Philip swallowed as Red's voice faded in a crackle of static. Madman or not, he was his only ally here. Red was his only…friend.
"Philip?" Red asked suddenly.
"Yes?" Philip answered, knowing full-well he couldn't hear him.
"Philip?" Red repeated.
"What?" Philip said, looking up at the speaker on the wall.
He looked back down again as the room shifted, turning a dull red and gray. Philip rose cautiously, trying to get his bearings. This looked familiar, somehow…
"Good evening!" Red greeted from within the metal structure in front of him, "You…you actually came,"
Philip felt his stomach lurch; something was wrong.
"You came—you're so pretty—but I have been bad," Red babbled.
"Where are you?" Philip called, walking up to the metal chamber.
"The underworld already beckons me, so I suppose one further misdemeanor will change little," Red continued. Philip paced around the structure, searching for a door, "It is false pretension and not guiding light with which I have led you here. I cannot give you the answers you want,"
Philip stopped dead in his tracks at that statement, staring up at the metal structure incredulously.
"W-what?" he managed, his voice cracking.
"Philip?" Red asked insistently.
"Yes, Red?" Philip answered, biting his lip nervously. Something was definitely wrong.
"You may wish to find what it is you seek, but that is a fiction. You cannot know what it is you sought through the vast leaden doorway, or else you would see anything else in the world," Red continued, pausing for a moment to sigh.
"The key," Philip blurted, a dim flicker of hope rising in his chest.
"No, the key, it stays in here with me," Red answered after a moment's pause; Philip suddenly felt nauseous. He was trapped.
"…so the life that has led me-horrible as it may be-is better still than the life that waits for you hungry behind those doors," Red continued sadly, "As replacements go, you shall be most admirably abnormal,"
"What are you saying-?" Philip squeaked.
"But, you must wonder why this metal burning chamber is talking to you in a voice you knew only as Red, for it is I, your companion residing within,"
Philip froze."Burning chamber?"
"You see, I am waiting for this day so many years- they won't let me die. They, parts of my head, are not my own, and I cannot take my life; it is against the rules. Please, the pain has gone on for so long," Red pleaded, "All I wanted was a friend, but now the time for chitchat and marshmallows by the fire has ended, and I hope that soon so shall my life. I have knocked on the death's door for so long; please, let him invite me in for tea,"
Philip swallowed as the dread washed over him. He was trapped. And now…
"Philip?" Red asked, more urgently this time.
"I know," Philip whispered as he slid his numb fingers over the "Ignition" button and pressed. He staggered backwards as Red's screams erupted from the chamber.
"Turn it off!" he cried in agony, but Philip knew he couldn't. He had tried before.
"Philip?" Red asked.
"I…Red. I'm so sorry," Philip whispered.
"Philip!" Red repeated, louder this time. Philip fell to the floor, clasping his hands over his ears as he sobbed.
"PHILIP!"
"Stop it!" Philip pleaded as the tears washed over his face and into the fibers of his jacket.
"PHILIP!"
"Philip?" Daniel called for what felt like the hundredth time. He could barely sit up, the way his head was throbbing, but he had managed to crawl over to where Philip had been thrown out of the ascending room as it crashed. The man was alive, thank God, but unconscious.
"Philip!" Daniel shouted, peeling the man's strange jacket away from his face. He was very pale, but his eyelids were moving, "Hey! Philip?" Daniel called, tapping the man's cheek gingerly.
"W-what?" Philip mumbled feebly.
"Oh thank God," Daniel praised, rolling onto his back to let another dizzy spell wash over him, "Wake up, Philip," he coached, but got no response.
"Philip?" Daniel repeated worriedly, rolling over onto his side to face him.
"Yes, Red…?" Philip murmured. Daniel frowned; he didn't have time for this. He settled instead for calling his name out repeatedly, shaking the man by the shoulders for good measure.
"Stop it!" Philip cried, lurching upward suddenly and collapsing back down. Daniel blinked; the man was crying. Tears were escaping from beneath his closed lids and into his collar.
"Philip?" he asked, gentler this time. To his relief, the other man's eyes opened; pale green, like jade. He blinked a few times, disoriented.
"What…?" he grunted, clasping his hands to his head and moaning, "The elevator," he added glumly, his voice muffled by his arm over his face.
"Welcome back," Daniel said, meaning for it to be a joke and failing. His voice quivered as he spoke.
"You okay?" Philip asked after a moment.
"I think so," Daniel guessed, cautiously getting to a crouch without event. He fished a bottle from his pocket and took a swig; the liquid was thick, like molasses. It tasted oily, and spiced with something Daniel couldn't place. The taste was familiar and comforting, somehow.
"Here," he said, offering the bottle to Philip.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Laudanum," Daniel answered, "It's a medical bracer,"
Philip sat up, cringing, and looked at the bottle questioningly.
"Isn't that opium?" he blurted, cocking an eyebrow and wincing; Daniel just shrugged.
"Thanks, but I've got my own," Philip coughed, taking a small white bottle out of the pocket of his jacket. Daniel watched curiously as he put the bottle to his lips and swallowed a few small white pills.
"What's-?" Daniel began.
"Aspirin," Philip said, capping the bottle with a loud snap and putting it back in his pocket, "So…is this the Inner Sanctum?" he asked, looking around.
"I don't know," Daniel answered, frowning, "I-"
"What was that?!" he blurted as sound erupted out of the blackness.
"Forgive me—I should have warned you," Alexander apologized, "One of my responsibilities as a baron is that of a prison warden. This is where criminals are locked up,"
"Like a…dungeon," Daniel muttered.
"What?" Philip asked.
"I…I think this is some kind of prison," Daniel managed; his head was pounding.
"And it's-?" Philip cut himself off abruptly as a man's agonized scream filled the silence. 'In use' is what he had meant to say, but that point seemed moot now. The two men stared at the dark entryway with trepidation for a moment, both too horrified to speak.
"W-well, we can't go back up there," Daniel said finally, gesturing toward the rubble behind them.
"Guess not…" Philip sighed, gingerly rubbing his throbbing skull. Everything hurt, but the pain killers were starting to kick in. He shivered as a damp wind slid past him, caressing his face—
"What…?" he mumbled as he realized that his cheeks were damp.
Red.
"You alright?" Daniel asked awkwardly from next to him.
"I'm fine," Philip snapped, hurriedly wiping his face with his sleeve. God, what had he done? Red. That poor man...how could Philip have done that to him?
"You ready?" he added, eager to change the subject. Daniel looked him over briefly before nodding.
"Great," Philip sighed as he slowly got to his feet, "Let's go,"