Chapter 4
Amanda had lapsed into an eerie silence by the time Wentworth wheeled her back into the courtyard. The tree looked as sad and forlorn as ever. Wentworth parked her wheelchair under the scraggly branches and bent over to lift up the footrests. As he did, she drew up her leg and with all her strength kneed him in the groin. He gasped and staggered back as she began raking at his face with her fingernails.
"Argh!" He yelped almost petulantly, "Stop that!"
"You bastard!" she shrieked, "He's dead and you're responsible!" Wentworth reached over, blocking her blows with a free hand, and unplugged her oxygen tank. Within moments her flame-scarred lungs struggled to get enough air to breathe. She began hacking and coughing.
"I…kill you," she wheezed.
"Don't make me recant my Hippocratic oath, my dear," sneered Wentworth icily as he wiped the blood from his face with a pocket handkerchief, "Thomas has only just begun to serve his true purpose."
"But…those things…," protested Amy before a fit of coughing stopped her.
"Cenobites," he lectured as he gingerly plugged her oxygen tube back in, "I knew the moment I saw Tom in the emergency room that he was the soul I was looking for."
"For what?" she wondered. Despite her rage, she was genuinely curious what this madman was planning.
"He's the bait that Leviathan couldn't resist," he said triumphantly, "And when I return he will become my Trojan horse."
"But…why?" she asked. Wentworth gave her an apologetic smile.
"Having power over the lives of my patients no longer satisfies me," he said, "I want dominion over the souls of mankind." Secretly he was pleased that he had someone to confide in, someone who would understand.
"How-?" she began before he cut her off.
"Leviathan consumes the souls under its control," he explained, "It responds to desire, and his desire is truly a wonder to behold." Her puzzled look brought the smile back to his face.
"You still don't understand, do you," he said with a sigh, "I chose you to become his desire." It took her a moment to put the pieces together.
"You were Tony's supplier," she began finding the breathing a little easier, "You gave him the box, knowing what would happen."
"Well, I had hopes that Tony would come through," said the Doctor regretfully, "But alas he was unworthy."
"And then when they brought me here, you knew that Tom…," she breathed, "…oh my God."
"Exactly my dear," said Wentworth beaming, "He would do anything to save your soul."
"Because it would be like saving Martha," she muttered, "I'm so sorry Tom."
"You played the part of the femme fatale perfectly," he added, "And now you are free to return to your miserable petty life." Wentworth pulled her out of the chair, making her gasp in pain as he set her down on the grass at the foot of the tree. He then detached the oxygen tank and laid it across her lap. He then folded the chair up and pushed it away.
"I'm going to kill you, asshole," she swore darkly. Wentworth just laughed.
"Don't waste your oxygen my dear; there's not much left," he said with a mock bow, "And now farewell." He rolled the wheelchair in front of him as he returned into the passageway.
Amanda lay under the tree, lost in thought. She couldn't understand why Doctor Wentworth had taken the chair with him. To prevent her from following him of course, but why would he care? Then it hit her: he was afraid of her; afraid of her influence on Tom. Every nerve of her being screamed at her to rethink her course of action, to just walk away. She could leave and forget this all happened. That's what Tom wanted her to do….
"To hell with that!" she snarled as she woozily got to her feet. Amy wanted payback for all the men that had used her: Tony, Wentworth, and all those other losers she had let herself get involved with. She would save Tom, somehow.
She staggered down the hallway, using the walls as support. All the passageways seem to go on endlessly twisting through subterranean levels. Finally she reached an intersection. Feeling lost, she wondered which way to go. A metal object glinted in the darkness. She gingerly picked it up and almost shrieked when she recognized the designs on its curved surface.
It was the Lament Configuration.
She felt a chill through her soul as she heard the faint rattle of chains around her. Almost panicking she looked up and saw she was now in a room full of chains dangling from the low ceiling, like a torture chamber; which it was. The Spiked Cenobite stood hunched over in the shadows nearby gnashing its teeth violently at her. She felt cold metal against her throat and saw the Faceless Cenobite holding up a sickle threateningly.
"Ah, Amanda, what a joy it is to see you," said the Leader stepping from between several chains, "I am interested in why you have come."
"Don't you still want my soul?" she gasped.
"Nothing would please me more," said the Lead Cenobite narrowing his eyes, "But your soul is already paid for."
"You mean you've accepted their souls for mine?" she asked, her mind racing. He gave a faint nod to the Faceless Cenobite, who lowered his weapon.
"You soul still belongs to us," he added, "But we will delay in collecting for now."
"Then maybe I can help you," she said quickly, "Wentworth is planning to take over."
"I would welcome a challenge," said the Leader sardonically, "But he is no match for us." He turned to go and Amanda spoke again, stopping him in his tracks.
"Maybe not, but what about Tom?" she asked, "Do you know what Leviathan is turning him into?"
"And what do you truly understand of Hell and suffering?" he demanded irately.
"Not much, but the enemy of my enemy is my friend," she said with an odd smile. Strange that she liked the Cenobites better than Wentworth. At least they were honest.
"Now it becomes clear," he stated, "You want us to spare Tom."
"Please," she begged.
"If he gives us his loyalty," said the Lead Cenobite, "I will consider it."
"And if he doesn't?" she wondered.
"Go now," he commanded as they vanished into the shadows, leaving her alone. Slowly she made her way back to intersection, still clutching at the Lament Configuration. Slowly she turned it over in her hands and dislodged a side. She managed to twist the corners and reconfigure it into a cube. Far away she heard distant shrieks and the faint blasts of Leviathan's song. In the distance the opening to the hospital courtyard slowly rumbled shut. She knew now that she would never leave. Turning around she walked into walkway.
Far below she saw the endless corridors of a labyrinth with passageways opening over bottomless pits. Suspended in the air far overhead was a pyramidal metal monstrosity that slowly rotated, sweeping the area with black beams of light, like a lighthouse of doom. It was the monstrosity Leviathan. She knew now what she had to do. Angrily she ripped the canula off her face and threw it, oxygen canister and all, into the pit. As she fell to her knees she spread her arms open wide, waiting.
"Take me," she wheezed, "Give me the power to destroy him." The black beam struck her square and she felt enveloped in wave after waves of memories.
She saw a woman in a bar smoking and sharing drinks with a handsome young man. As they laughed and chatted she recognized herself and Tony. But behind him in a corner she saw Wentworth nursing a shot glass of whiskey, watching them intently.
A moment later she saw Tony handing her a birthday present wrapped in a bow. She saw herself laughing and unwrapping the box. As she solved the cube she watched numbly as chains burst forth, impaling Tony. She saw in horror as the Cenobites appeared and tore him apart. She the candles on the table fall over and the rug caught on fire, then the curtains….
Again she was watching herself emerging from the drug-induced stupor in the hospital. She saw herself pull over a pair of scissors near a pile of dressing and methodically slice across her wrist. The blood trickled down, the life oozing out of her.
With a shock, she found herself back in the present. She lay on the ground, panting heavily. Slowly two low walls raised on either side of her, like a narrow coffin. Half a dozen tubes with needlelike nozzles snaked out of either side. With almost relief she sighed as they pierced in between her ribs. Finally she could breathe easy.
The coliseum was enshrouded in darkness, and then a faint shaft of light pieced the gloom. The twin pillars began to rise again, a figure in black armor dangling between them. What had once been Thomas Rathburn had ghastly white skin, the exposed joints of his body covered in scars and long pieces of metal impaling his elbows and abdomen. His head was a mass of muscle and tendons with the only skin stretched out like a mask over the bones, showing the familiar facial features. The Wounded Knight simply remained suspended with his eyes tightly closed as Wentworth stepped out of the gloom.
"You are truly beautiful Tom," he said lovingly, "And you have finally saved her."
"Martha…?" croaked the Knight in a guttural voice.
"I left her by the tree," he said, "She will be fine."
"There you are Doctor," said the Leader, "Still plan on denying your fate?"
"Of course," said Wentworth leisurely, "You can have my soul if you dare."
"Your suffering will echo through eternity!" sneered the Lead Cenobite coldly.
"Tom, if you love me," said the Doctor, "If you love her, you must fight"
The spikes withdrew from his wrists and the Wounded Knight fell to his knees in pain. Finally, he was getting what he deserved. He slowly got to his feet as they heard the faint flapping of loathsome leathery wings. He opened his eyes and looked surprised as a pair of bat wings descended from above. They separated as each grasped a shoulder of the Knight with a vicious claw. Black ichors spilled out of the shoulder wounds as the Knight withdrew the metal shards from his elbows. Then he pulled the long blades free from his abdomen, forming a crude pair of swords.
The Spiked Cenobite charged him, knocking him off balance, but he roared as twin blade pierced his chest. The wings began to flap as the Knight withdrew the swords as he rose into the air. The Spiked Cenobite collapsed onto the floor as the Faceless Cenobite slashed at the Knight with his sickle. Another fresh wound opened up as the Wounded Knight flew up and out of sight. The Faceless Cenobite whirled this way and that, trying to anticipate its opponent. But the Knight unexpectedly dropped from above, carrying him up into the air. There was a sickening wet crunching sound as the legs of the Faceless Cenobite crashed to the ground to the left of the Lead Cenobite, followed a moment later by the head and torso on the right. The Leader glared up at the flying horror and a set of chains burst forth from the walls. The Knight barely managed to deflect the chains, cutting the hooks away before they could impale him.
"Impressive," said the Leader appraisingly, "But futile."
With another faint nod he sent the chains careening at Wentworth. The Wounded Knight flew in the way and was impaled on two chains. Another two chains pierced his wings and spread him out like part of an obscene butterfly collection.
"No!" cried Wentworth in despair. Thirty years of meticulous planning was wasted in an instant.
"Now you will feel an eternity of suffering!" stated the leader with a glint of satisfaction.
"Wait!"
They turned to see a rectangular sarcophagus emerge from the ground, the lid sliding open. From the depths emerged a female Cenobite, with black skintight suit covering her chest and abdomen, her arms and legs encased in matching gloves and boots. Her hairless white head had a series of hooks dangling from short chains in a fringe, giving her the appearance of a demonic medusa. Her Amanda-like lips curved into a faint smile as she drew out twin daggers.
"I want to thank you Doctor," she said in a breathy, slight raspy voice, "I didn't even realize what I was missing." Petrified, Wentworth noticed the tubes that ran out of her throat and ribcage, hissing faintly.
"A-Amanda," he managed to stammer.
"Oh no," she said wagging a dagger in the air like a disapproving finger, "I'm Martha, remember?" Wentworth only gradually realized that his bladder had released.
"Martha…" croaked the Wounded Knight.
"You must choose," said the Leader to the Knight, "You cannot serve two masters." The chains withdrew and the Knight hovered in the air again.
"Tom, please...," begged Wentworth, "You were born to help me."
"Come to me," she said simply.
The Knight flew over to the Medusoid. Taking her hand, he knelt before her. The Doctor tried to make a break for it. A flash of steel buzzed through the air and Wentworth fell over, a dagger stuck into his knee. Crying out in pain, he tried to pull the blade free. He knew he was feeling shock and he had to fight the effects. The Medusoid ambled leisurely over and pulled it out.
"Ow!" he screamed, "You bitch!"
"No, you're my bitch," she said casually, "Aren't you pleased with your handiwork?"
"Don't kill me," he said grasping at her feet, groveling.
"I won't," she stated, "You belong to him."
They stood to one side as the Lead Cenobite stepped forward.
"No!" screamed Wentworth, "God, please no!"
"Not God," said the Leader, "But close enough."
The chains burst forth and hit their mark. As they pulled apart again some blood hit the Medusoid on the face. She wiped it off and licked it off her hand, feeling pleasure in such cruelty. Had these feelings always lurked underneath? It didn't matter anymore. She gasped slightly as she felt cold metal on her throat. She looked down to see a locket draped around her neck, the Knight standing behind her enfolding her in his arms. She covered a wounded hand with her own.
"Martha," he croaked in joy tinged with sorrow, "I'll save you." She knew now that he was her burden to carry, as she was his.
"You have," she rasped, "We will never be parted again."
"Come," said the Lead Cenobite with grim satisfaction, "I have such sights to show you."
They followed him back into the depths of the labyrinth. Content in their suffering, now they would always journey together.
For eternity.
THE END