Segment III:

The Big Day

Is all Alex knew was that he had been in this place for days, or possibly weeks. His memory was faded; lost beyond the abyss. There was only one thing echoing through Alex's mind.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! NO! NOOO! COME AND HELP ME! HELP ME!"

Those were his own words which seemed to still be bouncing off the wall. He had spent hours upon hours pounding on the door begging for help, but no one could hear him. Eight stories above, not even the schizophrenic caterpillar could. Nor was it listening. Alex's own intuition told him that no one could hear. That made him scream even louder, as ironic as it was.

The more he'd scream, the more that fear overcame him. When his ears received his horrific yelps, he'd panic all the more. Then he would begin to cry, and beg.

It felt like the rats themselves had been scraping up the insides of his throat. His entire face burned. His eyes; groggy and red-veined. He could feel his stomach gargling up all the fat and muscle it could.

Alex could no longer stand, his feet throbbing from having stood so long pounding at the door. He sweat as he did so, peering out the tiny window seeing nothing but a narrow, unlit hallway which expanded into infinity, ending in darkness.

The best Alex could figure was that the hallway led to other rooms exactly like this one. A boring concept which caused him to begin chuckling as he sat perched against the door. He didn't know why he was laughing so hard, but continued to, until tears came from his eyes.

He had already tried breaking down the door, but to no avail. He had tried everything, including putting his fist inside one of the three-inch air holes a long the wall and attempt to stretch his whole body through in that fashion. This place was sealed tight, locked from the inside.

Not much hope was left. He did not want to continue living, yet thirst did not stop himself from licking water off the ground which had dripped down into the vents from the melting snow above. A few pebbles from the dirty ground ended up going down his throat, into his stomach. Perhaps they satisfied his hunger just a bit.

At this rate he could survive a few weeks more at best... an idea which frightened him all the more. Death had to come sooner or later. It felt like a rusty blade had been dragged through his brain because of the way the censors of his nostrils were completely destroyed from the stench of old urine and feces which he had released at one end of the cell. However, there was not enough replenishment available for him to have to relieve himself again.

Developing claustrophobia, Alex spent the better part of his days trying hard not to scream more than he did while pounding on the door. He was afraid of rupturing his lungs and causing himself to cough up blood like he already did once before. The nights in this hell hole were damp and cool. The days were dry and humid. Frustrating. In this enclosed living space he was nothing more than a bean inside of a tin can.

Being deep down underground, the only way he could tell night from day was from if the light was shining through the ventilation holes which were like the pores of a giant creature which was inverted inside. The nights in this place were the most depressing. He was forced to lie on the hard floor which allowed barely one hour of sleep. Alex could hear sounds which were like that of an old house shuddering; haunting sounds which were from the rats rummaging around.

Alex was not alone in this caged cylinder... he had a cell mate and it was not a living entity. Taking up a good eighty percent of the room was what was like a beige and flat triangular stone. It was rough and edgy with barnacles on it as if it had once been in the sea. It was a dirty and grotesque object which looked like it had been smooth long, long ago, made out of metal perhaps. Now it was filthy, covered in a yellow moss. It had bizarre markings all over its surface as well which looked like ancient inscriptions. What a crafty triangle it was!

The back of the triangle was across from the door of the dank cell. The single point was towards the back of it. This divided the circular prison into three sections of awkward half-circles. One near the door, and two to the side. These were Alex's main living spaces, but he could really only use two of them since he stored his excrements in the left one. He could also crawl on top of the rocky triangle since its sides were slanted, but usually avoided doing this since the surface was like something from a nightmare. Right in the middle of the two horizontal points was the inscription of a circle which spiraled inwards. It was like a device for hypnotism. The entire triangle had the appearance of a secret, experimental aircraft.

Alex wasn't sure if he was suffering from amnesia or not since he had no clue as to how he arrived in this place. He could remember his entire life but could find no reasonable explanation as to what got him here. It was overly probable that he was blocking something out.

He had tried sorting everything out in his head. He came to the conclusion that he had a blackout where the period occurred, however long it was, that he was brought to this place. Then he had another blackout. In between, he had a vague and surreal memory in which he was not control of his own body or mind. He was knelt down upon the triangle, puking out some kind of black ooze. He could still feel the oily and gaseous taste in his mouth. The ooze also poured from his eyes like tears, and all of it gathered together in a group as if it were intelligent, slithering between the spiraling circle and then suddenly disappearing. What could this mean? Alex was still in debate as to whether or not he should discard the memory because of how little sense it made. None the less, what good could thinking about the past do to get himself out of here?

"You fucking asshole," he thought to himself. "How did you get yourself here? Who have you let fuck you up the ass now?"

With nothing more to do, Alex decided to stand up and begin pounding at the door yet again. So he stood, pressing his chest against it. Then he prepared his fists to slam it. He motioned forward and got ready to beg, but something stopped him. He realized just how silly the whole charade was. No one was going to hear. No one was going to come to get him.

In a flash, he thought up a new plan which he had not tried before. He smiled about it, taking a look up at the dark and round ceiling. He had wondered what was up there before. Anything. It looked completely plain and sealed, but it was worth a try, right?

So he positioned himself on top of the triangle which already stood two meters on its own. Walking over to one of the corners, he was able to put one foot inside of an air hole on the wall. Then he stretched his arm and grabbed hold of the air hole above that one. He used one arm with all his might to hoist himself as high as possible, and then have his legs use their muscle to bring himself up further.

It didn't work. He made it upwards not even one story. Instead he slipped, and fell back down onto the triangle head first. He hit his head pretty hard. The surface was like cement. The collision left him comatose.

As he was out, the schizophrenic caterpillar that could only walk backwards watched him from above. It peered down upon him like a curious cat with a vacant expression, looking downwards from one of the round ventilation air holes. However, the inwards of Alex's mind were not vacant.

In a tropical forest, somewhere sacred in the recesses of Alex's mind, the birds chirped and vegetation was plentiful. It was like a garden of hope, colorful and promising. The air was hot but the cool springs which were all over the place made it bearable. It was paradise.

Two parents walked happily along a path which was guarded by flowers of many varieties. The aroma was pleasing to the nostrils, and to the baby which was wrapped in a white blanket. The mother held him in her arms. She looked like Karen Grassle and wore a white blue dress and bonnet. The father wore black overalls and a white dress shirt. He looked like Michael Landon.

It was obvious that the parents were very excited about something. They walked faster upon every step. Their baby was their pride, the blanket over its face so that no bugs could drain blood from him.

As the parents continued walking with their child in their arms, the pathway grew shorter. Finally the ending could be seen ahead which coincided with the uncanny presence of a train track. A fair space had been cleared all around for this track.

The train track was rusted and decrepit. It certainly took beauty away from the tropical forest. Some of the tracks were even out of proportion and dislodged.

Just as the parents arrived at the track, the sound of a train could be heard coming from the left. It whistled along, sounding like an elephant. What was it doing in this tropical forest?

Alex was on the opposite side of the track, dazed and confused. His eyes were groggy and he was dizzy. Yet that did not stop himself from caring for the parents who were about to walk onto the track.

"Stop!" he cried to them. "Look out!"

The parents were not displeased by the oncoming train. They stopped and smiled at one another and the father took hold of the baby. He removed the shawl and touched the baby's face with his index finger. But the baby was not normal. It was the schizophrenic caterpillar that could only crawl backwards, and it was the size of a baby. Its devilish smile greeted its father.

"Well junior," the father said. "Today's your big day! I know you won't let us down!"

"You're my brave little boy," declared the mother.

Then the parents sat the head of their giant deformed caterpillar baby down on the tracks. It's snake-like body perched over the side, wiggling just a bit.

The train then came roaring around the corner from the left. It was big and red and scared all the birds away, moving at top speed.

The conductor was a husky man with a gray beard and crooked yellow teeth. His train teetered through the broken tracks, nearly falling off them. He saw the caterpillar baby's head on the tracks and he also saw the parents. He gave them a friendly smile and waved.

"First time!" he yelled in a Southern American accent.

"Yes!" the parents hollered back, waving him off.

The train did not slow down as it approached the head of the schizophrenic caterpillar. Instead it continued on. The caterpillar struggled for its life but the blanket which was still wrapped around its body prevented movement.

"Nooooo!" shouted Alex on the top of his lungs.

Again he was ignored. Alex could not comprehend any explanation for as to why the parents might be so enthusiastic... truly he was in the twilight zone.

Finally, the train came to the caterpillar. The head of the insect did not so much as bump the train or shift its movement. The wheels collided with the caterpillar's head as easy as a knife through butter. They did not completely take the head off and instead ground through only the top half, leaving the back of the head and the mouth alone. The tiny bug's face wore down as mushy orange blood and guts like from a pumpkin stained everything, including the parents who stood there cheering.

"That's our man!" hollered the father. "You did it!"

"I knew he could do it," claimed the mother. "My darling child!"

With that, Alex blinked and found himself back on top of the flat triangular rock. He was disoriented and had no recollection of the fall he took earlier. Instead he was troubled by a wet feeling on the side of his head. He felt it, discovering blood coming from his right ear and a bump like a camel's on the back of his head. Some of the blood was hardened and brown. He was in a pool of it and the triangular rock drenched in it like a mud puddle. The blood poured from his ear like a leaky faucet.

Alex shuddered suddenly with a strange feeling that he was being watched. He jolted and turned around, so dizzy that he nearly fell off the triangular rock. When he looked up, there was nothing there. The schizophrenic caterpillar had vanished.

Once again realizing the reality of where he was, he moaned. After the moan came a loud and nauseating cough. With the cough came a tiny moth out of his mouth. How it got inside of his lungs, he didn't know, and didn't care. Instead he watched it spiral up the long and wide cylinder like tornado.