A firm hand on my shoulder woke me. Sleep was heavy and daunting but I blinked it away and sat up silently. Mr. Bombastic spared me a glance to be sure I was ready and stood, too.

The dogs could be heard again. Louder, now, though still waxing and waning a bit. Time to move out.

He had two ambrosia blocks left. One he handed to me, just a precautionary measure. I quickly pocketed it inside the new hidden space I'd created with the ripped leather and his string, and then we were off, into the dark groaning and hissing and usual ambiance.

He took the left. I took the right. Turns and extra tunnels were examined quickly and quietly, and without hesitation. Fly-by analysis and off we were again. We made our way down tiled walls to a section of a marble temple to dirt and then back to stone and even an archaic form of plaster, I guess. We passed another cavern glimmering with crystals. Gold was heaped in one corner, too, but we ignored it and kept going.

The dogs never seemed to grow closer or farther. We were slowly going in circles. Or perhaps a more complex shape. Either way, the maze was currently winning.

"Here," Mr. Bombastic whispered. I glanced at his find. The tunnel had a dark look about it, carved of ebony-stained wood and full of odd talismans hanging forlornly from the empty sconces, and scratches on the entrance. But I heard no monster and the rest of the tunnel was unscathed. It was more promising than our current path, which was starting to grow mold.

Into it we went.

"Ich," Mr. Bombastic whispered at one point. "Those dogs have been here. That gods-awful smell is gonna linger for days."

My gaze found an unnatural shimmering in the darkness, a sleek refraction of his light that the rough stone could not dream of replicating. Liquid. "I think that's what they were going for. Do you know of another faction?"

"No. But that doesn't mean there isn't one, or that it's far off," he said grimly. "You'd think they'd stay separated, but they're demons and they like to fight. Plus..." His fingers lifted and twisted around one another, like tortured tentacles, miming the maze's cold presence and tunnels.

"Yeah," I agreed. We picked up the pace.

A strong breeze began to grace our faces. It was cool and crisp, but it still smelled of wolf-man. We traveled upwind nonetheless. The source turned out to be nothing but a small hole in a ceiling twenty feet overhead, crooning sadly at us, as if apologizing for the cruelty it couldn't help.

Now, though, the dogs were much louder.

By silent agreement we kept moving. No time to mourn or fret. Twice, we stopped to breathe for a few minutes. Mr. Bombastic's light would really shine then. His eyes would close and his mind would almost audibly whirr and that light would blaze like a fallen star.

"It's impossible to outlast the maze," he muttered. "Luckily we just have to last long enough to impress it. Shouldn't be hard, what with me here to help. Don't stray quite so far from me this time."

Next came a place not unlike the arena I'd dreamed/dazed about before. A large space with hard-packed dirt underfoot. Loose vines hung form overhead.

Here, Mr. Bombastic hesitated. I looked at him curiously.

"Nothing," he explained in a reverent whisper. "Just... a good feeling about this room. We could wait to ambush them here. They'll be split up to look for us. With a little edge, and a little luck for you, I can fight 'em off. Maybe. And this would be the place to do it. This room is covered with their scent and those massive jerks never feel the need to look up, above their freakishly tall heads." His finger traced the vines, a leaping arch, before stopping near the floor where I saw the bloody battle gleam in his eyes.

"No," I whispered back. "Not a bad battle plan-"

"Of course it's an awesome battle plan! I made it!"

"-but it'll only mean giving away our position and giving them more dead to avenge," I finished anyway.

His light shifted as his gaze floated up to the ambush-vines above once more. There was no telling how far up they went, or what was waiting on the other end. And yet there was a longing there. The longing my stomach had when I'd been three days without food.

"No," I insisted again. "Don't be stupid."

"...Yeah," he eventually agreed reluctantly. We hustled to make up for the lost time.

After that, the dogs seemed to grow quiet. The silence hung like steaming acid in the air.

"Minos," Mr. Bombastic hissed as we padded through a tunnel that could not decide if it was sand or stone. I spared him a glance. "Geez. That's the third time. You picked a bad nickname."

"Dead end," I cut him off. Sure enough, as he grew closer to investigate, his gleam was thrown against the soft grey curve that blocked our path.

"Double back again?" he guessed after a moment. We knew that'd never work twice.

But what other choice did we have?

We spun on our heels and bolted back the way we'd come. Sand, stone, sand, stone. Mostly stone. The clank of wood, once or twice. The side tunnels that'd yawned at us before had retreated rather suddenly.

Then the howling started again. They were deafening now.

"Those dogs need leashes," Mr. Bombastic groaned.

"They're in our tunnel," I hissed when he didn't move. "Hey! We gotta go!"

"Look for a side tunnel," he insisted, and once again we spun around. The dirt made panicked crunching noises with every step. The rock was grainy, and louder. Giving us away.

There were no new tunnels. The stench of the demons was no longer just their scent markers.

Mr. Bombastic yelled in anger. I heard it before I saw the flail of motion and whirled. The first dog had pinned him to the floor. The clear sheen in its eyes glowed in his light. So did the spit that hung from his fangs.

I executed it quickly with my sword. Then we were running again, back towards the dead end, with the pack close enough that Mr. Bombastic lit up their eyes, too.

My sword trailed along the ground. Two skeletons emerged, two new sets of eyes that forced their way into my mind. We kept running. They didn't.

"How many?" Mr. Bombastic demanded.

I could hardly quit balking long enough to answer. "Too many." There was a horrible sear of pain and the snap of fragile bones, then my mind belonged to me alone once more. For good measure, I let my sword fire a bolt of black magic behind us. Mr. Bombastic copied with his own move - a snap of the fingers that sent a blade of light arcing towards the ravenous wolves.

We alternated. We ran. We searched for an exit.

Not one. If this still ended with that empty stone room...

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind did I see the bleak grey surface slither up from the darkness ahead.

Mr. Bombastic cussed loudly and fired another blast behind us. The dogs only howled louder. Their footsteps were now like thunder.

Fear began to crawl up my throat. It had claws, no, spikes in a hard exterior. Like the big cockroaches. No. No. Not yet. I'm not done yet. I don't think.

My comrade did not seem to like the dead-end room. He paused at the threshold and looked back, as if he'd rather take his chance with the dogs there. I ran into the room and felt along the walls and floor.

No bodies nearby. No help.

And then the unthinkable happened. The maze showed us a true miracle.

"Up there!" I screamed, leaping for the cold ceiling. There was a hole in it now, leading straight up, with neat little ladder rungs there on one side. Our escape tunnel really did exist!

Mr. Bombastic almost reluctantly turned and sprinted to where I was, dangling from the lowest rung by one hand. The dogs looked like one massive, chaotic wave of black water. Black water with little glowing pearls and foam and teeth. Too close.

"Move!" he hissed, and shoved my feet. My arms were good at this, as when Bianca made us go to the park, the jungle gym had always been my favorite. The world shrunk down quickly to the thin circular hole. Darkness moved in even faster. I liked it.

Mr. Bombastic grunted as his fingers audibly clamped down on the rungs. His head bumped into my hip.

Teeth clamped down on my ankle. It felt like it'd been crushed between two sledge hammers. The awful grinding of bone against bone made my whole leg light with pain. I took it out on my tongue. The blood was warm and fell pitifully short. The scream almost escaped.

"Stop," I choked out, and the shadow-magic thing, the monster I had on a leash, lashed down at the offender. There was a whine and then my leg was free. Hanging limp, but free.

Mr. Bombastic was worse off. I heard him yell and curse. A swift glance down told me he'd been scratched. His body swayed back and forth, back and forth, crushing mine and then not, as he swung to avoid the jumping canines.

There are no words for the relief I felt when my feet were finally enveloped in darkness with the rest of me. I climbed the next few rungs and then Mr. Bombastic was beside me, too, our eyes level but his feet just barely inside the hole.

Beneath us, the dogs howled and jumped still. Twice I felt the solid ground rumble as they hit the roof below.

Mr. Bombastic smiled. "Keep going. They can still claw at us."

My hand reached for the next rung. It was not there. Rather, my knuckles dragged across a rough and sharp wall of stone.

Suddenly the darkness was not so inviting.

"No," I rasped, shoving on it. It did not budge In fact, it wasn't a door or wall of any sort - it was part of the tunnel, not closing an opening but more like the bottom of a cup flipped upside-down. The deepest point of a puncture wound.

We were stuck. Trapped.

I was so scared, tears began to run down my cheeks. I felt my hands shaking again. This was the part where Bianca would take my hand and lead me somewhere private and hug me until it was over, only she wasn't here now. There wasn't anyone to promise the dream wasn't real or that the monsters were just a silly movie or a joke. No light that could dispel the shadows. No more leash on my monsters, not the darkness or the wolves.

She wasn't here anymore. Might never be again, if I didn't find her.

"Move," Mr. Bombastic hissed. His light did not come on but he bullishly wriggled upwards and slammed his hands as hard as he could into the stone.

I slid down one rung and bit back a whimper, feeling around for nonexistent seams. My mind worked faster and better. We could hide up here for a while, yes, but not longer than the dogs, not if they had too many to fight. They were smart enough to arrange guarding shifts. And we could not rely on the maze to deliver a miracle.

Stupid us. Brave, selfish, stupid us.

"Hurry! Before they get away!" Bloodtooth howled beneath us. The noise was deadly in our small space. Desperate dogs that couldn't see our predicament began leaping higher.

It wouldn't take them long, though, to figure out that we weren't moving anywhere.

Mr. Bombastic slapped the top of the hole again. Nails scrapped across stone. "Dangit!" His legs tried to lift higher, but his knee could not bend without banging into mine. Our elbows could hardly bend now, either, we were so pressed so tight. He smelled of sweat and wintergreen mints.

"DOWN!" a voice beneath us thundered. The dogs did not quiet nor halt their bouncing, but I heard their footsteps shuffle away.

Alpha.

His footsteps were audibly heavier than the others as he approached at a run. His jaws were audibly closer when they snapped shut. A startled yelp escaped him when, on his way down, he crashed into the edges of the tunnel.

His teeth had grazed my jeans.

We were blind it was pitch black now but I could imagine him, that massive mangy thing with death in his eyes and ignored in his skin. That thing was dangerous. That thing was so large there was no hiding not even here we could squirm all we wanted he would not miss next time...

Claws snagged on my wounded ankle. I went down three rungs. The excited screech the dogs gave off as a result drowned out any scream I think I made. I twisted and crushed Mr. Bombastic and then I was free and we were scrambling again, up up up into the space that wasn't there. His elbow smashed my nose and mine jabbed his ribs and our hands got tangled in our hair. His knee pinched my hip. Maybe - maybe, if we squeezed, it was a long shot but it was all I had and I couldn't be done yet-

My sneaker was clawed off of my wounded foot.

"Come out," Alpha sneered as the dogs howled and the sound of ripping fabric exploded into existence. "Run no more."

I could feel Mr. Bombastic's heart, that weakness he said he had, double its pace against mine.

I felt him flinch as his foot was grabbed next. At the same time felt the back of the furry hand touch my wounded sole. Our breath made the little air between us hot, stuffy, and wet.

Canine sniveling was our ambiance now. No more moaning and groaning.

"Now!" Alpha barked. "Down now!" His giant head sunk its teeth into my jeans at the knee, ripping them free. Still we struggled against the stone.

I couldn't die here. No. No, not now. Not alone, not in the maze. Not without Bianca. Death would mean no more fear but gods, oh, gods, I could not abandon her like that. It was the will to live that leaked the fear. Not death.

Please. Anything but losing her again.

I would not die here. No matter how much the claws hurt or how scared I was or the impossibility of it all.

Mr. Bombastic swore again. I felt his blood trickle down my shin.

No way out. There's no way out. Can't escape can't outwit can't outlast can't hide...

"NOW!" Alpha bellowed. His teeth grabbed onto my last good foot, ripping it from the railing.

"NO!" I screamed. My mind had found the only way out. One hand clamped on the railing and the other, already having wriggled into place, slammed as hard as it could into Mr. Bombastic's side. I had no time to wonder if my aim was right in the dark but as soon as the impact came I knew I'd been right. The flesh was weak on the surface and whatever was beneath gave in way, way too easily.

Just for good measure, I hit him again fast, once more right where the soft spot was. It was unnecessary. My sword had done a good job on him; the healing flesh had torn and blood was dripping down my fingers and he made an awful noise, something between a groan and a choke. His glow burst into painful life. My second strike provided the smallest momentum and sent him on his way down. His limp fingers slid easily from the ladder.

I clung as close as I could to the wall, and that almost wasn't enough. I felt his heavy body pull on me, whether it was coincidental or on purpose, before he'd fallen far enough for the dogs to be so sharply outlined he crashed into Alpha, knocking them both loose and down into the dead-end room.

There were two wolf whines and a whole lot of barking. Mr. Bombastic screamed in terror and lurched away from the nearest one but they were packed tight, like the stuffing inside of new shoes fresh from the store you find crammed into the toes. Bloodtooth's jaws got his thigh and Alpha's his shoulder and another his middle, teeth sunken deep into the flesh so that I couldn't see their glow in his light. They writhed and wrenched as if they were the ones caught. The sound was unbelievably loud, enough to drown out the excited demons - a thunderous tear accented with a sharp and quick snap at the end, and Mr. Bombastic was in two pieces. Even his blood gleamed with an ephemeral black light.

His scream died out quick enough, I guess, but the glow did not. The world beneath became a dizzying obsidian ocean, with nothing but wild movement to be seen as the dogs swarmed in on their kill. None of them jumped for me again.

I scrambled up to the top of the hole, bending my knees freely and curling up at the very top where previously just our two upper halves could fit, and squeezed that last square of ambrosia in my mouth before settling down to wait. My eyes closed, but there was no way to tune out the sound of a sloppy meal eaten by sloppy creatures.

Beneath the yips and snivels and tears and cracks, though, the maze had started to move again.

oOo

I pushed a girl off the jungle gym once.

She had been annoying me, asking me questions, and then telling me every answer I gave was wrong. She did that annoying thing that adults did, when she put her hands on her hips and leaned forward and moved her head from side to side with every word. Only I wasn't about to mistake her for an adult. Eventually she told me that I didn't deserve the top spot on the playground and, when she moved forward to ask me to move, I'd pushed her.

The landing was not soft but it wasn't deadly. I'd very much enjoyed watching her get what she deserved. Then she'd started crying. That's when I remembered how much pain sucked.

Her mother had picked her up and carried her off to the side. Bianca, who'd just been speaking with said mother, had come for me, too. She wore an adult's face, too, only she was much better at it. And much scarier.

"Nico. Get down," she'd told me. "Now."

I'd gotten down. Of course, there was a lecture waiting. Technically we hadn't even been on a playground - just the sofas in the hotel's massive waiting room - and shouldn't have been horsing around, for one (though I didn't see a horse anywhere to begin with). Then there was my 'selfish, rude attitude'.

"It doesn't matter how she treated you, Nico. You never have the right to push or hurt someone like that. You should go say you're sorry. And let her push you onto your butt while you're at it, see how enjoyable it is."

The girl's mother had looked up and smiled at that. To this day, I am not sure whether it was her or Bianca who'd been joking. When I apologized and the girl really did decide she should push and hit back, Bianca had gotten between us. The mother just chuckled and led the girl to the elevators, holding a wad of napkins to her bleeding elbow.

Bianca had given me another speech that night about sharing. So what if we both wanted the top spot? We could take turns. No big deal. No need to place someone else's want before another's.

But I wanted it more, I'd said.

What on earth would she say to me now?

By the time the dogs were done and tired out, my hiding place had grown taller. There was now an extra three feet of room. Unnecessary, by this point. When the sound of crunching and thick swallows had worn thin, Alpha had poked his head into the tunnel and reported aloud that I was out of sight and had left no nose-trail. I was gone.

"Home? Home?" the dogs had begun to ask of their alpha.

"Finish," Alpha had snarled. "Then home." They left not long after.

There was still only way out of the room. It was lit, now - sometime while I was distracted, torches had appeared in the hall. I waited for another hour before daring to climb into the illuminated dead end.

The smell of the dogs mingled with that of blood and flesh. I coughed and buried my nose in my jacket. There was indeed blood, drying on the walls and floor. But aside from that every bone had been licked clean. They were scattered across the room seemingly at random. They went well with the new light. They'd become nothing more than background scenery.

My arms and legs, exhausted from holding me up there, shook and gave way when I reached the nearest wall. I sunk to the floor, closed my eyes, and breathed.

Some voice in the back of my mind warned me that I should feel hungry and thirsty by this point, but I did not. I was just tired. In fact, the idea of food combined with the room's musky reek made me want to vomit.

The maze kept on working. The torches did not go out.

Eventually I rolled to my feet and found that the ambrosia had worked well enough. I made sure my sword was unscathed and confirmed that my lost shoe was now worthless before moving towards the entrance.

I was doing my best not to think much.

I see how it is! You leave me to fight, then ditch your brave savior?

I swear, I heard the words as if they'd been spoken aloud. Grief struck hard and fast, like a blow to the head with a club. Quite suddenly I realized how much I was going to miss Mr. Bombastic. More than I thought I would. It was sad, the thought that he'd no longer be roaming the mazes corridors in search of a victory over them. Alone or with me or with that girlfriend he'd been determined to get. Lost and afraid and slave to this place but, in his own mind, free as he could be.

A shame there'd only been one way out.

Bianca was waiting for me, though, so I shouldered it and kept moving.

My foot tapped a bone by accident. I spared it a glance. It was the skull, jaw still attached. That was when I remembered that no ghost ever left the maze.

No living person ever leaves, either.

I knelt down and picked up the skull. It was wet with dog saliva and other things I don't want to think about. Relatively hollow, too, with most of its innards scooped out through a hole bashed invisibly in the bottom.

You, the thoughts rudely shoved themselves into my mind. A mix of feelings too complex to decipher accompanied them. Did you die, too?

No. I was looking for you. You had to be hanging around somewhere. Nobody ever escapes this maze, not really. Every time I leave, I come back. Every ghost who knows of it, I've found in here. This place isn't one you ever beat. It doesn't play its game very fair.

Psh. I beat it, he insisted.

I see that.

Oh, come here to gloat, huh? To me?

No. I don't think I could gloat about this if I tried. The tension in his mind loosened a bit. I wanted to ask you a favor.

You ask too many. Waaaaaay to many. Kings don't owe favors to peasants, dead or alive. Now quit standing here like and idiot or get a move on, else you and I will be trapped in this place forever. And I'm not spending an eternity with your hopeless butt.

I'm asking anyway. Do you want to help me defeat the maze?

He was quiet for a moment. Dull thoughts flashed in his mind. Faded memories. Rusty calculations. And I would help you do that why?

Because I need your help to do it, and... And because of these soft hearts we share.

I showed him my plan. Didn't take long; it was rather simple.

Eventually he replied with, Well, I guess you're the only person I can talk to while I'm dead. Which makes you the only person I can save. Who am I to waste the awesome potential I was given?

I mimicked the skull's grin. I humbly accept the aid of your bull-headed egomaniac majesty.

Get a move on. Standing still will get you killed. Moron.

We set off at a leisure pace down the lit hallway, my feet making uneven sounds with each step. Pad, slip, pad, slip. They were the only sound aside from the maze's normal background, and the seal of my isolation.

Mr. Bombastic bluntly recalled the pain of being socked in the side.

Right. My fault. What were those things, anyway? You talked like you knew.

I know everything. They were Cynocephali. Originally from Africa, I think, but got mixed up with everything else there when the Europeans came in and carved it all up. Had a few wars, got rejected by the gods for their violence, vowed to avenge their dead on the humans and their patron Olympians, et cetera. They moved with the core of Western Civilization and I guess eventually, when they started dying out, retreated down here. Thought they could claim the place as their own.

Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, I retorted as I explored an exit tunnel. If you're so smart then you know I need your name and address for this to work. Why don't you come off it and tell me what it is already?

Psh. Names are stupid. Nicknames are better.

My name is Nico. My sister is Bianca, but she died, so I'm on a quest to get her back. Minos wasn't a very good nickname for me, I guess. You were right about that.

...Phil. My name is Phil, and my mother, Renee Raggins, lives in Missouri. You'll find her house there.

oOo

I watched quietly from the plush, pampered bushes - who pampers plants? - for the screen door to open. Of course, it was still crisp with winter, so the real door was closed as well. Which explained why Ms. Raggins hadn't noticed anything yet. But the car was in the driveway and if I listened quietly I could hear the bustle of quiet, peaceful life inside the average house; cabinets opening and closing, a sink turning on and off, the nice smell of dinner wafting out of the window.

The memories Phil had shared with me of his mother were so nice, so wonderful. He had not told me why he had left. Perhaps he'd just wanted more adventure. Or gotten lost and been stuck in the maze's trap for these last few years, unable to return home. No telling, really.

All the way here, we had marveled at how fresh and big the air was up on the surface. Phil had also accidentally let it slip how much he hated having to return to his mother like this.

But neither of us complained.

The creaking of floorboards caught my attention. Instinctively, I lowered myself deeper into the shrubs. Ms. Ragggins was approaching the door.

It may have been to get some air. Or to see a neighbor. Or to hop in the car to shop for some last-minute ingredients. It's not like the postman ran at six in the evening, or that there was much for her to do outside on her own at this time of year. I don't know why she came out when she did.

I couldn't see the porch, but I saw her gaze drop to it as soon as the door opened. She frowned and knelt down. Then she stood, the skull in one hand, the note in the other.

"Sorry," I saw her mouth in confusion. That was all I'd written. Then she examined the skull. If it was weird or creepy to her, she did a good job of hiding it.

It did not take long for her to recognize what she held. She stumbled back against the house with wide eyes. The note was dropped. A hand lifted to her mouth, and she sobbed. She sobbed for a good five minutes.

Then she quieted, wiping the tears away. They were private and it was an awful transgression of every code she knew, apparently, to cry in public. Her gaze went up and down the street quickly. Looking for witnesses, or for me, the culprit of this crime?

Her gaze was not very accusing, either way.

She went inside, and from there I heard more crying. I stayed until she had quieted down to silent tears. Then I crept across backyards and alleyways back to the crappy old post office. There, on the outside air vent, was the glowing delta that marked the maze's entrance.

It was such a relief to enter it again, and to enter it alone. Alone with Bianca's memory and my task at the forefront of my mind, and my pain well hidden, my weaknesses well guarded. To play the game to my best once more. As shabby as that was.

It was also nice not to hear Mr. Bombastic blabbing until my ears melted. I could not sense him anymore. In fact, it wasn't likely he was even in the skull by now.

There was no way in Tartarus that the maze would have him again. He was gone from it forever.

I hate you, I thought towards the maze as I plodded down the stone stairs.I hated it. I hated not having Bianca there to soothe my fears or tell me that hate was destructive. If I ever got the chance, I would beat that maze. As surely as I'd get my sister back and make things okay again, somehow. I'd destroy it. But somewhere in me I was growing very aware that I would never actually escape it.

There was only one boy in the whole world who escaped the Labyrinth.

oOo

"The [funeral] bells will ring when the blind lead the blind, because the dead can't testify." - Billy Talent.