Chapter Three
The room was dingy and old, with gray being the predominant color. There was no telling when the last time was that the walls had been painted or even simply cleaned. Now, however, a new hue had been added, one that was striking and eerie. Crimson was splattered everywhere---on the walls, the floor, the windows. . . . And the reason for it was sprawled all over the cement flooring. Bodies, both dead and wounded, were strewn all across his path. There had been some kind of a fight.
Instinctively, he knew that he had been part of it, that he was injured himself. His mind's eye darkened, leaving the dream black. But sounds continued, and he heard his dream self's footsteps running across the floor, followed by a gasp and a whispered exclamation. Then his voice was panicked, and echoing, as if from far away.
"Seph! Hey! Speak to me!" A brief pause. "Seph . . . no. . . . You can't be . . ."
Zack started awake, his eyes flying open in the darkness. He was breathing heavily, his spiked locks falling across his face and plastered against his neck, and he was gripping the edges of the pillow.
He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows, looking ahead at the headboard and the wall. "Man . . ." he muttered aloud to the emptiness of the room. "Somethin' I ate must've disagreed with me." He rolled over, sitting up on the soft mattress and drawing one of his legs up to his chest.
Dreams were not something he had a lot of---at least, not serious ones that left him in a cold sweat. He was used to the usual, bizarre, kaleidoscope of ever-changing scenes when he fell asleep, as his mind tried to make sense of everything that he was thinking and feeling. And he had honestly not been afraid that something would happen to Sephiroth. It had never really crossed his mind, despite knowing that they could end up in a vicious battle before they would be able to leave this place.
It was not that he thought Sephiroth was indestructible, per se, just that he imagined the other would be able to ward off any possible injuries to himself. He had not ever seen the green-eyed man hurt before, though there had been the time when he had come down ill with a fever and had been delirious for hours. It had pained Zack, to see him like that, to not be able to do anything except to be there. And he did not want to see his friend suffer again.
He shook his head, running a hand through his raven tresses. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, that incubus had left him shaken. Everything had seemed so very real, from the detailed room that he knew he had never seen to the bodies laying all over the floor. He had seen several of their faces quite plainly, and felt that he would recognize them if he ever saw them in real life. But he had never really believed in being able to see the future. If that nightmare meant something, was it what would be . . . or what might be?
A creaking noise jolted him back to the present, and he looked up quickly as the door inched open. Sephiroth peered into the room, seeming to be wide awake and quite alright.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he remarked.
Zack grinned, pushing aside any and all of his irrational fears. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me and went to search the place yourself," he said. "Do you ever sleep, Seph?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling on his boots before pushing himself up. Then he swiped his gloves off the nightstand, working his hands into them as he came over to the door.
"You should know," Sephiroth retorted, watching him. "Once you sleepwalked into my quarters, fell on me, and woke me up."
Zack smirked. "But you were already awake by the time I woke up to you shoving me off," he said lightly, walking past the other into the hall. "How do I know you were really asleep before that?"
Sephiroth grunted as he followed, then came ahead of Zack and led him to the staircase. Most of the lights were out; the only ones on were dim nightlights installed in the ceiling, casting shadows across the walls and the floor. They were not certain which bedroom was Dalton's, but they were not eager to find out. They crept down the stairs, perfectly soundless, and then turned to the steps' left.
"Are we going to check out the attic too?" Zack whispered as they made their way down the corridor. "No telling what might actually be in those boxes."
Sephiroth nodded. "If we have time." He reached the library and quietly turned the knob, pushing the door open just enough for him and Zack to squeeze through. As he walked forward, he reached over and switched on the light. The gentle glow bathed the furniture and the volumes, and illuminated the fireplace and mantle.
He walked over to it, idly hearing Zack softly close the door behind them. Carefully he reached for one of the bricks in question. As he had suspected, it was loose, and as he began to wiggle it, it pulled free with a scraping moan. He narrowed his eyes in irritation at the noise. Hopefully it was not loud enough that anyone outside of the room would hear. He did not know whether any of the maids engaged in latenight cleaning. He placed the object on top of the mantle and pulled out the small flashlight to shine in the hole.
Next to him, Zack found the other odd brick and got the tips of his fingers on it, frowning as he attempted to tug it away. "Looks like I got the stubborn one," he commented low, and pulled harder. No matter how he struggled, it would not budge an inch.
Sephiroth glanced down at him, frowning slightly. "Try using a fire poker," he suggested.
"Good idea." Zack walked around to Sephiroth's other side, pulling out one of the three sharp poles from the rack. He smacked the stick part in his hand once or twice, as if it was a whip, and then moved back to the obstinate brick. Placing the tip of the poker against the underside of the rectangular edge, he braced himself, putting a foot against the wall as he again started to pull.
He strained harder, gritting his teeth in frustration as it still refused to come loose. Maybe Sephiroth was wrong, and it was not like the first one. The different color would not have to mean that it was concealing something. They might have simply ran out of the old color, and maybe this brick had needed replacing, no matter the shade. Honestly, if he could not get results right away, he was going to abandon this effort.
Without warning it suddenly popped free, sending the unprepared Zack harshly to the carpeted floor. He gasped in surprise, dropping the poker and tensing as he waited for the sound of the brick thumping down. But it did not come. Slowly he rose up on an elbow, blinking as he saw it sticking half out of the wall.
Sephiroth glanced down at him from where he had been examining the empty space. "We're lucky it didn't hit the floor," he muttered.
"Yeah . . ." Zack sat up slowly, studying it with a thoughtful frown. Why had it remained there instead of falling? The pressure should have pulled it out all the way. He leaned over, taking hold of the edge and sliding the object towards him and then back. "Hey," he said in realization, "I don't think this is supposed to come out." He looked up at Sephiroth, who was raising an eyebrow. "What if it's supposed to be pushed, not pulled?"
Of course. It could be some sort of lever. Sephiroth felt annoyed that he had not thought of the possibility. "Try it," he urged.
Zack shoved the brick back into the wall, and when he used force, it went in further than normal. There was a click, and Sephiroth quickly stepped back as a quiet whirring noise began to emanate from behind the fireplace. In the next moment, it swung open, revealing a dark passageway beyond it.
Now Zack got to his feet, blinking in surprise at the sight. "This guy really doesn't miss a trick," he said.
Sephiroth walked past him, switching on his flashlight. The tunnel was bare, as far as he could see, but after it went ahead for a while, it abruptly turned to the right. He stepped silently onto the stone floor, beginning to proceed into the opening. It was likely, he imagined, that they would not find anything. Maybe Dalton even realized that they would be searching his house. But at least they would be able to discover where the passage would lead, unless the other end was blocked.
Zack moved to follow him, narrowing his eyes as he saw the cement floor. Instantly his dream rushed back. But then he shook his head, pressing forward into the space. This was not the scene from his nightmare. He was letting his imagination run away with him. Anyway, this floor seemed quite clean and well taken of, unlike what had been shown to him.
Shown to him? He smirked slightly in the near-darkness. Now he really was sounding as if it was something that had a meaning and would come to pass. By morning he would have forgotten all about it.
He started as the whirring sound came again, and a prick of concern came over him. That could only be one thing. . . .
Quickly he turned back, throwing himself against the insistent panel and pushing with all of his might. He could hear Sephiroth making his way back over as well, and together they struggled with it. But it was no use. They skidded along the floor as the door pulled itself shut, locking them inside.
Zack shook his head, turning to slump against the wall. "Now what?" He had not stopped to think that they might become trapped. And it would not do if they were discovered by Dalton or one of his maids. Even if Dalton had been expecting something like this, it would look very unprofessional on their parts. And that was the last thing that either he or Sephiroth wanted.
Despite the dim light, it was obvious that the older man was exasperated. "Let's see where this leads," he instructed, "and if we can't get out that way, then we'll have to come back and try to release the brick from this side." Of course there would have to be a way to get out from the inside, but it was possible that it would not be in working order as long as no one was supposed to there. Hopefully that would not be the case. There was not any telling how long the air might last, either.
Sephiroth turned again, his long hair sweeping out around him. He should have inspected both sides of the fireplace wall more closely before they entered. Or else he should have found a way to prop the panel open, though he had not done so because it would clearly signal their presence if a maid happened upon the room for some reason. But not doing so may have proven to have caused more harm than good.
He shined the flashlight up and down the corridor as he walked ahead. So far, there was nothing to see, but it had obviously been used or at least cleaned recently. There were not even any visible cobwebs, and those could appear within a mere few days of neglect.
He could hear Zack fall into step beside him. Somehow he could sense that the other was thinking about something, but when he finally spoke, the topic was a surprise.
"Hey, Seph . . . do you ever have dreams that . . . you know . . . are more than dreams?"
He turned the corner, shining the light down the next hallway. It looked just as empty as the first, and at the end, it turned to the left.
"You mean a prophetic dream?" he answered, walking ahead without looking back.
Zack again followed. "I guess so," he said slowly.
Sephiroth raised the flashlight to study the ceiling, but there was nothing that seemed out of place---no trapdoors, racks, or shelves to store weapons. He brought the beam across the walls, with the same result.
"No," he said, "I never have."
Zack laughed a bit, sounding uneasy. "Didn't think so."
Sephiroth grunted. "Do you think you've had one?"
"Nah." The brunet grinned, the awkwardness passing. "Can you imagine me as any kind of prophet?"
"Frankly, no."
Zack started to quietly tap some of the walls. "That goes both ways, though," he said with light mirth.
"Heh." Sephiroth decided to let the matter drop. He could clearly tell that something concerning a dream was bothering Zack, but the other did not wish to discuss it and Sephiroth would respect that. Instead, he turned his attention to feeling along the opposite side of the wall.
"After dinner, Maryn said that she wishes we could get her out of here when we go."
Now the silver-haired man raised an eyebrow. He glanced over his shoulder at Zack, who was still facing the wall as he softly knocked on it.
"What did you tell her?" They were SOLDIERs, not baby-sitters. Sephiroth hoped Zack had not made any promises. But of course, if the uprising occured and Dalton was involved---as it seemed he must be---then they would, indeed, try to do something to help the child. If Dalton was not killed during the mess, he would have to be taken into custody and brought to trial, as would any other survivors who were part of the rebellion. And the chances were great that any rebels would be executed. In such a case, the only people left at the house would be the maids, and they would not wish to remain without pay.
Zack walked several feet up the hall. "I said I'd see what we could do," he replied.
Sephiroth sighed. "You'll get her hopes up."
"They already are." Zack looked over his shoulder. "You wouldn't expect me to shatter them, would you, Seph?"
The silver-haired man followed after him. These walls were not hollow. If anything had been here, it had definitely been taken away. He walked around Zack, heading for the lefthand turn.
"I think we need to be realistic," he said.
"Aww . . . have a heart." Zack caught up to the other just as he was rounding the bend, which looked identical to its counterparts. The brunet began to wonder if they would ever find a way out. At any rate, maybe it would be impossible to do so without attracting attention to themselves.
"It would be worse to let her believe she will be liberated, when she might not be, rather than to refrain from encouraging any hopes she already possesses." Again came the probing of the walls and the searching of the ceiling, with the same results. Nothing was out of place. And what was more, it looked like this time, there was not another corridor. If, at the end of this one, there was not a moving panel, they were trapped unless they could force open the fireplace again.
Zack knew that he was right. But that did not do anything to change his mind. After all, he was almost one hundred percent sure that something was amiss. And if anything was, then Maryn would need their help. Of course, there was always the nagging one percent doubt.
"What do you think of her, Seph?" he asked as they inspected the floor.
Sephiroth did not look up. "She seems nice enough. Better than a lot of them."
Zack reached the end of their search and straightened up, turning his attention to feeling across the wall for a spring, a lever, anything that would cause a possible panel to move. "I think she likes you too. She really got a kick out of you talking to her after dinner." He glanced at the other slightly as he came to join in the search for an exit. "I don't think she was expecting you to be as warm with her as you were. She thought you'd be cold and harsh."
Sephiroth reached up above his head, running his fingers over a slightly raised piece of woodwork. The wall slid open with just the slightest touch in that spot, revealing a darkened room. "Appearances can be deceiving," he answered, walking past Zack and shining the flashlight around to see where they had ended up.
The brunet quickly followed before the space could close again. "This looks like the den," he remarked, seeing the large, widescreen television set across from the soft green couch, and the state-of-the-art sound system. Dalton had created his own private theatre.
"It is." Sephiroth looked back, hearing the panel starting to close. "This is the other location I was wondering about earlier."
"So they're connected." Zack gave the room a cursory glance before crossing to the door. "If that's it, we'd probably better see if we can get into the attic before we go back to bed." He placed his hand on the knob and then suddenly blinked, thinking of something. "Hey, what time is it, anyway?"
Sephiroth pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. "It's after two in the morning," he reported. "I went to get you around twelve-thirty." He followed Zack to the door, then stopped and waited as the brunet eased it open and peered cautiously into the hall. Hopefully Dalton did not have any irritating latenight habits, such as getting up for a snack. That was all they needed right now.
"Coast is clear," Zack announced, and slipped into the corridor.
Sephiroth was right behind him, shutting the door noiselessly as he went.
But Zack's statement was almost immediately nullified. Loud footsteps were heard down the hall, descending the stairs. The duo froze, pressing themselves against the wall. The den was clear on the other side of the first floor, near where they had began, and its hallway would come out on the staircase's right. Should whoever was coming happen to look that way, they might very well see the SOLDIERs vainly trying to conceal themselves within the shadows.
Both of them tried to look themselves, and for a brief moment they could see Dalton's strong form walking toward the front door after reaching the bottom step. He was fully dressed, and seemed to have a definite destination in mind. Purposely he hauled open the heavy door, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the handle behind him. Then they were alone again, the shutting door bespeaking the solitude.
Slowly Zack pushed himself away from the wall. "Wonder where he's going so late," he murmured. "He didn't look tired." He moved into the dimly lit parlor, then to the window. Keeping to the side of it, he leaned over just enough to get a glimpse of what was outside. "Looks like he's going to the prison," he announced.
"Not a surprise. There aren't many other locations he could hope to frequent, especially at this time of night." Sephiroth stepped out as well, glancing to his comrade before alighting the bottom stair.
"Didn't hear a phone ring, either." Zack turned away from the glass, heading after the other.
"It could have been a mobile phone, if anyone called at all. Maybe it was a whim, or a routine check." Quickly yet quietly, the silver-haired man ascended to the second floor. "While he's out, we'd better use the opportunity to find and search his quarters, rather than the attic." Ordinarily it might sound like too much of a risk, but the maids would be residing in the servants' abode that he had seen from his room's window. The only other person in the house should be Maryn, and she would not be a problem, if they inadvertantly stumbled upon her room. At least, he hoped she would not be a problem.
Zack blinked, momentarily surprised. But then he smirked. "Always living on the edge, eh, Seph?" he said.
Sephiroth's eyes narrowed suddenly, Zack's words triggering other memories. "Go back down, replace that brick, and turn off the light in the library," he directed. "Meanwhile, I'll locate and investigate Dalton's room." They were just lucky that the library was on the side of the house that could not be seen from the penitentiary. But it was unwise to rely too much on luck. A maid could easily find things out of place, or Dalton himself might, upon his return. Presumeably, he had at least not seen the glow right now, or he would have came back inside.
Zack nodded, not needing to ask questions. Stealthily he went back down, turning to the staircase's left.
Sephiroth whirled around as well, beginning his journey down the long corridor.
He looked at the doors thoughtfully. During their tour, Dalton had mentioned that it was mostly bedrooms on this floor, in additions to the bathrooms and the one bare room that he was hoping to modify into a gallery. Perhaps that was where he was planning to relocate some of the items in the attic, though he had not mentioned one way or another when he had been asked. He had shown them that room, as well as a couple of the vacant bedrooms, but as Sephiroth thought more on the matter, it seemed odd that he had not also displayed his quarters. He was obviously so proud of his house and its interior, and would he not want to show off his room, as well---unless something was within that he did not want anyone to view?
Carefully he opened first one door, then another, finding unlived-in rooms both times. The third time, as a small shaft of light from the hall fell into the inner space, he found Maryn's innocent form sound asleep in a soft, white bed. This door he closed even more softly than those previous to it.
He had suspected that Dalton's room might be at the end of the hall, furthest away from the attic steps, and presently he found that this idea was correct. As he eased open the final door, he saw a large and unmade canopy bed, slippers on the floor, an open closet, and a desk cluttered with various items. He nodded in approval, leaving the door open as he advanced inside. Turning on this light would be too risky. He would rely on the hallway and his own flashlight.
First he crossed to the desk, making certain to stay low. It was under the window, and the last thing he wanted was to cast a silhouette on the curtain. But despite the mess, nothing seemed strange or out of place. There were various prison documents, totaling around fifteen, in a stack with a Post-It note on top that reminded him to take them next door. Apparently he had forgotten again. Many pens were scattered on the finished wood itself, while others were in an old glass. The laptop computer was on Standby, and when Sephiroth idly moved the mouse and was returned to the Login screen, he found that it was password protected. That was not a surprise. Quickly he reinstated the Standby mode.
"Seph?"
He started slightly at Zack's sudden voice, but did not look to him. "That took a long time," he grunted.
He heard the brunet walking across the floor, also keeping away from the window. "To tell the truth, Seph, I couldn't find the brick," he confessed.
Now he had the other's attention. Sephiroth frowned deeply, half-turning to study the younger man's puzzled expression. "What do you mean?" he demanded.
"Just that," Zack said helplessly. "It wasn't where you left it, on the mantle. Then I thought maybe it'd gotten thrown to the floor when the panel swung open, but it wasn't anywhere!" He paused. "And yeah, it wasn't back in the fireplace, either," he added.
This was not pleasing news. The only explanation was that someone had been in there and had deliberately removed it. But what would anyone want with a brick? It did not make sense at all!
Sephiroth returned his attention to the desk, picking up the first folder and flipping it open. It seemed to be the record for one of the convicts. But it did not help at all in learning what the person had done. All that was typed was that he---or she---had committed a "four-twelve", and that their sentence was three years. In irritation the silver-haired man grabbed the next file and opened it as well. This prisoner had performed a "three-twenty-five", and had been rewarded with ten years.
"Wow," Zack remarked, looking over his compatriot's shoulder, "they really want to keep things private around here."
Sephiroth shook his head, leaning over to read the tabs of the remaining folders. They were all criminal records, and undoubtedly would all have the same codes. There was little point in attempting to go over the rest. He placed the first two on top of the stack and straightened up with a sigh.
The strange signals could be a way of retaining secrets, but on the other hand, they might only be a foolish attempt at making such a small place of incarceration seem big and important. It was hard to understand the thoughts that ran through some people's brains, but Dalton might be just the sort of person who would do something idiotic that way. Sephiroth had definitely got the impression that the warden believed himself to be a far greater man than he actually happened to be.
By now Zack had wandered over to the closet, and was pushing clothes aside to check at the back. "He's got a gun," he announced, and reached into the depths to extract a long rifle. "Looks like the hunting guns they use at Gongoga." He turned it around in his hands, and then clicked it open, looking into the barrels. "It's loaded, too."
Well, this was interesting. Sephiroth walked over to him, looking the weapon up and down. "Has it been fired recently?" he asked.
Zack shrugged. "All the chambers are filled," he reported, snapping it shut again and replacing it in the closet. "I dunno what there'd be to hunt around here, though." He turned, watching Sephiroth get on his knees to look under the bed. "Anything?" he asked.
Sephiroth sneezed. "Just a stray dust bunny," he muttered.
Zack shook his head, slightly amused. "The maids aren't doing their jobs right," he declared, backing up into the nightstand next to the bed. He glanced down at it, noticing a lone drawer. Taking hold of the knob, he pulled it out, only to discover that the sole contents were a shotglass and a bottle of brandy. "Looks like this is his midnight snack," he smirked, closing the compartment once more.
Sephiroth stood up, brushing a long lock of hair back over his shoulder. "There's nothing that will help us in here," he said. "Let's see if we can explore the attic before he comes back." Without waiting for an answer, he walked out of the room and back up the hall. In a moment, he heard the door shut behind him and Zack's footsteps catching up with his long strides.
As it turned out, there was nothing strange upstairs, either. Within the boxes that they were able to look through, they discovered other figurines, vases, small lamps, and even decorative plates. Two or three others contained paintings, and Sephiroth recalled his earlier theory that these things were meant for the soon-to-be gallery room. Eventually they abandoned the effort, opting to return to their rooms and get whatever sleep they possibly could.
The missing brick problem nagged at Sephiroth as he collapsed onto the soft mattress several moments later. He had the feeling that it would become important, and that it was something he needed to find the answer to, but for the life of him he could not determine exactly why, or how it could be used against them. And who had taken it? Dalton could not have done so, unless he had come downstairs to get it and then taken it upstairs before descending again to leave the house. But if he had discovered it loose, why had he not investigated the tunnel? And where would he have hidden the object?
The questions swirled through his mind endlessly, blending and weaving with others, until he sank into a deep slumber peppered with dreams of he and Zack trying to fight an uprising in Dismal.
The villagers were all clutching bricks, running forward and throwing them at the duo as they stood back-to-back, desperately trying to deflect the deadly ammunition with their swords. And then into the melee sprang giant numbers---"three-twenty-five", "four-twelve", and others. These fired hunting rifles similar to the one Zack had uncovered in Dalton's closet.
Through it all, a young voice was desperately trying to be heard, calling again and again to both SOLDIERs. It grew louder and more distinct each time, and then, finally, Sephiroth could make out words.
"It's not the weapons you really need to worry about!" cried Maryn. "It's what they're gonna do with them!"
The last thing he heard before he snapped awake was a rousing, hateful cry of "Murderer! Murderer!"
Sephiroth gasped, jolting violently as his eyes opened. He was staring up at the underside of the bed's canopy, he realized instantly. The dream did not continue to perplex him by entwining its long talons around him, keeping him from fully becoming aware of reality. Instead, it simply perplexed him by its very nature, by its usage of the objects encountered during the night, and by its ambiguous, unsettling ending.
He ran a hand over his eyes in irritation. What nonsense. Had Zack's question about prophetic dreams remained in his subconscious and prompted into creation this bizarre specimen of Sephiroth's mind? Even if it had not, it seemed obvious that it must be merely the result of his own thought process. Though, that did not explain where he would have gotten the inspiration for the finale. He could place most everything, except that part. Why were the villagers shouting "Murderer"? Who had been killed, and who was being accused?
Idly he wondered if he should speak with Zack about whatever the brunet had dreamt that had bothered him. It could not hurt, at any rate, even though he did not believe that there was anything to either incubus.
"Mr. Sephiroth?"
He blinked in surprise, turning to look toward the door. Maryn was there, shy and uncertain, one hand on the knob as she shifted uncertainly and bit her lip. How long had she been there? He had not heard her knock, as he assumed she would have, nor had he heard the doorknob turn.
He raised up on an elbow, the quilt slipping down from his bare chest. "What is it?" he asked.
She relaxed slightly, seeing that he appeared to be receptive. "Breakfast is ready," she said, still speaking in a soft tone. "Mr. Dalton said to come get you and Zack."
"Breakfast?" He sat up, throwing the covers back the rest of the way. "Alright. Thank you," he said, maneuvering his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll be right down."
She nodded, but still lingered, hesitation in her eyes.
At last he looked to her questioningly. What was it she wanted?
"Um . . . are you okay, Mr. Sephiroth?" She shifted again. "You look kinda upset . . . like you had a bad dream. . . ."
He sighed, running a hand through his bangs and causing them to stand up even more. "Fine. I'm fine." He stood up, starting to shuffle toward the adjoining bathroom.
Maryn nodded, but still looked unconvinced. "Okay," she said. "I'll go back down and tell them you're coming. I already woke up Zack." And with that, she turned and slipped into the hall, closing the door behind her.
Sephiroth only half-heard.