Return of the Nightmare

Darkness. Darkness.

He felt as if he was gliding, floating on air, moving forward, but not moving forward. Blackness, darkness, empty void, surrounded him completely on all sides.

Then, suddenly, a cold, hard, flat surface materialized underneath him. It was gray and metal. The floor of the van. Beside him on both sides were the walls of the van, above him was the ceiling, and in front of him were the two rear doors. He turned around, and saw nobody else in the van. No one else in the driver's seat. Yet the wheel was still moving, turning side-to-side occasionally. He turned back to face the rear doors.

Then, suddenly, the rear doors flew off. Effortlessly and soundlessly, the two metal doors broke away and flew off into the darkness.

At that moment, a familiar light ringing started sounding in his ears.

He knew what it was. He remembered it. He tried to raise his hands to cover his ears to drown out that horrible sound, but he couldn't. Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Ringing, ringing…

Then the roof of the van above him also tore off, only it flew straight up into the forbidding void above until it was gone. Out of sight. Enveloped by blackness.

Then, the ringing once again transitioned to a low humming. That humming, humming, humming, hum, hum…

Then the massive computer console flew off to the side, as did the firearms all laid neatly beneath it.

Then the humming turned into the all-too-familiar thumping. Thumping away, thumping away, unseen, thumping in the distance and thumping right in his ears.

Then, finally, the source of it appeared. That familiar helicopter materialized out of blackness, hovering just behind what little remained of the van. Those blades spinning constantly, creating that thumping, that thumping…

Only this time, the windshield was not covered in cracks and bullet holes. And it was also close enough. Close enough to see the pilot. The impossibly black cloud was there, completely absorbing the seat. Just a big black shape, no definitive size or form, just sat there. Then, once again, two eyes appeared on the front of it. However, these eyes were not the beady yellow eyes that they were before. They were brown.

Brown eyes. Brown eyes that he had seen before. That he knew before. That he had gazed into lovingly before.

The black cloud slowly materialized into a very familiar body. A very familiar face.

Carmelita. His wife. His beloved late wife. Sitting in the pilot's seat of that helicopter.

Before he knew it, the half-van he was sitting in had begun to slow down. The helicopter drew closer and closer. That thumping remained the same. That thumping. That thumping…

Then, he moved to the side. The half-van was now out of the helicopter's way, and slowing down to be directly alongside it. He could now look up and down the entire length of the small helicopter. She sat in the pilot's seat, looking straight ahead into the black. Her gaze was distant…despondent…almost dead.

That thumping, that thumping…

He wanted nothing more than to call out to her. To say her name. To get her to look at him. To look into her eyes again and know that she was looking back at him…

That thumping, that thumping…

Then, in an instant, the front of the helicopter began suddenly crushing in on itself. It was just like before, only it was much slower. Also, it was completely silent. The only sound was the continuous thumping of the blades. The metal frame, the glass windshield, in slow-motion, grinded in on itself, crushing back towards the rear end. She sat completely motionless, that despondent look still hovering in her faint eyes. That thumping, that thumping…

Then the crushing had hit her, completely swallowing her up in the mess of twisted metal and breaking glass. He wanted to move. He wanted to scream. But he could only sit and stare. All the while, the only sound that could be heard was that thumping, that thumping…

It continued crushing in on itself. But this time, it went even further. It was almost like a wave of destruction that swept over the body from front to back. It continued crushing itself even at the halfway point, all along the tail. Only the blades on top remained, still thumping, thumping, thumping…

Then, the entire body was one giant, twisted lump of metal. Only the propellers were completely untouched. They were still spinning nonstop. That thumping, that thumping…

Then, all of a sudden, a massive orange blast emitted from inside the twisted lump. It spread out, also moving slowly, consuming the heap of metal and the intact propellers. The thumping ceased abruptly, now replaced with a long, deep, consistent roaring. The roaring of the flames, of the smoke, and of the blast. That roaring, that roaring…

He was right next to it when it went up, and the orange blast easily and instantly consumed him and the entire half-van, too. He was surrounded on all sides by fire, smoke, debris, and heat. It was all moving by so slow. That roaring, that roaring…

And the heat…he felt burning heat, swelling up all around him as it closed in on him.

That roaring…that roaring…

A forest in Eastern Russia; Sunday, June 12, 10:27 P.M…

With a jolt, he shot up. He could feel the sweat that had collected on his palms and his forehead. The ringing and the humming and the thumping and the roaring were all gone. There was only the sound of his rapid breathing and the beating of his own heart.

Then he heard an owl's hoot in the distance.

Sly wiped off his forehead with the back of his palm. He took a deep breath, paused, then slowly exhaled. Another hoot. He inhaled again, then exhaled even more slowly.

There was a fluttering of wings, and the slight crunching of leaves.

Sly threw off the blanket and got to his feet. He picked up his hat and put it on, then grabbed the flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other.

He unzipped the entrance to his tent and stepped out, turning on the flashlight and waving it around once. He saw the other two tents; one on his left, one on his right. Directly ahead was the van. Surrounding them on all sides were trees, completely concealing them within this small clearing.

He saw a flutter of movement and waved the flashlight over, only to catch a single small bird fly out of a nearby tree, the leaves on the branch it was just on waving softly.

He sighed, lowering both the pistol and the flashlight.

He looked back at the van. He remembered Bentley saying that its front end was pointing north. In the direction of the Volcano. In the direction of whoever, and whatever was waiting for them.

Sly stared hard, past the van, and into the woods. There were just trees. Endless, endless trees. He stared as hard as he could, but just couldn't see or hear anything.

Guess three miles really is far away enough. He thought.

He sighed again.

Whatever's waiting for me there…I'm ready for it.

…

The badger stared at his gold-plated watch as the second hand slowly ticked away. The hour hand was between the ten and the eleven, and the minute hand was right next to the six.

Then, finally, the minute hand struck the twelve. It was 10:30 P.M.

Vlotho sighed and kicked his legs up onto the wooden desk.

"A full day has passed." He announced to himself. "The second day is upon us."

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

"Soon…oh, so soon. I only wish that three days could go by faster…but I simply can't risk it as long as he is alive."

He glanced across the room, to where the deaf guard was sitting on his own little stool, reading a novel.

Vlotho shook his head. "A shame that you're not as fine a henchman and bodyguard as you could be, Hans. You have been far more loyal to me than any other man who has ever worked for me. You do whatever I command you to, without question or hesitation or rebellion. It is a shame that you cannot share in my glory. But, on the other hand, your deafness allows me to speak my mind openly to someone else, rather than think them silently in my head, and better get them out of the way. It feels so much better to explain my thoughts verbally than mentally, wouldn't you agree?"

The turn of a page was his only response.

"I knew you would." Vlotho grinned.

He sat up straight in his desk, taking his feet off the top. He slowly pushed himself up and out of his chair and turned around to face the massive window that made up the entire fourth wall directly behind his desk. He walked up to it and placed a single hand against it, leaning forward and looking down into the massive orange light from below. The summit of the Volcano below him cast a natural glow on that side of his office from below. Several pieces of debris, such as metal or rock, were still in the pool of lava. But for the most part, it was completely clean and empty. Even the massive Death Ray had long since burned away into nothing since its destruction.

"It truly is almost a shame what I must do upon entering the second Clockwerk's mainframe." He shook his head again. "You, Grant, and all of the other men who work here. It truly is heart-breaking…to anyone who has a heart."

He slowly slid his hand down the glass a bit, then pulled it away. He watched the traces of his fingerprints slowly decrease in size, becoming smaller and smaller until vanishing completely.

"But you men all have knowledge of this place. This one and only place in the whole world where our special metal can be found. Many of the scientists and factory workers know full well how some of our additional weapons operate. They know their design, their schematics, their functions by heart. Some even know every single little detail of the Clockwerk itself, including potential weaknesses. For all of these reasons and more, all of the men here must be removed from the equation."

He spun around and took a quick look back at Hans. He was still looking down at the book.

"I thought that, had I been facing you, you might have been able to read my lips and decipher some of what I had been saying. But clearly, you are so loyal that you don't even slightly pay attention to me or what I'm saying unless I give you the signal."

Vlotho chuckled and turned around again.

"Unbelievably loyal. Like a machine. You truly are one in six billion, Hans. But that won't be able to save you. Or Grant. Or anyone else in this facility besides me and me only."

He moved back to his seat and slowly eased himself into it.

"In two more days…"

Just then, the small speaker next to the elevator doors buzzed again, and the red light flashed on.

Vlotho looked across the room at it, then slowly eased himself up out of his seat once again. As he walked around the desk, Hans looked up briefly from the book and at his superior. Vlotho shook his palm at him, signaling that nothing was wrong. Hans returned his attention to his book.

Vlotho held down the button on the speaker.

"Yes."

"Commander, this is Colonel Grant. There's something that I think you might be interested in seeing here, sir."

To be continued…