Labyrinth (Solo)

The next two days of John’s training transpired identically to the first. He spent his nights locked away in a dank and featureless temple. He ate a simple breakfast each morning, which one of “Coach’s” assistants delivered. “Coach” then later retrieved him for his training.

John’s training involved him filling a barrel with water and pouring it over an enormous pit containing a great fire only for “Coach” to drop additional logs onto the blaze. He had to repeat the process for hours without any discernable change other than the sun’s slow journey toward the western horizon.

Exhaustion, severe burns, smoke inhalation, and dehydration all afflicted John at the end of each of his sessions with “Coach”. He returned to the temple each evening in utter defeat where a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a bottle of water awaited him.

John feared for his life because his instructor and captor had threatened his life on multiple occasions. “Coach” already proved himself capable of killing John; since then, he tried not upsetting him, but his trainer possessed such an ill temperament. Any sign of weakness on John’s part and all his shortcomings earned him punishment in the form of pain.

Sometimes “Coach” submerged him underwater for minutes at a time; other times, he simply beat him to near death. “Coach” used his ki to heal only the most grievous of John’s injuries to keep him alive. He left John’s flesh wounds unattended just to force him to endure some amount of suffering.

John additionally worried about the strange boy who had appeared before him in the temple during his first night’s stay. He long since stopped mentioning his presence to “Coach” who kept insisting the boy did not exist. He also stopped attempting communication with the boy who hardly said anything since his appearance in John’s life. The boy obviously could come and go as he please as John later discovered; he spent many hours alone in the dark temple.

“Can you get me out of here?” John asked the child during his third night spent in the temple.

“The light will guide the dark and the dark will save the light.” The boy repeated the same phrase he had told John shortly after they first met.

John slept on the cold hard floor of the temple. He wondered if “Coach” had planted the cement after he bought the property within which he trained his students. John may not have had the answer to that question, but he knew why “Coach” forced him to sleep without so much as a blanket. The cement rubbed his joints and body raw and pressed roughly against the sensitive gashes, bruises, and sores he had gained from his training.

He would have spent his nights crying over his sustained abuse, but he retained enough of his pride to contain his emotions. He refused to appear any weaker than he already had in front of a child. This isn’t much different from the orphanage. John thought. I wasn’t strong enough then to save myself and I’m still not strong enough. He lamented.

Morning arrived hours later; John woke to the sound of the doors creaking open. He saw one of “Coach’s” assistants standing at the top of the stairs with his features hidden by the sunlight behind him. He tossed an apple and a bottle of water down at John who caught them both with little trouble. The assistant left, closing and locking the door behind him. John ate the apple in silence and quickly downed his water, knowing that “Coach” would arrive at any moment. How he hated that man!

The doors opened just as John downed the last drop of water; he learned from his training to waste nothing and to make the most of everything no matter how seemingly insignificant. “Join me, John,” “Coach” called down to him.

Speak the devil’s name and he shall appear. John thought as he fearfully made his way up the stairs. “Walk with me,” “Coach” commanded; John followed in step behind him.

They walked the stone path away from the temple and toward the great burning pit where John expected to suffer another day of trying to douse and unquenchable fire. They arrived at the pit, but John saw no fire within the great metal container and looked to “Coach” for an explanation. “That part of your training is over,” “Coach” informed him; he smiled at the relief that fell upon John, loosening his features. “You’ve no reason to relax; a greater challenge lies ahead of you.”

John’s shoulders dropped and he dejectedly followed “Coach” around the pit and the flowing stream surrounding it. They continued on a straight path for almost an hour; John maintained his silence and “Coach” issued no orders. He had learned the hard way not to speak without pressing need; “Coach” was easily offended and incredibly powerful. Others like him existed; that was a fact. It is better to be a silent observer than a silenced corpse.

“Coach” abandoned the path; John instinctively turned with him and almost banged his head against a low-hanging branch. John grabbed the offending branch and ripped it from its trunk as though made of paper. He dropped the branch and examined his own hands for a moment. He had grown much stronger and wondered, for the first time, if all his suffering under “Coach’s” tutelage was having a worthwhile effect on him.

“That strength you are experiencing,” “Coach” began after watching John, “It’s not even one tenth of the power you will possess if you survive your training.” He announced; his emphasis on the word “if” reminded John that nothing was worth “Coach’s” company.

They trudged through the forest, but being the urbanite he was, John often tripped over exposed roots and animal burrows. He slipped down slopes hidden by wildly grown grass. He could not keep pace with his master. Whenever he thought he had found his legs and began making good progress over the forest floor, John stumbled over the uneven ground.

Frustrated by his bumbling progress, John took to staring at the ground and proceeded carefully. “DODGE!” He heard someone scream.

John looked up in confusion; succeeding in intercepting “Coach’s” fist with his nose. He fell onto his back, his nose squirting blood into the air as he collapsed. “Coach” looked down at him and shook his head. “You won’t find an enemy lying at your feet, John,” “Coach” reprimanded before turning his back to him. “Stand up,” He ordered as he resumed walking.

John rose to his feet and trembled with fury. Darkness began enveloping him, but a hand wrapped around his throat in that instant and squeezed. “No flying,” “Coach” ordered; only when John powered down did his master allow him to breathe again.

John stumbled many more times as he continued on foot; his eyes never left “Coach”. He eventually learned to test the ground with the tips of his boots and to lift his feet higher whenever he encountered resistance with a hole, a root, or a depression or rise in the ground. As soon as “Coach” stopped, he did the same. “You must go on alone from here; this is your second lesson.” “Coach” suddenly informed John who looked ahead and shuddered; great pain and suffering always accompanied the sadist’s teachings.

They faced an enormous hill with a narrow opening located at its base. “You must enter this cave and make your way out to the other side,” “Coach” explained; John waited for the catch, but his teacher issued him none. “Any questions?” “Coach” asked.

“That’s all I have to do?” John asked; “Coach” immediately broke out laughing and John waited for it to die down, knowing his teacher was dying to let him in on some nasty piece of information.

“There are things that dwell on this planet that put even your nightmares to shame,” “Coach” told John. “Some of those very horrors carved out this cave and the many intersecting tunnels and caverns beyond its entrance. They do not like being disturbed. They have proven their intelligence by erecting many pitfalls and traps within their domain for those who dare trespass into their home. These things I speak of normally live off mushrooms, insects, and an occasional bat, but one thing will drive them into a terrible blood lust.” “Coach” waited, but John dared not ask the question. “Ki makes them go mad; they chase down intruders who possess it in abundance and devour them alive.”

“Is that why you refused to let me fly?” John dared to ask.

“We were walking above their territory and they are expert burrowers. They would have been on us in seconds. I could have disposed of a great number of them and returned to my home unharmed, but I will not expend my energy just to save an incompetent student.” “Coach” replied. “If you plan on surviving, you must learn to control your own ki. These beasts are very similar to the enemies you may face in the fact both will track you down by your energy and destroy you.”

John wished more than anything to avoid the cave in that instant. He would have gladly returned to the first lesson of pouring endless barrels of water over an unquenchable fire. “Coach”, however, proved very insistent in all matters and John knew not to challenge him. “In you go,” He said.

John moved toward the cave and noticed then that it was too narrow through which to walk normally. He stepped into it sideways and felt hard-packed earth rub against him from the front and back as though threatening to crush him. His fear spiked at the thought of being flattened until another terrifying prospect occurred to him. He feared the passage would decrease in size as he proceeded forward. He feared accidentally wedging himself in place, trapping him in the darkness until the beasts “Coach” mentioned came to devour him.

John considered backing out and risking “Coach’s” rage, but his teacher effectively cut him off from the outside. He delivered a focused punch into the side of the hill, immediately causing a cave in. John felt the impact and knew, without seeing it, what his teacher had done. He hurriedly slid his way deeper down the passage as tons of earth rained down behind him. He felt dirt clods explode against his head and shoulders and dreaded being buried alive. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and he doubled his efforts to escape the immediate threat.

The cave ceiling continued to collapse behind him; the thunderous and constant impact of dirt and rock against dirt and rock deafened John and fueled his fear. He panicked in the lightless passage and tripped over a stone embedded in the ground before him. He fell onto his side and waited, frozen in terror, for the moment that the world would crush him.

The world trembled beneath him and a deafening roar continued assaulting his ears even though the cave in ended, sparing him. He tried standing, but the narrow passage complicated matters. He tried grabbing onto the cave wall, but as soon as he tried lifting himself back up, he only managed to pull dirt clods down on top of him. He fell back down time and time again after repeated attempts at righting his body. He eventually resorted to dragging himself along on his side and with one arm; he utilized one of his feet to help propel him forward.

The trembling in the earth and the accompanying roaring intensified as John progressed deeper into the abysmal cave. He spent what felt like an eternity worming his way forward without anything to guide his way toward the horrors “Coach” described; horrors that most assuredly resided somewhere ahead.

John had never before considered himself claustrophobic, but he felt that fear gnawing away at his consciousness in the dark cramped space. He had no idea of how far he had gone on crawling as he began imagining the cave walls closing in on him, threatening to trap him in the darkness to be eaten. His breathing quickened; he feared another cave would crush him, burying him in an unmarked grave. How far away was the cave ceiling above him? A rock could come loose at any moment and drop onto his head, crushing his skull. John trembled at the thought and fought the urge to scream; he needed to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

The trembling of the earth vibrated him to his core, numbing his sense of touch. John soon found it impossible to detect his own heart beat over the ground’s continuous shaking. The roaring he heard since after the cave in now drowned out all other sounds including that of his own frantic breaths. John felt cut off from everything including his own senses and began to lose his mind to the void that surrounded him, screamed at him, and shook him, emptying him of all his worth.

He allowed a scream to rip out from his throat; he needed to hear something other than the infernal roar and he needed to feel something other than the quaking ground. He felt his scream to his relief, but the roaring, the source of which remained unidentified, made it inaudible even to John. He issued one scream after another out of both fear of fury, but the continued roaring swallowed them all. He stopped only when his throat stung from the effort of competing with such a thunderous noise. He felt utterly defeated and almost too terrified to go on, but no escape lay behind him. He eventually continued forward, but only out of sheer necessity.

He dreaded encountering the source of whatever caused his ears to ache with its constant cry and his body to tingle unpleasantly with its unrelenting force. He once thought he had experienced hell in his life before, but John knew, as he crawled through a space too small through which an adolescent could walk, he had never before encountered true terror.

The passage widened noticeably and to John’s relief after a time. He rolled onto his hands and knees then stretched out to rest for a few minutes. The cold hard floor soon reminded him of his temple prison and, unfortunately, the bothersome memory immediately made him uncomfortable. He rose to his feet, slowly; in the darkness, he remained uncertain of how much space separated the ground from the cave ceiling. The world continued vibrating beneath him, but it did nothing to impede his progress.

He relaxed little by little with every inch he rose until he stood to his full height unimpeded. He lifted a hand above him and wondered if he could touch the ceiling above him while standing. The tips of his fingers brushed against something cold, solid, and rough. He pulled his hand away and smiled. He now knew how much space surrounded him and that knowledge gave definition to the darkness plaguing it. He felt far less afraid and proceeded forward with some measure of confidence.

He walked carefully so as not to stumble or to walk face-first into the cave wall. He held his hands out ahead of him, feeling ahead for any obstructions or sudden turns in the passage. He focused his thoughts and gave it his best effort to ignore the constant roaring, knowing no living thing that could make such a ruckus.

A drop of water splashed onto his nose and he stopped to look up despite the blackness that blinded him. Additional drops of water splashed onto him and he dismissed it after a time. He took another tentative step forward when the world above him cracked open horrendously and pummeled his body with a crushing downpour of rocks, dirt, mud, and, mostly, freezing water.

The torrent swirled around John, encapsulating him. Shock and cold drove all air out from his lungs and, through his gaping mouth, muddy water surged down and into his stomach. He coughed as the entire passage flooded to capacity, submerging its only human occupant. He tried to swim up toward air; something his instincts demanded of him. The water continued coming down, however, and he hadn’t the strength to resist the current.

The water carried him deeper down the passage as John tried breaking the surface for air. The current punished his defiance by slamming him against either side of the cave wall repeatedly. The fight eventually left him as he breathed in, sucking muddy water into his lungs. His body burned and he thrashed weakly against the liquid onslaught. His forehead slammed against a particularly large rock embedded within the cave wall; the explosive impact knocked him unconscious, ending all his suffering.

John woke with a scream as though having escaped an all-too-real nightmare. Instead of sound, however, water gushed out from his mouth as he sat up. He coughed repeatedly until his lungs finally remembered their job and reintroduced oxygen to his near-dead system. He slapped his arms around him and tightened them as he shivered with cold; he feared coming down with pneumonia. He had no fever yet, but his body convulsed violently in its attempts to spark some heat into him.

He looked around him, but saw only darkness; the same blackness from the nightmare he continued living. He heard and felt the roar of water passing near him. His body warmed some, driving some of the numbness to which he succumbed from his near-drowning. He felt a spray as the water rushed past him to his left.

He had a splitting headache and wondered what had happened to save him. Had he washed onto dry ground? He touched his forehead and winced; despite the water that weighed down his hair, he still felt the unmistakable warmth of blood from his forehead. He pulled his hand away and rubbed his fingers together. Having suffered plenty of beatings in his life, he had become very familiar with the texture of blood and needed not taste his fingers for its coppery flavor to confirm he was in a bad way.

“Is anyone there?” John asked, but, as before, the rushing water drowned out its voice as though claiming it in the stead of his life.

“The light will guide the dark,” The voice of the mysterious boy reached John as though he was speaking right next to him.

He reached out to his left, desperate for human contact, but his hand grasped only air. “Great, now I’m hearing things.” John said sarcastically, knowing no one would hear him speak. “I’ve got to get out of here.” He said.

He stood up and stripped completely naked, figuring the dark cave would clothe him well enough. No one was there to see him anyway and his clothes were drenched and threatened to freeze him to death. He emptied his boots of water as best he could and put them back on; he needed something to keep him from cutting his feet. He shivered out of both cold and fear; he felt very exposed. “Get a move on, John,” He told himself and started walking alongside the stream.

He paused long enough to dip a hand into the stream to determine its course. Satisfied, he began walking with the current rather than against it. He knew where the water had come from and knew there was no way back from whence it came. He could only hope it emptied out into a river or a lake on the outside.

John walked for what seemed like an hour or more and it was not until later that he realized the stream beside him had calmed over distance. It had proved so raucous that it had deafened him and numbed his senses to the point he momentarily forgot that silence or other sounds actually existed. His ears ringed awfully as though someone had shot two automatic weapons on either side of his head, but a muffled noise penetrated his temporary deafness. He immediately knew the sound came not from the water moving beside him. He had long since become well acquainted with that madness-inducing sound.

He stopped and tried focusing on the sound, but it stopped just as he stopped. He waited a few minutes then shrugged and walked forward. As soon as he moved, he heard the unidentified sound again. He stopped again and concentrated, but he heard only the ringing of his ears.

Come on, John. You’re imagining things and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. You’ve been walking aimlessly in this blasted cave for hours or days and in all that time you’ve been nearly crushed, nearly drowned, and bopped on the head. Face it, dude. You’re mad! John mentally laughed at his own thoughts as though to confirm his madness, but he kept his mouth shut in case there was something very real making a sound.

He continued forward and the muffled sound greeted him again, but he dismissed it as a product of his own imagination. Moments later, something knocked him onto the ground from behind. He twisted around, too late, to face his attacker. He saw only darkness, but something let out a horrific shriek that made John grateful for his temporary deafness. He still clamped his hands over his ears and cringed at the cry of the unseen creature and cringed. Its call seemed to pierce right through his being and into his soul, detonating all his fears at once. It was by far the worst sensation he had experienced throughout his life.

John hardly registered the mistake he had made as he cowered before the very thing about which "Coach" had warned him. He had walked alongside a seemingly inexhaustible water supply, using it as his guide to freedom. All life on Earth, however, relies on water and life included monsters like the one John presently faced.

He could not hear the beast’s approach and the fact he could not see it allowed his fear-induced imagination to give it a variety of terrifying forms. He thought the thing would pounce on him at any moment. He believed it would begin stripping his flesh apart with its teeth, sucking bits of him down its gullet as his lived through the agony. He screamed as loudly as he could in terror; in his mind, John shouted at himself. Move! Move! Move! MOVE YOUR ASS! He finally jumped to his feet and turned and fled away from the unseen horror.

John tore his way down the passage blindly at a speed greater than he thought possible of his body. Fear instantly disintegrated whatever hope he felt as he continued charging blindly forward and away from the monster that had instilled him with pure dread. His boot collided into a rock jutting out from the ground and he sprawled forward; his heart skipped a beat.

Instead of hitting the ground, John continued falling down into an uncaring abyss. He realized he must have stumbled upon a shaft and the surrounding darkness made judging its depth impossible. He feared falling to his death until he remembered his training with a start. I can fly! Duh! He thought and immediately powered up; his aura surrounded him and blended perfectly with his terrible surroundings.

He willed his body upward and his ki immediately propelled him in that direction. He soon alighted on the ledge from which he only recently fell. The instant his feet touched down, he heard a chorus of screams ahead of him. The cacophony assaulted his very being with unimaginable terror. The same feeling he felt upon his first encounter with one of the cave-dwelling terrors returned to him in force. The monsters had sensed his energy and, as “Coach” forewarned, it had driven them into an insatiable blood lust.

John took flight again and backed away from the approaching monsters until a solid rock wall impeded his progress. He reached behind him, confirming his suspicions. Dead end. He thought. He wondered if the beasts could fly, “Coach” only mentioned their capacity for burrowing. He doubted they could fly, but he wisely chose not to test their capacity for aerodynamics.

He had little time to choose a direction and wished dearly for some kind of light source to guide him. He dared not move toward the beasts trying to devour him, which left him only one other option. He descended down into the chasm, allowing it to bring him ever closer to the pit of the earth. He went slowly, too afraid of meeting the bottom too quickly for his own good health.

His feet eventually touched down on water; he rose a few inches as soon as it started seeping into his footwear. “ECHO!” He shouted, testing his surroundings for depth with his voice; it carried far, bouncing around from a substantial distance. He picked a random direction and continued onward.

Minutes later, water suddenly rushed over him and he immediately suspected another flood until he remembered the enormity of the surrounding area. He moved out from under the downpour and curiously extended an arm toward it. He looked up into the formless darkness above him and frowned. “So, this is where all that water ends up,” He said aloud, severely irritated by his bitter circumstances.

He encountered dry land sometime later and landed; his flight had given him time to think because the monsters had not dived in after him. He suspected they were probably digging their way towards him if “Coach’s” description of them held an ounce of truth to it.

He knew that he could summon incredible power from within him. His power gave him an edge over most people, but as long as he tapped into that power, enemies capable of sensing it would hunt him down. He wondered if he could somehow control the flow of his energy sort of like a faucet. He wondered if he could lower the very output others detected until he blended in with his lifeless surroundings like a chameleon.

He sat down and crossed his legs over one another like a monk; it somehow felt natural to him, one who had unlocked his ki. He focused inward and ignored all distractions including his own feelings, desires, and worries. He deafened his ears to the flowing water and numbed his exposed skin to the rough ground beneath him. He closed his eyes and breathed calmly through his nose just like those characters in kung fu movies he used to sneak in to see. He held his breath for a few seconds then expelled it through his mouth slowly. It’s not working! He banished the thought away as soon as it sparked within his mind. He needed to focus and relax.

The mysterious boy suddenly appeared before him and John opened his eyes, breaking his concentration. He shook his head slowly then resumed meditating. The boy reappeared even though John had his eyes closed. “What is this? What are you?” John asked aloud.

The light. The boy replied, but he had spoken into John’s mind! The light will guide the dark. He continued before John could question him again.

A beautiful garden appeared all around the boy with a multitude of cherry trees and a variety of flowers. An ornately carved stone dragon stood at the garden’s center. The dragon breathed water and John recognized it for a fountain. A stream of water surrounded the garden, rounding it off and separating him from the boy. John started forward, stopping at the edge of the stream when a red-painted wood bridge materialized before him and stretched over to the garden’s edge. Sunlight beamed down on him, warming him, relaxing him, and making him forget all his worries.

John quickly discovered he had sat down next to the boy; both of them had taken a meditative pose. He glanced at the boy who looked back at him. John may not have completely understood the events unfolding before him, but he knew he had nothing to fear or worry about in the garden or in the presence of the child. He had found something he lacked his entire life, but never once sought. John had tranquility. He closed his eyes and became part of the world around him as nature intended rather than apart from it.

John opened his eyes and the darkness of the cave greeted him, but it no longer frightened him and neither did its denizens. He stood and proceeded deeper in the cave and toward the fragile life forms he now detected throughout its cavernous network and ecosystem. He needed only to follow the signs of life and he would find the exit. He found the difficulty with which he earlier traversed the cavern laughable until something growled beside him.

He stopped in terror and felt a slimy object slide across the back of his right hand. That’s its tongue; it wants to eat me! John began losing his earlier composure until the beast rubbed the entirety of its furry hide against his arm in a very housecat-like manner. John hesitantly reached out and stroked the creature’s silken coat. Another of the beasts nudged his free hand, demanding his attention as though jealous of its comrade. Is this for real? John asked himself. These can’t be the things that tried killing me.

“The dark will save the light,” He heard the boy’s voice call at him from somewhere within the cave; John still knew not what those words meant, but he didn’t worry about it at that time.

John journeyed forward; his new friends accompanied him and competed with one another for his attention. He caught a glimpse of light ahead when the pacified beasts suddenly growled angrily. He felt the fur attached to the pair he currently stroked bristle and transform into fine solid spikes. He accidentally scratched his hands against them and withdrew them. “What’s wrong?” He asked, afraid.

They all issued a roar toward the light. John had long since recovered his hearing and received the full effect of their terrifying chorus that he had heard once before. Once was more than any normal human could have handled. John dropped down onto his knees as though weighed down by lead, but no physical restraints chained him to the ground; his own dread claimed his strength from him. He later realized that he had begun screaming along with the beasts.

The creatures went silent and John felt for them, but they had abandoned him. He wondered if they had gone ahead of him toward whatever it was they had detected or if they had retreated back toward their dens. He directed his newfound sense toward the sliver of light; his mouth gaped open with shock. The power he felt far surpassed what he expected from his instructor, but he knew for certain that such a force of pure malevolence belonged only to the thing that called itself “Coach”.

“Are you even human?” John asked aloud as he proceeded toward his teacher. John may have feared the man’s presence, but he feared the consequences that would assuredly befall him if he deliberately avoided the evil entity even more.

“What happened to your clothes?” “Coach” asked with a hearty laugh as John emerged from the cave and into the forest; he noticed the sun had reached its midday position.

“How long was I down there, Coach?” John asked.

“Two nights have passed since you entered,” “Coach” answered and John did not doubt him.

“May I have something to eat, Coach?” John asked.

“Whatever you want, John,” “Coach” asked and gestured his hands at their surroundings. “See anything you like?” He asked.

“What?” John asked, confused.

“This is your third lesson, John. You sure are dense, boy.” “Coach” replied. “Survive the forest for six days and I will return for you.” He then vanished from sight and John immediately collapsed, naked, defeated, and sobbing over his latest misfortunes.