THE GHOUL RISING

CHAPTER 5 — THE IN-BETWEEN

I jolt awake.

My eyes snap open to nothing. A void so complete it feels like my eyes aren't working. I blink, hard, trying to adjust, but there's nothing to adjust to.

It was pitch black. Total darkness.

My breath comes fast and shallow. I reach for my forehead where the gun was pressed. Smooth skin. No wound. No blood.

"What—" My voice sounds wrong here. Muffled. Like I'm speaking underwater. "What is going on?"

The last thing I remember is the protector's finger on the sword. The countdown hitting zero. The deafening crack of the gunshot.

I should be dead. This time.

Is there anything am yet to understand? How I trigger such thing?

The screen materializes in front of me, its blue glow the only source of light in this emptiness.

DEATH DETECTED.

QUESTS FAILED.

DEFEAT THE INFESTS: UNSUCCESSFUL.

COMPLETE ENDURANCE TASK: UNSUCCESSFUL.

INITIATING PENALTY PROTOCOL.

My stomach drops. "Penalty?"

FAILURE TO COMPLETE INTEGRATION TASKS RESULTS IN TERMINATION.

PENALTY TASK ASSIGNED.

COMPLETE WITHIN TIME LIMIT OR FACE PERMANENT DEATH.

"Permanent death?" The words come out as a whisper. My hands shake as I stare at the screen. "What does that mean? Where am I?"

The system doesn't answer. The screen pulses.

PENALTY HAS BEEN CONFIRMED IN THE IN-BETWEEN.

"Is that what this place is called?" I wonder, looking at the total pitch darkness like I'm looking for something.

LOCATION: INTEGRATION SPACE.

STATUS: BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.

PENALTY TASK: SURVIVE.

TIME LIMIT: SIX HOURS.

RULE: STAY ALIVE.

A timer appears. Showing exactly six hours. Then it starts counting down.

"That's it?" My voice cracks. "Just survive? How do I—"

A sound cuts through the void. Distant at first. Like wind rushing through a tunnel.

WHOOOOOOSH!

I turn toward it, though I can't tell which direction it's coming from. The sound grows louder. Closer. The void around me seems to shift, like it's moving and feels like I'm standing on the surface of something alive.

WHOOOOOOSH!

Now I feel it. A pull. Gentle at first, then stronger. My feet slide forward across the nothing-ground beneath me. I dig my heels in but there's nothing to grip. The pull intensifies, dragging me forward.

"No, no, no—" I try to run backward but it's useless. I'm being drawn toward something I can't see.

Until I spot a hollow in different shade of black, lighter tone and that's when it dawn on me.

It is a mouth.

Its Massive. Impossibly huge. It materializes from the void itself, teeth like jagged mountains rising from darkness. Each tooth is as tall as a building, stained with something that could be rust or dried blood. The mouth stretches wider, and wider, and the pull becomes a hurricane force.

I'm yanked off my feet.

The wind screams in my ears as I fly toward those teeth. My arms windmill uselessly. I'm going to be swallowed.

Ground up. Digested by whatever nightmare thing this is.

'Think!' My mind races. 'There has to be something—'

I spot small gaps in lighter dark tone, somewhat grey, in the void's surface, maybe fifty feet to my right. Little indentations, barely visible, but they're there. Hand-holds.

I angle my body mid-flight, swimming through the air current. The mouth roars, pulling harder, but I kick and claw my way toward those gaps. My fingers brush one and I grab it with everything I have.

The impact nearly tears my arm from its socket. I scream but hold on. My body dangles horizontal, pulled by the wind, but my fingers are wedged into the gap.

The pressure is enormous. My shoulder feels like it's separating. My fingers are going numb. I can't hold on much longer.

I look up and notice a pinprick of light, maybe twenty feet ahead. It's so small I almost miss it. But in this absolute darkness, it blazes like a star.

I dig my other hand into another gap, pulling myself forward. My fingers find purchase and I move. Six inches. Then another six. The pull from the mouth intensifies with each movement, like it knows what I'm doing and refuses to let me escape.

My muscles scream. Sweat pours down my face. Or maybe tears. I can't tell anymore. Each movement is agony. Each grip threatens to slip.

But the light grows. Slowly. So slowly.

It expands from a pinprick to the size of a coin. Then a fist. Then a basketball.

The mouth behind me roars. The sound is physical, slamming into my back. The pressure doubles. My fingers start to slip.

"No!" I grit my teeth and dig deeper into the gap. My nails tear. Blood makes my grip slippery. But I pull. And pull. And 'pull'.

The light is as big as a doorway now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to...... I let go with one hand and lunge.

My fingers close around the edge of the light. It's solid, real, something I can grip. I haul myself forward with the last dregs of my strength, feeling my body stretching between the pull of the mouth and the anchor of the light.

Something tears. Inside me. Some fundamental thing that holds me together. The pain is beyond description.

But I pull.

And pull.

And with a final, desperate heave, I drag myself through the opening.

The void releases me, letting me fall.

I'm falling endlessly.

Wind rushes past. My stomach lurches into my throat. The darkness gives way to dim light and I see the ground rushing up before I crash into hay.

The impact drives the air from my lungs. Dust and dried grass fill my mouth and nose. I lie there, gasping, every part of my body screaming in protest as everywhere aches.

But I'm alive.

The screen materializes above me.

CONGRATULATIONS.

PENALTY TASK ONE COMPLETE.

TIME REMAINING: ONE HOUR.

I blink up at it through the hay. "Task one?"

My stomach sinks as new text appears.

CALCULATING BONUS TIME...

FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES, TWENTY-EIGHT SECONDS ADDED TO INCOMPLETE TASK.

QUEST UPDATED: ENDURANCE TASK.

PROGRESS: CONCLUDED. TASK MARKED COMPLETE.

NEXT TASK:

COMPLETE TASK TO DEFEAT INFECT ENTITIES: TWENTY-FIVE PERCENT COMPLETED. SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT LEFT.

The bar pulses. Highlighting the twenty-five percent.

"What does that mean?" I force myself to sit up, spitting hay. "How do I—"

NEW TASK ASSIGNED.

OBJECTIVE: DON'T GET CAUGHT.

DIFFICULTY: NINE TIER.

"Caught by what?"

The answer comes immediately. A sound. Metal on metal.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Rhythmic. Getting closer. Coming from above.

I look up and see it. A pipe runs along the ceiling, maybe thirty feet up. Something's inside it. Something moving. The clinking grows louder, more frantic, like thousands of tiny feet scrambling over each other.

Then they pour out.

The pipe mouth disgorges them in a black torrent. They look like tiny ants in their thousands.

They flow like liquid shadow, cascading down the wall in a writhing wave that seems to absorb what little light exists in this place.

They hit the floor and spread too quickly.

I scramble out of the hay pile, my heart hammering. The insects move like black wave, flowing over and consuming anything in their path.

A stack of metal crates sits in their path. The insects swarm over it, reducing it to shredded metal in seconds. The sound is horrific. Grinding, tearing, and the shriek of steel being devoured.

I back away, eyes wide. "Oh god."

The warehouse stretches around me. That's what this place is. Some kind of storage facility. Concrete floors. High ceilings. Wooden crates and metal shelves lining the walls. But no doors. I turn in a circle, searching desperately. No doors anywhere.

Only windows. High up, near the ceiling, narrow rectangles of gray light.

The insect wave flows closer. I can see them now in detail. Each one is the size of my thumb, with too many legs and mandibles that click incessantly. But it's their eyes that make my skin crawl. It's white, milky, blind, but somehow still tracking my movement.

I run to the nearest window. My fingers scrabble at the frame, searching for a latch, a lock, anything. Nothing. It's sealed solid. I push against the glass, putting my shoulder into it. It doesn't budge.

A metal rod lies nearby. I grab it and swing at the window. The impact reverberates up my arms but the glass doesn't crack. Not even a chip.

"Come on!" I hit it again. And again. The rod bends before the window does.

The clicking grows louder. I look back. The black wave is thirty feet away. Twenty-five. Twenty.

My eyes sweep the warehouse frantically. There has to be a way out.

Then I spot something.

A rope dangles from the ceiling near the edge of the room, directly above the hay. My gaze follows it up to an opening, a hatch in the roof. That must be where I fell from

The rope sways slightly, mocking me with how far away it hangs.

I climb the hay, trying to reach for the spot I reach the spot beneath the rope and jump. My fingers close on empty air. Too high. It's too high.

The clicking explodes behind me, a sound like rain on metal but a thousand times louder. I don't look back. Don't need to. I can hear them gaining.

"No, no, no—" I jump again, reaching as high as I can. My fingertips brush the rope but can't grip it.

I need something to stand on.

I spin, searching. There are wooden crates, stacked against the far wall. But the insects are between me and them now, flowing across the floor like a living carpet.

There's no other choice.

I sprint toward them, angling for a gap in the wave. The insects sense me and shift, the wave redirecting. I put on a burst of speed I didn't know I had left and leap.

My feet touch down on clean concrete for a split second. Then I'm running again, the clicking right behind me. I feel something brush my heel and I kick out instinctively. An insect goes flying.

I reach the crates and grab one. It doesn't budge. Bolted to the floor.

"You've got to be kidding me."

I drop to my knees, examining the bolts. They're rusted but intact. I need to unscrew them.

My fingers find the first bolt. It's slick with old grease. I grip it and twist. It moves. Barely. But it moves.

The clicking is right behind me. So close I can feel them. I twist harder, ignoring the pain as the metal digs into my palms. The bolt turns. And turns. And pops free.

Three more.

I move to the second bolt. My hands are shaking. The insects are five feet away. Four. Three.

The bolt comes free.

Third bolt. I'm sobbing now, tears streaming down my face. The wave reaches my shoes. I feel them crawling over my feet, tiny legs finding purchase on my skin through the fabric.

The bolt turns. Pops free.

Fourth bolt. The insects are climbing my legs now, a crawling mass of bodies and clicking mandibles. One reaches my thigh. Then my hip. They're going to cover me.

The bolt breaks free.

I grab the crate and run, dragging it behind me. Insects rain off my body as I move, shaking my legs violently. The crate scrapes across the concrete. I pull it up to the top of the hay, beneath the rope, position it, and climb on top.

The rope dangles within reach. I jump and grab it. My bloody hands slip but I hold on, wrapping my legs around it for extra grip.

The crate below me vanishes beneath a wave of black. I haul myself upward, hand over hand, the rope burning my palms. The insects reach the rope and start climbing. Racing up toward me, their tiny legs finding purchase on the fibers.

I climb faster. My arms scream. My shoulders feel like they're tearing. But I climb.

The ceiling gets closer. Ten feet. Five. Three.

The insects are right below me, a writhing mass covering the rope like living tar. I can see the hatch above me. It's open. I can see sky beyond it. Real sky.

I reach the opening and pull myself through. My feet clear just as the insects reach where I was. I collapse on the roof, gasping.

The door. I need to close it. I scramble to my feet and grab the hatch, trying to pull it shut. It won't move. The rope. It's in the way.

I pull on the rope, trying to haul it up. But it's too heavy, or I'm too weak. The insects are already emerging, spilling out onto the roof like a fountain of nightmares.

I need to cut it.

My eyes sweep the rooftop. Nothing. It's all corrugated metal and rivets and...... A shard of glass.

Its probably from a broken skylight, lying near the edge. I grab it, not caring when it slices my palm. I saw at the rope frantically.

The insects are three feet away. Two feet. One foot.

The rope fibers split. And split. The glass dulls, useless. I switch to tearing with my hands, ripping the last strands apart with my fingernails.

The rope snaps.

I slam the hatch shut. The insects hit it from below with a sound like hail. I throw the latch, locking it, then drop a metal beam across for extra measure.

From the small window in the hatch, I watch them. They cover everything below. A living sea of clicking death.

I slump against the hatch, chest heaving, covered in blood and sweat and pieces of dead insects. But alive. Still alive.

The screen appears.

TASK COMPLETE: DON'T GET CAUGHT.

EXCELLENT PERFORMANCE.

CALCULATING TIME...

TIME SPENT: TWO HOURS.

TIME REMAINING: FOUR HOURS.

I watch the bar fill. Fifty percent. Halfway to go.

"You're kidding." The words come out as a wheeze. "That's it? Fifty percent?"

PREPARING NEXT TASK...

"No." I push myself to my feet. My legs shake. "No, I need a break."

WARNING: DO NOT GET TRAPPED INSIDE.

"Inside what?"

I felt a sudden cold breeze brush my skin that's followed with a sound so massive and primal, like the earth itself is exhaling. I turn toward it and my blood turns to ice.

The horizon is gone. In its place, a wall rises. Brown and churning and impossibly tall.

A sandstorm! And it's moving straight toward me, at a fast speed. It fills my entire field of vision, blocking out the sky.

"How am I supposed to avoid that?" I stare at it, my mind refusing to process the scale. It's miles wide. Miles tall. There's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The screen pulses.

TASK: ESCAPE THE STORM.

DIFFICULTY: TIER FIVE.

TIME LIMIT: SIX HOURS.

The wall of sand roars closer. I can see it now—not solid, but churning, filled with debris and fragments of things I can't identify. Buildings maybe. Trees. Other things that used to be alive.

Anything caught in that will be torn apart.

I look around desperately. The roof stretches in all directions, flat and featureless except for ventilation shafts and the hatch I came through.

Behind me, the storm advances. Its shadow falls over me like nightfall coming early.

I have seconds to decide.

And nowhere to go.