Chapter 11

Duke sped across the reception area, crashing through old furniture like a bulldozer. The Barghest sent plumes of dust and soot airborne in his wake. A second later he stopped to snap at his target, but his momentum on the tiles continued because of his bone claws. Two more couches and a side table paid the price for his unholy quickness. By the time Duke’s mouth found the Colo Colo leg I’d thrown, he’d destroyed nearly a third of the surviving furniture in the hotel lobby.

“Oh, come on!” I hissed. The amount of noise Duke made was enough to bring down the rest of the occupants of this hotel of horrors on our heads.

That did not concern my dead friend, who appeared next to me with the leg in his mouth a moment later, happily wagging his tail. His enthusiasm killed the criticism on my lips.

I wanted to quit playing fetch; it felt reckless and stupid to continue. But I promised. Only keeping your word when it's easy is no way for a person with integrity to live.

[+10% Legacy of Death]

“What is your deal?” I snapped at the scroll. “You just sit around all day reading my thoughts and judging me?”

No response, as usual, but it felt good to vent. In the absence of someone to blame, the scroll was a suitable substitute.

Duke dropped the leg at my foot, taking my attention again.

We used to play fetch every day, just like this. Well, I mean not with corpses in a hellish dimension, or whatever, but in my parent’s backyard, after I got home from school. I’d always been an introvert, and my mother had remarried by the time I was eight. My younger half siblings took the bulk of her attention, making the house I grew up in a lonely place. With few friends and being treated like an annoyance by half the parental team, and ignored by the other, I think it was a miracle I turned out as well adjusted as I did. Duke-y boy was the sole reason that house had felt like a home at all, and in hindsight I had him to thank for being what I needed. No simple task for a dog.

A stray thought occurred to me: What if I am in a coma and this place is a reflection of my lonely life? As far as metaphors went, an empty city with only a long dead friend to keep my company hit the nail on the head. The only problem with the symbolism was the crazed natives and batty animals trying to murder me. I’m sure if I tried hard enough, I could draw a parallel to them and some aspect of my life, but then that felt wrong. No, it was best not to take an egocentric stance for these kinds of things.

Duke made another crashing noise, this time much louder than before, knocking over an old brass pot.

We needed to do this somewhere else. I looked around, while I waited for him to return. A second later, my eyes fell on the perfect spot.

“I have a better idea,” I said, taking the rotting leg out of his mouth. Thankfully, he hadn’t covered it in slobber like he used to do.

While I walked toward the basement hallway, Duke hopped on two legs in anticipation, demanding that I release his new best friend into the air. I found it as adorable as it was familiar, but it would surely horrify an outside observer to see the lion sized shadow hound harassing a person.

After he calmed down a little, we cautiously made our way down the stairs. Unlike the Barghest, who couldn’t die, I had to remain on guard for whatever new threat this world had to throw at me.

Carefully, I checked the side rooms, slowly making my way toward the place where it all started. Duke impatiently whined loud enough to ruin my stealth, and I gave in to his demands. We didn’t clear the area fully, but everything looked safe-ish. More to the point, there were no fresh smells that I detected with my enhanced sense of smell.

Duke’s playing got me wondering what life in the real world might be like if I ever escaped this place. Hope was a dangerous sentiment, to be sure, but being overcome with nostalgia as I was, I found it difficult to put down. Would Duke come back to the land of the living with me?

Tossing the leg down the moss filled hallway, I mused on the unfortunate possibility that Duke would stay behind in this place whenever I left. It was an absurdly depressing proposition. I wondered if I could do it.

Did I even want to go back? The smell of the musty mold filled my nostrils, bringing with it the recent memory of the frenzied flight I had down this very corridor. Of course, I did, I realized. It was fun to pretend like I had a choice, empowering even. But after Heather, I found it easier to see through the bullshit I used to hide my emotions.

Ironically, it was fear of the unknown that was pushing me to want to stay here and hide in these ruins. A sad situation, all things considered.

[Legacy of the Dead +15%]

Scroll popped up to reward me for another insight, but I dismissed it with a wave of my hand. I didn’t want the distraction and being aloof felt even more satisfying than yelling at the damned thing.

There was too much that I didn’t know. Would sunlight kill me now? Did I need to drink blood, and if so, how often? The good news was that I believed I could get Ichor from animals. Drinking from the Colo Colo’s had worked so far. Though they were not animals found in the “real” world.

Maybe there was an easy way for me to come back and forth between the two places. That would solve all my problems—I could even take sustenance back with me.

The thought of me returning to my apartment almost sent me into a fit of laughing. I’ve always considered myself an open-minded person, but I think carrying a heart inside a plastic sesame street backpack would be hard for me to accept from another person.

At least my two rusty cans were gone. To my mind, having old roach spray made me look even more like a deranged serial killer. I could see the headline: “Guy snaps after wife cheats, caught carrying heart in Oscar the Grouch backpack”. Too bad it’s not hers or Chase’s, I snickered.

To make room for the organ, I’d tossed out both the lubricant and poison. The thought of eating a heart was hard enough, without adding the prospect of contaminants. I wasn’t worried about getting cancer or anything silly like that—I just didn’t want to have to eat a WD-40 coated onion ring flavored heart. The cans were mostly empty, old, and of dubious use anyway.

After that, I had to give it a thorough cleaning in the rain. Duke’s decaying chew toy hadn’t improved the smell of the bag either.

I met Duke halfway down the hallway, almost to the room I’d first appeared in when my foot hit something. A soft scraping sound echoed as the object slid away, bouncing into the wall.

Reaching down, I picked up the object, but struggled to make out what it was in the gloomy light. Soft leather brushed against my fingertips. Gently, I picked the item up, holding it next to the blue moss on the wall.

“Huh,” I said. It was my wallet. Must have fallen out of my pocket when I tripped, I thought.

Looking it over, I noticed it was a bit thicker than it usually was. I rarely carried cash anymore—I mean, who did? —but it felt like it was full of money. As soon as I opened it, a folded piece of paper fell out.

Slowly, I unfurled the plain white paper to see a handwritten note in neat script.

Julian,

I apologize in advance for the state you find yourself in. Maat is unforgiving and insists that all awakenings happen this way. There is a choice for you to make. You will see a scroll. If you choose to open it, you will take on the legacy and burden of your ancestors. If you ignore it, you will be returned to your frankly pathetic life, and this will all feel like a bad dream.

Assuming you made the right choice, you will need to find a door to return home. I cannot say where it will be, but you will know it when you find it. Once you make it out, call me at 555-867-5309. We have a lot to discuss.

Sincerely,

Leopold Martel

“You motherfucker!” I shouted.

Rage welled in my heart. I finally had someone to blame for this situation. Not only had this Leopold done this to me, but he did also it in the most stupid way imaginable. Who would wake up in a strange world and think to check their fucking wallet? He could have stapled a note to my shirt, written on my arm, or fuck even stuffed into my ass crack and I would have noticed it! Instead, this asshole constrained my red pill or blue pill moment with incompetence.

Duke brought back his fetch toy, dropping it at my feet once again.

“This is the last time, okay?” I said sternly. Now that I knew for sure I could leave, I wanted to start my search right away. Focused on the prize, Duke ignored my words, happily thumping his tail against the cement wall. I sighed and threw the leg bone.

Or was it incompetence? I wondered, watching the Barghest disappear into the darkness. No, the placing of his letter reeked of subterfuge. Almost as if this Leopold were told he had to leave a message with me but wanted to make sure I wouldn’t see it. The only spot I thought might be as bad as my wallet was if he’d taped it to my back. However, even that had the risk of being discovered while I rolled around drunk.

“We have to leave the leg here,” I explained to Duke. I refused to put that filthy thing back in my bag and didn’t want to carry it around in my hands. As it was, I had to walk around carrying a monkey wrench shoved uncomfortably into my waistband.

Duke ignored me, holding the leg in his mouth, and pointedly looking away.

“Fine, but you are carrying it,” I said.

The two of us left the hotel behind, stepping out into the drizzling rain. There was a possibility that a “door”, as Leopold had called it, was in the building. But I did not like the idea of searching in the dark. The Colo Colo was manageable in small numbers, and in the light. If a large pack caught us in the dark, I wasn’t nearly so confident that we would win. Besides, I suspected that this Maat-thing, or rather scroll, wouldn’t make it that easy for me.

After exiting the building, I halted, turning slowly to my left.

Standing less than a block away was a gorgeous native American woman, barely a few years younger than myself. Deep black hair reflected the pink light of the road flowers, hanging down over her bare shoulders to cover her naked breasts. Unlike the natives I spotted earlier, her skin was unmarred. And it was sun-touched, red brown, almost glowing with the healthiness of womanhood. I glimpsed her brown eyes widening at the sight of me, pulling me in with an alluring mystery.

I lifted my hand and waved at her, doing my level best to appear welcoming. I even hid the heart-pack behind my back.

Finally! A person who could give me some answers!

She threw down the clay pot she’d been holding, turned and ran.