The Siege; Prologue- Insane? v1.2

The roaring of the underground bullet-train messed with his thoughts. Finally, the moment has come. It somehow managed to leak through the noise. He imagined the salty taste of his own tears. For quite some time, he had no more tears to shed.

He was lying in the pitch darkness, like he always did. His sight was no longer of use, he realized that some time ago. He have learned to ignore the pressure of the shackles, they have been part of his body just as his legs were. Still, he wished he could take them off for at least for one, last time. To wave his hands freely. Did he even know how to use them now? Would they listen? It was one of the numerous things he had forgotten how to do.

But being chained here, in this train, it was quite different than sitting in his prison, waiting for another round of torture. Now, he was nothing more than package. Pile of meat they are going to burn down soon enough.

He felt the cold liquid entering his veins. Sadly, it was his last supper.

Everyone he had ever loved was buried long time ago. It was him to blame solely. He had no more tears for them, only silent weeping. Thoughts of his own death, those of relief, were the only thing to water his eyes. God be merciful, the moment is coming, may the train be as swift as it always is. For all of his sins, he will be executed.

“Are your scars still burning, good old friend?” the well known voice whispered from the darkness, somewhere from the corner of his cell. Screams of the train rushing at full speed withdrew with the appearance of the voice.

He sometimes wondered when exactly he became mad. But the voice was the only comfort he could get, his only friend. And mercy, above everything else.

“I feel no pain today”, he dared to say. “There is no pain to outshine fact that it’s all going to be over very soon.” It was never hard for him to start chatting with the voice, even through the pain he felt with every breath. The pain was easier to handle than the silence was. Since the voice appeared, the burning of the scars became bearable. He stopped spending every moment praying to suddenly die, even though he knew they wouldn’t let him. Every scar, every drop of blood, every weep of his have been highly calculated, there was nothing that could lead him to sudden death. They simply weren’t making any mistakes.

They knew how to keep him awake forever. There was no moment of relief, until the voice appeared.

“Pain is just an illusion”, voice always told him. “As long as you live, pain is nothing but a lie.”

“Soon”, the old man repeated, “everything will be over.”

“Yes.” It was left floating in the darkness. At the first glance, old man didn’t notice, but then it slammed him in the face. Voice would never speak such a short sentence. It always had plenty of wisdoms for the man, plenty of words to soothe his pain. Did it disappear? He never thought that he would spend his last moments in silence.

After all the years he felt pinching of the shackles again. Warm sweat broke out. Those seconds he had to spend waiting for the voice to whisper to him again were harder to bear than all the torture.

He wished he hadn’t been such a fool, while he was still free. No one had to die, by his or anyone else’s hand. He wished he had seen the world like that while he was still walking under the sun.

But he was found guilty of all the charges. And he was guilty. He served his sentence rightfully. If he only knew what was waiting for him, not only this pain he had to take, but everyone he loved being taken away… none of his desires were worth it. Soon, he will slowly be roasting in the fires of hell.

Thirty one years ago he was sitting on the same train, just in the opposite direction.

“Done grieving for the past, old man?” the voice echoed. Not a single bit of laughter, just the same old, plain question. Lord, it’s still here.

He managed to break a smile. It sure looked much more wicked than a smile, coming from a man who hadn’t smiled for such a long time.

“For the last time” he could repeat that forever. It could be the answer for anything his voice had to tell him tonight.

“Well then”, the voice said, and the old man got that feeling once again. There was an emotion within the voice, and there never happened to be. Today, something was different. “How would you like to see the light of the day again?”

He could feel his brain tearing apart. He shuddered, actually it was more of a feeling that he would overgrow this skin he had in a seconds. He was falling apart.

Empty “what” crawled out of his throat. This must be their last great torture. What could hurt more than a single thought of freedom? He couldn’t be free again, for the sake of all the people who died in his place.

Footsteps. Someone was coming. He grabbed his legs and the laughter of chains filled the room. It didn’t hide the battering of the steps.

“Do you want to lay a flower at the Dana’s grave?” question filled the darkness as the footsteps were getting closer, “don’t you want to revenge on general Jamie?” the voice stopped above him.

“No!” the old man screamed, “let me finally rest!”

“Do you?” the voice convincingly said.

His cheeks were wet again. “Yes, for the love of god, I do!”

The voice grabbed his arm. “Forever remember what you screamed in the darkness of this cell, old man.”

The weight was gone. The cold he felt disappeared. The roaring of the train disappeared. What happened to him? Is he finally dead?

“You will get the answers to your questions soon. You have to recover first, my dear, old friend”, his voice told him. Was it his voice at all?

He was lying in warm, soft bed. He moved uncomfortably as he realized his limbs were free.

“Do not move yet”, the voice commanded. He felt like he could do nothing but obey. “Your freedom comes at a cost, old man. I will return one day to collect the taxes”, he said jokingly, in a dark manner.

“Am I dead?” Nothing else made sense. But he was not burning. No, it had to be something else.

“No, you are free”. Old man could feel the smile growing in the darkness, on someone’s face. “Now”, the voice continued to command again, “I will leave you. In ten seconds, you can press the switch right above your head, and the lights will turn on. Further instructions await you.” The voice leaned over him and gently put something around his eyes. Glasses of some kind, he could guess.

Without a sound, but the old man was sure that now he was left alone. No footsteps. No breaths, ever.

He concentrated as hard as he could and counted to ten. Then his hands barely moved, shaking, but they answered the call. He barely touched the switch, and the pale light washed the room.

Burning. His eyes were burning in pain, but the smile of a madman spread on his face. He moved slowly, as his muscles had atrophied. But they listened to him. Hours had passed when he started to see the other things except for a a light, never able to remove that madman smile from his face. He was giggling like a worm, regaining his strength from the smallest bits of his body.

The room he was in was magnificent. Sheets on the bed were colored crimson, and they smelled nice too. For all the years imprisoned he could feel nothing but the smell of his own sweat and blood. There were three doors. Before he even had a time to imagine what was waiting for him behind each one, he noticed a small piece of paper on a nightstand, sloppily written all over. Instructions, he guessed. The voice never seemed like a meticulous person, anyway.

“The door on the left is a kitchen, there you have fresh food prepared for thirty days. On the right is the closet. Everything in this room belongs to you. Whatever you find; the clothing, or some other, little things belong to you. Enjoy yourself. After you spend ten days here, when you are strong and healthy again, I want you to open the third door. Not before, not later. You will find further instructions behind them. Sincerely, yours

Friend.”

Enjoy yourself. He was mocking him. But he could be anything but mad at his so called Friend. He is in his debt. Other thing that he could acknowledge was that he needed to regain his strength, and do it quickly. Well, then he had no time to waste.

“Daston”, he said while standing in front of the mirror, on the closet, some hours later. “That was my name long time ago. I will wear it shamefully, once again.”

He was surprised how fast he regained all of his strength. He felt alive once again. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he had to see her grave at least once. He would buy her the most beautiful flowers that ever existed. He never did that when she was alive.

And then, his revenge. Revenge on a man who got rid of everyone he ever held dear. It wasn’t even to lure him out of his hideout, it was for the sake of it, for that man to feel better. Daston was serving for his sin for his whole life, it is time for general to pay for his.

Ten days had passed and he stood in front of the door. Man, fifty seven years old, stronger than ever. Few more debts to pay, now that he has been granted a chance, and he can burn forever.

He grabbed the doorknob, and trembled for a second. The unknown.

He pulled the door, and fell on his back out of surprise, as the dirt crashed on him and filled the room around him. For a moment he was sitting in disbelief as he observed what was in front of him. There was a note clipped on the door.

“You will have to dig yourself out, old man.”

All right Daston, don’t bother yourself with unnecessary questions. Something got you out of a highly guarded underground bullet train in an instant, and now you found yourself in a buried palace. Must be somewhere in limbo. Might as well dig myself a way out, to see what awaits me.

He pulled a shovel peeking from the dirt, and started to work.

* * *

A man in a long, black coat and a broad-brimmed gray hat stood silently at the train station. People were passing around him, whilst he was completely still; yet he seemed impatient.

The man made his grand escape some time ago, but The State managed to silence it. Ah, I can’t wait to see the news today, he was thinking. He slightly swung in place, his hands held behind his back.

The kid approached him, his face smudged with dirt, to beg for change. While reaching to the inside of the coat, he slowly leaned forward and whispered to him: “Be careful, red tiles are dangerous to step on.”

Boy looked down and noticed his torn shoe barely touching the red tile; panic ran over his face for a second as he moved his foot to the safety of the white tile. He stretched open hand and man put his spare money. Kid smiled happily and skipped away, never touching the red tile.

A state so rich and perfect, yet there are still orphans and beggars. And nobody cares. They don't even care themselves, that's just the way things are.

“What a beautiful day”, man thoughtfully said. He didn’t move though, he kept waiting.

The courier carrying piles of newspaper finally arrived. The men gathered around him, and all the papers were gone in an instant.

The black-coated man smiled. With a loud squeal, a steam train entered the station.

“Never thought these trains were still used, anywhere in the world”, he whispered to himself. ”Oh, wait", he said just as he remembered. "This one is a tourist train. Nevertheless, it will still take me where i want to go."

Weirdly skipping, he moved towards the train. He found himself a comfortable seat. He was sitting still, waiting for something yet again.

“God”, he heard people speaking with the very upset tone, few women almost weeping, “Somebody killed general Jamie! And it was in the middle of the capital, too!”

Yes, now he could finally feel relief. Every single piece of papers is talking about the tragedy. Sad day for the state for sure. For him, this news meant only one thing: everything has begun.