Daren’s heart was racing, having a difficult time keeping up with his feet. He was rarely frightened by anything, but in the labyrinth of hallways that formed a newly-built home on the north side of the island, he could only run. His dagger had been stolen, and his gun had an empty chamber. He couldn’t find the exit, and his friends were somewhere, in danger, possibly dying while he fumbled about in the darkness. Somewhere above, thunder exploded, heralding the continuing storm, and he paused halfway down a different corridor. Gasping for breath, he struggled to listen; footsteps were behind him, as he knew they were. They were loud, and only getting louder as he leaned against the wall in the dark. Pushing himself to move again, Daren turned the corner left and stopped again.
He had been running all night. All night, and it was already three in the morning. He was tired, nearly defeated, ready to collapse and sleep. Feeling his way along the hall, passing doors and small tables and plants, he had slowed his pace significantly. The heavy boots behind him had closed the gap in moments it seemed, and with renewed energy Daren bounded forward, slamming into a door on the left side and forcing his way in. It was a bedroom, with a tall domed window in a little alcove and a massive bed to the right. A wardrobe hugged the left wall, but with one door opened he found it was too crowded to hide himself. Shutting the door and locking it, he stepped into the center of the bedroom.
He felt foolish for considering a hiding place. Daren never hid from anything, not in all his years. Ran, perhaps, but for what? He needed to get out, to find his friends in captivity and help them. But he didn’t know where they were. Pacing quickly, he wrung his hands, trying to think, to clear his mind. It was frustrating to him, being so lost, so clueless and unable to go to the aid of those he was close to. As rain washed down the window, something ran into the door he had locked. Turning, he faced the threat empty-handed. He was trapped, after all.
The wood splintered, breaking and flying off the hinges. Daren clenched his hands, the only weapon at his disposal, but before him was a man he could never take down without a weapon: Almost three hundred pounds of solid muscle, it appeared, with a square and boxy head and massive hands and feet, hair black and very short, eyes tiny and sunken in a pale face. The man had in one hand a dagger, one Daren recognized as his own. Daren paused, considering his options. Talking would only get him so far with such a brute. He raised his empty hands.
“I don’t know what you want from me.” He said. It was probably useless, but worth a try. “I don’t know what you want from me or my friends.”
The giant came forward, with an odd smile on his face. “I didn’t want your idiot friends.” He said. “I was told that the easiest way to you was through them.”
“Then where are they?” Daren backed away. “Where?”
“Safe.” The other man stepped quickly, grabbing Daren by the front of his shirt. “Safe enough for now.”
“What!” Daren struggled, grabbing at the giant’s hands but to no avail. “You s-said they were in danger! You said--”
“Of course I did. I say a lot of things.” He laughed, raising Daren’s dagger and plunging it through his chest. He couldn’t speak; only a squeak of shock escaped his open mouth, and he was tossed to the floor with the knife still embedded between his ribs. The giant reached down, plucked the knife away, and spun around. Daren watched, body becoming cold and blood blooming over his vest and shirt. He felt his heart, slowing and struggling, pumping the blood from his body, staining the floor in a dark puddle. The ground shook with the man’s exit, the slam of the door seeming to come from far away. The shadow-filled room only grew darker, breath coming harder, slower, impossible to draw. A heavy, black blanket fell over Daren’s body.
It was violent, like a punch in the face, an explosion in the chest. He started, sitting up, a terrible rushing sensation in his ears, light poking at his eyes. His body was cold, but slowly warming as though the room was a cooler being filled with warm air. The floor, its carpet, was wet, and his shirt and vest clung to his body. It was uncomfortable, but Daren had other things on his mind. The pain in his chest was the immediate thing, but it would go away soon enough. He stood, joints stiff, and went to the window. The giant was moving outside, taking the path away from the house and to the road.
His friends were all right. The lies he had been told were building within him, turning into a rage. He would find his friends, the only people in the world who really mattered to him. Death would not get in his way again.