The Shadow Trail: Chapter 1
This is not the outcome I anticipated…
Somehow, through impossible odds, you all survived the process…
But this is not like before…
You may have fought through nightmares of your own creation…
Survived through a hell made by your actions…
But this is my world now…
This is where you will atone for your sins that you tried so hard to erase…
This city will be your grave, and I will be the one to bury you…
I jumped awake, startled, breathing heavily with a cold sweat rolling down my neck. My heart was pounding faster than a piston as I tried to figure out where I was. I had hoped that I was somewhere familiar, but that slowly diminished as my surrounds showed no familiarity to me.
I was in an alleyway. It was dimly lit by the flickering and buzzing light from the street lamp from the walkway above. The filth covered brick floor I was laying on was covered in shards of broken glass and blood. Whether the blood was mine or another’s was didn’t matter at the time, but it did leave me curious since I didn’t have any injuries at the time. The strong, repulsive stench of the garbage cans and trash that were tossed around was the first thing my senses picked up; making me nauseous along with my increased heart rate. I got up using the brick wall of the building as leverage, my hand covering a poster of a boxing match advertisement. “Where am I?” and “How did I get here?” were a few of the many questions racing through my mind as I continued to survey the area in a panic.
That’s when I heard it for the first time. A soft mew from above broke the silence as well as my train of thought. I looked up toward the sound and saw a snow white cat looking down at me from a shattered window. Before I could make an inference, the faint sounds of music made me look to the streets at the end of the alley. When I looked back up, the cat had left the window and appeared in front of me on the spot I was laying on, startling me and almost making me fall back down. It began to walk slowly toward the streets and towards the music.
Thousands of red flags were raised in my head at the time, and normally I would heed these warnings, but given the circumstances, and my curiosity, only one thing came to mind: Follow that cat.
The streets were filled with abandoned cars and trucks, all laid out like if they had swerved out of control. The street lights and signs on each of the buildings gave the world around a rust colored tint, making the creepy atmosphere that much more unsettling. Some of the buildings’ windows were either broken or boarded up and, like the cars, were deserted. Yet when I walked down the streets of the abandoned city, an unnerving feeling rose. The feeling that I knew this area and that I was supposed to be here for some reason.
During my observation of the streets, I noticed the cat walking into a building at the end of the road. The well designed sign above the entrance read The Scarlet Cabana in red neon lights, with musical notes underlining it. The music rose as I got closer to the building, allowing me to hear the jazz beat it had. I hummed along to it nervously in an attempt to calm my nerves from this entire situation as I entered the building.
The light smell of alcohol was the first thing I noticed when I walked in, giving me a hint to what this place was. The entertainment lounge seemed to be unaffected by whatever caused the situation outside; it almost made me forget the condition the streets were in. The color scheme of the lounge was the same as the name sake, scarlet. From the mood lighting, to the tables, to the main stage and the bar, it was all in a red aesthetic. The stage was lit up by spotlights but no one was on stage to be focused on; no instruments or a microphone stand either, yet the music was still playing. I found the source of the music to come from a radio on the countertop of the bar on the far side of the lounge. I walked toward it, looking around for any signs of life, or even the white cat. I started turning the dials on the radio, trying to find a station or broadcast that may explain what exactly happened in this city. The static and distortion while searching for a station lasted for minutes with no success.
“Come on…” I muttered under my breath.
Then a vague voice started to emerge from the static. I hastily tried to get the signal, turning the nob back and forth, only to be stopped abruptly by the barrel of a gun firmly pressed against the back of my head.
“Hands where I can see ‘em!” a stern voice from behind me ordered. Without hesitation, my hands left the radio and were raised high. ”Don’t do anything funny or I’ll splatter your brains across the counter!”
“I-I’m not going to,” I said with my heart racing again. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I need some answers and you seem to be the only one in this ghost town.”
“So am I,” I responded, trying to look her way.
There was silence for a moment. “You’re telling me you don’t know anything!?”
“I know just as much as you at this point,” I said slowly putting my arms down.
“God… dammit!” The gun was pulled away from my head and I turned around to see my interrogator.
It was a woman, looking at least in her early twenties, with shoulder length hair and a snub nosed revolver in her hand. An untucked shirt, overhauls and an untied bow tie made her look like she should be making drinks for the lounge. Her stern and angry face made it look like she wasn’t a people person, but I was just relieved to see another person — even if she did threaten to shoot me.
She put the gun back in the holster on her side, giving a look of irritation and disappointment. I didn’t know what to say that would reassure her or calm her down in anyway, so I stood silent to avoid any confrontation. My silence only made her confused.
“Not going to ask anything?” she asked, arms crossed.
“I’m sorry?” I questioned being more confused than her.
“I was expecting you to ask questions. Especially since… y’know.”
I assumed she meant her threat to shoot me. ”You don’t look like you are in the mood to answer anything, just to find answers.”
“Well you got me there,” she sighed while looking to the side.
I felt the need to break the tension in the room. “I’m trying to find answers as well. Maybe we could help one another?”
“Maybe…” she said, turning to look at me. Her eyes began to look up and down my body. “What’s your name?”
“My name…” I stopped for a brief moment. This simple question had stumped me for a moment. I had to recall my own name longer than any other person should. It did come to me eventually, after I recalled my father calling out for me. “Gryphon. My name is Gryphon.”
“You don’t seem sure about that.”
“It has been a strange night to say the least,” I said with a subtle laugh.
“Tell me about it,” she responded with a slight smirk. “The name’s Amora.”
“A pleasure,” I gave a nod and extended my hand.
She shook my hand with a very firm grip. “So, Griff, why were you messing with that radio?”
“Oh!” Our encounter had made me forget what I was attempting to do. “That’s right, I was trying to get a signal for an emergency broadcast or a news briefing,” I turned back to the radio and continued to acquire the faint voice lost in the static, this time tinkering with the antenna on the back of it
“Sounds like you almost got it,” she said as she moved closer to the radio.
I knew a few things about electronics. I had fixed and dismantled many devices in my life; it became somewhat of a hobby of mine. I would go to the pawnshop with a fixed radio, television or circuit board that I gotten from junk yards or alleys ways and they would pay for the items. My father taught me how to fix engines as well; use to tell me that it was similar to what I already do. On top of fixing electronics, fixing vehicles was a talent that I used to make a profit from as well working alongside my father. I was a mechanic and a technician, all to help out my family, and I guess to help myself with adjusting radio frequencies.
The radio became clearer and a voice started to emerge from the static. “-ry nine three two… Liberty four five zero…”
“Did you tune in to the lottery? What the hell is this?” she said smacking the top of the radio.
“Linen one one six… Tesla one zero five zero” it continued over her.
I tried to think of what it meant by these names and numbers. “Are they a code?”
“Marcy nine three two… Liberty four five zero…”
“Great, cryptic codes from a radio in an abandoned city,” she said with sarcasm and hate. “Fan-freakin’-tastic.”
“Linen one one six… Tesla-”
“Is there a pen?” I asked “I would like to write this down.”
“I doubt you’d find that out here,” she moved away “I’d try the dressing rooms backstage.”
“There are dressing rooms here?”
“There are always rooms for performers. Where did you think they get ready, the alley?”
I realized it was a ridiculous question and her response emphasized it. “R-Right…” I responded, looking down. “I’ll be back.” I got out of the seat and proceeded behind the main stage.
“Don’t hurt yourself now.”
The backstage walkway was dimly lit with only the exit sign being the brightest light there. I entered the first dressing room I came across, preparing myself for, by chance, another random encounter and turned on the light. The room had clothes scattered across the floor, the chair to the dresser tossed to the side and dried up flower petals and stems on the couch. The giant horizontal mirror above the couch reflected my dirty pale face and my rugged suit.
Looking at myself brought up more questions: Why am I in my suit? Was I going somewhere important? How did I end up here? Why am I covered in filth? I shook my head trying to brush off the questions and proceeded to the dresser. I started looking for a pen, pencil, lipstick, eyeliner, anything that I could write with. Eventually, I found something in one of the drawers – something I wasn’t expecting – a pistol with initials “D.R” written on the handle. After a short debate with myself on whether I should take it with me or not, I put the pistol in the inside pocket of my blazer.
I turned around in panic, like if the sound was a whistle from behind. There, lying on the couch was the white cat from before staring at me, swaying its tail back and forth. I went toward the cat trying to reach for it, but as soon as I took a step, the cat jumped off the couch and walked to me. The cat circled around one of my legs, rubbing its head on me and purring softly. The cat seemed fond of me, even though I didn’t recall ever seeing it before that night. I crouched down slowly and petted its soft silk fur gently. Petting it calmed my nerves almost immediately, making me laugh lightly with a smile on my face. “Nice kitty,” I said while petting its head. “You must be a part of this somehow.”
“…I’ll take that as a yes.”
The cat proceeded out the door and, like before, I followed it into the room next door. The room was the same as the other only with the mirror shattered, leaving shards on the floor instead of flower petals. The cat jumped onto the couch and started pawing at something lying on the cushion. It was a small brown leather covered book with a logo of four diamonds around a ring. The creases on its spine showed that the book was opened frequently. I opened it to the first page and noticed that it was a journal of sorts.
I looked towards the cat, then back to the book. “…I’ll read this later,” I said putting the book in my pocket. “I need a-”
The cat rolled a pen towards my feet. “…Good kitty.”
I walked out of the backstage area and back to the show floor, fiddling with the pen in hand. I quickly glanced behind and noticed the cat wasn’t following me.
“Hey,” Amora called out, pouring herself a drink from behind the bar. “You find anything?”
“Y-Yes,” I replied. “I found a couple of things.”
“Good. I was getting tired of hearing this noise.” The radio was still repeating its chant-like code.
I took out the book and flipped through for a blank page.
“I take it you found a pen,” she said taking a drink.
“Yes. A cat helped me find one.”
I nodded. “It was the one that led me here in the first place.”
“I thought it was following me,” I turned around to the backstage entrance, “but I guess it left again.”
“Well,” she took another drink, “glad it’s helping then.”
I started writing down the names and numbers on the last page of the journal. The book was filled till the very end where the writing seemed to end abruptly. “Alright, I’m done.”
I tapped the pen on the cover as I thought of what to do. “Well,” I said nibbling on the pen, “we could look around the city. See if anyone else is out there.”
She took one last chug of the drink. “Guess that’s a better plan than doing nothing.” She went around the bar and took out her revolver.
“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering the gun in my blazer. “I found this backstage as well.” I took out the pistol and showed it to her.
She looked at the grip of the gun. “D.R.”
“I found it inside one of the drawers. I guess performers need to take precautions.”
“I know that well enough. You know how to use it?”
“Not really, no,” I said reluctantly. “It’s just a matter of having a firm grip and not aiming the barrel at your companions, right?”
“…Sure.” Her hesitance was not reassuring. “Keep the safety on when you’re not using it. Got it?”
I nodded and she started walking toward the exit. I followed her, putting the pistol away with a slight smile on my face. The feeling of loneliness in this city was lessened with Amora there, even though I knew she didn’t want to get close to anyone. As I let her lead, I started reading the first entries in the brown journal to pass the time.
