Clammy hands perfectly accompanied the sweat on Dwight’s brow, all the while goosebumps dotted his skin, the bitter cold contradicting just how hot he felt. The intensity of his nerves seemed to be draining him as slippery fingers continued to fumble and slip on the tendrils of exposed wires. POP!
Fuck... his inner monologue chirped in as his breath hitched and his body lurched backwards, sparks popping in his face that only fueled his racing heart. Dwight rarely swore, but whatever sort of hell this was that he found himself in had completely wiped away any sense of propriety he may have possessed before this nightmare. He wanted to convince himself it was all just that: a dream. But the bitterness of the cold that chapped his sweaty skin, the jolt of each shock he felt course through his fingers and down his spine... and the endless pounding in his chest all felt too real for such a thought to cement itself as a belief in his brain. He knew better. This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare of extremely realistic proportions. And worse than that, it seemed to repeat itself. Endlessly. It was as if he was being tested. Could this be purgatory? Hell? Could such a place exist? He didn’t know, and the weight of the thought somehow seemed more taxing than the effort he was willing to put forth to survive it all.
“Stay focused, Dwight. You can do this,” he mumbled to himself, barely even audible enough to be heard by his own ears as the engine before him chattered on pathetically.
Blue-green eyes instinctively scanned his surroundings as he took caution not to blindly connect the wires he was attempting to work with.
Was it red to red? Blue to red? He couldn’t remember. He wasn't a mechanic. He recalled his stepbrother trying to teach him once, how to jumpstart the old dodge that used to sit and rust in the driveway of his family home. He was beginning to forget what it even looked like... Was it the same for all machines? He didn’t have time to give the thought much contemplation before he was already moving on to the next: where were his friends? His coworkers? His shitty excuse for a boss… thoughts battled for priority before he was finally able to ground himself back to reality, if you could even call it that.
Electricity sizzled between his fingertips, shocking him every few seconds as he attempted to repair a piece of machinery ye had never used before in his life. Just as his breath settled once more in his chest, a blood curdling scream echoed across the sharp cold wind. Fear clenched ahold of his lungs like a vice grip, squeezing and sinking at the same time.
Dwight swallowed and shook his head, as if to wake himself from some sort of trance. He didn’t have time to question who it was or what had happened, because before he knew what was happening, his fists were clenched and wobbly legs were pulling him to his feet. He had already blown this generator several times, and it was of sheer luck alone that the host of such a wicked game had otherwise been preoccupied with some other unfortunate soul, making his screw ups irrelevant, at least for now.
He may not have been as book smart as many may have assumed, given his rather geeky appearance and stereotypical blindness associated with bookworms and people who found themselves on the honor roll, but Dwight was resilient if nothing else. He was determined. Not only to survive, but to help lead his new companions to the same fate. Dwight was not a quitter. He would survive no matter what. That much was certain.