Part Five - My Hidden Machine

The Room

“Not at first, it liked the hot weather, and how it made us act,” Milo said. Thinking about the unchecked sun made the sterile box of a room seem oven-like for just a rare second.

“How often?” Scott said.

“We tried to keep track at first when we realized we wouldn’t be going anywhere. It tricked us pretty easily at the beginning, but we figured out the more unpredictable we were, the more predictable it was,” Milo said.

“The Phantom?”

“Who else Scott? Don’t make me repeat it,” Milo said.

“Who decided to call it that anyways? Especially if you don’t want referring to it,” Scott said, pretending to scribble some notes. Whenever Milo would show a little frustration he’d mark his memo pad. When their interview was over, he’d count the amount of times Milo had collided with his own emotions. He’d refer it back to the material of Milo’s instigation, and try and build some pattern out of it.

“What?” Milo said.

“Who decided to name it that?”

“Oh, I don’t remember, it was just sort of the name we adopted. Conversations run together after that long amount of time, only certain acts sort of spring out to me.”

“Certain acts, like moments of violence?” Scott said. He wanted to skip ahead, past the moments of wandering the woods and looking for a way out. They had hundreds of years to cover within the woods, but, they had only fifty minutes to evaluate these centuries in their claustrophobic tin box. The table kept on getting bigger and wider, a mahogany sea pulled wide by the intensity of their conversation. Scott had to keep pressing him about the disturbing details within the woods. He had to play Milo like the time lapse was real, even though, Scott didn't believe Milo quite yet. The watered trembles of Milo’s eyes as he recited these little tidbits were convincing though. They were melting away at Scott’s analytical core like a corrosive salt-tear acid.

Milo didn't say anything for a few seconds after Scott’s last sentence. The room had become narrower to Milo, and the looking glass behind him had grown into a square black eye. Just fifty more minutes till he’d be free to return to his family. The press would get wind of his story and they’d be swarmed by oblong bobbing towers of cameras and reporters. The FBI said they wouldn’t release his story to the press, but he knew something this wild and dark couldn’t be kept a secret.

“How about discoveries?”  Scott said, breaking the silence and the growling motor of a distant furnace.

“Discoveries? What do you mean?” Milo said.

“You know, you sound like you sort of understood the situation you were in, what kind of discoveries did you guys make to give you even a little closure?”

“Closure? There was no such thing, Scott. We got vague and abstract answers, and our imagination filled in the rest.”

“Then fill me in those Milo, if you have vague answers then I have vague questions. What was the phantom using to make all these nightmares for you poor kids?”

Milo set his thin face on his right hand like a drunk at a bar. The kindness at the end of Scott’s question made him only say one word.

“A machine,” Milo said.

“What?” Scott said.

“I think it used a machine.”

The Woods

Milo had pointed out the dark shape of the machine what seemed like hours earlier. Now, they’d sprinted through the narrow green breaks of the forest. They all knew time had passed between each charge. Melissa and Milo had slept between their runs, resting their dirt-pounding feet and slashed skin against the soft breezes of the endless forest. Ron continued chasing the oblong shape, which was sitting like a lost barge one green ocean away. He’d sprint until his feet didn’t feel like they were below his knees. He’d sprint until the forest looked like a cracked trail of broken twig and branch, but the woods would never stay wounded for long, and would revive itself in subtle glows of white fog. Sometimes, if the kids had cared about how the forest had worked, they’d see the thin lines of pearl faces in these healing clouds.

They weren’t that observant yet.

They knew the machine was there and in the forest. It would appear behind them, in front of, or even what seemed like above, attached to the high limbs of the sky-blocking trees. Ron even tried to climb a few trees with his bloody fingers, but they’d shake him loose like an angry water buffalo. Ron wouldn’t stop any of his physical movements no matter how much Melissa screamed at him, and how much Milo begged. Ron was completely slashed to pieces. His white skin was nearly non-existent. Only his eyes retained any hope in comparison to his frame. He eventually stopped chasing the monstrous block of a shadow. He didn’t stop out of exhaustion, but only because he sensed that the machine wanted him to chase it.

“It wants us to chase it. Look, I see it right there like it can hear me,” Ron said. They were all sitting close to the sealed entrance they’d come in through before being trapped. The island and ring of swamp water was to their right, and the plants glowed around the inky strips of the bog like little narrow flames. The brick like outline of the machine was just beyond them up the path where Milo had originally noticed it. Melissa was sleeping in the sunlight, and Milo was starting at the island.

“Yeah, we figured that out a long time ago Ron, that’s why we stopped,” Milo laughed. He was getting tired of his ignorant friend.

“Well, you guys never said anything to me,” Ron said.

“Yeah, yeah, we did. You don’t listen to anyone Ron. Now, you look terrible. You should go back in the water and wash yourself off,” Milo said, with a sneer.

“I’m not going back in there. I’m not going in the water ever again,” Ron said.

“Okay, well, we need to figure out food and water, and stop trying to get out,” Milo said.

“I’m not hungry,” Ron said.

“Well, you will be. Besides, I’ve got an idea on how to get out of here,” Milo said, pulling together a pile of broken branches on the path.

“Oh, how is that? You've finally got an idea?” Ron said.

Milo banged a couple of sticks together to get their weight.

“Yeah, we’ll build a fire.”