In Dreams Wake

Time crunched under the man’s feet as he treaded the shoreline, the gray-green clouds overhead coating the beach in drizzle and mist. Instead of slick sand, the rain and tide pooled around countless pieces of broken clockwork. Alarm bells mixed with the shattered faces of pocket watches, mechanisms of shelled grandfather clocks and every kind in between, the smallest fragments of gears and glass filling the empty cracks like gravel. Half-submerged in the waves a clock tower lay on its side, its crown sprawling onto the land like a beached whale.

The surreal dreamscape didn’t surprise him anymore. The man figured that he had traversed this twilight realm between sleeping and awake more than any other person. He’d certainly seen stranger sights in the far reaches of this world than the one he currently walked through, but even those didn’t catch him off guard. No, the moment that happened would be the moment he met his end.

That’s why he always brought backup. A strange creature that looked like a small mammal coated in fabric hung on to the man’s shoulders. The creature swiveled its head to survey the beach while the man walked. Its ears suddenly perked up.

“Pitfall ahead, Master Fielding,” it spoke to the man’s ear.

He stopped. “Whereabouts?”

“You see that sundial? It’s centered around there, it sounds big.”

Fielding leaned down and picked up an hourglass that rested at his feet. He hefted it at the plate, its sand scattering across the surface when it collided. A deep scraping sound filled the air as wood and metal slid out of position, slow at first, but then faster and louder as the collection of pieces fell inward. Where the pile once was fell away into a yawning hole, the debris tumbling down into a darkness that never ended. The man stepped back as the beach and surf surrounding the rim slipped in until it was too small to see.

As the rumbling faded into the sound of waves, he cautiously approached the edge of the pit. Although there were many dangers, none made Fielding more uneasy than these. “That wasn’t there last time. We’ll need to relocate future drop-offs before this interstice collapses,” the man said.

Skirting the opening in the ground, Fielding went to the backside of the fallen tower. He stepped through a gap where the glass face used to be. Inside, the sound of the waves became a dull slap against the walls. The massive cogs and shafts of the clock mechanism lay in a heap at the center of the space, which Fielding started to examine.

“Ah, here it is.” He reached his arm into a hole between the inner workings and pulled out a glass bottle. Fielding pulled the cork and tipped its contents into his hand, a rolled sheet of vinyl. Flattening it out, he saw the familiar swirls and spirals of ink across it. Some sort of code his boss used to communicate with his closest allies. Fielding wasn’t privy to the cipher, but had the trust and know-how to be an excellent messenger.

Suddenly, something in the water that gathered on the far side of the wreck caught the man’s attention. He wandered into the surf up to his ankles and thrust his arm down below. When he brought it back out he held a phone receiver in his hand. With it still dripping he brought it to his ear.

“Hello?” Fielding said.

“Have you got Whit’s message?” his employer’s voice spoke through the earpiece.

“Affirmative, just retrieved it. Why the interruption?”

“We received word from above that the hand-off location has been compromised, you need to get out of there fast.”

Fielding paused. “That would have been helpful to know before I set out.”

The man on the other end sighed. “The memo came in earlier and was floating around, but didn’t land at my desk until now.”

He rubbed his face with his other hand. “I would like a word with you later, this situation never should have happened.”

“Of course. First, please make it back.”

The caller hung up. Fielding tossed the phone back into the water and stowed the vinyl sheet into the satchel at his side.

“Problems?” the creature on the man’s shoulders asked.

“The trenchcoats have tracked this place, we might have visitors.”

The creature snorted. “I don’t sense any other velours in the area.”

Fielding carefully leaned out the opening in the tower and scanned the landscape. Not seeing anything nearby, he stepped around the corner and surveyed the field of debris. Nothing but the sea breeze. He pulled a revolver from his belt and held it out in front of him as he strayed away from the tower.

In the distance he heard the sound of metal shifting. Fielding quickly reversed course, sprinting back to the safety of the building while the creature clung tight. He ducked around the wall as a bullet embedded into the stone next to him. They were already here, poised to take him out.

“One was trying to sneak up on the other side of the pitfall,” Fielding said. Peeking around the corner he shot a round off towards the hole then took to cover again. A few more bullets pocketed the side of the tower. “Sounds like there are at least a couple near the entrance, too.”

“There aren’t any other ways to or from this space?” his passenger asked.

“Not from our surveys, no.”

He felt the creature drop from his back. “I suppose our only option is a distraction, then,” it said.

Fielding nodded, and began to dig through his satchel for the object he kept for emergencies. He heard the sound of tearing fabric behind him and panicked shouts from the beach ahead as the creature grew. Pulling aside the padding at the bottom of the bag he grabbed the light bulb nestled there. Light shone painfully bright from inside, despite being out of socket.

The broken ground underneath shuddered as the creature, now a hulking monster, rushed past him towards their attackers. Men and women in long coats emerged from rises in the landscape to escape from the behemoth. Gunfire exploded from all of their locations towards the beast as it broke into their midst, swatting a man aside with a massive paw.

With their focus turned, Fielding broke from the tower and ran along the edge of the beach, revolver pointed forward with one hand and the other gripping the bulb. As he neared the hole, the assailant next on the other side heard his approach and turned their gun on him. Fielding shot towards the man, who ducked behind an enormous cog sticking up from the ground.

Seeing his chance he threw the bulb across the gap. Right before it landed he screwed his eyes shut and turned his head.

Unlike those used in photography, the flash bulbs crafted in this plane of existence were a thousand-fold more potent. Fielding had heard stories from the unfortunate victims that had looked directly at a flash bulb when it broke. One said it was like standing next to the sun while staring into it. The whiteness took days to fade from their vision, until it permanently became dark.

When the flash bulb Fielding threw shattered, the explosion was so bright he could see the light through his eyelids. The shockwave of noise followed an instant later, the sound of a camera flashing but with the intensity of earth-shaking thunder.

He opened his eyes which were still blurry from the light and tried to hurry forwards. Some who were attacking the beast had been affected by the flash and Fielding could see them bent over in pain. Their forms collapsed when the monster crushed them.

The man behind the cog fired blindly in the air as Fielding approached. When he reached him he kicked the gun from his hand. The trenchcoat lunged, grabbing Fielding’s legs and pulling them both down.

When they landed, he felt something start to give way under him. Cursing, he grabbed a chain sticking out of the rubble and held tight. The ground collapsed in towards the pit, funneling more debris down into it.

Fielding hung over the lip of the hole as sharp bits of machinery pelted down. The other man still gripped his ankle. They were still unseeing, but aware enough of the situation to try and pull himself up Fielding’s leg. The chain bit into him as he strained to keep them both out of the pit, but despite his best efforts he could feel the links start to slip through his fingers.

He looked down at his hijacker. Falling out wasn’t a fate he wished on his worst enemies, but sometimes survival left no options. With his free leg he kicked the man off.

They flailed their limbs and tried to grab anything to stop their fall, but finding only open air they screamed into the abyss. Their voice quickly faded out.

Free of the extra weight, Fielding pulled himself up the chain and onto solid ground. There were a few people still standing against the beast, who now had many holes perforating its body. While they were still occupied, Fielding continued to sprint along the edge of the water and towards the entrance, a gap between two stone pillars that at one time might have aligned with some faraway sun.

The open space abruptly changed into the cramped hallway of a tenement building as he passed between the pillars. Sickly yellow lights flew by as he ran, his body navigating automatically through countless intersections until he reached a stairwell. This too he swiftly went down, passing a window at each floor that looked out into an indistinct fog.

He went down five floors. Twenty. Fifty. The narrow flights descended endlessly. At the one hundred and forty-fourth floor down, Fielding stopped at the window. This one still overlooked the gray nothingness, but when he unlatched it and swung it outward the portal opened into the midst of a forest.

Climbing through the frame he dropped down to the mossy ground. On the other side the window was embedded into the side of a mighty oak. Other oddities protruded from it: door knobs, rolling pins, a banister that slithered up its length. Pushing the pane back in, he circled to the other side of the trunk. He leaned against the bottom of a rowboat jutting from the bark, gun drawn and listening intently.

For a while, the only sound was his own breath and the chirping of insects. Then, he heard the window push outward and something land lightly on the ground.

“Are you around here somewhere, Fielding?” a familiar voice called out.

“I’m here.” He holstered his weapon and walked back around the tree. The small creature was there, tattered but unfazed. “Nora’s going to have a fit when she sees you.”

“I was merely doing my duty. The blame will fall on you, I’m afraid.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure it will. Let’s hope the intel was worth the effort.”

Fielding picked the creature up, who climbed back around to the man’s shoulders. “It’s a ways back to the entry point, worry about it once you’re safe,” it said.

He hummed in agreement. “I would like to get back before breakfast this time.” He set out into the underbrush, weaving between the uncanny trees. Soon the duo passed between two trunks and did not appear on the other side, melting into the air.