The Fertility God

It’s night in the city. Shadows abound, obfuscating the concrete monoliths. Those still up rove around in search of something to keep them up. Some are looking for fights. Some are looking for drugs.

One isn’t. He’s walking quickly, almost jogging, keeping to the cold shadows. His head is constantly moving, looking for something, anything. Every sound catches his attention, leaving him a twitchy mess. He’d never been in this district so late. All he had done was lose track of the time, and now here he was, making one of the most ridiculous mistakes of his life. Hopefully, it wouldn’t turn out to be a fatal one.

He made a right at the next intersection of alleyways, looking back over his shoulder. A noise in front of him catches his attention for the upteempth time. However, this time there are several men standing in front of him, waiting. There’s a moment of pure silence, the panicked hesitation of a cornered animal. Without a single thought, the man turns and starts running all in one adrenaline-fueled movement.

But there is no chase, no extended flight of fear and panic. Something hard and cold hits the running man at the base of his skull and he crumples to the ground like a marionette that had its strings cut. The ambushers burst into soft disagreement, all trying to talk over one another without drawing unwanted attention.

After a few tense minutes of quarreling and their victim beginning to come back to reality, they reach an agreement. Two of the men walk over to the moaning sack of flesh, shrugging off ropes hidden underneath heavy coats. With some careful re-arranging, they tie up the man on the ground, making sure that none of the ropes will chafe or bruise. Another man brings over materials to create a makeshift stretcher. Again showing remarkable care for men who just assaulted an innocent civilian, they transfer the borderline-unconscious man to the stretcher. A coat is placed over his mostly-still body.

One of the assaulters barks something at the rest of the men. The way the other men react suggest that he holds some sort of position over the rest. Most of the others look sheepish. The one who threw the iron pipe looks afraid. The leader stares at him for a second, then turns to the stretcher-bearers. He motions with his head, and they start moving.

∭

Out of the inky shadows appear flashing pin-pricks of light. The struck man becomes vaguely aware of noises and the slight swaying sensation of movement. The back of his skull throbs where the pipe made contact, but it felt more like it had been embedded into his brain. This was worse than that hangover after his twenty-first birthday.

The sensation of movement stopped. He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by disorientation and the ropes tied around his limbs. This confused the man. Muggings were common enough and he had since grown used to the many reports, but kidnapping? That only happened to the rich as far as he knew, and he, being a grad student from the US, was not.

This is probably your last day on earth, the dark corner of his mind whispered. Pray that it is, the darker corner of his mind said, supplying the man with “interesting” forms of torture. A metallic click echoed nearby and the man struggled against the rope briefly before he realized that it was the sound of a lock turning.

The soft swaying motion started up again, but was cut short by a gut wrenching drop and the painful crack of his head on a concrete floor.

“_______, careful!” A man hissed in Russian. One of the stretcher bearers mumbled an apology.

“We can’t damage him any more than he already is, or that thing will have our souls,” the first man spat. With that, the abductors carried on in silence, leaving their charge to wonder just exactly what was going to happen.

Ideas, hypotheses, memories all whirled around the abducted man’s mind, turning it into a chaotic miss-mash of firing neurons. Seemingly by chance, he thought of his younger brother. They had drifted apart when he left for college, especially when he went off to study abroad. As of right now, that opportunity didn’t seem so bright anymore. Especially as he was currently being carried off to god knows where.

Step by step, the man was carried further and further into the unknown. He knew he probably should be panicking by now, but he couldn’t dredge up enough strength to. Another click, and the rusty grating of a second door rang out in what sounded like an enclosed space. Probably an empty hallway, the man thought. The stretcher bearers took a couple more steps and stopped again.

“Alright. We’re here!” The leader spoke, almost shouting the second sentence. “We got what you wanted!”

For a brief second, the abducted man thought he had been captured by crazy criminals and cursed his luck for the nth time. Just as he was getting through the fifth word, a palpable sensation of energy washed over him, and he shivered involuntarily.

“Oh, I hate that feeling,” one of his captors whispered. Someone shushed him.

{Is he unharmed?}

If not for the gag, the man would have gasped. He tried to, anyway, and was met with the taste of greasy cloth. Some ethereal voice had spoken in his mind. Granted, it was hard to hear, echoed, and was confusingly distorted, but that made it all the worse.

“A-as little as possible,” the leader stuttered out after a second. He sounded afraid, like a man at gunpoint.

For the first time, the man felt pure, unadulterated fear. All exhaustion forgotten, he struggled against the ropes binding him like a fish out of water. Suddenly, the electrical tingle of energy intensified. It felt as if someone was examining him, noting his every movement. He froze, mind blank except for the overwhelming need to run, escape, flee to a safe place where voices didn’t speak in his mind and terrify Russian criminals.

{Acceptable. Your payment will be delivered individually to your domiciles. Do not speak of me. Do not commit any more crimes. I will be watching.}

Some of the men released their breath in long, relieved sighs. The stretcher was lowered to the floor and they left, eyes glued to the floor, trying to look as if they weren’t hurrying to leave.

The man lay there and stewed for a second, before renewing the futile struggle against his bindings. A door swung shut with a metallic clank. The feeling of energy intensified again and he could imagine his hair standing on end.

{I’m sorry. This is the only way.} The voice said, strangely apologetic.

The man thought it had sounded female at the end, but it was still too distorted to tell. The energy continued to intensify, becoming audible as a high-pitched hum that buzzed in his ears. The man braced himself, preparing for the worst, whatever that could be. He became aware of the rattling of rocks, and the sensation of the floor vibrating. It felt like the entire building was coming down.

And then something brushed his face. It was the soft caress of a hand, or perhaps a cool pillow moving across his cheek. With that, his head collapsed into nothing, every sensation flipping inside out and wrong side up until all was black.

A point of light appeared in a nondescript location, giving some sense of direction. He centered it in his vision, or whatever he was using currently. Then there were ten, and after that, thousands, millions. They started moving, becoming trails of light streaking past his point of view.

He tried to turn to follow them, but was unable to see anymore. With a jolt, he realized that he was laying on the ground again. It was much warmer here, wherever he was now. He tried the ropes again, but no luck. They had made the journey with him.

{Please don’t struggle.}

The voice came out of nowhere and without any presence of energy. It was much clearer, and easily identifiable as female. Something removed his gag. It was warm and left the skin it had come into contact with numb.

“Who are you!” the man shouted, fear garbling his words almost beyond comprehension.

{I’m sorry, I can’t understand you. This is only a one-way spell. But I’m sure we’ll get to know each other soon.}

The man whimpered. Without notice, a needle was stuck into his forearm. A slight chill emanated from the entry point, and the man could imagine all kinds of horrible toxins that had just been shot into his bloodstream. The sensation of laying on the floor began to slip away, fading into the distance. His thoughts slowed.

Then there was nothing.