3~The Truth that Comes in Your Sleep

No man is rich enough to buy back his past~ Oscar Wilde

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Chapter 3

The sun shone brightly in the corner office as Duncan sat there and overlooked the city. He had won, and the CEO position was his. There was never any doubt that he'd have Bob's job, but even as he glowed in the achievement, he wondered what he could do next. The CEO wasn't big enough for a man like him; he needed more. He needed to be more; he wanted to be the biggest thing there was, where people had to grovel at his feet for his answer.

Thoughts of how to further himself stopped as the most exotic woman he had ever seen walked into his office. Her hair was Black, thick, straight, and long. She was small in stature, maybe only five-two, but she was built for a man's pleasure, and could tell she had soft buttery skin even from a distance. The makeup was heavy but intensified her golden-brown eyes, that he swore had a purple hue to them, and he couldn't tell if it was the makeup or the color that made them glow.

The woman sauntered over, swaying her hips with each step, and then sat on the edge of his desk. "Mr. Baker, it's a pleasure to meet you." The woman purred.

"And the same to you. Now, who might you be, and when can I get to know you better?" He asked as his hand went up to her exposed knee.

"I'm your new secretary, Mr. Baker,"

Duncan's hand stopped, but then he chuckled. "I already have a secretary, and I'm not looking to replace her. But I could find other means for your employment if you'd like,"

Her seductive grin turned into a smirk. "Sibyl can't go to where you're going,"

"And where am I going, and please tell me it's to your bed,"

"Oh, you do think you're clever, don't you? But I've been asked to help you get to where you need to go in post-haste, Duncan."

The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine, the sharp bone-chilling kind he had had before. "Who are you?"

"I am your worst nightmare. A woman who can put you in your place." She laughed. "Well, that might have been your worst nightmare before, that is, until now." Then with a whip of her hand, her hand went to his forehead so hard that he fell back from his chair, but instead of hitting the floor, he didn't stop falling. The light from his office faded as he free-fell into darkness.

When Duncan hit bottom, he bounced off the ground, taking his breath away. He laid there with his eyes squeezed shut until he could breathe and opened his eyes again. The long dark tunnel was gone, but now he was in a box-like room with one light hung from the middle of the windowless place, the lightbulb flickering in and out. He got up, dusting off his ten-thousand-dollar suit seeing all the damage done to it, and then saw he was missing one of his shoes and glanced around to see if there was a way to get out. But before he'd even turned around, the walls started to thin, and then were transparent, then gone.

Duncan was standing on a hard surface, but the darkness was unlike anything he had ever seen. He'd gone into the world's most extraordinary caverns and had experienced what true darkness was, or at least he thought he had. When he turned around, there in front of him was something he could have never imagined. A lake was there amid the darkness, vast like an ocean, but Duncan knew it was a lake. The water wasn't water, but more like fire. The color was blue but like the blue at the core of a flame. Deep purples, blues, and black splashed from the torrent of invisible angry wind. Sparks came off the charred rocks that went flying into the air and reminded him of fireworks going off on a dark night, and for a split second, he stopped and thought it was beautiful when the lights went out once again.

The darkness was thick and heavy; he didn't know how to fathom a black so complete that his eyes ached just to have them open. Duncan's hands ran over his face, rubbing his eyes, knowing they were open but feeling like they were still shut. When his hands dropped, he stood there in the silence, trying to figure out what his next move should be, when he saw a dim red light from the corner of his eye. The cuff of his jacket was burning in a thin red line that started in one spot and then encircled his cuff. The glow gave off an ever so soft light that made him able to see his skin; the happiness from not being in the dark was short-lived as the burning embers of the fabric could be felt on his skin. He screamed out in pain, swatting at the flames, not being able to extinguish them, but instead, the other cuff started to burn along with his pant legs!

Duncan pulled at the buttons of his jacket, trying to unbutton them, but it was as if they were glued in place. He screamed out as the fire ate at his skin, burning the material slowly, painfully, but consuming it entirely as it ate away each thread. He twisted, swatted, screamed, and shouted profanities, feeling the heat burn the skin of his hands as he beat at himself and the fire that was on him. The pain followed the red line that slowly took its time burning up his arms, legs, chest, and scorched his groin area.

When it was finished, and he was nothing more than raw skin standing in a pitch-black pit, he collapsed to the ground as his body shuttered from the pain. "Am I dead? Have I died? Is this what this is? Was I cremated, and was the feeling I had burning all over my body? But if that's the case, why am I still conscious? I thought I would be nonexistent," He murmured under his breath, but in the room, the sound echoed back like he screamed it out loud. Then he thought, 'Am I in Hell?' "There is no such thing as hell, though," He whispered, and there came a low deep chuckle, one Duncan was sure he had heard before.

Slowly he sat up, every inch of his skin tortured, and if he could see it, most likely red, and screamed out when the sticky flesh stretched to get to his knees to stand. Duncan turned his head to try and figure out where he was or how he could get out, but the blackness was too thick, too deep, and too engulfing to even move, but that was what he was going to try to do. He held his arms out to feel his way around and took his first step. His body trembled, biting his lip as his burnt foot made contact with the ground. The foot that hadn't lost its shoe; when he took another step, the other foot didn't hurt at all, but the contrast from the pain from one to the other made him realize just how badly he was injured. The silence was deafening, and the feeling of loneliness was so crushing, he thought he might lose his mind! Then as if on cue, the stagnant air started to move, and the breeze that came was warm, then warmer, and then so hot it was scorching his already charred skin.

Despite the pain to move, he did. The ground got warmer with every step as he desperately searched for a place to sit down and get his feet from what felt like burning coals. "Stay cool, Duncan. This is only a dream, that's all, or maybe more like a terrifying nightmare, but you just need to make yourself wake up. So, wake up, damn it!" Then he smacked his face, once then twice, and the third time, he stopped when he felt the throbbing of his cheek. "What the hell is this! I'm not dead; I'm in my prime!" He hissed, but hearing the sound of his own voice was irritating, and it didn't bring him any comfort at all.

Keeping his hands out, Duncan fought against the firey wind as he pushed through it when the smell of rotten eggs hit his nose. It was so intense and overwhelming that he bent over and threw up. When the convulsions had passed, he couldn't see where he had gotten sick and tried to step around what he thought the area might be, only to step right into it. A chuckle came from in front of him, and Duncan reached out, swinging his arms with his fist clenched, only to receive a laugh this time. "You son of a bitch, no one laughs at Duncan Baker, do you hear me, no one!" As those words escaped his lips, the heat intensified a thousand-fold stealing the breath from his chest. Every sense in his body was heightened, and he wanted to call out for someone to help him, to hear another voice instead of his own or the all-consuming silence, but there was nothing.

Duncan swung again at the laughing voice, only to slip in his vomit and crash onto the floor. He fell backward, cracking his head on the ground. The warmth of the blood flowing from the throbbing spot told him all he needed to know. There was no sound, only the pants and groans coming from him as he dropped his head and the wind whipped around. He sat up and tried to stand but couldn't. Instead, he rolled to his knees, wanting to cry out from the pain and desperate to hear a voice of another living person to drown out the laugh that was continuing at him… when it did.

A single voice echoed back at him for help. It started off softly, then another one joined in, then another, and another. At first, it sounded like a group having a heated conversation. Still, the sound got higher and higher until thousands, maybe, millions, or billions of voices came to Duncan's ears. Screams, cries, pleads of every kind were all around him. It was like a concert, and he was sitting next to the enormous speakers. His hands covered his ears to drown out the horror that had no words to explain and begged for the silence that had just left him.

The smell of his vomit made him almost get sick again as it ran down the side of his face, but even with him trying to block out the screams, he couldn't, and for the first time, the overwhelming feeling of fear overtook him, there was no way out of this place. He wanted a towel to clean himself up, a pair of shorts so he wasn't standing out in the open buck naked! His body shivered, but he was so hot, but he wasn't sweating. The thirst from all the hot wind and getting sick made his throat burn and his stomach twist. He knew no one was coming to help him, and the absoluteness of horror, grief, thirst, hunger, and pain was now his life. "Hell is real, and I'm living in it."

At that moment, Duncan knew that there was a heaven and a God. He didn't understand how he knew, but he did, and he knew that there was never going to be a way to leave this place, and for the first time in his life, he did what he had never done before. "God, please, please help me! I swear I will change; just give me another chance! I don't want this! Please, God, I will do whatever you want, go through whatever you want me to… just please, get me out of here!" But no answer came. He made himself stand back up and forced himself to walk, to find God even though, deep down, the place where he was, was where God was absent. "I need you, God; I need your help! I thought you gave help to people who needed help. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything I've done!" He hollered with everything he had, even though it was drowned out by all the other shouts and screams all around him. "God, how do I get to you? I don't know, show me! Show me now… please!" He screamed and started to run in the darkness, not caring if he could see; he had to escape, he had to, and then he tripped, but before his head hit the ground, his eyes flew open and shot up in bed.

Duncan's breath came hard and rapid as he looked around the room. His eyes ached from the strong light coming in through the window, and lifted his hand up to block it. He couldn't help by look at the flesh of his palms, remembering the rawness of the skin, the burning all over his body, and then his hands flashed to his groin and took hold and let out the breath he had been holding. "Damn dream." He sighed and then shook his head. "Damn do-gooder missionary idiot and his frumpy wife. The man gave me nightmares with all that God crap!"

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