The Warrens: Sam - Nicola Collings (top 10 best books of all time .TXT) 📗

                Sam opened a small kitchen cupboard and took from it a bottle of cheap whisky. He didn’t bother with a glass, just started to drink straight from the bottle.

                He didn’t need a glass. He wasn’t sophisticated, or rich enough to drink from glasses. The whisky tasted foul in his mouth as he sat in his bed, leaning forwards. He grimaced at the taste.

                This was what he was meant for. To die with foul whisky in his mouth.

                He lay back on his bed, wondering if he died tonight, if anyone would come looking. Probably not; some kids might break in because they were bored and find his body. They’d probably poke him with sticks and mess around for a bit- that was what kids did these days, play with dead bodies- and then they’d probably tell someone what they found. And then they’d burn his body and he’d be forgotten. He wouldn’t even leave a mark on the world.

                Sam gulped down the rest of the whisky and went to the cupboard for another. Sam’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. Looking at the screen through the blur of a drunken stupor, he saw the word ‘Alex’, glaring out at him.

                Fuck him! Sam threw his phone to the floor and reached for a packet of fags on the kitchen top.

                Smoking and whisky... what a way to spend his life!

                The sun was almost up when Sam finally passed out on the bed.

                “Are you sure no one will miss him? I mean, like, no one at all?”

                “I am quite sure. He has no family and, as far as I am concerned, no recognisable friends to speak of.”

                “Good job it’s not your concern I’m worried about, then.”

                Sam stirred, a the hangover throbbing it’s hello through his head. He was too numb to realise he was no longer in his flat, and the words spoken from the people around him floated past his face, brushing gently against his skin and waking him. He was too hung over and groggy to realise there were restraints around his wrists and ankles, but the prospect of him even trying to move was thankfully, looking increasingly unlikely due to the fact that Sam felt as though he’d been beaten up and then hit by a train and then beaten up again.

                His surroundings were dark and gloomy, the people were but dark shapes huddled around where he lay.

                “Where is she? She’s late!”

                “Relax! She won’t be late for her own leaving party!”

                “You mean her death?”

                “Yeah, but she prefers the term ‘leaving’.”

                “Typical of her. And why is she so set on calling this random guy off the streets her son? I mean, look at him. Pathetic.”

                “It’s not his fault he has nothing to live for.”

                “Well, that’s about to change. How ironic!”

                There was the sound of a door opening, and Sam tried to crane his neck to see what was going on, but he neither had the energy, nor the will to resist the pain of movement.

                “Gentlemen. Welcome. I see you found one that matches the requirements.” It was a woman’s voice. Somehow, it sounded smooth and sensual, quite the opposite of the other voices.

                “Well. Time to get started. So, what’s your name?” Sam felt a hand caress his face, a cold, smooth, stone-like hand.

                He tried to utter his name, but couldn’t seem to utter even a groan!

                “It’s Sam.”

                “Poor thing. What did you boys do? Well, Sam. I’m about to give you something. A gift.”

                Sam felt something close to his face, the woman’s breath warming his cheeks.

                What the fuck is this? It briefly crossed Sam’s mind that this was all just a result of his being drunk, but it felt too real...too twisted...

                “Now Sam, my child, I can finally leave this world, and you are going to help me be at peace. You are the key! You are my child! And when years have passed, too many for you to count, when you finally achieve what I have achieved today, then I shall welcome you, once again, with open arms, as a mother does to a son!”

                Sam closed his eyes, to hide from the blurry shapes, but mostly to try and find some way of forcing this reality into a dream; it was a dream! There was no way this was real!

                He felt something soft and cold on his face...

                It’s not real!

                Sam felt his consciousness waning, and a warm sensation filling his body and his mind...his mind...

Somewhere beyond his closed eyes, he could sense something warm, a light, a bright light...birds singing...the cries of a girl, sounding much like the smooth, sensual woman who'd babbled a bunch of jobberish...except, her vioce was different...the opposite. he heard her scream, the first woman mumbled two words which sealed her doom.

                He felt it slowly slipping away, as if walls that were there previously had been knocked down, revealing space...so much space...

                Despite this, one, dark, small room remained, closed in, down in the depths. It was here Sam cowered, not daring to look out at this horrific new change! He cowered in the dark for what felt like years, with only a concept...an idea for company. It spoke to him, smiled at him, asked him how he was.

                The pain...

                Sam looked at the pain, and it looked back at him. He wanted to hide from it, run away, but he was so alone...

                Part 2: Insanity

                The darkness began to fade, and Sam was dragged, screaming from the small, dark room with the pain, back into the cold stone room where several dark shapes stood, looking g at him. Things came into focus; Sam could feel his body and move it quite well. He even managed to turn his head to where the shapes were.

                “He’s come too, we should get going.” One of them said.

                Sam looked more closely, his eyes coming into a sharper focus. Strange, they reminded him of the people of the Warren; black war paint, black leather, black weapons, black hair...black everything. Like shadows...

                The men came towards him and pulled the groggy Sam to his feet, where they put his arms around their shoulders and, with surprising strength, they dragged him towards what Sam could only make out as a white light that stung his eyes.  The men stood him up and left Sam, staring at the light, both confused and bewildered...

                It felt like days since he’d seen anything other than darkness and shadows peering down on him. In fact, the light was only thing that seemed to make sense! He swayed on his feet as the men backed away, into the shadows.

                In fleeting seconds, Sam wondered where he was, what had happened to him and what the fuck was going on in this crazy dream of his; it was like he’d been floating, events happening in slow motion all around him and not being able to make sense of any of it made Sam mad.

                But he was too tired for anger. The pain smiled and laughed at him from it’s dark room inside Sam’s mind. In fact, it stood before him, the shape of a person, white flesh that wasn’t really there...

                It laughed. It laughed it’s shrill, high-pitched laugh that made Sam’s blood run cold, until it’s laugh became a scream of agony.

                Looking back towards the light, Sam ran. Or he thought he ran.

                The next moment was one that joined the room of moments that Sam wasn’t sure happened or not. Everything went black, as if someone had pulled a blind fold down over his face, but with it came the heavy sound of thunder and rubble falling. It echoed around his mind, filling ever corner and the noise was so loud, Sam retreated to the room with the pain.

                And then there was nothing. Silence and the pasty face of pain in front of him, this time soothing him, like a friend.

                Sam spent years in that room...years with only pain...his pain...

                Several hours later, Sam opened his eyes. For the first time, Sam opened his eyes and he could see clearly; he saw the dark stone ceiling and he could feel the hard bed beneath him. This was all he felt. As for his body, it was as if it wasn’t there at all!

                Pain stood over him, one hand on Sam’s shoulder and a smile on it’s face. At least Sam wasn’t alone...

                Sam should have be lying on a hospital bed, with a hard mattress and a pillow with no volume what so ever. He should have a drip, IV fluids, casts on his body, since nearly all of his bones were broken, including his spine, which had been snapped in two.

                Instead, Sam lay on a mattress – no bed frame to speak of- no sheets, no pillows, no IV fluids or drugs of any kind, no bandages, nothing.  He lay there, a broken shell, paralysed, internal bleeding, punctured lungs, yet as Sam lay there, he felt strangely light. He felt his life slowly ebbing away, pain at his side. It didn’t cross Sam’s mind what had happened, why he wasn’t in a hospital, or who those men were. He was just savouring the sensation of death.

                And when Sam breathed his last breath, what should have been the feeling of freedom, he felt trapped, inside that dark room...

                “So it’s worked?”

                “Yeah, she did it. Shame she couldn’t be here to see him. She’d be proud.”

                “Sure, sure. But you know what we gotta do now, right?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Just because he’s good looking don’t mean you can allow yourself to get attached.”

                “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”

                Sam listened to the voices, curious if they were talking about him. It was to these voices that Sam drifted, slowly back to life.

                “So, tell me again, how is it he is still alive?”

                “Because his body can’t die, trapping his soul inside. You know this; she gave her gift to him.”

                “But why him? Why not one of us?”

                “Because she needed some low life who wouldn’t be missed. Someone who we’d be able to throw into the depths. If it was you, would you wanna be thrown into the depths?”

                “S’pose. Why do we have to get rid of him?”

                “Not getting rid of him. Hiding him from people who want her power. Best let him find out for himself, not keep him here. Imagine the chaos...”

                “Fine, c’mon.”

                Sam opened his eyes. The same ceiling. The same hard bed. He wondered how long he’d been lying there. He looked around, testing his body, seeing if he could still move, still feel. There was no pain, so Sam sat up and looked around for the first time. In the moments before Sam got a good long look at the men before him, he saw the inside of a dark, stone room with no windows. It gave off the distinct impression of being underground; the air was musty and cold and every corner was hidden in the shadows of the gas lamps and candles. The room was empty, apart from the mattress and two chairs, occupied by two men.

                When Sam laid eyes on the men, it barely registered that they were dressed in the exact same way as the legends of the Warren. That would come in next 24 hours, but for now, Sam could only gaze at their black hair, black war paint, leather, boots and heavy machine rifles.

                They came towards Sam with intimidating defiance, grasping Sam by his upper arms with iron grips and hauling him to his feet. Sam staggered a little, not used to being vertical for once.

                They pushing him towards a heavy wooden door, outside of which were more people, dressed in the same way,