Apple of Discord: Chapter 4

You remember science class.

You remember how important it can be to ground electricity.

You grab the plastic casing of the shattered trouble light and tug down with all your might.

As luck would have it, you feel the line give on both ends, meaning they have worked themselves free of the plugs they were attached to.

You quickly draw the line in, feeling for the exposed sections of wire. Your hands move with purpose and speed. You feel for the steel beam above you and find that it has plenty of room to shove the trouble light over the top. You loop the cord up and over the light, anchoring the line to itself at the top of the beam. 

The swarm of little murder noises are all around you now and getting closer.

You feel for the other end of the line and loop it around the cross guard and pommel of your sword. You tug on the line as hard as you can, desperation feeding your strength. You feel the exposed sections on the line biting into your hand painfully.

You keep pulling.

Closer.

Please work, you think. Please!

You feel for the wooden plank, beneath your feet. You just need one shot, you say to yourself, which is good because you may only get one shot.

Since the door to the space is closed, you’re guessing Fulgar is probably very close to that since he was the one most likely to close it.

You feel something brush up against you.

In panic you nearly slip off the plank walkway.

You kick out, sending whatever it is flying off toward a wall. It’s bigger and lighter than you’d imagined. Not sure if that’s a good thing though, you think.

It’s too late. You feel claws grab hold of the fabric of your pants and pull.

Then you hear the sound. What in Hades is that?

It’s a dry squeaky hissing sound, both vaguely familiar and alien at the same time. Whatever it is, it’s creepy, and you want it to go away forever.

One last chance to coax Fulgar into revealing his location.

“Come on coward! Why hide from a kid?” you yell.

As if in response, the hatch swings half-way open, letting in a welcome wedge of light. Well, that is until you see what’s surrounding you. 

You let out a sort of laughing, screaming noise as you realize you weren’t that far off from what you were hoping it was.

Not kittens.
Cats.
Hundreds of shambling, mummified cats.

They don’t seem to like the light and fall away from you.

More importantly you see the silhouette of Fulgar to the right of the door. He’s standing up through the rotten floorboards, so he doesn't have to crouch.

You’re hoping it was Tree who pushed the door open and call out, “Sneaky! Leaning up against the wall to the right of the door.” 

“Okay, I’m done. Time to die.” Fulgar’s forearms flash and lightning rods appear in each hand.

A thin tracery of electric designs pop and snap across the metal surface.

This is the moment. It’s now or never.