Prologue Part Two

Haydon Robinson woke up in a distorted world of smoke and flames. Attempting to move, he discovered that he was pinned under a large beam in the center of a room. Fire licked the concrete and brick around him and continuously edged closer. He struggled to break free of his bonds but he was immobile and it seemed as though his death was imminent. Inch by inch he removed the obstacle which turned out to be a foundation pillar originating from the center of the room. It was the last one that remained in what looked like a row of four leading to a stage with a podium. The podium was in shambles and the stage riddled with debris. As He got to his feet, he noticed other figures in the room. Gathering that this must have been some sort of auditorium and the remnants of the crowd were scattered all around the area. From what he could see, his life was the only one not taken by the catastrophe.

Through the static of burning building and falling rubble, Haydon was able to hear a series of gunshots nearby. The first step he took buckled under a left leg that clearly couldn’t bear any weight. A nearby plank of charred wood was used as a crutch and got him as far as the nearest wall before he tossed it aside and used the wall for support. The exit lay a mere twenty feet away, but maneuvering between bodies, broken walls, and fallen support beams was the real challenge. At last he reached the door and pushed it open into blinding daylight. Stunned by the brightness, Robinson fell to the ground, landing on a rigid and cold object. Reaching under his side, he pulled out a small pistol and after looking at it for a moment stuffed it in the back of his pants. 

“Hey! We’ve got another one over here!” A man shouted from around the corner. He rushed to Robinson’s side and lifted him up, supporting him on one shoulder so that the weak leg was not burdened with too much weight. “He is bleeding pretty bad, and looks like he’s got a bad leg too!” Haydon hadn’t even realized he was bleeding. He reached up to his head and felt the sting of an open wound just above his brow.

Must be where that pillar hit me, he thought. Explains why I don’t remember where I’m at. The stranger brought him over to a truck with a bed occupied by three others. One was a woman who looked to be in her twenties. She was unconscious and the man helping her was nursing a large, open wound on her torso. The third was a man in a uniform. Haydon couldn’t read the lettering on the shirt, but it looked legitimate. The fog from waking up in the building was still thick upon his mind. Plagued with fatigue and reoccurring double vision, it was a relief when the man set him down on the edge of the truck bed and began to speak.

“What’s your name?” He asked. The stranger placed both his hands on Haydon’s shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. A hint of earnestness was in the voice that spoke as if his life depended on the answer.

“I, I don’t remember. I’m trying to think but my mind is all over the place. Robinson, Haydon Robinson. I think I’m a waiter here, but I can’t remember.” Words came out in short spurts. The men kept looking at him as if expecting more. “What else do you need to know? I don’t know how much help I will be, but I will do my best.”

“We know who you are, Detective,” The uniformed man replied. His hand shifted to the weapon at his side, a rifle. At once, Haydon’s instinct kicked in. He pushed the stranger from out in front of him with his good leg, swinging it up across the man’s jaw. He fell backwards and went limp as the blow landed. He quickly pulled the pistol out from behind him and fired into the other’s right shoulder. He dropped the rifle and stumbled backward. Instantly the man assisting the wounded woman lunged toward Robinson. Reacting quickly, he turned and flipped him off the truck and onto the ground in front before unloading two rounds into his chest.

“Robinson! Robinson, thank God we’ve found you. Are you alright?” A familiar voice rang in the air. He looked up to see three uniformed men rushing out of a police car and zigzagging through the wreckage. “Hold on, we will be right th-“ His voice was interrupted by a shot, followed by an intense burning in his back. Haydon turned around to see the armed man pointing the rifle back at him. Before he could raise his weapon to respond, the man pulled the trigger and everything went black.

He was in a house now. Shrouded in darkness he rose to his feet out of a small metal chair. Haydon padded around him and felt a wall nearby. Clinging to it, he pressed forward with one arm ahead of him and the other tracing the wall to his left. He found that walking was easy as the pain in his leg was no longer prevalent and his pace quickened. Deep down a hallway or at the end of a large room, he couldn’t tell which he was in, was a lantern. The flame illuminated a small space around itself and Robinson could tell it was on a table. As he drew nearer, it was easier to see that he was in a large room. Wooden floors creaked under heavy feet approaching from behind him. Robinson turned around quickly but saw no one, only an empty hallway. Leaning forward he took a quick survey but was unable to penetrate the darkness at all. He thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he turned again nothing was to be found.

Deciding to find an escape from the mysterious room, Haydon grabbed the lantern and held it out in front of him, swinging it around in front of him frantically. Slowly, a wave of panic struck him and his efforts became encased in urgency as he wandered around the room. Something was different now, though, he noticed. There was no hallway. There was no table. The room was slowly getting smaller, tighter every moment. The panic was getting worse every second as the walls closed in around him. He noticed that he wasn’t even breathing so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

The room and lantern were gone. He was standing in a field now. Looking up, his face drained of color. Haydon Robinson saw one thing before he came back to consciousness in Meadowline Hospital.

It was a sign for his hometown.

Welcome to Crescent.