Tasting dry clay, Steve spits. Dark spot, bits of dirt mixed with saliva, mark the mottled gray ground. Crimson gore oozes within a crevice, flowing over pebbles and into crags beneath his hand. Warm. Lifting his hand, he tastes it.
Spotting a shadow, he climbs to his feet keeping his eyes on the smoking figure. It moves differently, less graceful, taking determined steps circling around him beneath the raging storm of violets. It slips away into the shadows, and another dark form blossoms over the desert. Watching the hazy figure slowly move around him, he recognizes the rhythm and flow of the slender legs. Kandy. Maybe she cannot reach this far, caught somewhere within the shadows between two worlds.
Kandy’s shadow dissolves into a puff of smoke, disappearing.
Another shadow, taller, erupts onto the dead landscape. Each step, determined like the first dark figure, carries dark form closer. It is a wraith dressed in the long skirt, only this one has a face of hazy dark shapes forming a broad chin, a stubby nose, and dark pits for eyes. And this one has short hair smoking as if on fire.
From its eyes violet smoke pours, billowing to the sides, tendrils worming around its ears and disappearing. The smoking eyes match the storming purple clouds overhead. It seems at home in this dead world.
Concentrating on the dance floor, Steve steps into the shadows.
Pale etherial shapes appear, walls un-crumbling from the floor up. A ghost-like ceiling unveils in a wave. Columns grow out of the floor, the stage appears in a puff, and beside it, the broken dance platform. Ghosts, clumps of them, take to the dance floor of Club Necropolis. As color returns, movement increasing in speed, the ghosts become people, some standing nearly still while others run, clanging up the steel stairs to the exit.
Fear covers their faces.
Caught in the stampede, pushing and shoving, Steve slips off the dance floor, shoes skittering on the concrete. Swinging an arm, he fights his way free and up against a wall. Spinning around, he watches the crowd pushing their way onto the stairs, some falling crushed against the steel steps by others climbing over.
Some remain on the dance floor, confusion flooding their faces. They watch the panic at the stairs, while a few glance around searching for the source.
Standing beside a stone column at the edge of the dance floor, Julio glances over at the broken podium then back at two men standing beside him.
Bursting from a cloud of smoke, Kandy appears, her face like stone. Turning towards her, Steve notices a slender black rod swinging up at him. His arm flies up in defense, but too late, the rod glances across his head sending him falling back.
Rough ridges push into backside. Cold concrete presses against palms.
Peeling eyes open, Steve finds a dance floor bathed in bright floodlights leaving the stage at the back lost in darkness. He sits against the wall gazing at the red streaks of blood on the wood floor. Two men and a woman kneel on the floor beside a streak of blood. The woman waves her latex covered hand in circles as she speaks to the men.