The Devil's Race 3 Heaven Or Hell?

Locke crashed through the brush, gulping down air as fast as he could, ignoring his body sending him some not-so-subtle messages reminding him that he hadn't eaten in days, even as he tripped and crashed into the damp earth. The voices behind him growing louder, he remained, eyes closed, a strangely calm expression on his face as he gritted his teeth, hammering his clenched fists into the soil in with a grunt of frustration and gathered himself off the muddy ground. He was too tired to fight anymore. He'd been running for what felt like a lifetime. Even if they didn't catch him now, it would only lead to more pain and hunger later, trying to live and hope the rest of the world would ignore his existence.

Locke snorted to himself.

If only.
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lights locked onto his figure revealing his stick thin muddy frame, rags of clothing hanging off it. 'I must really look like a highly dangerous threat' Locke thought to himself, snorting in wry amus.e.m.e.nt as he watched those search lights grow closer.

"hands up!" screamed a voice from behind one of the many blinding lights that Locke was squinting at. He just knelt down and held his hands up with his remaining energy. He'd been searching for a year now, with no success and only his own personal suffering to show for it. Might as well just give in and see where it took him. A small cold smile slowly grew on his face.

After all, if this lead to death, then Locke was ready.

...

2 Weeks Later...

...

Locke awoke surrounded by a gentle heat, relatively comfortable for the first time in what felt like years. He couldn't help but release a low purr as he pulled the blanket tighter around him and leaned further into the lovely soft pillow.

...

His eyes shot open as he jumped up in a blur, wiping the sleepiness frantically from his eyes as he took in his surroundings.

A low hum was constant but muted, and he almost thought he was dreaming. Locke stared, the last of the sleepiness leaving his eyes as he took in the view, one that he hadn't seen the like of in his life. In front of him the skies stretched to infinity, splotches of cloud dotted both below and above, the sun bathing him with a soft warmth as he took in the hues of orange, red, purple and every shade in between.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

Locke whirled around as the soft voice broke his shock. He was surprised to find himself looking at a young human man who looked roughly his own age, in a light vest, a pair of shorts and some kind of strange footwear. He was lying on the edge of the "floor" which Locke only now noticed was some kind of thick canvas, he was propped up by a few cus.h.i.+ons, looking out at the stunning view of a sunset now at Locke's back and Locke could make out faint runic symbols on the back of the one hand that was holding a can of what Locke guessed was a some kind of beer, as well as running down the front of each leg following the bone, but they were so intricate that Locke wouldn't be able to translate their purpose unless he could see them much closer. He was distracted from his observation by an object being thrown toward him by the figure in front of him. Locke caught it out of reflex.

Locke's brief moment of worry died as he saw he had also been thrown a can of beer.

His mouth hung open in as he stared as the person across from him, words trying to form but nothing coming out. 'Where do I start?!' thought Locke.

"Uhh... not to be rude but... When I was chased down like a dog, and then forcefully knocked out... this is not where I imagined I would be ending up." He slowly worked his way around the words. He hadn't spoken to anyone in what he guessed was at least 6 months. It felt strange hearing his own voice again.

...

Fenric looked at the young man opposite him in amus.e.m.e.nt but also pity.

"you're on the TRANSMISSION, my airs.h.i.+p. You've been given to me to be transported safely to the blasted isles where, presumably, the church will want to execute you. Very publicly and painfully, I imagine." he told the young half-devil opposite him. "I'm Fenric by the way."

he watched the figure opposite, his amus.e.m.e.nt slowly melting away as his words sunk in.

"I'm sorry" he said, with sincerity. He knew of the miss-treatments that so called 'desolates' typically suffered. "Whilst you are here on this s.h.i.+p I can promise you, you wont be in a cage or locked up. I know you are not the cause of the calamity, nor are you the cure to fixing it. You're just another person trying to live in this s.h.i.+t hole that those before left us. unfortunately, others are ignorant and easily led astray. I was paid too much to refuse transporting you, so here we are. A mostly human and a desolate having a beer." At this, Fenric raised his can to the figure opposite and took a big gulp, the amus.e.m.e.nt back.

The dark blue-grey skinned figure of Locke blinked. Mostly human? Whilst the news of where he was and where he was going was bad for him, the figure opposite him had just voiced something that 99% of the worlds population would disagree with. It caught him rather off-guard.

"I'm Locke" he replied, and decided to tentatively voice his doubts. "Most people would disagree with what you have just said".

"Most people are idiots" came the blunt reply with a shrug from the light skinned young man opposite, who had named himself Fenric earlier. Strange name...

Locke was broken out of his relaxed thoughts by Fenric's next words though.

"Most people also didn't have a desolate as a brother"