Through the Golden Flame

James Abraham Carter

The hum of the transdimensional lens vibrated through the floor of Einstein University’s physics laboratory, a low sound that was felt more than heard. Salvatore Costa stood a little apart from the others, his gaze fixed on the gleaming ten-foot-diameter portal containment ring that dominated the room; yet his mind was miles away, adrift on a current of wistful longing. Carl Mallory, chief research scientist, a mature man cast from the mold of a classical statue with his blond hair and chiseled jaw, gestured grandly at the intricate banks of equipment, explaining their purpose to Sylvia Svensson. Sylvia, a youthful vision of loveliness with deep blue eyes and platinum-blonde hair, nodded, her rapt attention on Carl, her brilliant and much older boyfriend, as he expounded on how the device would give the viewer glimpses into other realities.

It was early evening. Sylvia, attired in an elegant black party dress, had met Carl after work at the laboratory. The couple was going to an exclusive soiree for the rich and famous, an event Salvatore knew he could only dream of, and the boastful Mallory wanted to impress her with his genius before departing.

Salvatore felt the familiar ache in his chest, a dull throb of an affection he knew was as misguided as it was futile. He, with his swarthy Sicilian complexion, stocky muscular body, and working-class background, was an invisible man in Sylvia’s privileged world, a shadow compared to Carl’s athletic physique and aristocratic visage. How many times had he overheard casual remarks, veiled barbs about ‘certain types’ or ‘lesser bloodlines’? He knew Carl and Sylvia, products of their wealthy, insular class, saw him and his heritage as something inferior, a genetic aberration from shores they deemed barbarous. Their careless words, uttered in his presence as if he weren’t even there, were as cruel as the stab of an envenomed dagger. How could he desire a woman who saw him as somehow not quite human? He was a fool, he knew, to harbor such a tender, secret love, but he was at least smart enough to keep it locked away, a prisoner in his own heart.

Carl’s sharp, impatient voice sliced through Salvatore's reverie like a scalpel. “Bring the transdimensional lens to full power, and be quick about it, Costa. You don’t get paid to stand there daydreaming.” He turned to Sylvia, an arrogant smirk playing on his thin lips. “This is a historic event, darling – the first time the lens has been fully tested.”

Salvatore swallowed the surge of anger, a familiar companion in Carl’s presence. He walked to the console, his movements quick, albeit grudgingly. If it weren’t for the fact that he needed the job to assist in his undergraduate studies, he would have told the arrogant egomaniac exactly what he could do with his groundbreaking invention long ago. He pushed aside these thoughts and brought the system fully online; the powerful field generators responded with a higher-pitched whine. A golden glow, like a wavering, ethereal flame, began to manifest within the portal containment ring, growing and pulsating like a living thing of fire.

Then, the unexpected. The flame, initially contained, began to spread. It spilled over the edges of the enormous ring, racing with terrifying speed across the complex instruments, a living beast of glacial, ethereal fire, swiftly engulfing everything in its path. Sylvia screamed, a high, piercing sound of pure terror. Carl, for once stripped of his bravado, yelled, “Switch it off! Shut it down!” But it was too late. The ice-cold golden flame rushed out, no longer confined but flaring like a supernova, flooding the entire room with a shimmering burst of preternatural light.

**********

Salvatore’s return to consciousness was gradual, a slow ascent from smothering darkness. He lay sprawled, his body aching, but miraculously intact. The first wave of shock was quickly replaced by a deeper, more profound horror. The room was gone. The familiar chemical odor of the lab, the electrical hum of machinery – all replaced by an unnerving silence and an air that smelled faintly of something indescribably alien.

He lay on a surface that defied earthly categorization. It had a silver-gray luster that reminded him of the mineral stibnite, yet it was rippled and porous, resembling nothing so much as immense, otherworldly coral from which an eerie fog arose. The ground, if it could be called that, seemed, in some inexplicable way, to be infused with an inner organic life. Strange botanical forms - slender cones with long, red, spiky leaves growing from their warty trunks - sprouted in huge, towering clumps from the surface and dominated the weird landscape. The sky above was not the familiar blue of Earth, nor was it the velvet black of space. It was a rich, diffuse maroon, shimmering with a sultry internal light.

He pushed himself up, his mind struggling to process the impossible. He wasn’t on a planet, not in the terrestrial sense. The object he lay upon, though spherical and perhaps the size of Mars, was a hollow, cage-like structure. Gigantic coral-like rods, each perhaps a thousand miles across, formed a complex three-dimensional shape of twenty hexagons and twelve pentagons fused together into a colossal, skeletal globe. He was lying on one of these monstrous rods, and in the unimaginably vast distance, other hollow globes, identical in their chilling grandeur, floated in the maroon void. The transdimensional lens had given him much more than a view of an alien universe; it had catapulted him into one!

Fear, cold and sharp, pierced him, but Salvatore, born and raised in a tough neighborhood, had learned from an early age to control his emotions and compartmentalize terror in the face of danger. He scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting. A short distance away, he saw them – Carl and Sylvia, stirring, groaning as they too began to regain awareness. He eagerly hurried toward them, relieved that they were alive and unharmed. Carl scrambled to his feet, his face etched with a look of sheer, unadulterated terror as the frightening reality of their situation dawned on him. His eyes, wide and wild, fixed on Salvatore, his fear quickly morphing into a familiar, defensive rage.

“You did this, Costa!” Carl shrieked, his voice cracking. “It’s your fault! You messed with the calibration, didn’t you? You stupid ape!”

Salvatore stopped, his hands clenching into fists. The insult, the baseless accusation, ignited a slow burn of raw fury. He had endured Carl’s arrogance, his condescension, and his thinly veiled racism for more than a year, but this… this was too much. “My fault?” Salvatore’s voice was low, dangerous. “I followed your every instruction. You’re the one who rushed the test, Mallory. I warned you that we were dealing with forces we didn’t fully understand. But you arrogantly dismissed my concerns, and now you’ve dragged Sylvia into this nightmare with your reckless ambition!”

Carl’s face contorted, a mask of pure rage made worse by the stinging truth. He lunged, a wild swing aimed at Salvatore's head. Salvatore, surprisingly agile despite his stocky muscular build, easily dodged the clumsy attack. Carl stumbled, then came at him again in a flurry of savage but untrained blows. Salvatore had grown up on rough streets where fights were a language, and he spoke that language fluently. He parried, blocked, and then, with a swift, powerful right, connected squarely with Carl’s jaw. Carl’s head snapped back, his eyes rolled, and he crumpled to the coral-like ground, knocked senseless.

Sylvia, who had just managed to sit up, stared with wide-eyed terror at Salvatore. The brute had knocked Carl senseless. Would he set upon her next, would she be mercilessly brutalized? His type was a seething mass of base passions - the frightening thought froze her into immobility with its dreadfulness.

The tense silence that followed was broken only by Salvatore’s heavy breathing and Sylvia’s ragged, frightened gasps. The fight was over, but the respite was brief. A new, far more immediate, and horrendous danger arose. From a large hole in the coral-like ground, one of many pockmarking the fantastical surface, three strange, translucent forms swiftly soared.

They were almost invisible against the maroon sky, shimmering aberrations that vaguely resembled jellyfish. Their umbrella-shaped bells, which in the earthly Medusozoans were part of the animal’s hydrostatic skeleton, performed an entirely different function. Instead, they were bladders filled with a lifting gas, granting the alien creatures an eerie buoyancy, while a pair of delicate, transparent wings, like those of giant insects, propelled them through the air. Their tentacles, long and whip-like, ended in vicious, crab-like pincers that clicked together with a chilling, predatory rhythm. The creatures, the equivalent of the phagocytic cells of the immune system, were intent on eliminating the foreign invaders that they sensed and darted toward the trio with alarming speed.

“Run!” Salvatore yelled, grabbing Sylvia’s arm even as Carl began to stir. He hauled the cringing girl to her feet, and all three scrambled away, raw terror lending them speed. Sylvia, still disoriented and unsteady, caught her foot in a hole and fell, crying out, “Carl! Help me!”

But Carl, consumed by craven panic, merely glanced back, his eyes wide with terror. He then bolted, abandoning her without a second thought. Salvatore saw it all – Carl’s cowardly flight, Sylvia’s desperate, outstretched hand, the translucent horrors closing in, their pincers clicking sinisterly.

A primal roar tore from Salvatore’s throat as he saw the horrors begin to tear at the shrieking girl’s clothes. With no thought for his own life, only that of the woman he loved, he ripped a long, rod-like, feathery growth from the ground, its metallic purple hue strangely vibrant against the muted landscape. He spun, recklessly charging back toward Sylvia, swinging the makeshift weapon wildly. The creatures screeched, a high, reedy sound, as Salvatore battered them aside, fighting with fierce, desperate intensity. He struck, parried, and thrust the cane-like rod, pulping their nauseous, gelatinous forms. It was a brutal, chaotic dance, but he would not let them harm her. Finally, with a decisive blow that sent the final creature spiraling away, he reached Sylvia, who was whimpering in abject terror. The monsters’ pincers had ripped her dress to shreds, leaving her clad only in her flimsy lace panties.

Sylvia was trembling, her chest heaving, her beautiful eyes wide with residual terror. Her large, naked breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath. Salvatore, his own heart pounding, knelt by her, vastly relieved to see that she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries. Quickly, he stripped off his shirt, its dark fabric a stark contrast to her pale skin. “Here,” he said, his voice gentle with concern, “cover yourself.”

She took it, gratefully pressing the soft fabric against her nudity, her face still wan but her eyes slowly regaining focus. “Th-thank you, Salvatore,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She hastily pulled the shirt on, amazed by his unexpected chivalrous actions, but still fearful to some degree that the sight of her semi-nakedness would inflame his Latin passions. The shirt was uncomfortably tight due to her large breasts, but it provided much-needed modesty. “Carl… where’s Carl?” She asked, her voice laced with real concern for the man who had remorselessly abandoned her.

Salvatore’s anger flared, raw and unfiltered. "Carl ran, Sylvia! He left you! He didn’t even stop for a second!”

Sylvia flinched, then quickly made excuses, her misplaced love for Carl on full display. “You shouldn’t be so judgmental,” she angrily and rather hypocritically replied. “He obviously didn’t hear me, Salvatore. He was no doubt disoriented.”

Salvatore clenched his jaw. He didn’t have the time or the desire to argue with her, not now. He swallowed his indignation. “Your ankle,” he said, noticing the way she winced when she stood and put weight on it. “It’s sprained.”

She nodded miserably. “I can’t walk.”

“I’ll carry you,” he offered as he began stripping the feathery leaves from the strange plant, shaping the frond-like rachis into a more effective, lethal point. He thrust the improvised spear through his belt, grim determination lining his face.

“Thank you, Salvatore,” she said, her voice softer, laced with a new, hesitant gratitude. Before, Sylvia hadn’t given much thought to him. He was a background subordinate, an inferior nonentity. He had surprised her with his bravery and competence, which were beyond the expectations she had for a man of his heritage. He seemed trustworthy. Her nervousness about being alone with him abated.

He scooped her up, her weight light in his muscular arms, and they set off across the unsettling fog shrouded landscape, slowly, painfully, in search of Carl. Sylvia glanced surreptitiously at Salvatore as he carried her. He wasn’t what she expected. He didn’t fit the stereotypes she had constructed. Could her beliefs be wrong? The thought was challenging, a threat to her assumptions and her worldview. But she could no longer deny the possibility, however strange it seemed to her, that dark skin might not be a sign of inferiority as she had thought it was.

It wasn't long before they spotted a figure hunched and peering nervously from a grove of the weird, cone-shaped plants. As they approached, Carl came forward, his expression one of relief that he was not alone in this unnerving alien dimension. But then, when his eyes fell upon Salvatore as he emerged fully from the strange fog and saw that he was carrying Sylvia, a jolt of raw, ugly hate flared in their depths. The man who had struck him down, a man who, in his prejudiced eyes, was his social and genetic inferior, had his dusky hands on his woman. He wanted to strike Costa, to knock him down, and trample him into the ground, but fear checked his actions. The Sicilian was the better fighter, and he had no desire to be humiliated again in front of Sylvia.

“Put her down!” Carl snarled, striding toward them, his face contorted as he attempted to hide his cowardice with rage. “I’ll carry her now. She’s my girlfriend, not yours!”

Salvatore’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he suppressed the sharp reply that boiled up in his throat. Logic dictated they work together. Their survival depended on it. He lowered Sylvia gently, and she, with what to Salvatore was a sickening eagerness, went immediately into Carl’s arms, hugging him tightly. Carl, regaining a semblance of his former confidence, his bloated ego massaged by her actions, lifted her and eagerly carried her into the grove, leaving Salvatore to hang back as a silent observer.

Salvatore paced the edge of the strange thicket, giving them a semblance of privacy. He could hear their murmurs, Sylvia’s hushed tones, Carl’s more confident replies. He felt a pang of his old frustration, that she still clung to Carl, even after all that had happened. Again, he asked himself why he was attracted to Syliva. Was it because she was fair skinned, blonde haired and blue eyed? Had he fallen into the cultural trap where these attributes were promoted as the qualities of the ideal woman that every man should aspire to? His musings were cut short by a sudden, blood-curdling scream that tore through the air, swiftly followed by Carl’s choked cry.

Salvatore didn’t hesitate. He burst into the grove, spear in hand. The scene that confronted him sent a jolt of icy dread through his veins. Both Carl and Sylvia were ensnared by a monstrous hybrid of plant and animal, a grotesque paradox of nature that could only exist in this weird dimension. The couple, engrossed in each other, had blundered blindly into it. The thing resembled a giant, pulsating black column, easily twelve feet tall, with barbed crimson leaves around its base. From its apex sprouted a writhing mass of thick, vine-like tentacles. These tentacles, white in color and immensely strong, had wrapped around Carl and Sylvia, lifting them off the ground and squeezing them with terrifying force.

An oath exploded from Salvatore’s throat. He charged forward and plunged his newly crafted spear into the leathery hide of the plant creature. It shrieked, a wet, guttural sound, and a tentacle lashed out, wrapping around Salvatore’s chest with bone-crushing force. He gasped, the air forced from his lungs, but he held on and rained a frenzy of wild, desperate blows on the monster. He stabbed, twisted, and probed, searching for a vital organ, for any weakness. His vision blurred, the pressure on his ribs immense, but he kept fighting, driven by a desperate need to save Sylvia. Finally, with one last desperate thrust, his spear found a critical spot. Black ochre spurted. The creature convulsed, a final, gurgling shriek emanating from its horrid form, and then, slowly, the tentacles went limp, releasing their grip. Salvatore, gasping for breath, stumbled back and dropped to his knees as Carl and Sylvia fell to the coral-like ground.

Carl lay motionless, having fainted. Sylvia, badly shaken, was weakly crawling away from the now-inert plant monster, her face chalk-white from terror. Salvatore forced himself up and stumbled to her side, pulling her into a comforting embrace. She clung to him, trembling violently, his skin color quite forgotten in her need. “It’s okay, Sylvia,” he breathlessly murmured, stroking her hair. “You’re safe now.”

Gradually, her trembling subsided. She pulled away, her eyes still wide but more composed. “I’m so thirsty, Salvatore,” she whispered, her throat dry from screaming.

“I’ll look for water,” Salvatore replied, his gaze sweeping the foreboding alien landscape, not hopeful of finding any but determined to try. He then hesitated, glancing contemptuously at the unconscious Carl. “Come with me, Sylvia. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Her eyes flickered to Carl’s prone form. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to stay with Carl. He needs me.”

Salvatore felt a familiar stab of frustration, but he nodded, knowing better than to argue. He turned and headed deeper into the strange grove, his spear held ready. He wasn't happy about leaving Sylvia alone with Carl. The man might be a brilliant scientist on Earth, but out here, in this terrifying and dangerous reality, he had shown himself to be a spineless coward and, by blundering into the plant creature, dangerously incompetent as well.

He hadn’t gone far when Sylvia’s screams tore through the alien vegetation again, more desperate, more terrified than before. “Salvatore! Help me! Please!”

A cold dread seized him. He raced back, crashing through the weird plants, his heart thundering in his chest. What he saw stopped him cold. Danger threatened, but it was a monster of a different type. Carl, now awake, was on top of Sylvia, pinning her to the ground. Her shirt and panties had been brutally torn away. She was completely nude, struggling against his weight, her eyes wide with horror and the shock of betrayal - the man who supposedly loved her was about to savagely rape her.

Carl’s face was a mask of fevered desperation as his groping hands squeezed her generous breasts, his scientific brilliance replaced by a primal, depraved urge. Fearing death, he sought solace in sex. Sylvia, in no mood for intimacy due to extreme stress, had refused. But Carl, thinking only of himself, wasn’t taking "no” for an answer.

“You rotten bastard!” Salvatore shouted as he cast aside the spear lest he succumb to the murderous temptation bubbling up inside him. Carl, startled, looked up, his eyes widening in alarm just before Salvatore’s fist connected solidly with his jaw. The furious blow sent Carl crashing to the ground. But just as quickly, he was on his feet. Raging violence erupted as the two men engaged in a vicious, desperate brawl among the unearthly, conical plants. Carl, a deranged look contorting his face, fought back with the feral intensity of a madman. Salvatore blocked a punch, then delivered a brutal kick to Carl’s groin, sending him sprawling, shrieking in agony.

Suddenly, Sylvia shouted, her voice hoarse. “Salvatore! Look out! They’re coming!”

He glanced up. A dozen more of the translucent, jellyfish-like creatures had entered the grove, their bladders glowing faintly and their pincers clicking sinisterly. Swiftly, the horrors flew toward them. In seconds they would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Salvatore glanced at Carl. The man lay groaning, clutching his privates, completely incapacitated. Salvatore wasted no time. He couldn’t carry two people. He scooped Sylvia, completely nude and trembling violently, into his arms. Her skin was cold against his. He burst out of the grove, running madly, propelled by a desperate, instinctual need to escape. Behind him Carl screamed in agony as the nightmare creatures fell upon him with rending claws. Salvatore focused on running. There was nothing he could do for the man. The screams of agony were brutal but short. Then the creatures shot from the grove, their wings a blur of speed. The clicking of their pincers grew louder. They were right on Salvatore’s heels, their sinister sounds a chilling accompaniment to his labored breaths.

Then, a beacon of miraculous hope. In the distance, shimmering and radiating its raw, extradimensional power, was a golden flame. It pulsed, wavered, almost beckoning. The portal. It had to be the portal.

He ran, his legs burning, his lungs screaming for air, the feeling of Sylvia in his arms a powerful motivating force that kept him going. The creatures surged behind him, their delicate wings beating furiously, their tentacles reaching. He barely made it. With a final surge of adrenaline, he leaped, clearing the last few feet of silvery, coral-like ground, plunging headlong into the shimmering, ice-cold, golden fire.

**********

Salvatore regained consciousness to the acrid smell of ozone, burnt electronics, and the roar and crackle of natural fire. He was back. They were back. The laboratory was a wreck. Sparks leaped from the transdimensional lens like exploding fireworks. Smoke billowed from the burning instruments, obscuring his vision. Although they had spent what seemed like hours in the strange dimension, it appeared that only seconds had elapsed on Earth.

Behind him, the otherworldly golden flame pulsed and writhed like a living being of fire. Salvatore felt its power and sensed the frightening danger. The strange tingling transcosmic forces of its aureate core were swiftly building toward an eruption of unstoppable, terrifying strength even greater than the one that had catapulted them into the alien universe.

“Sylvia!” He gasped, his voice hoarse. She was in his arms, still semiconscious, her body limp but breathing. He didn’t hesitate. There was no time to lose. He clutched her tighter, stumbled to his feet, and raced for the exit, his flying feet fueled by wild fear. The heat was intense; the air was thick with acrid smoke. He burst through the emergency exit, out into the cool night air of the car park. He was halfway across the asphalt, Sylvia still cradled protectively against him, when the golden flame reached its terrifying, explosive climax. The entire building erupted in a blinding flash, a concussive roar, and then a monstrous golden fireball that enveloped the whole edifice.

Salvatore stumbled from the shockwave. He regained his balance and kept running. Sylvia stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. She coughed, inhaling the cold night air; then her gaze fixed on Salvatore’s face, smudged with soot, concern etched into his strong features as he swiftly carried her clear of the raging transcosmic inferno behind them. She saw the debris raining down from the sky, glimpsed the icy fireball implode, sucking the remnants of the laboratory building into the weird dimension from which they had so narrowly escaped. As the otherworldly flame winked out, leaving nothing of its presence behind, her mind replayed the last few moments in the alien universe – Carl’s betrayal, his depravity, and Salvatore’s unwavering courage, his selfless acts of bravery.

A profound realization dawned on her, shattering what remained of the carefully constructed prejudices she had held for so long. This man, Salvatore, with his dark skin and working-class background, was the true hero. It was Carl, the blond Adonis, the privileged genius, who was the lesser man, a coward and a monster. The racist attitudes that had shaped her worldview, weakened by her experiences in the alien cosmos, had finally fallen apart like a house of cards in the wind.

She looked at Salvatore, really looked at him, not through the lens of class hierarchy or superficial judgments, but with a new, clear vision. A faint, tentative smile touched her lips, a promise of a future unburdened by prejudice. She resolved, in that moment, to put Carl completely out of her mind, his brutal actions having utterly destroyed her love for him, and to truly get to know Salvatore – the man who had saved her, body and soul. For her, the nightmare was over, but a new, more profound journey had just begun.

The End