The old traffic light took exactly thirty-two seconds before turning green. Egan stretched his neck and back; he had just left the bar where he worked as an accountant and often as a cashier. With a very large clientele, it wasn't such a small bar; in fact, customers had some rooms available where they could have a quick meal: buying from the baked goods displayed in the window, in front of the counter. He ran his hand through his brown hair and looked in the minivan's mirror. He smiled, looked at his reflection, and saw his teeth a little less white than usual. Too much coffee? Or too many licorice candies? He needed to cut back. His hands returned to the steering wheel when the red disappeared. It was half-past seven in the evening, the road was not very busy, and there was a pleasant coolness of late April that made him keep the window down a couple of inches. The bar manager had hired him about a month ago, and so far, everything had gone smoothly. Egan had never managed to keep a job for more than six months. He had a mild character but was marked by chronic defeatism. He was always convinced that things would end badly, and even when they went well, he expected them to blow up at any moment. If his phone rang, he anticipated bad news to be the first thing heard.
His father had found him a house with low rent, shared with two other guys. The hope was to change his bad character once faced with the responsibilities of an independent life. This would have been the first month he had the prospect of being able to support himself for the foreseeable future, something that had never happened before in all his twenty-eight years.
Egan turned at the second intersection. He was approaching the outskirts when he saw something on the side of the road. It looked like a cat, and it was in a strange pose. Lying down, close to the ground, in a disordered way. Curious, Egan pulled over and got out. He approached the little animal; there were still a few last rays of sun touching the dark gray and shiny fur – but it wasn't a cat. When he saw the small head, striped with white on the eyes and muzzle, he realized it was a ferret and seemed unable to move. Egan was undecided about what to do: take it to one of those centers that welcomed strays, or take it home. He bent down and slowly brought his hands closer to the little animal, not touching the tail but extending his fingers under the muzzle. The little animal didn't move. He stroked its head, and still, he didn't see it react, only opening and closing its eyes once. Then he decided to take it home with him. "I'll go get a blanket. If I'm not mistaken, there should be one in the trunk..." he rummaged in the compartment for two minutes, finding no blanket. How could he transport the little animal, he wondered, then saw a thermal bag. It was a box-type, 16 inches wide. Usually stored bottles during long trips. Egan thought it might do the trick. He took it and returned to the ferret and saw it on all fours, limping, almost dragging its two hind legs. Egan approached slowly and placed the bag on the ground. "If you want to come with me, get in," he opened it and waited. The ferret turned for a moment, its round eyes resting on Egan. It must have sensed a danger, a risk, such that it got back on its feet in that state. Now that he looked at the little creature better, there was blood on the hind paws, but that couldn't have been the damage of a car. Something had clawed it; there were lacerations, and they were bleeding. "Who hurt you?" Egan looked around. He saw no one and heard no threatening sounds nearby. The ferret hissed and tried to back away. "So, you don't want to get in the bag?" Egan didn't know if he should pick it up or wait; it could also bite him. At that moment, he felt the air move next to his right ear; a fraction of a second later, the flapping of dark wings brushed his skin. Instinctively, he bent his head forward, lowering it. Egan heard the ferret's desperate cry well; a large crow had pecked it in the eye. A new wound had opened. The claws tried to grab it, but the bird didn't have enough strength to lift it. The ferret twisted and tried to bite. Egan shook off his surprised state, also overwhelmed by the crow's violence, which tried to grip it to dig its claws into the flesh, wounding the ferret enough to do whatever it wanted with the little animal. Without thinking, he took the bag and waved it at the crow. "Let it go!" the bird took flight. Egan grabbed the ferret and put it in the bag, then ran to the car, fearing that such an aggressive crow might also attack him, who had just stolen its prey. He turned the key and engaged the manual gear. The crow perched on a high branch and fixed its sharp black eyes on the vehicle. Egan drove off quickly.
He had forgotten the trunk open in his haste, heard the tailgate slam a couple of times during a descent. Occasionally, he looked in the bag, which he had left on the front seat, open. The ferret had curled up and wasn't moving. "Not much longer," he said. The neighborhood where the building housing the apartment he shared with three other guys was located was in the suburb. It was economical only because the rent was divided by three. When the brown building appeared behind the curve of the road, Egan gave another look at the ferret, which had remained in the same position. At that moment, he wondered if there was everything necessary at home to take care of the little animal's wounds. Then he also wondered if perhaps it was better to take it to a vet instead of treating it himself. It looked dejected and seemed to be suffering. Egan didn't know much about ferrets. Torn between which of the two options was best, he finally chose to go to the vet where they had occasionally taken Michel's cat, one of his roommates. At that hour, the clinic was about to close; maybe he wouldn't find anyone if he made it in time. He pressed the accelerator pedal and reached the square where the pub was located, where he and his two friends spent the evenings on weekends. The vet was on the next street, on the right. He went to turn the steering wheel, but the car continued straight. Frightened, Egan turned with all his strength, and although the steering wheel turned, the wheels kept going straight. "What the hell is happening?!" he braked, but the vehicle continued its course undisturbed. Egan tried to lower the window to ask for help, but the automatic button didn't respond. As the road was about to end, a building wall appeared in front of him. He screamed in fear and covered his eyes with an arm, expecting a fatal impact, which, however, didn't happen. The car turned, holding the road firmly, and proceeded towards the city limits. It was like being in a car driven by someone else. Egan's sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel as if trying to convince himself he still had control, seeing the empty road darken under the first stars of the evening. The shops decreased, giving way to vegetation visible on the sides of the two-way road. The car traveled at a modest pace, within the limits. Something whizzed past the windshield quickly; Egan covered his face again. After a few seconds of nothing happening, he removed his hands from his eyes and looked at the road again. The car continued to take him who knows where. He stared at the ferret, that was still in the same position, as if everything happening didn't affect it, or it wasn't in a condition to do anything but remain unconscious.
The man took the phone from his jacket pocket and called Michel. What could he tell him? He didn't know how to put it, to explain himself without sounding crazy or drunk. The phone rang twice, then a hissing sound crept into his ear. It sounded like the whistle of something scraping on a rough surface. Egan looked at the phone, and the display turned off. "What the hell is happening?!" the touch didn't work, and if he tried to turn it back on, nothing changed. He was sure he had charged it the day before; it couldn't be dead. Sweat soaked his clothes. Two black eyes stared at him beyond the windshield. Egan jumped. A crow was on the hood. Egan could swear it was the same one that had attacked the ferret. That fierce animal now strutted on the bodywork as if the wind caused by the car's movement didn't bother it at all. Egan clung to the seat with his hands. His nails dug into the upholstery, and his eyes couldn't tear away from that bird.
The car continued to travel as if driven by an experienced driver, and the winding road was a well-known circuit. The scarce lights and the vegetation acting as an impenetrable wall didn't allow Egan to realize where it was headed. He watched the crow move on the hood, then fix him by tilting its black head. When the car decelerated, the bird took flight and perched on the branch of a tree engulfed by shadows. The branch moved slightly, and when it stabilized, Egan's car parked, overflowing the side of its lane. He leaned back, relaxing completely into the seat, and could breathe normally again. The driver's side door clicked, opening by itself to its maximum. Again, the young man jumped with his heart in his throat. He grabbed the door and pulled it hard, slamming it shut. "To hell with you, whoever you are, you can't decide for me!" he mumbled, then grabbed the key to start the engine again and get out of there. It could have been a magnetic storm or any other scientifically justifiable event. "Start, damn it... come on!" the engine rattled but wouldn't start. Egan hit his knuckles on the steering wheel. "Stuck here... I can't believe it..." his eyes scanned what little could be seen under the advancing night. Trees, bushes… The slippery road continuing ahead and ending on the highway, if he remembered correctly. Behind him, where he wanted to return, on foot he would have to cover miles. "Damn car!" he hit the steering wheel again, a gesture of annoyance and almost despair. The reality of being alone in the middle of the deserted road was now undeniable.
Egan tried to use the phone again, but it wouldn't even turn on. Then a light caught his attention. To his left, what appeared to be the entrance of a cave lit up. As far as he knew, there were no caves reaching the road in that city. Curiosity pushed him to open the door. After a glance at the ferret, which seemed to be breathing but remained in its unconscious state, he decided to get out of the vehicle. The light attracted him like a moth to the danger of flames. He closed the door gently and moved his feet towards that cave. There was a hill that served as a mouth for the entrance. The light emerging outside was faint, seemed to invite him to approach but with caution. When he got close enough, he placed a hand on the clay material, which crumbled when he closed it into a fist. His mind suggested to return, to go back and head towards the city; and maybe trying to use the phone again along the way. Instead, a dark sensation, coming from the depths of that cavity, attracted him inside like a magnetic force. Egan forced his legs to go back, but instead found himself advancing. His sweaty hands slipped into the side pockets of his black denim jacket. He had the instinct to speak, but there were no echoes in response to his "Hey there!" he walked for what could have been two or three minutes. The light neither increased nor decreased in intensity. "It must lead somewhere..." he advanced, and the doubt of having made the wrong choice grew with each step. About to turn back, this time with more conviction, he heard a strong gust of wind hit him; his hair moved, like in front of a hairdryer's air jet. Egan shielded his eyes with his hand. The bird that had pursued him reached there. It glided, landing on something invisible. The young man opened and closed his eyes, squinting to try to understand what he had in front of him.
"In the end, you arrived, my young meddler."
Egan unknowingly stepped back, his hands rising in a defensive position. The sudden and deep voice had echoed in his chest. Egan's tongue was paralyzed between his teeth and couldn't utter a word. There was only the desire to run away, and that had become uncontrollable. He turned and started to run, but a massive figure blocked his path. The bird was perched on the shoulder of a burly man. Neither young nor old. As tall as Egan, but muscular like the wrestlers he occasionally watched on TV, in those matches that were more fake than real.
"Do not fear, young human. If I wanted to harm you, I would have already done so," the man's arms rose, abandoning the crossed position in which he had initially appeared. The crow took flight, disappearing towards the cave's exit.
Young human... Egan felt a drop of sweat streak down his face.
"What happened to you? Has fear swept away all your bravado?" the burly man approached him, and Egan backed away. "Can't you even scream, Egan?"
Hearing his name, he shook off the state of terror and bewilderment he was in. "Who are you?" another two steps back. "How do you know my name?"
"My feathered friend told me," the man chuckled, and the laughter swept through Egan like a breeze, reaching deep into the cave. "But I will introduce myself, as is proper," the man made a bow that appeared almost mocking. "My name is Noxfor. I am a demon, and a world known here as the Underground territory is my home."
Egan looked at the ground, astonished and unaware of the meaning of those words.
"Foolish human, my kingdom is not underground but is like the reflection of your world."
Egan furrowed his brow. If he wasn't crazy, and if that guy hadn't escaped from some mental health center, then it had to be a joke. And he was the fool caught in the trap of the light in the cave. "Are you a magician? An illusionist?" he asked, and was losing some of that terror that had annihilated his reason. It couldn't be anything other than an unusual character with his bizarre way of having fun. Dressed in his leather clothes, so rough that Egan could swear he had made them himself.
The laughter returned, louder than ever.