Locked by the Village Men

“Shit! We’re going down!”

I sit in the front seat of the tiny airplane, the cabin vibrating with a horrifying level of force.

The engine has blown.

This is it. This is how my life ends.

My best friend, Dennis, sits at the controls, a look of terror strewn across his pudgy face. His black hair is damp with sweat. His hands shake while trying to steady the aircraft.

This was supposed to be a fun afternoon taking his new plane for a joyride. In retrospect, maybe buying a refurbished Soviet-era plane was a bad idea.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the armrests and watch the ground growing ever closer. The thick forest blanketing the countryside seemed so tranquil only moments ago…

My brain shuts down.

It’s short-circuiting.

I think back on my life, drifting away from the anxiety-filled plane cabin. Middle-aged, single, and stuck in a dead-end office job, I can’t say I’ve accomplished anything noteworthy. My attempts at wooing women were laughable. My attempts at getting a promotion were futile. Most of my life has been spent indoors reading and playing video games. When I’m gone, nothing will change in the world. Few people will even notice…

“Tyler! Tyler!” Dennis’ voice jolts me from my trance. “Seatbelt on! Cover your head!”

My hands automatically do as he says, securing the buckle and pulling my face down toward my abdomen. The growl of the engine grows deafening while my stomach flutters. Blood rushes to my head—I might pass out.

A sick coughing noise echoes while the engine screams. Dennis takes his hands off the wheel, bracing for impact. I glance at him, reading the fear and sadness in his eyes one final time. He has a wife and family. He’ll never see his kids reach adulthood. He’ll never walk his daughter down the aisle.

So much left unsaid…

So much left undone…

A metallic clang rings out as we burst through the canopy. A jolt pulses through the cabin as it crinkles like a tin can. My body smacks into the wall with a sickening, violent thud.

The world goes dark.

Sound fades away.

Emptiness engulfs me.

“Hey! Hey! Wake up!”

A gruff voice rings out while a damp cloth strokes my face. The icy moisture stings. My limbs ache. My head pounds. This discomfort…I can’t be in heaven. Is this hell?

The last thing I remember is the plane crash…what happened to me?

“He’s coming around. Use a fresh cloth,” another voice says.

Cool fabric touches my hot skin, causing me to inhale while my eyelids flutter. Bright light stings my dazed eyes as I try to comprehend the scene.

What the fuck…?

I lie atop a rustic canopy bed, its purple drapes tied back. Heavy gray stone lines the walls and ceiling, making space for a large round window. Light spills through the glass, illuminating portraits of knights and nobles along the walls. A fireplace sits opposite the bed, its stone mantle cracked with age.

At first glance, the room looks luxurious…but that impression vanishes upon closer inspection. A thick layer of dust coats the floor, cleared out just enough to form a path to the door. Water damage is present beneath the window, and hairline cracks run up the stone walls. There’s an extreme sense of neglect here.

This chamber…it looks like something out of a dystopian fairy tale.

But the people…they’re definitely modern.

At least a dozen men stand crowded around me, watching with concerned, curious expressions. Thick beards…overalls…they look like farmers. I suppose that makes sense if we went down in the countryside.

The crash!

I rip the covers off me, staring down at my shirtless body. Red scratches crisscross over my skin, but I seem otherwise unharmed. The wounds have all been cleaned, and the largest have been bandaged. What happened…?

“Ivan, he’s awake!” one of the men calls out.

Hurried footsteps echo from the hall, and a short, overweight man enters the room. His greasy gray hair is slicked back, giving a clear view of his perfectly round face. Large brown eyes are set above a long, hooked nose. His skin is wrinkled and pale—like he’s gone his entire life without seeing the sun.

His gaze falls upon me as he waddles toward the bed. Thin lips pulling back into a smile, he flashes a set of yellow, crooked teeth.

“Ah, the guest has awoken! Welcome, my friend!”

I just stare at him, dumbfounded. My eyes trace up and down his frame, trying to process the bizarre sight. Like the room itself, his clothes look expensive but worn out. He wears a tattered gray suit with sloppy patches sewn to repair holes.

“W-what happened…?” I force the words out.

“You fell from the sky! Like an angel from heaven!”

His big eyes lock into mine, never blinking. Part of me is hoping I’ll pass out again. This can’t be real. I’m definitely in hell.

But…no. My body is still very much alive.

“What is this place…?”

“My estate!” He stands up straight and puffs out his chest. “Castle Bormont, the home of my family for centuries. Built in the 16th century, it’s withstood war, famine, and plague. It’s the regional seat of power, but it’s also a place of community. My family has always been close to the people of the village, and much of the castle is open to them.”

With a flourish of his hand, he gestures toward the men standing around my bed.

“I am Ivan Bormont, Duke of Bormont. You should feel honored to be my guest.”

“Um…I’m Tyler.”

I’m at a loss for words. This guy has obviously rehearsed this speech, and I can’t help but suspect I’m the first guest he’s had in ages.

But now that I think about it, I’ve heard of families like his. Old, purebred aristocrats, they’ve inherited massive estates and noble titles. Over the centuries, the family fortunes have dwindled. Without a fiefdom of feudal peasants to support them, the estates have fallen into ruin. Most get converted into museums and tourist attractions, but this one must still be owned by the family.

I’m sure it was a grand place in its heyday. This greasy noble would need an army of peasants to restore it to glory.

“The crash…”

“Ah yes.” A look of gravitas flashes across Ivan’s face. “The townsfolk heard the crash and rushed to the scene. You and your companion were pulled from the wreckage unconscious. They brought you here, and the doctor has tended to your wounds.”

“What about my friend, Dennis?”