You know, when I first sat down to write this Author's Note, it was pretty much a big "I'm so grateful for this opportunity" speech and don't get me wrong, I still am – I've been reading these Multiverser stories for quite some time and the fact that I've joined up with them is still kind of surreal. But I've released so much on them now that I think going through it all again would be kind of pointless, don't you? Still, I'll say I'm happy to be here and hope you guys have as much fun reading these stories as I surely will writing them. Though I do feel obliged to mention the others by name, so here are the beautiful bastards:
VindictiveDunc, the man who started it all and creator of Duncan Verser.
Hero of the Multiverse, the creator of Michael Verser.
BioshockerN7, the creator of Adam Verser.
Multiverser Kronos, the creator of LaTrell Verser.
Crazy Cakes 23, the creator of Alexis Verser.
ZenithBloodedge, the creator of Zack Verser.
Fanboy of the Multiverse, the creator of Kay Verser.
Fanfic guy01, the new author of Prime Death and creator of Ken Verser/The Master.
And out of courtesy, I'll also give a mention to RealmOfEmptiness. He created Prime Death, but no longer writes stories for the Multiverser Saga.
Please note that while Dexter's original name is the same one I tend to use for self-inserts and there are, indeed, rather a lot of things about him that are meant to reflect myself, it's a semi-self-insert at absolute MOST. I just wanted to flesh him out as much as possible so used things from real-life in aid of that. For one thing, I can tell you I definitely don't look very feminine, I don't sound like Susan Dalian, and I'm straight as an arrow. XD Either way, any and all self-insert aspects are gone by the time he's a fully-fledged Multiverser, so try to bear with it, won't you?
This is going to be a two-shot, but I might stretch it out an extra chapter for an epilogue showing Dexter meeting everyone.
Welcome to Dexter Verser's origin story!
Let's begin.
BGMs
Troubled – Persona 3 OST
Howl of Darkness – Revolt Production Music
Azrael – Aram 17
Saviour - Mark Nolan
Moonriser - Ivan Torrent
"If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave."
-Mo Willems, Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs
Chapter One: With the Mist Come Monsters
Philip Jonathan Butler's POV
I am honestly struggling with what I am about to tell you. Even now, after all I have been through, it is still hard for me to look back on the fateful day my immortal life began. It is strange, really. I have been through worse horrors than this since then, but somehow, I have a hard time looking back on it. It might just be that I was significantly more human back then, thus I remember it more horrendously.
Yes, I said my "immortal life."
It is … kind of a long story. Well, not too long, because otherwise, this little Cbeebies story time would take fucking ages. It sure as hell felt like a long time, though, even if it all happened really quickly. Maybe it is just the significance of the event that makes me remember it taking a lot longer than it really did. It is not exactly every day you find out all you know as fiction is reality somewhere else, is it?
I mean, I kind of believed in the Multiverse theory, but my pessimism told me that it could not be. The great thing about being a pessimist is normally that I am always either right or pleasantly surprised.
There … was nothing at all pleasant about me being wrong in this case.
Let me start at the beginning …
Call me Philip for the duration of what I am about to tell you. Philip Jonathan Butler, that was my name in my human life, though everyone just called me PJ. In part, because those were the first two initials in my name, in part because my Dad was also called Philip, so it just made things less confusing for everyone. Or you can call me Phil. Some people did that, though not many. Personally, I always preferred PJ.
The day that my life ended, I spent the early hours of the day sitting in an armchair in the living room. I was in my house alone. Mum and my stepdad were both at their respective jobs, my younger brother was at school, and my two older brothers had moved out ages ago. I didn't have to go to work myself until the afternoon, so I often spent the day just trying to relax. I was watching Dexter on Netflix. I love that show – it's not often that the protagonist of a series is a complete sociopath.
I have sort of a morbid fascination with psychopaths and sociopaths. I even studied them online just for the hell of it.
It made people worry about my own mental health, to be honest with you.
Dexter Morgan happens to be my favourite sociopath.
I was sorely missing the presence of Brian Moser as I watched this show. I read the Dexter book series by Jeff Lindsay, and in those, Dexter's serial killer brother, Brian, survived the first book and went on to become a side character in the series. He was an even bigger sociopath than Dexter, yes, but he was pretty entertaining at times, and he didn't fuck Deborah in that version, so that whole plotline never happened. I'm kind of a stickler for book loyalty in adaptations, you see.
Sorry, I keep getting sidetracked. Let's try to speed this up, shall we?
The first indication I had that something was wrong was the TV turning off without warning.
(Play "Persona 3 OST – Troubled")
"Oh, you son of a bitch," I growl-groaned, putting a hand to my forehead.
I got up and walked over to the light switch, which I hadn't turned on because it was light enough already. I flicked it on. Nothing happened.
Well, the electric's gone, I thought with a sigh.
Nya~
I looked down and smiled at the black cat that was stood in front of me. I knelt down and started to rub his head, making him release light vibrations of purring. I could never stop the swell of pride and happiness that ran through me when I petted this particular cat of ours. Anyone else would've had their hand scratched to shit by now. He just liked me for some reason.
"Hey, kitty, looks like we're in the dark for a bit," I cooed. "Not literally, of course. The electric's just dead."
The cat didn't give any response other than more purring.
I decided that I'd use the opportunity to read some more of The Dark Tower. I was on the last book and I was really looking forward to seeing how things turned out. I had just gotten to the point where Mordred Deschain killed Randall Flagg. I was never a big fan of that scene (though these days I find myself wishing he was that fucking easy to kill) because Flagg had been built up since the first book only to be killed by a practically newborn spider demon. It was pretty much the textbook definition of anticlimax. The dramatic irony was masterfully handled, however; it was kind of delicious how Flagg thought Mordred wasn't powerful enough to overwhelm his control but the readers knew differently from near the beginning of the scene.
What was wrong outside didn't register with me at first. I only noticed the second time I walked past the window, on the way back downstairs after grabbing my book.
I did a double-take and looked intently out the window.
A near-white sheet had been pulled over the world.
Okay … I know it wasn't that foggy out a minute ago … I thought, baffled. The fog outside was so thick I couldn't see past two inches in front of the window. A chill worked its way down my spine, I got a feeling of dread I couldn't explain, and I shuddered. Why does this scenario feel so familiar …?
Hiss! Hiss!
I hurried downstairs as I heard my cat hissing. He was hiding underneath one of the coffee tables in the living room, fur standing on end, staring out the window and into the mist.
"It'll be okay, kitty-cat," I said. It was more to comfort myself.
I think just about everyone has heard of how animals can apparently sense it when shit is going down. Well, my cat looked scared and ready to claw at whatever came near him. For the first time since we'd gotten him, I decided trying to pet him was a bad idea.
CRASH!
That came from outside, in the car park.
Having had enough of sitting in the house and being restless, I went back upstairs, threw my book onto my bed, and got dressed in a Rick and Morty T-shirt and a pair of baggy tracksuit bottoms. It looked pretty chilly out there, so I also threw on my scarf, which was a perfect replica of the Fourth Doctor's. Any fan has to love Tom Baker's incarnation of the time-travelling hero.
I tried not to pay attention to my cat's now near-constant hissing as I walked out the front door.
What I could see through my window didn't lie – I could barely see two inches in front of my face through this fucking fog. I could see a flickering, dull orange light that was probably fire from whatever car had crashed in the car park. I walked forward more, cautious, and stepped out the gate at the front of the front garden.
I felt very cold, indeed. If the fog hadn't been there, I gather I'd have been able to see my breath misting up the air in front of my mouth.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" asked a voice. I could see the silhouette of my Muslim neighbour, but only faintly.
(End "Persona 3 OST – Troubled")
"Nah, mate," I said, shaking my head, though I knew he couldn't see me any more than I could see him. "Only just popped out myself, to see what was happening. Some weird shit."
"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I don't think I've ever seen mist like this …"
"Me, either. Though I get the feeling I've heard of this – or something like it – before … If only I could think of it …"
"Well, whatever it is, I don't think—GWUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
(Play "Howl of Darkness" by Revolt Production Music)
I snapped my head to the side as he screamed and whipped my head to the side as he came flying past me. Yes, flying. Brief though the glimpse was, I could tell that my neighbour was a few feet off the ground and rapidly rising.
I also caught a glimpse of the thing that carried him.
My entire grip on reality was shattered in that one instant. That … that can't have been real … I thought as I stood there, frozen, and my neighbour's screams faded into the distance.
It looked like a pteranodon. You know, one of those flying dinosaurs. But it was covered in this pale, leathery skin that looked like it had been peeled off some other creature, likely a person, and its body and legs looked almost human. And then there were the eyes … It had the elongated head of the dinosaur its basic shape resembled, but its eyes … they were glassy and black, like those of a fish, and it was like they stared right into me.
I think you want to go inside now, my brain told me calmly, though I felt anything but.
Still, it prompted me to run back into the house as fast as my legs would carry me and slam the front door behind me. At least, as hard as I could slam the fucking thing. Trouble with hinges, you know?
I stood in front of my door, panting, my body not really registering the gain in warmth as I entered the heated house. It was cooling down, anyway. Apparently, the heat had gone off along with the electricity.
My breathing was rapid and ragged as I tried to truly comprehend what I'd just seen.
A flesh-covered fucking dinosaur just snatched up my next-door neighbour, a flesh-covered fucking dinosaur just snatched up my next-door neighbour, A FLESH-COVERED FUCKING DINOSAUR JUST SNATCHED UP MY NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR!
The scream came out as more of a yell, and even then, not a loud one. It was mixed with confusion and revelation as the familiarity I'd been feeling finally clicked in my head and only served to provide more questions.
The Mist, that's where I know this scenario from, I thought. But … I know Stephen King tends to flirt with the Multiverse theory and has Roland and that lot come to the real world, or a version of it, during his Dark Tower books, but come the fuck on! There's no bloody way that could be happening! There's no way the Prim or Todash Space or whatever the fuck you want to call it is real! THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY!
I dropped to my ass as I had my mental breakdown, gripping my hair in my hands and squeezing my eyes shut in denial. I truly didn't believe this could happen, and who could blame me? The whole situation seemed fucking insane.
"IYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The scream barely registered other than in the back of my mind at first. I was still trying to comprehend just what the hell was happening. Could it have been true? Everything I read, could it all have been a reality this whole time and I just didn't know it? If so, then I really didn't see myself surviving. I was no Shiner. I didn't have any of that good shit that makes for heroes and survivors and the like. I was just some specky little git from the Midlands. To say I was screwed would have been putting it mildly.
(End "Howl of Darkness" by Revolt Production Music)
"Hello! Is there anyone here!?"
That time it registered in my head that there was someone outside. A woman, from the sound of her voice.
"Please! I … I'm lost! I can't see a thing through this mist … HELLO! Anyone!?"
What do I do …? I asked myself, shaking. My conscience was telling me that I should go and bring her inside, save her from the monsters … Prim creatures … whatever, but my sense of self-preservation was telling me that I should definitely stay where I was, stay in the house and in relative safety. If I go out, I might die … but I doubt this house is sturdy enough to keep those fuckers out forever, anyway … shit …
I made my decision.
Wanting to get this over and done with before my nerve left me, I got quickly to my feet and yanked the door open with as much force as its fucked up hinges would allow.
"Over here!" I called out. "Follow my voice and get inside the house! Be careful of the fence!"
"W-Where are you?" she called, quieter this time, yet it sounded the same volume. I gathered that to mean she was closer.
"Just follow my voice," I said as gently as I could. "I won't stop talking, I promise. Just follow the sound of my voice and get inside the house. I can't guarantee we'll be safe, but it's warmer in there and there'll be two of us, which is a hell of a lot better than one, I reckon. Just keep coming, just keep coming. My name's Philip, but people just call me Phil or PJ, you can go ahead and pick either. Just keep following my voice and …"
I didn't need to carry on. I saw her approaching me along the pavement in the front garden.
"Come on, get inside," I said, ushering her in.
She came inside the house quickly. The poor woman seemed scared half to death.
I went back inside myself and closed the door behind me. I locked it, too, for good measure.
Quite suddenly, I found myself wrapped in the arms of the woman I'd just let inside.
"Thank you," she said in a shaky voice. Her accent just now registered with me – she was American. "Oh, thank you, thank you …"
"It's, er, it's no trouble," I said awkwardly with my arms half in the air. I really didn't know what to do in this situation.
Do I hug back? Do I just let her get this out of her system? This feels kind of awkward. Should I say something? Should I push her off gently, or what? What's the protocol in a situation like this?
I was still in this very confused state of mind when she stopped hugging me.
It was then that I got a good look at her.
She was an attractive lady, a little bit younger than me from the look of her, around seventeen or so. She had smooth, chocolate brown skin, dark blue eyes, and dark black hair that she had tied in a long ponytail that reached down to her mid-back. She was wearing a light grey T-shirt that was short enough to expose her smooth navel and bellybutton and a pair of ripped jeans – kind of a punk look, even though she didn't look or act particularly punk-like.
"Thank you," she said again.
"Er." I coughed into my hand awkwardly. "No, um, no problem, really. Just trying to help out." I laughed awkwardly. "So … um … what's your name?"
"Chana," she told me. "Chana Ayers."
"PJ Butler. Well, Phil, PJ, whichever. Hell, you can go with Philip if you like."
"I like PJ. What's the J stand for?"
"Jonathan."
"Ah."
There was a brief, awkward silence.
"So … um …" I wanted to, if possible, distract the both of us from what was unfolding outside for the moment. I thought that if I could get either or both of us into a calmer state of mind, one of us might think of some sort of plan – I held no illusions that the house would remain safe forever. "What, er, what brought you down to England?"
"Vacation," she said slowly, likely wondering where I'd pulled this topic of conversation from. "My aunt and uncle, they take their daughter away with them every year. She talked 'em into bringing me along. We've always been kinda close like that …" Tears started to slide down her cheeks. "I … I lost track of everyone when the fog came through, then those … those things came along, and I just … I just …" A sob slipped from her lips.
I now wished I'd just kept my mouth shut. "I'm sorry," I said. I thought about hugging her, but my insecurities decided against that for me. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. I just thought talking about something would calm us both down, is all."
And it worked, I reflected. As awful as I felt for Chana, I was now thinking much more clearly. Those things are going to get in here eventually, there's no stopping that. So sitting on our asses here and waiting to die isn't helping anyone. But what to do …? The high school isn't far from here. Chuck should still be in there if he didn't decide do scive off. And maybe we can find Chana's family on the way, too!
"Look, I know the last thing you want is to go back out there," I said. "It's the last thing I want, too. But we're not strictly speaking safe here, you know? The school my brother goes to is about a ten-, fifteen-minute walk from here, give or take. It'll go faster if we're running. Maybe we'll find your family on the way."
Even I was astounded by how calmly that all came out of my mouth. It was just now hitting me that there were monsters everywhere and the only member of my family I was in a position to reach was my little brother. That thought alone terrified me. But it also occurred to me that I'd just taken Chana's life into my hands by bringing her inside my house. I was now responsible for the life of another human being. That was a weight I had never felt before, and it wasn't a weight I can say I liked. The look she gave me upon hearing my words only made it worse.
"You want to go back out there?" she asked incredulously. "Are you insane?"
"If I'm not hallucinating this, then no," I said. "Look, I just saw a fleshy dino pick up my next-door neighbour and carry him into the sky. What good do you think the glass windows are gonna do against that shit?"
She hesitated before she spoke again. "We could board 'em up …"
"With the wood available in this house? Christ, the nails would break it before we even got any of it up! Look," I tried my best to sound tender and sympathetic, "the way I see it, we've got two options. One: we sit in here and wait until something breaks in and kills us, or until we run out of food and have to either eat each other, one of the cats, or go out looking for food, and then die. Or two: we go out now with a clear goal in mind, find our missing family members, and find somewhere that can function as a more reliable safe haven. How about it?"
She looked thoughtful for a few moments, then opened her mouth to answer—
BUMP!
The ground shook as the bumping noise resounded around the whole of the area. I put a hand on the wall to steady myself as Chana did the same with a nearby door-frame.
"What the fuck was that …?" she muttered fearfully.
"I dunno," I said, swallowing.
BUMP!
There it was again. Closer, now.
BUMP!
"Oh, God, it sounds massive," I muttered.
"It's getting closer," said Chana. "It … it sounds like it's practically right outside …"
She was right. It did.
Thus, I made another potentially deadly decision.
I decided to go into the living room and look out the window to see what it was.
"I'm gonna go take a look," I said as I moved to the living room.
"W-Wait, don't do that!" Chana hissed fearfully. "What if it sees? It … it sounds enormous!"
Quite untactful, I paid her no mind. I went into the living room and pulled back the nets in front of it. At first, I couldn't see anything, but then …
BUMP! CRASH!
Whatever it was came down upon the house across the way from mine.
It took me several horrible seconds to realise that the thing that came down and crushed the house was not the whole creature … but merely its leg.
(Play "Azrael" by Aram 17)
Slowly, fearfully, I turned my gaze upwards.
It had six legs, this thing, this Behemoth. There was the one that had crushed the house, two more behind it what seemed like miles back, and three on the far side, which I could only assume, mind you, because the mist was obscuring anything that far away entirely from my view. Latched onto each leg was a swarm of plump, 2 to 4 feet long, winged creatures with segmented bodies, indicating that they were insectoids of some sort. Each one had a long stinger on its hind-end. Their skin was fleshy and burn-like and their black eyes protruded from their heads on stalks. The skin on the Behemoth's legs was slaty-grey and mottled in places to dark brown.
And that's all I could see.
The Behemoth, it … it was so inhumanly massive that I imagine you could put it side-by-side with a blue whale and the whale would look like a fucking trout in comparison.
We're dead, I found myself thinking as I struggled to comprehend the sheer mass of the creature outside. We're all dead … Holy shit, it's like an Endbringer brought to life …
I backed away from the window and wound up falling on my ass in shock.
(End "Azrael" by Aram 17)
"PJ?" Chana asked, walking gingerly into the room. She glanced toward the window, but the nets were down again now, so I doubted she could see anything. "PJ … are you all right? You've gone so pale …"
"F-Fine." The lie slid through my lips tensely. "I'm, uh, I'm … I'm fine …"
BUMP! BUMP! BUMP!
I was incredibly pleased by the sound of the Behemoth walking away. I tried my best to ignore the sounds of the things it crushed as it went. The massive strides it could take with its unnaturally large legs ensured it had walked far away from the area in a few short moments. I wiped cold sweat from my forehead in relief.
"What was it?" Chana asked me.
"Something," I said. "I can't really tell you much more than that. I only saw its …" I hesitated before deciding to tell her the truth, "… I only saw half its legs."
The startled gasp she gave indicated she took my meaning in its entirety.
"We can't stay here," I said. I did my best to convey my whole meaning in those four words: If there are things that big out there, then it's only a matter of time until the house is crushed with us inside it, so it would be best if we were in a position to run out of the way of the legs. "I doubt anything that big would bother with us since we're basically small bugs in comparison … as little comfort as that thought brings."
"… You're sure about this …?"
"No. But considering the situation, how can we be sure about anything at this point?"
Chana took a breath. "… Okay. I … I wanna find my family real bad, but … I guess I'm just too scared …"
I was never one for physical contact, but seeing that she really needed the boost in order to commit to my plan of going outside, I put my hands on her shoulders and said, "I'll be with you the whole time, Chana. I promise, okay? From the second we're out that door, to wherever the hell this takes us, I won't leave you on your own."
She looked me searchingly in the eyes for a few moments. "… Okay," she conceded with a deep breath. "I … I trust you. I'm … sorry for being so scared. I'm not normally like this, it's just that, well … Oh, for God's sake, we were using Google Maps to find our way around here! Then all this mist came in, I lost track of everyone, and I just don't know my way around so I started freaking out, and—"
"Hey, hey, hey. There's no need to explain yourself, I get it. Okay? Let's just get ready to head on out. I've, er …" I grew embarrassed, "… I've got a hockey stick upstairs – used to belong to my brother before he moved out – but that's about it for weapons … uh …"
I felt incredibly stupid. I'd been suggesting going out but hadn't considered how we were going to defend ourselves from attacks by those monsters.
Chana hummed thoughtfully.
"God, I wish you people had guns," she said after a while.
A short, stale chuckle slipped through my lips. "I don't often think the same thing, but yeah, at the moment, we're in agreement. There's a big-arse knife in the kitchen, but I don't know about you, I certainly wouldn't wanna be close enough to one of those things to use it."
"If what you said is true, then I don't see us having any other options."
"Yeah …" I sighed. "Well … no time like the present, eh? Where about did you and your family get separated?"
"It was … down near the park, I think."
"Okay, good. Same direction as the school, then. If we go down that way, there's a chance we'll bump into your family. After that, we keep on going toward the high school."
"What if we don't find them?"
"Then we keep on going and hope that we do." I shrugged. "I'm not gonna say I have all the right answers, but this is the only plan I can come up with. Unless you've got another idea?"
"No, no, your plan's fine. I'm just making sure of the details, is all."
"Okay, then. You grab the knife from the kitchen; it's bloody massive, you can't miss it. I'll grab the hockey stick from upstairs. Which one d'you want?"
"I'd be more comfortable with the knife, actually. Yeah, I'll have to get," she swallowed nervously, "closer to those things, but I'll feel much safer with a sharp object than I will with a blunt one."
"Fair enough. Let's hop to it."
I went upstairs and into my tiny box bedroom at the end of the landing. I didn't stay in there long. Though I took a moment to savour the view of my bedroom one final time – it wasn't big, but my books, my fandom merchandise, my bed, my games, my consoles … I got the horrible feeling I wouldn't see them in this particular room, in this particular arrangement, ever again, and so I looked upon it all for a few moments with feelings of nostalgia running through me. Then I swiftly grabbed my hockey stick and went back downstairs.
Chana was waiting when I got back downstairs. She was holding the knife: a big butcher-looking thing that hardly got used.
"D'you wanna grab a coat or something before we head out?" I asked. "I don't know how well they'll fit, but it's cold out, so it'll be better than nothing, either way."
"My heart's still beating too fast for warmth to be an issue," she said. "Can we just do this before I lose my nerve?"
"Yes. Sorry. Probably best to rip it off like a plaster."
I walked over to the front door. As I passed the living room, I threw one last regretful glance at my cat, who was still sitting under the coffee-table, eyeing the both of us with a slight tilt of his head. What's going on? that tilt seemed to ask.
Sorry, kitty, I thought with sadness.
Then I opened the door.
I ran forward with abandon, just knowing that if I stopped to think about it, I would lose what nerve I had managed to muster. It took less than a second to reach the end of the garden and get to the path just outside the gate. I could hear Chana's footsteps behind mine. There was no sound of the front door of the house closing. Part of me wanted to go back and close it, but a bigger part, the part that wanted to get to the school and see if my brother was all right as soon as possible, was telling me to keep moving forward and stop worrying about the damn cat. It was a harsh voice, but it was the one that won out in the end.
"Keep as close as you can," I said to Chana without looking at her. "I know where I'm going, you don't. And it's hard enough to see through this bloody fog as it is."
I didn't wait for a response. I knew that I couldn't afford to. Now that we were outside, we were at risk. I became once again horribly aware of how I had taken Chana's life in my hands and was now responsible for whatever happened to her out here. It was a level of responsibility I had never felt before – my only responsibility around the house was feeding the cats, for God's sake! I could feel my eyes trying to pull my head back in Chana's direction as I started walking, but I held against it. I forced myself to focus on the sound of her footfalls just behind me as we moved along.
My house was on a slope. The park Chana had talked about was downhill. We moved quickly because of that.
We walked past a row of houses that sat just beside mine and came across a squared area. On our right, there was a chest-high brick wall, beyond which was a car park next to some more houses. To the left, a path which led to another row of houses, this one tightly packed with the one we had just walked past, the only thing between them being the pavement that was only big enough for people to walk down two-by-two. Ahead of us was another row of houses, but that was about thirty feet ahead. There was a patch of grass that took up most of the square area, leaving room only for the path that went around it.
There was an opening in the upper-left corner of this square, though I could not see it due to the fog. I knew that beyond that opening was another square set up in the same fashion. Beyond that were the park and the local middle school.
It took me a few moments to decide whether or not to go across the grass. It would be quicker, if only by a few seconds. But I decided against it. There were bumps in the dirt beneath the grass. It was safer to stick to the more stable terrain of the path.
(Play "Saviour" by Mark Nolan)
We made it all the way down to the second square before something of note happened. That was a whole forty-five seconds away from the house.
We had reached the halfway point of that particular path.
SCRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The shriek pierced the air from above us. I glanced up and saw the outline of something swooping down through the fog. It was coming at me. Instinctively, I threw myself backwards, but I lost my balance and ended up falling on my ass. Luckily, I landed on the grass, so nothing was going to be bruised.
Fucking dyspraxia, I thought briefly in irritation.
"PJ!" shouted Chana.
"I'm fine!"
I got quickly to my feet and looked around rapidly. But it was pointless – my sight wasn't exactly great normally, and with this fucking fog, I—
Wait, there's the bastard!
I saw it coming down again through the fog. By the shape of it, I deduced that it was one of those fleshy pteranodon-things I'd seen earlier.
It was swooping me again.
Arms, don't fuck up on my now, I thought as I tightened both hands on the hockey stick, praying to a God I didn't even believe in that my dyspraxia wouldn't throw me off.
I waited until the flying beast got close enough that I could make out some of its features.
Then I swung.
The jolt as the hockey stick connected with the flying thing's head sent a shock-wave up my arm and I lost my grip on the hockey stick. It clattered to the ground just beside the brick wall.
I was about to curse when something heavy slammed into my chest.
I could see the creature more clearly than I ever wanted to see it as it stood over me, one of its winged arms on either side of my body. I stared into its horribly fishlike eyes, fearful, as it began to open its maw of a mouth…
SCHLICK!
SCRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
The shriek was pained this time. The wet noise of pierced flesh and drawn blood repeated three more times, with the creature getting lower each time. After the fourth time Chana stabbed it, it fell flat on my chest, silent.
(End "Saviour" by Mark Nolan)
My breathing was heavy but strained as I tried to catch my breathe with that thing on my chest.
Uncomfortable, I brought my arms up and started to push against it. I managed to get one side of its body up, then slid out from under it, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thud.
"Thank you," I managed to say amidst my breaths.
"I guess we're even now," she said. "Y'know, for letting me in the house."
"I remember." I would have chuckled, but I was in far from the right mood.
I don't know what drew my eyes back toward the dead creature, but what I saw when I looked filled my mind with even more questions. It looked smaller, for some reason. I kept looking, curious, and saw that it in fact seemed to be shrinking.
No, I thought, looking at a spreading blackness beneath the creature, not shrinking. Melting.
A pool of black liquid not unlike blood was spreading out beneath the creature, which grew smaller and smaller as the pool grew larger and larger. In a few moments, the flying thing was gone and there was just a pool of black sludge flowing slowly downhill.
"What the fuck?" asked Chana.
"I don't know," I said.
I glanced at the knife Chana was holding. It was coated black with the chrome of the knife shining through in sparse places. Black dripped from the end and onto the floor in little droplets.
"At least we know those ones are relatively easy to kill," I said, trying to find a bright side.
"Yeah," Chana agreed.
We kept going.
We went through the gap that lay between one house and the fenced-off back garden of another and the path took us to the left. There was a small cluster of trees growing out of a shallow ditch on our right which we could, in theory, have cut through to get straight to the park, but I felt it was an unnecessary risk due to the steep terrain. Small though the cluster was, I did not think it worth the risk. So we went on forward, following the path, and came to a section where there was a high wooden fence in front of us, a path leading uphill on the left side, and the park directly on our right. I looked both ways to make sure there were no nasty surprises. I saw a silhouette of some unspeakable horror up the hill, but it was moving away from us and quickly went out of sight, so I elected to do my best to ignore it.
I moved to the right and the outlines of the park became visible. It was not an impressive play area like some are, but it did me fine growing up. There was a swing set, a slide, a small roundabout, and a rectangular fenced off area with basketball hoops near the top of the fence on either side and the marks of a football field on the ground within. A burst football lay discarded on the floor a few feet away.
"This is where you lost track of them, yeah?" I asked Chana.
"Yes," she said, nodding. "We were attacked by something, I didn't see what, I was too busy running. I didn't see where they went."
I nodded in understand. "Well … again, the best thing I can suggest is moving on. If they're alive, we'll find them."
"Could be a little more tactful there, PJ." She sounded annoyed.
"Sorry," I said, and meant it. "I'm known for being a bit blunt about things. Makes people think I'm a right cunt."
"… You know what? Don't worry about it. There's no point being overly sensitive in a situation like this. So, are we going?"
"Yeah— Fuck get back!"
I said those last three words in such rapid succession that they came dangerously close to blending into one and becoming unintelligible. I moved back and pulled Chana with me as the shape I had caught a glimpse of moved in our direction. My foot slipped and scraped along the dirt as I backed us into the trees and into the small ditch, sending me tumbling backwards and pulling Chana with me. I landed on my back; she landed on her front, just beside me. I scramble onto my belly and pressed myself as flat as I could go.
Chana, who had every right to be questioning this, said nothing. I think she already knew what had caused my panic.
What the fuck? I thought. It was a thought I would have a lot that day and nearly every day that came after.
Picture, if you will, the height of the average human woman, then add the height of another head and torso on top of that. This creature would tower over most humans I can think of. At first glance, it looked like a naked woman, but as it got nearer and became clearer through the mist, I saw that where the head would normally be, there was instead stitched onto the base of the neck the beginning of another torso, which did have a head, but it is a head I would sooner forget if given the option. Its head was a mass of skin on which only a mouth was visible. But it was not only the two bodies. No, that would have been too easy to look at according to whatever unnatural force made these fucking things. There was a third body stitched by the mouth to the anus of the middle body like something out of The Human Centipede. As though to complete the gruesome image, all three torsos had a multitude of living arms stitched to them, and it had no feet, just more hands. The way it used the hands of the tail-end torso to crawl across the ground reminded me sickeningly of some sort of insect fused with a snake.
What steaming pits of Hell did you spawn from? I could not help but wonder.
To my complete and utter horror, the thing stopped and started twisting its upper-torso around like some sort of frighteningly fleshy meerkat. I pressed myself closer to the floor, pressing my chin into the dirt. In spite of the fact that this monster seemed to have no eyes, I had no doubt that the abominable thing could see perfectly well.
I started to feel a tightness in my chest and I realised I had been holding my breath.
Chana whimpered beside me.
I looked at her and saw that she was now looking at the creature … No, not at it, behind it. I followed her gaze and saw that the monster was dragging a corpse. It was an older black man, but that was all I could make out through the mist. Though one more grizzly detail registered in my consciousness as the creature slither-crawled on its way at last: the dead man was covered in blood.
"That was your uncle, wasn't it?" I asked Chana when I was sure the thing was out of hearing range.
A weak nod was the only response I got.
I put one arm around her shoulder. "…" I did not know what to say. I have never been the most in touch with my emotions, and comforting someone grieving for a member of her family is not something I was at all experienced in. I did not know what to say. I did not know what to do. I just put my arm around her shoulder and rubbed. I thought about it and tried to say something. "It's okay." I mentally slapped myself. No, of course it was not okay. "The others might still be alive." That was better. "Do you need a minute? It's all right if you do, we can wait. I'm here if you need me. Just … just do what you need to, cry if you feel like it. I'll wait. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for you, Chana."
She looked at me with tear marks trailing down her face then threw her arms around me, knocking me onto my back as she cried into my shoulder.
"U-Uncle Kody, he … he was always so excited when it came to visiting other places," she said after a while. "He was so happy about this trip, I … I don't think he would have been sad to die here." I could not tell if this was the truth or if she was simply attempting to make herself feel better. Either way, I let her speak. She looked at me with a small smile tugging at her lips. Her arms around me tightened. "Thank you. Thank you for being here with me. Thank you for letting me in when it would've been so much safer to just stay in your house. I really can't thank you enough, PJ …"
"Don't worry about it," I said immediately. I rubbed her back. "There's no need to thank me. I'd be one shitty human being if I didn't do something. And … I've been so glad to have you with me so far. I don't think I'd've had the nerve to get out here if I didn't have someone with me. So if anything, I'm thanking you."
Her smile widened. She leaned forward. The press of her lips against my cheek was warm and wet, quite a pleasant sensation.
We broke our hug soon after that and got moving again.
It struck me for the first time how empty this place was. When all of this had started, I had gotten the impression that there would be monsters everywhere and that this expedition to the outside would have been incredibly dangerous. Yet since leaving the house, we had come across precisely two monsters, only one of which we had engaged in combat with. I did not like it. I am a big believer in things like Murphy's Law, and if I knew my tropes the way I thought I did, then there was something worse than anything we had seen so far waiting for us. It got me shivering and a heavy feeling settled in my stomach. I did not mention this to Chana, however; I felt as though she had enough to be worrying about at the moment.
We moved rapidly past the park and across the road.
"I don't mean to question your sense of direction," said Chana. "But I'm pretty sure the signs I saw earlier said the school was by the main road."
"It is," I confirmed with a nod. "But you can also get in through the back. It's a much quicker route, too. We just go down these rows of houses, through the underpass, and take the path on the left side until we get to the gate at the back of the school. Cuts about five, maybe ten minutes off the journey if we move quick."
The route I took us had a mass of trees and hedges on the left side, which blocked what little sunlight there was from getting to us, and on the right, rows of houses and a big road going through them. The shadows caused by the shrubbery were daunting, but I tried to look at it as an advantage. We could not see as well through it, but hopefully, neither could the monsters.
And for the most part, it was smooth moving.
We got to the end and turned right. We kept on going until the underpass came up on our left, at which point we went through it. It's too easy, I could not help but think. It's like the path has been intentionally set up like this. Like going this way is what someone wants me to do. Nothing is every this convenient, not even in stories, not unless somebody wants the main characters alive for something …
I kept telling myself it was a ridiculous thought, that this was no story, that real life did not work that way. I did not convince myself well.
We took the left path after going through the underpass. It curved first to the left, then to the right, like a concrete snake in the ground. Again, there seemed to be nothing standing in our way, and that worried me greatly. We kept on the move until we got to the end of that particular path, which was marked with a bollard. We walked past it, I saw the gate that led to the school, and …
… and the flickering of the fire that had erupted where the school once was.
I could not see the school itself, but I could see the yellow-orange flickering of the flames even through the thickness of the fog. It looked like the whole damn building had gone up in flames.
I did not have time to process that information.
CRASH!
One of the back garden fences that sat on one side of the path behind us was broken down and wood splintered everywhere. In surprise at the noise, I turned around and laid eyes on a figure that snapped everything into focus for me.
Anyone who has any familiarity with a certain survival horror video game franchise would have recognised the thing that came from the garden. Its body was very much that of a human, and a very tall one at that, standing at about 7'. It was dressed in a white robe-like outfit with no sleeves, rubber gloves. Its fingers seemed to be either sewn or fused together, with only the thumb looking as though it could act independently of the others. Its head, though, is what made it iconic and recognisable. Its head was made of what appeared to be grafted metal and was triangular in structure; one long point came out at the front, two smaller points jutted out to the sides at the back, and there was one point pointing upwards at the top: a twisted imitation of a pyramid.
The Pyramid Head, first introduced in Silent Hill 2, seemed to look at us.
My mind was whirling. First this seemed like The Mist, now we've got Silent Hill … What the fucking hell is going on? How can any of this be real!? This can't be real! It just can't be! These things don't exist, things like this just don't happen! What the fuck!? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?
"PJ!" cried Chana.
I turned back around and saw another Pyramid Head coming from the direction of the school. There was one more path to the left which led to the main road.
"Run!" I ordered, and Chana did. I started to follow her.
Chana was faster than me, so there was a gap between us.
Out of the shrubbery on the left, another Pyramid Head came. I skidded to a stop to avoid running into it. Chana did not notice. She kept running until I lost sight of her in the fog.
I realised I was fucked.
There was one in front of me, two behind me, and all three of them carrying massive, bloodied spears.
"Nice work on the cornering, boys," said a new voice, a man's voice. "But I'll take it from here."
I turned around to take a look at the newcomer … and my stomach was pushed. That's how it felt for the first second, anyway. It was the uncomfortable sensation of pushing one's own stomach inwards. Then there was a rip sound and I knew nothing but pain in the entirety of my lower torso. A rush of air cooled the inside of the tunnel of gore where my stomach once was. I fell backwards, stunned and in pain.
(Play "Moonriser" by Ivan Torrent)
Standing over me was an old man.
He was tall, or at least looked it from where I was lying. His hair was pitch black for the most part but clearly greying, and his hairline was receding. He grinned at me with a mouthful of crooked yellowing teeth. He was dressed rather elegantly, in a pinstriped suit jacket and trousers, a white dress-shirt, and black dress shoes. But it was his eyes that stayed in my mind, his eyes and their awful contrast to the situation at hand. For his eyes were blue. Not just any blue, but the comforting blue of my mother's.
The old man loomed over me, grinning, as I sat choking on the copper taste of my own blood. I did not know where Chana had gotten off to, but I hoped she was safe. Though as I looked into the old man's eyes, I understood perfectly that I was not going to be as lucky as I hoped she was. I understood that I was going to die here.
"Understand that there is no point in living," said the old man. "Cry, that there is no answer. Where there is darkness, there are shadows. I, myself, am all of you humans. You all crave death and destruction, either for excitement in your boring, dreary lives or to put an end to those lives out of despair. Me? I'm the answer to those cravings, the Crawling Chaos, the one man in all reality who understands just what people want and gives it to them. Do you not see? What happened on this Earth today will be talked about for years to come, but it won't be enough. Humanity has always been the most masochistic of races. You secretly crave your own deaths because life is horrid and unfair." His dark grin widened and his eyes shone with horrible glee. "And yet you constantly surround yourselves in lies, in a mist of your own deceptions to try and fool yourselves into thinking life is worth anything at all. You hate your lives but are too afraid to die … Do you have any idea how fun that makes you for me?"
I understood then just as I understand now: I was staring into the eyes of pure evil.
What must go on in his head for any of this to seem reasonable to him …? I wondered. What deranged lunatic hides behind that human-looking face …?
In spite of the pain that was numbing as my life slowly slipped away from me, I found I was genuinely curious.
The old man suddenly raised his head and sighed.
"Looks like the cavalry's arrived," he said in a tone that was both disappointed and excited. He looked back down at me. "You've got an appointment with ka, Dexter. Oops, I guess you don't go by that yet. Well, whatever your name is, as always, I look forward to our next meeting … old friend."
He stood up and walked away, whistling a tune to himself. It would be years – hundreds, thousands of them – before I would see him again and learn one of his many names and discover that I was much more familiar with him than I thought.
I laid there in a widening pool of my own blood.
Everything was going numb.
Somehow, even with the fog around, my sight was going even more unclear.
If I had any regret for the countless horrific events that have transpired today, I thought, it's that I'm dying.
…
…
…
…
…
… Fuck me, my last thoughts are going to be a near-direct Freeza quote … I'm now cool with dying just to forget about that.
"Wow." The new voice had a southern drawl to it. "Someone sure did one hell of a number on you, huh?"
My vision had blurred significantly by this point, so I could only see his shape. He was standing over me at first but quickly knelt down by me. I tried to lift my head and get a closer look, but I had not the strength. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak gurgle that originated in my blood-filled throat.
"I wouldn't recommend trying to speak, kid. Trust me, talking while you're dying is uncomfortable as hell. But I've got some good news for you …
"… Dead or alive, you're coming with me."
(End "Moonriser" by Ivan Torrent)
Third Person POV
Chana Ayers had never been so terrified in all her life. She was still clutching the knife, black with the blood of the monsters that had come with the mist, close to her chest, but she was unsure of her ability to use it now. Every part of her body was shaking both from the cold and the deep-set fear.
He'll find me, she thought to herself. PJ said he wouldn't leave me alone, he promised … I have to believe he'll come back for me. He'll come back for me …
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," said a man's voice from behind her. "I hope you weren't waiting long."
Chana spun around and saw the old man clear as day in spite of the fog. What's more, he was being flanked on either side by two of those Pyramid Head things, like the one that had been attacking when she and PJ had been separated. But they weren't attacking the old man. It was a bizarre thought to consider, but to Chana it looked almost as though they were guarding him.
As if to prove her insane thoughts correct, a creature that appeared to be some sort of large, hairless demonic dog walked up. It had rotting brown skin and a disproportionately large mouth with many sharp, yellowing teeth. It was skinny, like it was starving, but the beast was so massive compared to other dogs that you'd be forgiven for not noticing.
This dog creature, which released a horrible groaning sound from its throat, walked in front of old man … and he started to pat its head.
"It's strange how people have affected these creatures," said the old man thoughtfully. "Their world takes a back seat to the rest of the Multiverse, yet these wonderful creatures seemed to evolve to copy the fears of humans and other sentient life, but mostly humans, you can bet. Such a fearful yet destructive species. It's no wonder I like them so much." The grin he gave her was as sharp as the knife she was holding. "So … you were hanging out with our friend back there? The one whose guts are currently surrounding him on the concrete?"
"L-Lies!" Chana accused, clutching her knife tighter. Her words were weak. Looking at the control this man seemed to have on these creatures, if he had indeed run into PJ, there was little to hope for. Still, Chana couldn't bring herself to face that possibility. "You're lying!"
The tiny part of Chana's mind that thought this might all be some nightmare died in this next moment.
The old man, in response to her words, looked downright offended by the accusation.
"I'm many things, but a liar isn't one of them," he said in a tone that brokered no room for argument. "I simply offer – what is it that idiot of a president keeps saying? – 'alternative facts,' I think is the phrase. The difference is that I offer them not through making up any old thing and claiming it to be fact, but giving people little pieces of actual information and allowing them to draw their own conclusion." He shrugged – a ridiculously casual gesture given the situation. "What people make of my words is their own doing, not mine. So don't you dare call me a liar, you little bitch."
Chana instinctively held the knife out, pointing it at him in response to his harsh tone and words. She could not take her eyes away from his. They were the deep brown of her cousin's …
The old man rolled his eyes.
"Drop the knife."
Chana's fingers loosened on the knife and it fell with a clatter to the floor.
She stared dumbly at the blade as it lay on the floor.
"Come here."
Chana's legs carried her over to him without her permission.
She began to feel violated. This man had more control over her body than she did, and she didn't like that one damn bit. Her mind couldn't help but imagine the many scenarios he could inflict upon her with this level of control, each one more horrifying than the last. She began to feel sick.
She came to a stop in front of him.
The dog-thing growled at her.
"Shh," the old man hushed the dog, stroking its head. "No need for that, boy. This lady here isn't in any position to hurt us, and she knows it."
He brought his free hand up and stroked her cheek. His touch was horribly cold.
"Such a pretty girl…"
"That's enough," came a new voice.
The voice, it turned out, belonged to a man dressed in black who kept his face hidden behind a hood. So all Chana could see of him was the black of his clothes.
The old man seemed displeased by this, but his tone was respectful when he spoke this displeasure. "Why? It's just one woman. She'll probably die on her own out here, anyway."
"Oh, my friend, I am surprised you cannot see it. Do you truly not recognise her? Look closely – I'm sure you'll see it eventually. She's changed enough over the years for someone as blind to his fate as Dexter not to recognise her, but surely you're more observant than that."
"Huh-Who are you?" Chana managed to ask the two of them fearfully.
"You may call me The Author for the time being. And this," he gestured a hand to the old man, "is my friend … this one is Gaunt, isn't it?"
"Leland Gaunt," the old man confirmed. "Yes, of course I recognised her. That was actually rather the point. I was hoping you wouldn't, if I'm being honest … I mean no offence, of course. I just hoped that I might give her a real reason to hate me."
"In doing what you've done today, I think you already have," said The Author. There was an authority in his voice that implied he was giving an order rather than making an observation.
"So, what do we do with her?" asked Gaunt.
"Embrace destiny, as per usual. And I say we give Nemesis a gift purely in that interest."
"All right," Gaunt agreed begrudgingly. "Still, if you'll allow me one last moment with the little missy here, I'd very much appreciate it, my friend."
The Author considered. "One more," he said.
"Thank you." Gaunt looked Chana dead in the eyes. His eyes sparkled with sadistic glee. "Would you say you have a strong mind, girl? I should hope so, if I were you. If not, your brain might leak from your ears." At that, his face twisted and extended and his mouth widened and his eyes seemed to vanish and …
As the transformation continued, Chana Ayers began to scream. When the transformation was completed, her screams went silent and her mind knew only madness from that day forward.
Chana did not spend much longer in this world.
That's part one of two done, folks. Hopefully, I'll get the second half of Dexter's origin story out soon, but no promises - next time you'll be meeting my co-author for this, and everyone's got their own stuff they want to be doing, so I tend not to rush it. Anyway, that's all from me for now, so I'll see you beautiful bastards again next time.