Chapter Two: Gallons of the Stuff
Their footsteps were heavy, their feet barely more than dragged through the dusty dirt. Each sported yawning mouths and half closed eyes, though only Misty continued to irrationally slap at imaginary bugs she still felt crawling about her skin, though the bugs tended to only flock at dusk and dawn. Brock, in turn, was getting increasingly annoyed at the young girl's phobia and was quite ready to shove her head in a bee's nest just to get her so frightened that she either knocked herself out or became completely devoid of all emotion. Either one had to be less annoying.
"Ash's house is too far away, Brock-o," Misty murmured, rubbing at tired eyes and yawning again. "I knew I wouldn't stay the night. I don't know why I even bothered coming. Sorry I had to make you go through all this crap. I could've made the walk home alone."
"Don't be stupid," He snorted. "Here there be ghosts. Even in a quiet town like Pallet there's bound to be a pervert or two walking around. It's not safe for anyone to wander by themselves after dark, not when you don't have any pokémon on you. That's what I can't believe Ash talked us into: ditching our pokémon for some half-brained plan to have fun. The kid's a hypnotist."
"Suppose," She returned, cocking her head to one side. "Something's following us. Nothing scary. It's not very big. I think it's just a pidgey or something. It's just that and wind, I'm pretty sure, but I've been wrong before."
Misty listened more intently; Brock responded by listening as well. Sure enough, there was the little pitter patter of tiny feet. Soon, they were greeted by the tiny electric mouse that so willingly followed Ash around. It staggered on its feet a bit too, tired from such a wild master and the hour of the night. It barely had the strength to leap onto Misty's shoulder and quietly mumble a few unintelligible syllables into her ear.
"Hey there, cutie," Misty crooned, scratching behind its ears. "Wanted to go back and get out of these woods, huh? You sense something's wrong. Silly Ash wouldn't listen, would he? I take it you're just escorting us home so the ghosties and beasties don't get us?" The mouse nodded. "I thought as much. You wouldn't leave Ash all alone in a creepy place like this. See, Brock, even Pikachu senses something wrong! Don't you?"
He shrugged. "Can't really say I do. I'm pretty tired though, so if you've finished your conversation with the electric rat? I was planning on getting back to the house sometime before sunrise; which is coming in about, oh," He looked at his watch: "Two hours."
"Your watch tells you when sunrise is and it doesn't even have a light up screen, huh Brock?" Misty giggled. "Guess it must be an invisible watch too. I didn't see you come into the woods with one. Were you concealing it until this very moment, Brock?"
"Cheeky," He returned. "Quit playing around, will you? I'm tired."
"I can tell," Misty sighed. "You're always cranky when you're tired."
So they continued their walk, a Pikachu now making a trio out of the lot, while Misty desperately tried to shove the feeling of something being increasingly wrong. She soothed herself, instead of panicking she began to calmly make a checklist of what she had packed and what she now brought with her as she left the camp. She was good at checklists because she adored order, the theory that everything had its place and that she could put it there. Things were so much better than people. They weren't sarcastic or stupid or annoying and they didn't argue and they certainly did not move from where you left them.
No, they don't move at all. And with this fascinating revelation, Misty smacked her forehead. "Aw, crap! Brock, you run ahead. I got to head back to the damn campsite. I left my backpack. Don't ask me how, but I forgot my damn backpack. I can run back and forth without a problem. In fact, I'll probably beat you back to the house. I've got Pikachu with me, so no worries, alright?"
She didn't wait for an answer, never being the patient one, as she sped off into the blackness, leaving Brock calling out to her and begging her to at least come back for a flashlight. She paid him no heed, muttering something about "Mama Brock" under her breath and continuing her barreling pace back to the campsite. Thankfully, Pikachu decided to listen and ran back to clutch the flashlight in its teeth. Her lips were starting to dry out quickly, and she couldn't help but think about how wonderful it would be to get a hold of her gallon sized canteen, full to the brim with lukewarm water, because she was so damned thirsty.
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Misty wasn't the only thirsty one that night. Dear Reader, for lack of a more creative term, The Beast was thirsty as well, positively licking its lips for some tasty morsel. Lukewarm water certainly wouldn't do for a creature of this nightmare caliber. Oh no, for something that only hell could have spat out, there was only one drink that it wanted. Blood, of course, fresh and hot and so salty it only made one crave more.
Hunting was its talent and what a talent it was. The raw instinct that every creature keeps stored in the back of its mind, the instinct of eat or be eaten, to be the predator or be taken by one. This creature, as all of its kind, was particularly good with this instinct. It had not just one way to kill but many, thousands quite probably, though when it came right down to it, blunt force was what The Beast tended to use.
Though thirst is an important aspect of The Beast, Dear Reader, it is not the important aspect. The important thing, for this night, was that it was frightened. It ached from running, its feet ached even more so. The Beast had already had conflict that night. There were two sets of footsteps it heard, one of a human, jogging and another of a small woodland creature about the size of a ratata.
It had run right up to The Beast, and then it had frozen with horror and began to charge with electricity. The Beast looked over its shoulder, tilting it with mild inquisitiveness when it released its power suddenly, a warning jolt, but it still hurt the none the less. Suddenly, the little woodland creature with a foreign object clutched in its teeth was no longer something to perk The Beast's curiosity; it had become a predator. And, if all it knew was one simple statement, The Beast was quite positive it was this: It would not be prey.
So, a jolt and The Beast was now a predator. It used a leg to kick the little thing with force, smacking it roughly against the tree. Its body broke with a crack, no time to make a sound but the whoosh of air from its chest. Ribs cracked, digging into lungs and a heart and other needed organs. It was dead, horribly mangled. Most animals would have backed down at this point, assured of its safety.
But The Beast was not defensive prey. It was a predator through and through, and it was hungry.
It crept close to the broken thing and sniffed, nose close to its pelt. The light scent of blood blurred the world around. Warmth still radiated from the body, such a contrast from the chilly night air. It put its mouth to the hole, already made by a jutting rib, and drank deeply.
And that was all The Beast did. It did not pick the bones clean of flesh or dig in with vigor; it drank. It drank until the blood was gone, and then it continued on its search. Straight ahead, never wavering from its path, it moved forward at a breakneck pace.
Then it heard voices, quiet, laughing, giggling, little moans. The Beast halted in its path and cocked its head to the side, faced once again with the question of predator and prey. It was quiet and it looked through the branches and looked at the shadows dancing inside the tent. Two of them, two strange creatures, close together and gasping while a strange scent that made The Beast wrinkle its nose and sneeze, only to have the scent fill its nose again.
It stopped.
The happy sounds turned scared, nervous, and a new smell went the air. Fear. They talked quietly, the girl clutching the boy closely and muttering words The Beast did not understand, so it retreated a bit, hiding deeper in the trees and shrubs. The boy began to stand, shushing the girl and stepping outside the tent. He was clad in only his pants, leaving his chest and feet bare.
He was scared, terrified. The Beast could feel it in its bones. The way his steps were cautious, light as if already preparing himself to run. He paused in his stride to the woods, picking up a stick and gripping it tightly in his hands. He called out, his voice defensive with a shaky undertone, while swinging the stick wildly as a show of strength. He kept swinging as he approached The Beast's hiding spot.
It crouched deeper in the bush, whimpering slightly, causing the boy to turn in its direction.
He smiled cockily and turned the stick in his hands. That was when he made his fatal mistake. With a heave, he brought the branch high about his head and swung it down with full force into the bushes. It connected with something and he snickered. It didn't feel big and he was sure he heard a crack. It was probably a rabbit or a squirrel or some other harmless creature. Drew kneeled down; all set to take the creature back to camp and scare his girlfriend with it.
With a snarl, it leapt from the bushes, furious with the bruise beginning to grow on its back. Its claws dug into his skin, one tilting his head back and the other digging deeply into his collarbone. Blood dripped off the sides of his forehead where the skin was broken, each drop rolling down agonizingly slowly. His eyes widened, his mouth opened but no sound emerged. Too shocked to speak, he gasped and bucked once under The Beast before it bowed forward and ripped out his throat.
It dug in with vigor, this time relishing each drop. It sucked Drew dry, growling with pleasure and making sure no drop was wasted. When no more blood could be gather form the neck, it explored. Where there was blood, it bit again, shaking its head to rip off chunks of skin to get to the blood beneath. It sucked each new hot spot clean until Drew was emptied. Then it cleaned itself, licking the blood off its lips and paws and forelegs.
Then it shook its massive head and went to find somewhere to sleep for the night. It had had its fill.
And, ironically, it left its 'broken bones' behind, the thing that Drew had heard and led him to drop down to his knees. The branch, thicker than Drew's fist, lay broken in two on the forest floor, a few drops of blood from where it scratched into The Beast's hide and tried to leave it for dead. There it rested, and there it would stay like the scar on its back.
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"Aw, fuck," Misty muttered, stumbling into camp. She leaned forward, panting, exhausted. "Where's my bag? Ash? You still up? Where's my bag? I know you have it." She looked around, hoping to spot it lying on the floor or hanging off of a tent. It was nowhere to be seen, so, with a touch of anger, she rattled the tent she knew was Ash's in a weak attempt to rip it out of the ground.
Though she failed in ripping it out of the earth, she succeeded in waking him up; Ash was not pleased about this. "Misty? I thought you were heading back to my house! What'd you come back for?" He crawled out of the tent, disgruntled, and punched her leg. "If you're going to get out of here, why don't you do us all a favor and stay out? I don't want to hear you complaining the next few days about your stupid bug bites!"
"My bag, Ketchum. I know you stole it so give it back," She ordered.
"Maybe the monster stole it."
"If you don't give me my bag back right now I'm going to kick you in the face, you little fuck, how does that sound?" She shouted, clenching her fists. "All I want is to get out of this fucking place!"
"Cranky, aren't we?" Ash muttered. "I didn't take your stupid bag. You left it and by the time we found it you were too far away. I figured you wouldn't want it badly enough to come back so I was going to keep it and give it back to you when we got out of the woods. You don't have to be a bitch about it; I was just trying to be considerate. Damn."
"Sure you were, Ash," She snorted. "I bet you were just keeping it to annoy me. Wanted to bring me back because you just couldn't live without me. You know I wouldn't leave my bag behind."
The boy turned back into his tent and emerged a few seconds later holding the red drawstring bag. Ash held it out to her, sighing. "Here, go back. I'm sorry I was trying to be nice. I should know by now that nice people really turn you off. I didn't open it; I didn't touch it; it's all your stuff. If anything's missing I guess the ghosts of the dead teenagers came back to haunt you. I was just trying to have some fun with you, Mist. I don't actually hate you."
"Too bad the feeling isn't mutual, huh, Ashley?" She smirked, swinging the bag over her shoulder. "See you in a couple days. Thanks for watching my bag and not going through it."
Ash glared up at her. "You still think I went through it, don't you? Even after I told you I didn't; you think that I went through your mewdamned bag. What the hell happened to turn you into such a cynical-?"
"Ash, Misty?" May asked tentatively. The girl came out of her tent, shirt on but unbuttoned, shorts forgotten. "Drew…Drew went out a while ago. We heard something. I know it's stupid for me to be worried but…it was at least twenty minutes ago and he's not coming back. I don't see him anywhere close and I'm scared something happened to him."
Misty rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me Ash got to you with that stupid ghost story. There's nothing out to get you, May."
"No, but what if it's an ursaring or something?" May insisted. "You know how cocky he is. I think he might be stupid enough to take one on. He went out with a branch and ever since he got with me he thinks he's the greatest thing since canned bread, more than usual. It's made him stupid and I don't know if he's crazy enough to be hitting something he shouldn't. I don't want to go out on my own. Could one of you…?" She trailed off and looked at them hopefully.
"We'll both go," Misty soothed. "I'm sure he's fine. He probably just wandered off somewhere. You know how bad boys are with directions. Don't you think you should, ah, button up?" Misty traced a line between her breasts to her navel, hoping May would get the point.
"Oh! Right," The girl flushed. "Sorry. I forget. It's just been so wild, you know what I mean? Everything's been out of control and I'm worried about Drew and…" She moaned and put her head in her hands. "I must seem like a whore right now. Arceus, you must hate me."
"No, May, you're not a whore," Misty consoled as May began to button her shirt. "No one hates you. The only one hated here is Ash because he went through my bag. Isn't that right, Ashton?" She smirked at the boy.
He glared. "Come on, May, let's find Drew. The sooner we find him, the sooner we get rid of Misty, and who doesn't want that?"
"Looks like I'm not the only cranky one," She chuckled. "So, which way did Drew head off? We'll start there. He probably just walked straight down to the water unless he actually found something. These woods are pretty empty. I'm sure he's just wandering."
"You really think so or are you just trying to make me feel better?" May asked weakly.
"There's nothing out here, May," Ash grinned. "The scariest thing you're going to find is Misty and the only person she's trying to kill is me. The lake is pretty enchanting at night. I could understand how someone could get caught up in it. Sort of like Misty's eyes when the moon reflects off of them."
"Oh, not this again," Misty groaned. "You're horrible at flirting, you know that? You're never going to get me to admit undying love if you keep this up. What do you think, May? Is Ash being charming enough for you to admit undying love?" May tried to smother her giggles. "Well, there you have it, Ash. You're not charming in the least. It looks like you're going to lose this one."
"I am not!" Ash pouted.
"Will you leave me alone if I lie and say I've never met a man as wonderful and sexy and handsome as you?"
"Not unless you mean it."
"Then you're out of luck," Misty smirked.
They walked in silence for a while, every once in a while calling out for Drew and receiving no response. Misty was beginning to get her horror movie tingles again, knowing now as firmly as May that if they did manage to find Drew, it wouldn't be a pretty scene. Her voice trailed off, no longer calling out for their companion as she lapsed into thought, her imagination running away with her, images of Drew's mangled corpse entering her mind as some giant black widow spider (actually, the bug she pictured is known to the rest of the world as a mosquito, but Misty was no entomologist) went in to finish the job.
May screamed when she found him. Not an ordinary horror movie scream, just one shout before diving into another strong man's arms, but a scream that kept on going. She tried to stifle the high note, covering her mouth with her hands, but failed miserably as the sound leaked through. A bird or two woke up, fleeing the area at the sound in hope of finding a quieter place to sleep.
There really is no way to stop a scream like that. She had no thoughts, no feeling but despair and, in all truth, knew no way to release it but to scream until her lungs gave out; which, thankfully, wasn't too long. Also rather thankfully, she did not take another breath and scream on and on until her voice no longer functioned. She fell to something much more useless (as a scream might scare away the predator that attacked the boy) and fell to tears beside him. She collapsed to the floor dramatically, draped over his chest and whimpering into the skin, sticky from being licked clean of all blood.
There she stayed, and there they waited, for over an hour. What else could they do? It was best to let her cry it all out for a while. Eventually, they dragged her off Drew and told her to go back to camp. Ash and Misty would bring the body back to camp and use the shovels to dig the grave. Obviously, May was in no state to do it, not with the tears and the panic in her. She was incompetent to do anything at the moment, really. She reluctantly agreed, but made them swear they wouldn't put him in the ground without her there to say some goodbye words to her late lover. They agreed.
"What could have done this?" Misty murmured, swallowing the lump in her throat. She had the arms, or, as she couldn't help but to think of it, the side where the head lolled back unnaturally and the neck bone shone through the night thanks to the ripped out throat. "I've never heard of a creature that leaves them meat on the bones, Ash. And don't vampires usually just bite and suck?"
"Misty, don't just," He whispered.
"I'm not joking Ash!" She cried, almost dropping the corpse. "What else sucks the blood? No pokémon just drinks blood. No animal, either. At least, there's no animal that drinks blood that's big enough to drain a whole person. Even then, bloodsuckers do their best to keep their host alive. They want to keep their host alive so they can keep leeching off it, no pun intended. I'm not joking."
"I know you're not, Mist, but I'm just a freaked out as you are. In case you haven't notice, I'm carrying a dead guy."
"And I'm not? Just because you're cranky doesn't mean you get to snap, asshole," She retorted. "And it's not a dead guy; it's Drew, our friend. He's been killed by something and let me tell you Ash, things don't just kill once. Whatever this thing is…it knows it can kill people. I don't know if this is the first time it's tried or if it's known for a while, but it'll try again now that it knows we're food. We cannot stay in this place."
"No argument from me on that one," Ash agreed. "Misty, I'm sorry about before. I seriously didn't think there was anything deadly in this place. It was just some stupid ghost story! I didn't think-"
Misty cut him off, glaring. "This isn't a ghost story. This is a real thing. It's a real creature and it's got a taste for human meat. It isn't some stupid ghost floating around with a knife and magical paint that turns the water red. It's something real and it's dangerous. If we stay here, we're going to end up food for some rogue ursaring like Drew. It's probably mating season for something and it was just killing to defend its territory. If we're in bear territory we have to get out and fast. You're with me on this one, right?"
"One hundred percent, but here's my problem: What kills something and just drinks the blood. Territorial pokémon don't kill and drink the blood. They kill and walk away or they kill and eat or they just hurt something! Maybe we do have a psycho vampire on our hands."
"You joking?"
"No."
"You seriously think we're face to face with Count Dracula?" She snorted, tossing her head in a weak attempt to remove the hair from her face. It tore loose from her ponytail and fell right back. "You know, I was supposed to be out of these woods by now. Instead I have to bury my friend so he's not eaten by growlithe or some shit. I don't even know if burying him in camp is a good idea. What if something tracks the smell of something dead and edible all the way to the campsite?"
"We won't be here; won't matter."
"Good point."
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They buried him using shovels from their backpacks. One good thing about their world: everything shrunk. They said a few quiet words, talking about what a good person he was, even if he was a jack off some of the time, and how he would have wanted to go this way. Of course, that last part was a lie. Drew probably wanted to live to a ripe old age and die in his sleep, not with his throat ripped out, but certain things weren't appropriate to say at a funeral.
"What now?" Ash asked.
"I'll head back, bring people, shouldn't take long. You guys stay here so we know we're the campsite is," Misty said. "May won't be able to travel and you're better at this comfort stuff then I am. Plus, I've already run tonight, so my muscles are all warmed up for a marathon run back to Pallet. What do you say, Ketchum? Keep May out of shock until I get back with some help and guns?"
"Good with me," He nodded. "Good with you, May?"
She stared at the grave, blinking at the rock they used to mark it. She had barely said a word since they found him. She hadn't made eye contact since she got into camp, and was even loss vocal now than before. She did nod her head slightly, as if to agree, then May slid to the floor and cuddled up to the marker as if it might hold some of the warmth Drew once did. In all honesty, it looked more pathetic than sweet. It only looked worse when she began to cry again.
"Well then, I guess I'll be heading out."
So Misty set off.
She ran and she ran and she ran in a straight line, what she was sure was a straight line and found herself right back in the camp. It was then that she collapsed to the floor and stared up at the sky. Despite Ash's yelps and cries, there was really nothing to say. What could she say? They were stuck. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run. The horror movie feelings had proved themselves true, just like they always were. She had ignored them and now she paid the price. At least, Drew paid the price, and she was quite sure they would all suffer the same fate. They were all to be drained by some vampire creatures and left as shells for Mrs. Ketchum and Brock to come and collect and sob over. How was she supposed to say that to Ash and May when she barely felt like talking?
"Misty! What's wrong?" Ash insisted, panic rising. "You…you forgot something? You don't know you're way back? Do you want me to run, because you're tired or you're too freaked out? It's no problem, Mist, I'll run. Just tell me what's wrong and I'll try to-"
She held up her hand, and looked back and forth between the two. Finally, she smiled and said in a voice much too calm for the situation: "We can't leave. We're fucked."
She continued her strange grin; Ash fell into an emotionless stupor; and May, once standing, promptly rolled up her eyes to the back of her head and fainted.
