We'll never know which way this road is gonna turn
And can't be sure how quick your wick is gonna burn
So sing to me your darkest secrets
Time to leave behind your regrets
Before we get lost in a blink of an eye
- Alkaline Trio
Chapter 3: Into the Night (by LostinMysticFalls)
The last traces of summer lingered in the air, the breeze still permeated with the heat of the dying day. Aaron, Priscilla and Rachel were approaching the town of Bradbury, Idaho. From the distance they could see the glitter of lights partly hidden between the hills that nestled the doomed, little town. Aaron reined in his horse, staring at the spectacle ahead and then giving his companions a look of concern.
"How is that even possible?" He muttered, not necessarily asking for an explanation but rather entertaining the idea himself. He already knew that the answer to this surge in power was due to the ever increasing activity of the nano. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
His evil little creations had turned into his worst nightmare, and Aaron was the first to admit he wasn't the bravest amongst the group. How he'd survived the post-electric world was something that still boggled his mind from time to time.
"I think we're past the realm of possibilities," Rachel sighed. "But I wonder what could be so special about Bradbury that the nano decided to make it its hub?"
"A town in the middle of nowhere, only stumbled upon by lost souls, sounds like the perfect place if you ask me." Priscilla mused. "Whatever it is, it can't be good."
There was a long, contemplative pause before they continued on their way, the lights growing brighter and almost spellbinding the closer they got. Coming upon the entrance of the town, they noticed the herd of people being guided toward an old-fashioned ice cream shop. Aaron and Rachel knew this was what Priscilla had seen in her mind—people wandering mindlessly, like bugs attracted to glaring light.
Aaron's eyes drifted towards the ice cream shop, a creepy clown bearing a nefarious smile looked back at them. It was like he was reveling in their misfortune. If they could actually hear him laugh, Aaron was sure it'd be the most haunting sound he'd ever heard. "The grinning man?" He said quietly, referring to Priscilla's description of her visions.
Priscilla stared at it for a few seconds and then nodded but her eyes spoke in a way that made Aaron think she wasn't entirely convinced. "That's one of the images I saw but I have this odd feeling–"
"About what?" Rachel asked, her horse becoming agitated for no apparent reason. It began moving about in circles as if trying to escape an invisible threat. The neighs rumbling from its throat were full of anguish and fright. The zombified people walked past them, going around the disturbance without reacting to what was happening. They continued their pilgrimage towards the shop without once looking in their direction.
Aaron hopped off his saddle, trying his best to calm Rachel's horse but producing only minimal effect. The distraught animal relaxed for a few seconds, just enough for Rachel to jump off and step away. After a while, it ran off in the opposite direction, away from the town.
Deep down, the knew they should have taken this as a sign that whatever resided in Bradbury was bad news but they'd travelled too far already to give up that easily. They weren't going to turn around now.
Charlie laughed at Eddie as he tried to recite a joke that he'd heard from one of the grown ups in town. He was having a hard time remembering it and had already sabotaged the punchline several times. Her grandpa was seated on the rocking chair on the porch. His illness had subsided and the worst of it was now past them. Gene was well on his way to being healthy again. This development had returned a sense of normalcy and calm to Charlie's daily routine.
"I'm going to get a glass of water." Eddie chimed, giving up on his joke telling. "Anyone else want one?"
Charlie and Gene both shook their heads as the kid made his way inside the house. Charlie smiled, he reminded her of Danny in a way, and seeing a childlike innocence alive in him gave her hope that not everything good in the world was lost. The bleakness that constantly surrounded them was sometimes inescapable and had transformed her into a downright cynic. Moments like these reminded her that there was always light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how grave the circumstances.
Charlie pursed her lips, turning to Gene. "Grandpa, you should be in bed by now." She said sweetly, "You need your rest."
"Nah. I'm feeling much better these days. Besides, I also want to know how Miles and Monroe's meeting with Blanchard went." He looked at his granddaughter, noticing a tinge of happiness in her demeanor.
"Bass." Charlie said, exhaling in a way that made Gene's head tilt in attention. "His name's Bass, grandpa."
Gene felt like he was the only one seeing things for what they really were. The circumstances had long changed and he'd taken notice of how that had also shaped Charlie's relationship with the former General. "Careful, Charlie." He warned, "Best not to get caught off guard in these situations."
Charlie furrowed her eyebrows, blindsided by his comment. "What's that supposed to mean?" She chuckled.
He smiled, "Bass." The way he said his name was almost taunting. Like a child mocking another in a playground. His eyebrows raised, crinkling his forehead as if that was enough of an explanation. "What's going on between you two?" taunting
Charlie was silent for a moment. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing going on between her and Bass and yet her grandpa was acting like they were in the midst of a torrid love affair. "We're friends." She smiled, a bit surprised by how natural and effortless it had been to call him that.
"Friends." Gene muttered. He glanced at Charlie, realizing that he truly was the only one without a blindfold on. "Do me a favor," He began, "Be careful, okay? The last thing I'd want is for you to get hurt." There was a moment of utter silence before he concluded, "And I don't mean physically."
Charlie smiled, unsure of why he was giving her such advice. If there was one thing she was good at, it was handling Bass with care. Sure, he was a different person now and they even found time to joke around and poke fun at each other. But a man like him always invited danger and she knew how to take care of herself in those situations.
She looked up at the dark sky, the moon was so bright that it was hard to see the stars in its vicinity. Charlie deduced it was probably close to midnight by now and wondered how much longer it would be until Bass and Miles returned with news of the treaty. She tried to imagine what they talked about and how it had panned out. Miles and Bass knew how to negotiate—she was sure it had gone well. A loud howling in the distance broke her reverie. Her eyes fluttered, turning to Gene in bewilderment.
"Was that a coyote or wolf?" She asked.
Gene stood from the rocking chair, leaning over the railing of the porch and staring down the long endless road leading away from the house. "That didn't sound like an animal to me." He replied, making Charlie's skin crawl.
His eyes widened and his lips parted, noticing the fiery torches and hearing the blaring yammering coming their way. "We need go inside."
Charlie's heart began to beat faster, fueled by adrenaline and uncertainty. She took a quick glance at the intruders. It was a group of about twenty men. They carried torches and weapons, no visible heavy artillery but plenty of machetes and chains. Their faces were covered in what seemed like paint but it became evident the closer they got that it was actually the splatter of fresh blood that tainted their skin.
"Let's go!" She grabbed her grandpa's arm. "Let's go!" She screamed this time as they scrambled inside the house. Their eyes tried desperately to focus in the darkness, searching for a place that would keep them safe.
Gene's first instinct was to run upstairs, thinking that it would buy them time until they figured out what to do and how to fend off the invaders. But Charlie knew these men weren't the compromising type. Words would do no good. They were there for only one thing. Blood.
Priscilla was beginning to doubt their mission. "I don't like this one bit." She muttered as they walked between the crowd of people.
Rachel looked around, noticing that the buildings were all lit. Every room in every motel, every house, every ransacked store, they all had power and yet they didn't seem to be housing anyone. Every human being was out on the street, congregating in front of the ice cream shop as if waiting for a speech or important announcement.
"Where exactly are we going?" The blonde grumbled, elbowing Aaron on the ribs.
He stopped, letting every other person on autopilot pass them by. "We have to think that the purpose of these people is that of vessels. The nano is gathering them here to take over them, kind of like they did with Priscilla."
"You think that if we wait here with them, we'll find out what the nano's planning to do." Priscilla concluded, making Aaron nod in response.
"Great." Rachel said with a hint of sarcasm. Her lips pursed as she surveyed her surroundings. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, making her turn in an instant and direct her eyes towards the last floor of a third story office building.
Aaron looked on, "What is it? What did you see?"
Rachel's eyes were wild. "There's someone up there." She pointed at the window and began walking away without waiting for a response.
"Wait!" Aaron reached out to her in an attempt to stop her. "We don't know who or what that might be." Priscilla followed silently, fright evident on her face.
Rachel cocked an eyebrow. "Look around you. Every single one of those people have no idea they're even here. Whoever is up there is likely conscious and aware. If we just stand here we're still clueless. We'd be no different than those... mindless... zombie things." She uttered the last words slowly.
"She's right. We need answers, Aaron." Priscilla agreed, nodding at Rachel to show she was on board with her plan.
They reached the entrance to the building and pushed the door open. The building itself was almost empty, it was obvious that it had fallen victim to looting and endless vandalism. The lights inside were dim, the unstable power making the lightbulbs flare up every few seconds. Aaron felt like he was in a sci-fi video game level, making his anxiety that much worse every time they reached a dark corner.
"Stairs." Priscilla muttered, pointing to the wooden steps down the hall.
The wood was rotting, pieces of floor were missing, making them feel increasingly unsafe the higher up they climbed. By the time they reached the second floor Aaron was starting to wheeze like a asthmatic kid who had just ran a lap. Priscilla placed her hand on his back, rubbing it in a soothing manner as they continued onto the third floor.
Rachel ears perked at the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. They carefully paced closer, listening upon each door until they reached the one they were searching for. There were voices coming from inside, low and discreet.
"Do we have everything?" The woman's voice questioned. The was no reply except for the sound of bags being zipped up.
Aaron's eyebrows furrowed, "I know that voice. It's–"
The door swung open, Grace and Peter stood before them looking just as shocked as them. "What are you guys doing here?" He asked surprised.
Aaron was still processing what was happening. "The nano told us to come here." Priscilla answered.
"You too?" Rachel asked, noticing Grace and Peter were in a hurry to get out of there. "Do you know why this is happening?"
Grace nodded. "We'll explain but right now, we need to go."
"Why?" Aaron muttered. "What is going on?" He wanted answers. He was tired of running an fleeing without explanations.
Grace and Peter ignored his inquiry and flew down the stairs, knowing exactly where to step and which areas of the floor to avoid. They'd been there a while, that much was clear. They hurried out of the building, Rachel, Priscilla and Aaron trailing behind. They had no clue where they were going but they knew they were the only people in town they could trust.
The Claiborne clan hit the Matheson house like a force of nature. The door was rammed down, furniture overturned and everything violently thrown and flung across the air as they searched for any sign of life. The men were in some kind of half-conscious state, anger the only emotion being expelled from their beings.
Charlie and Gene remained locked in one of the hidden compartments of the cellar. She peeked through the crevices, seeing nothing but darkness, a sign that the men had yet to enter the lower level of the house.
"I need to find Eddie." She said, her chest tightening with fright of what might become of the young boy.
"No." Gene replied, knowing that wasn't the answer Charlie wanted to hear. "You can't take on those men by yourself, Charlie. They'll kill you."
"And if I don't go out there they will kill Eddie."
Let them kill Eddie. The thought ran through Gene's head. He wasn't a bad man but if losing him meant keeping Charlie alive, he didn't have to think twice about it. It seemed unscrupulous but Charlie was his blood. "Miles will be here any minute. Let him handle it."
Charlie shook her head. There was no guarantee of that and she couldn't live with herself knowing she just let that boy die in order to save her own skin. She opened the door to the small compartment, "I'll back back. Stay here."
"Charlie–" her grandpa's words were dulled by her own thoughts. She scurried towards the cellar doors that led outside, pushing against them and praying that they weren't locked.
The force of her hands and arms wasn't doing a thing. Charlie tried kicking them open to no avail. Afraid that she was making too much noise, she decided to try the window instead. It would be one quick shattering of glass and she would have to be swift in order to get out of there before anyone came to investigate. Was stupid and reckless? Yes. But Charlie felt like it was her only choice.
She grabbed her gun and hit the glass with the barrel, breaking it on impact. Charlie slipped through the small opening, shards of glass cutting her arms and injuring her stomach. If she hadn't seen the blood, she would've never noticed. The rush of adrenaline made her insensible to pain.
The air outside felt different, there was a heaviness that made her feel suppressed. She stood up, brushing dirt off of her and examining the cuts on her arms. They weren't very deep but would probably require care later on.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here." A tall, brawny man stood before her, his eyes dark and hollow like those of an apparition. He had piercings in his ears and face and a large tattoo that covered most of his neck.
Charlie tried to hide her fear. "Where's the boy?" She pointed her gun at him.
A large, wide smile appeared on his face. "There is no boy. Not anymore." He replied robotically.
The anger consumed her, fueling her desire to fight back. She cocked the gun and before he could say another word, she pulled the trigger, hitting him in the stomach and causing him to bend over in pain. After a few seconds he stood back up, charging towards her with all his might.
Charlie fired the gun again, missing him by inches this time. He pinned her to the ground, one hand wrapped around her neck while the other raised the machete in the air. The glimmer of the moon made the metal shine, its blade visibly sharp. Charlie knew this was it. If she didn't manage to get a clean shot, the last thing she'd see before she died was him. The face of pure evil. She grappled with him, trying to push him off of her, legs tussling and arms trying to tear him to pieces.
"Good night, bitch." He said menacingly, swinging his weapon towards her. Charlie closed her eyes, awaiting her fate. Everything around her came to a standstill. She'd been on the precipice of death before but this time it was different. She felt like she was losing so much more.
A loud gunshot rang in her ears and she felt the weight of the man fall on top of her, punching the air out of her stomach. When she opened her eyes, she saw Bass standing beside her. He pushed the man off her and crouched down to help her up. The blade had found its way to her flesh, creating a gash on her upper leg and making it bleed profusely.
"What did those bastards do to you?" He demanded, that innate need to protect her rising inside him.
Charlie shook her head, "Nothing. They didn't do anything to me." Her eyes were watery, "But I think they killed Eddie."
He hugged her. "I'm sorry, Charlie." He said, sharing her sentiment.
Her head snapped up at the sound of gunshots going off inside the house, "Miles and Blanchard are taking care of the ones inside." Charlie looked around the yard as they walked toward his house, the bodies of seven men laid lifeless on the ground. She knew those had all died by Bass's hand and she didn't feel sorry for any of them.
Charlie's eyes were red and irritated from the tears she had shed over the boy that symbolized the last of the innocence left in her life. He'd been another casualty she'd been unable to avoid and that ate at her more than anything.
"It's not your fault." Bass muttered, watching as she pulled down her pants and took a seat on the wooden chair. His eyes couldn't help noticing her milky legs, untouched by the sun and smooth like silk. He handed her a towel and she draped it over her upper thighs, shielding her undergarments from view.
"I know." She replied. It was a selfish thought but the fact that the boy was dead only served as a reminder that the good things in her life weren't permanent. "I just wish I would've had a chance to do something."
Grabbing a piece of cloth dipped in alcohol, she pulled her shirt up, exposing the side that had been injured. Bass looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable. She applied pressure to the cuts, relaxing her breathing and combating the pain.
Bass drenched a sterile cloth with alcohol, cleaning the wound on her leg as Charlie nursed the ones on her arms and stomach. She tightened her jaw at the stinging sensation. "And then maybe you would be the one dead." Bass said.
He stopped what he was doing and looked her in the eyes. Charlie wondered if he'd miss her, if he'd cry over her loss if anything were to ever happen to her. She'd known Bass for a long time and couldn't recall ever seeing him cry before.
Her lip quivered as she struggled to speak but everything that needed to be said was expressed with their eyes. They remained that way for a few moment before Bass went back to working on her wound. Charlie looked at him and smiled, even though she knew he was unaware of the gesture.
Gene watched them from the other side of the room, "Those clueless fools." He murmured.
"What?" Miles asked, wrapping his own arm in gauze.
"Nothing." He replied, opting to change the subject. "What could possibly cause someone to do something like this?"
Miles pursed his lips in deep thought. "I think it was obvious those guys were acting more like killing machines than actual human beings." He finished dressing his wound.
The presence of Blanchard halted them all to attention. "We have a live one." He announced.
Bass finished patching up Charlie's wound and came to his feet, eager to find out more. Charlie's hand clasped onto his wrist, "I want to come."
He shook his head, "You need to stay here and–"
"I'm coming with you guys." It wasn't a request.
Bass helped a limping Charlie as they and Miles followed Blanchard to the back of the house. The surviving clan member was tied to a tree by one of his own chains. He was bleeding abundantly and they all knew he only had a few minutes left to answer any questions they may have.
Bass went first, he took a hold of the man's chin and tilted his head up. "Who are you working for?"
"I don't know." He said weakly, blood dripping from his mouth.
"Look, you're going to die anyway. You can either go gently or in great pain." He pressed his finger into one of his wounds, making him scream in pain. "Who are you working for?" He growled.
The man cried, "I don't know. I don't remember."
Blanchard spoke, "He says he has no recollection of what he did. It's either all bull or he really was in some kind of weird trance."
Bass was getting ready to up the ante when Miles stepped in. "Let me." He looked at the man's eyes, noticing how alert he was of his surroundings. "What do you remember?"
The man's breathing became heavy, he spoke in pauses, his words were getting difficult to hear. "Bradbury. We were ordered to go to Bradbury."
"Who ordered you to go there?"
He began coughing, making it hard for him to talk. The minutes were running thin. "My little girl." Tears began running down his face but his state had no impact on those around them. "I thought it was a miracle. That she was somehow alive again." He was struggling to speak.
The group shared knowing looks and a sense of dread filled Miles to the core. "I need to warn Rachel and the group. If all of this is coming from Bradbury then they're in danger."
"If your friends are there, chances are they're already dead." The oxygen around him didn't seem to be enough, it was like watching a fish out of water. "You can't win," he said before expiring.
Peter and Grace led the three to an underground housing compound at the other side of town. It had proven useful during the time of prohibition and they figured they wouldn't find a better place to hide than there, even though it wasn't necessarily foolproof. It was the best they had at the moment.
They immediately began setting up their equipment. "We've been trying to figure out a way to create a new code." Grace began, "This is the only place we know of where the electricity is constantly on."
"Do you know what the nano is doing?" Rachel asked.
Peter went about the question carefully. "They're controlling the weak of mind. From what we've seen those are all–"
"Criminals, murderers, mentally unstable and dangerous individuals." Aaron chimed in.
Peter nodded, "Yeah. And they're doing it in waves." He opened the laptop and began typing. "A few days ago they activated a war clan and sent them out on a mission to Texas. They're trying to eliminate those who aren't susceptible to control."
Rachel felt her heart drop to her stomach. "Texas?"
Everyone knew what that entailed. "They're not indestructible," Peter said, trying to provide her with some peace of mind. "As far as we know they all take orders from President Davis and his right hand man. A fellow named Truman."
"Truman is here?" Aaron said, a chill crawling down his back. "Why Bradbury? Why is this the only place with power? What do they want?"
"Aaron we know some things but not everything." Grace replied. "Those out there, the mindless wanderers that you ran into when you got here. They've been gathering in front of that shop for days now, and we still don't know why. All we know is they've been growing in numbers."
Priscilla stared blankly at the wall. "Something evil is coming, I can feel it." She said ominously.
The sun peaked its head over the horizon. Connor opened his eyes, noticing that the wagon was moving. Did this guy ever sleep? He propped himself up on his elbow before coming to a full seated position. Jeremy turned his head, noticing he was awake.
"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, a smirk forming on his lips.
Connor rolled his eyes, jumping over to the front and sitting next to him. "Why are you doing this?" They'd been riding for a few days now and it was the first time he was asking him about his motives.
They had left Tom Neville behind. He had been adamant about following through with his journey to Bradbury, Idaho. Connor wasn't about to embark on an adventure with a man who was obviously mentally deranged, so he agreed to take Jeremy Baker up on his offer without ever questioning why he was helping him.
Jeremy smiled, "You know kid, I'm not a good guy." His eyes were focused on the road. "This right here," he showed him the militia tattoo, "Is proof enough of that."
Connor narrowed his eyes, "You were part of the Monroe Militia."
"And I did a lot of things I'm not proud of," he replied. "Do you know how many times there were kids out on the street that I could've helped? Kids who were in danger or simply needed something to eat. I'm not on the path to sainthood by any means but if I can do one good deed for every hundred bad ones I've done in my life, then that's good enough for me."
Connor was tempted to tell him that he was now lending a helping hand to the son of the man who'd gotten him wrapped up in those evil deeds. And even though he didn't know Jeremy at all, he did have a feeling that things probably wouldn't end well for him if he found out he was a Monroe. That was better kept under wraps for the time being.
"You mentioned an apocalypse." Connor chuckled at the word, finding it ridiculous. "What was that all about?"
Jeremy gave him a reprimanding look. "That thing that happened to Neville, that's happening to others everywhere else." He gulped, "I've seen what they can do. They walk around without any control over themselves, and the puppet master—whoever it is—makes them do vile, ugly things. They're murdering families without remorse, eliminating the weak for no rhyme or reason."
Connor's stomach twisted in knots, he was beginning to feel sick. He'd seen death before, after all, he did live most of his life under a drug lord's roof. But this was different, it wasn't killing in retaliation or fighting over turf, it was senseless killing.
"My father will be able to help. I'm sure of it." He asserted, feeling a bit on edge thinking of Jeremy's reaction to seeing Bass again.
"Ah, the illusive father who lives on the Texas and Mexico border. You know kid, every time you talk about him, my intrigue grows. I can't wait to meet him, he sounds like a admirable man."
Connor smiled, staring at the road in front of them in silence.
Rachel's heart still felt heavy after the news of the night before. She wished there was a way to warn Miles and everyone back in Texas of the things that were coming their way. And for all she knew, the worst might have already happened. She followed Aaron as the group inched closer to the center of town.
The people were still there but everything was encompassed in an eerie silence. She would've thought them all dead had they not been standing upright with their eyes fixed on the cheerful clown.
"We've been doing this every day, a few times a day, hoping that someone will show up and give some kind of explanation." Grace said quietly.
They hid behind the building where the group had found them the night before. The sun was beaming down but its warmth was fading with the last remaining days of summer. They were there for a long while, Aaron had opted to sit against the wall out of boredom and Priscilla had joined him a few minutes later. After what seemed like another fruitless trip into town, they were getting ready to return to their hideout.
"Wait." Peter said, "I think I see Davis and Truman up in the front."
Rachel stood on her toes, catching a glimpse of the men as they approached the shop. In front of the entrance, they'd managed to build a stage, something that looked more like a collection of soap boxes lined in a row. Truman and Davis took their place, leaving a gap between them.
"Great news, fellow brothers and sister!" Truman declared, "Our leader has finally arrived in Bradbury!" The people in the crowd began moving, their head's twitching from side to side as if awakening from a slumber.
"You made now come forth!" Davis ordered.
It was as if a switched had been turned. The people in the crowd were alert, cheering and clapping as their so-called leader stepped forward.
"Is that–" Rachel muttered.
"Tom Neville." Aaron said. He held Priscilla's hand, tightening it as the realization set in.
Fireflies appeared above, as if emanating from the clown's face. They swirled in a funnel shape over Neville and then disappeared into him. He raised his arms up, absorbing them and laughing maniacally.
Priscilla swallowed hard, looking at each of them before muttering, "That's the grinning man."
A/N: Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Chapter 4 will be posted (by DriverPicksTheMusic) in a week or so.
Credit: Chapter title is the name of the song by Alkaline Trio that was quoted at the beginning.
