A/N: In the last section, the bits in Janet's head were supposed to stilted and staggered. Unfortunately, ffn only supports left and center paragraph orientation, and not right. Also, it didn't preserve my paragraph indentations and I never figured out a way to fix it. Phooey.
Janet gasped and whirled around, putting up her hands to defend herself, and, oh, what was the point anyway? Gods only knew what the slender man was or what power he really held, and here she was with her eyes shut tight like a frightened school girl as if holding her hands over her head was actually going to protect her. She might as well cry 'Eek!' and scramble up a tree to wait for a big, strong lumberjack to save her. How pathetic! But presently Janet realized that whoever had grabbed her was speaking to her and she had been unable to hear them over the sound of her blood pounding in her ears. The middle-aged blonde blinked hard and shook her head before she recognized the panicked youth shouting for her attention.
"Vert?" she asked weakly, her voice hoarse from screaming.
Her son relaxed slightly now that his mother had noticed him, but nervous tension still pinched his features. Still, he forced what he hoped was a gentle and reassuring smile. "Mom, I've been calling you for an hour," he said, trying to be calm. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"
Janet looked at him like he was crazy. "These woods don't exactly have great reception—"
"Woods? Mom, what are you—"
"But how did you even get here?" she demanded. "This horrible place is too dangerous! You have to run home!"
"We are home!" Vert said frantically. "You aren't making any sense, Mom. Have you been taking your medication?"
Janet bit back a caustic answer about having more important concerns at present, but her vision started blurring again. The shadows moved of their own accord, threatening to gobble up the solid matter that cast them; her son's frantic assertions that she was sick and needed help sounded as if they were being shouted from above the surface of a lake in which she was drowning.
"Vert," she pleaded desperately. "Vert, you have to get out of here. He's coming!"
"Mom, there's no one there!"
"HE'S COMING!"
"Mom, listen to yourself," he begged. "We're in your art room! There's no forest, and we're the only ones here!"
There was a loud pounding emanating from far behind Vert, growing ever closer, but only his mother could hear it.
"He's coming," she whimpered.
The young blonde gave her a pained smile. "No, he's not, Mom," he told her, completely deaf to the cacophony all around him. "There's no one there."
Someone tall and emaciated rose up to his full height, his limbs creaking like the boughs of an ancient tree. His blank face towered head and shoulders above the mother and son, peering down at the now babbling Janet with his eyeless countenance. The woman choked back a sob even as he raised a clawed hand behind her blissfully unaware son.
"He's here!"
"It's okay, Mom," Vert said, taking her hands in his. "We'll get you to Dr. Mendoza, and then everything will be just f—"
Fuzz and static and more fuzz and blinding light oh Gods it hurts it hurts so many empty lonely hours in that white room white light RED RED RED RED REDREDRED who's screaming is that me wHy ShOuLd YoU fIgHt So HaRd WhEn EvEn ViCtOrY rEsUlTs In ThEiR dEaTh? THE STARS ARE RIGHT PH'NGLUI MGLW'NAFH CTHULHU R'LYEH WGAH'NAGL FHTAGN IA IA CTHULHU FHTAGN IT HURTS OH GODS KNOWS WHY THAT WHICH IS NOT DEAD MAY ETERNAL LIE AND WITH STRANGE EONS EVEN DEATH MAY DIE RED RED RED RED RED.
Black.
White.
There was the sound of deep, raspy breathing just behind her, and Janet thought she heard someone ask her a question...
"wHaT iS tHe CoLoR oF tHe NiGhT?"
Janet started awake, gasping for breath, and closed her eyes once more at the brightness and pain. She immediately regretted whatever she had done, as the pounding in her head scolded her for having such a terrible idea. She had no memory of what that idea was, but she was sure it was stupid, and her nausea confirmed it.
Gingerly she opened her eyes, just enough to begin acclimating herself to the bright fluorescent lights the hung naked from the basement ceiling. Janet was seated on the floor, leaning back against something big and boxy, the cool metal pressing gently against the backs of her arms.
It all came flooding back.
Janet had seen something impossible. Her medication, the whiskey, the broken glass. She knew full well she was not supposed to drink with her meds, but she had done it anyway because she was angry and scared, and then after that she must have passed out. But apparently, not before stumbling down to the basement and trying to open the gun cabinet—without success, thank goodness. What on Earth had she been thinking? If Vert hadn't changed the locks…
Well, clearly, the best solution to her current problem was to ignore it and pretend it did not exist, much like the portal she had never ever seen out on the salt flats. What Janet needed was a distraction. She had to get out of that godforsaken house, and with her canceled appointment, the sky was the limit. She could do anything! Of course, since she was trying so hard to be nice and normal, a mediocre outing was in order. And so, Janet decided to drive over to Zeke's diner.
The place was as kitschy as she remembered; a holdover from Route 66's glory days, old even when she was in high school. Of course, back then it had been Mother's Place or Pop's or maybe O'Leary's or something; she could no longer recall which. The diner had changed hands a few times, and Zeke was just the latest owner, but he was by far Janet's favorite. Zeke had served in her father's unit in the Korean War as a field medic. Of all of those Marine Corps buddies of Sgt. Martin's, only Zeke had ever really smiled much. Of course, Zeke had been the youngest of the unit, a conscientious objector from a religious family who enlisted as a medic to avoid being drafted as a combatant, and while he did not remain untouched by the horrors of war, he had still seemed to spring back a bit more than the rest of the troop.
Truth be told, her father had handled it the worst of any of them. He was so unable to cope with normal society that he had run right back to reenlist the second the next war had heated up. The resulting bitter resentment and feelings of abandonment meant that perhaps Janet's opinion was a bit skewed.
"You're not thinking about that right now," she whispered as she parked. "You're getting pizza. Talk to Zeke and be friendly. All you have to do is get through the next few hours and then the rest of today, and it will be like none of this ever happened."
Zeke had aged into a cheerful eccentric, and Janet longed for the days when he was the town crazy instead of her. Sadly, those days were over. As she stepped over the threshold he greeted her with a smile, just as he had every time she'd ever come to the diner. He waved in friendly way, and all the customers turned their heads to look at her. Eyebrows raised, eyes widened.
That was when the whispering started.
It was never subtle. Putting their hands in front of their mouths while they spoke, looking out of the corners of their eyes… These stupid kids genuinely had no idea how obvious they were being. As Janet made her way to the counter, she had the urge to scream out that she could hear them. That would really give them something to talk about. Finally, after an excruciating six seconds, she sat down on the stool that Zeke gestured to and took the orange soda he offered her.
"It's on the house," he said pleasantly. "Land sakes, but aren't you a sight for sore eyes. How've you been, young lady?"
Janet smiled, but she inwardly sighed. "Not too bad, all things considered," she said. "I'm still getting used to the old house again, and I've mostly had a quiet day to myself. Spent most of the morning cleaning out the attic."
"Sounds like hungry work," Zeke commented. "Lemme get you somethin' fer that. You still like your pizza with onions and banana peppers?"
He was off to the ovens so fast she hadn't the time to answer, and Janet was left alone with her thoughts. She watched the kids stuffing their pudgy little baby faces full of pizza, pointedly looking away when they noticed she was looking. One or two went stiff with fear and recognition. About the only person in the room who did not gawk in some form or another was an exhausted looking young waitress who casually glanced at Janet, assessed her as not worth her time, and got back to work. 'Kids,' she thought.
iNsEcTs, hissed a little voice in the back of her mind. vErMiN, agreed a second.
Janet shivered, suddenly queasy. She felt a migraine coming on.
Sage puzzled over the symbol that the battle key bore. "I have checked and rechecked, but it is not in the database," she said in her calm, even tone. The only sign that she was indeed perturbed was the slight lowering of her eyelids. She did not quite narrow her eyes, no; the movement was too sedate. The Blue gave all outward appearances of vague disinterest, but those who knew her were aware that this was a big reaction.
"You say the zone had a green sky?"
"Along with black sand and a lake of poisonous heavy metals," Tezz repeated, for what felt like the hundredth time. "When did you last update your memory banks, Sage? Perhaps you are missing the required data."
"I assure you, I am up to date," she said coolly. Again, her movements were calm and fluid, but for her, the cold statement was tantamount to a vehemently shouted denial. "The symbol is not in the database, but there are many battle zones with the features you have listed. Perhaps if you could offer more details?"
"Doubt it," Spinner chuckled. "Indiana Jones here was too interested in the glyphs to pay attention to the landscape."
Tezz slumped in embarrassment and coughed into his fist, looking away.
Sage, on the other hand, brightened considerably. Though not what she had originally been hoping for, this was a detail nonetheless. Glyphs could not exist in thin air, after all. They had to be inscribed on something. "Were you able to obtain scans? That might be of some assistance in narrowing it down."
"Who cares about the glyphs?" Agura rolled her eyes. "Am I the only one here who remembers the huge creepy statue? Seriously, that thing was as big as a mountain."
"Oh, bloody hell," Stanford said with a shiver. "The Davey Jones thing. That was the stuff of nightmares, it was."
"Yeah, and it would've been great if you destroyed it after I climbed off the damn thing," she said with a glare. "You almost killed me!"
Spinner chewed his lip. He recognized the colossus; there was no use denying it. The gamer had encountered the beast before, in a painting by Vert's mother. And he knew from the uneasy look on their captain's face that he had seen it, too.
"Tentacles," Vert murmured. He shuddered in disgust.
If their otherworldly mentor had eyebrows, they would have been furrowed. "There are no zones in my databanks matching the added criteria," she said, somewhat concerned. "Tezz, check the coordinates encoded into the battle key. That should render a definitive match."
Tezz did as he was asked and scanned the artifact, but all that came up was more of the strange writing from before. And suddenly, the writing covered every screen in the hub. Every intercom and speaker, from cell phones to sub woofers—every sound creating device in the entire structure blasted static. Stanford covered his ears and shrieked as the Reverb burst to life and broadcasted static-tinged drum beats and inhuman, guttural words that no one understood. The lights dimmed and buzzed in their sockets, and the walls shook and rattled.
With a horrible, hissing scream the battle key bubbled with black ooze. The ancient artifact melted into a thick sludge and dripped off of the pedestal, dissolving before their very eyes. The shaking subsided and the screens went black. The lights went back to full strength.
There was an eerie silence.
The key was gone.
"That," Tezz said, "Was not my fault."
cOmE aNd SeE
Janet gasped at the counter, breaking out in a cold sweat. A pang of nausea washed over her and she had to grab the teal formica to keep from falling off her stool. Her heartbeat quickened and she began to hyperventilate. Everyone was staring at her.
What the hell is her problem?
Janet barely bit back a sarcastic reply, realizing that the person she was staring at had not actually spoken. Her lips weren't moving. The voice was clearly coming from that area, though no one else seemed to notice the loud statement. Janet could still hear the whispers of the children who thought they were so fucking smart and that she wouldn't notice them gossiping, but rising above the whispers now was a chorus of chatter. Laughter. Accusations.
Oh, great, the town psycho's here.
Ugh, the new girl never uses enough sauce. Why's that freak even out of her cell?
The sheriff's off his rocker letting that nut run the streets.
I hope I can score some molly for this weekend.
I heard she chopped up her husband and hid him in the walls of the house.
What's the time? Dad's gonna kill me if I'm late again.
God, nobody even wants you here. Get lost, already!
She breathed heavily as her nails dug into the countertop. The pain. Gods above and below, the pain was terrible. Above the ringing in her ears, she could hear the screaming. In the halls at Brush Hollow, that screaming never stopped. She had to bite her lip to keep from joining that chorus of screams, and still all the voices of those demonic brats talking and talking and oh, it would be so easy. All she had to do was rip up her stool from where it was bolted to the floor and she could start beating every one of the little monsters' heads in, and sure, Zeke would be upset, but she'd help him clean up after and, besides, it would make a sound like a jack-o-lantern smashing against the pavement, she missed that sound so much, and all of the RED—
With shaking hands, Janet lifted her takeaway cup and took a sip, letting the icy soda cool her. She had thoughts like these sometimes. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. She just had to ignore them and they would go away. Janet forced herself to think in her therapist's voice, remembering how Dr. Mendoza would tell her that no one would hurt her and everything would be okay. It was wrong of her to think of these kids as monsters. They were annoying, but they were still people with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams, and of course, flaws. No one was perfect, and as imperfect as she herself was, Janet owed it to them to try and understand. And anyway, she couldn't really hear their thoughts. The doctor said that was just her imagination. Even now as she reminded herself of these things, she willed the voices away. All she had to do was calm down and eat her pizza and everything would just be fine.
Well, I guess I better pay for my pizza before crazy ol' Mrs. Wheeler starts taking hostages...
Her eyebrow twitched. The voice had come from near the counter, a distinctly East coast inflection with the sort of whine to it that could only come from a horribly broken nose. Her gaze darted towards the source of the sound, and—she knew him. She used to get wasted with his father back in high school. All of the Castelucci guys had that same stupid grin that made her want to punch them in the face.
That was the last straw. Janet shoved herself up from her stool and jumped in front of the boy getting in line at the register. He stopped, eyes wide. His mouth was snapped shut, but the last voice she had heard rising above the whispers descended into panicked babbling.
"Don't worry, kiddo," she said, gritting her teeth and hoping it looked like a smile. "It's on me."
To Tag's shock, 'crazy old' Mrs. Wheeler slapped a twenty down on the counter and shoved it towards a startled Grace. The middle-aged blonde sort of half staggered to the door as he watched. Suddenly, she turned back to face him, her sweating face contorted with pain.
"And for the record, ya little snot," she rasped, barely coherent from the pain. "I may be crazy…but I'm not old. Got it?"
Tag turned bright red and nodded, terrified even as he saw her head out to her car. With a squeal of tires and a spit of gravel, the Challenger swerved out of the lot and into traffic.