Chapter Six
Mortal Recoil

Ken felt his insides shrivel and his knees give way underneath him. With what limited strength he had, he scuttled away, like a crab evading capture. His body hit against something solid – a wall? – but there still wasn't enough distance between himself and… that. There couldn't be even if he walked for a thousand miles.

The thing didn't chase after him. It stayed wrapped up in the fog ahead of him. Just as he felt he was a bit safer, the ghastly sound of Gene violently throwing up reached his ears. His stomach wrenched and churned like there was a fist grasping inside. The burger he'd worked so hard for was clawing its way back out of him like some kind of monster. He couldn't take the lurches any more.

Hunched over, Ken felt all the strength drain from his body as the contents of his stomach unleashed themselves into this nightmarish world. His hands shook beneath him, digging into the sharp granite, and Ken could barely managed a spluttering gasp before his vision went blurry.

Whether he had passed out or this was all just the product of some horrific hallucination, he didn't know. But before he had the chance to come to his senses, he and Gene were back, bent double in the back alley next to the restaurant, equally ashen-faced and clammy.

"What… was that?"

Ken's body was so exhausted he could hardly stand. But the vile smelling vomit splattered all over the alleyway told him that whatever had just happened was not a dream. It sounded so stupid – the stuff of graphic novels and Japanese video games – but there really was some kind of alternate reality, maybe, on the other side of this tiny seaside town. One full of monsters, and shadowy creatures, and…

It reappeared in his mind. Greying, mottled, foul smelling and sinewy. The touch of its rotting flesh and seeping liquid still echoed on his hands. His stomach twisted again but nothing else would come. He slumped down, trying to regain his strength, just enough to make it back inside. He beckoned to Gene, and the pair slowly shuffled their way back towards the restaurant. The doorbell gave its usual, cheerful jingle as they entered and Ken flashed back to the warped impression from the doorbell on the other side. The noise sent an icy shiver down his spine.

"Evening you two," Bob spoke to the onions he was chopping up rather than to the two boys.

Evening? That wasn't right, was it? Ken looked outside again, and only now did he realise that the sun was beginning to set. Where had the day gone?

"Where've you been all day? Out having… fun?" Bob finally looked up, only to see two pale-as-a-ghost, clammy youngsters collapsed into the booth opposite him.

"Y-yeah… so much fun," Gene wrenched a quivering arm into the air.

"Geez, you kids look exhausted." Concern actually showed on Bob's face. He backed up a few steps, and hollered up the stairs, "Lin! Cover the restaurant a while! I'm gonna take Ken home real quick!"

"Pff, I wouldn't worry about getting Mom," Louise rounded the corner. "It's not like we're gonna have any cust-HOLY CRAP!"

"Heyyy Louise…" Gene mumbled.

"What the hell happened to you two?!" She cried.

Ken found the strength to lift his head, just as two glasses of water were plonked down in front of him.

"You look like you need something to drink."

Ken could nod and not much else. He forced a trembling hand forwards and wrapped it around the cool, cool glass. With a tentative mouthful, the awful, acidic taste of vomit was washed away by clean, refreshing water.

"You two are burning up," Bob's rough hand pressed against his forehead. "Alright, I'm getting you home, Ken. Can you walk?"

Ken gulped down some more water, and stood on shaky legs.

"Atta boy." Bob encouraged. "Louise, see if you can help Gene to his room, got it?"

"Uggghhhh…" Louise drew out the longest groan. "Fiiine! C'mon Gene, get up already! Bedtime!"

She made a spirited attempt to tug him out of the booth by his arm, however he simply fell where gravity took him and remained an immovable mass on the floor.

"Just… try your best, Louise. Recruit whoever you need." Bob sighed, before bustling Ken outside. Next thing he knew, he'd been ushered into Bob's car.

He rested his burning forehead against the cool glass of the window. Bob started the car and vibrations pulsed through his head. It was almost comforting. As the car pulled away, Ken finally allowed himself a moment of relaxation.

Bob drove against a backlight of evening sunlight, burning a charcoal silhouette against the town. Occasionally he spoke, but Ken didn't always take it in. The words were slowly filtering into his mind like water through sand, but he couldn't muster the energy to answer or even comprehend them. The blurry expression on Bob's face grew slowly more concerned as the journey progressed.

Time slipped by in huge dollops. One moment it seemed like he and Bob were outside the restaurant, the next they'd left the town behind them, a blurry lattice of houses. Before he knew it, Fischoeder mansion had loomed out from beyond the horizon, and Frank the ostrich was busy trying to force his head through the gap in the window.

"Back! Get back!" Bob had decided that shaking his finger at the giant bird would do the trick. But Frank just blinked twice and continued his attack on the door.

"Ohh, godddd…!" Bob groaned, and resorted to beeping the horn. It might as well have been an air horn for the damage it was doing to Ken's ears, however it did what Ken presumed Bob wanted it to; it drew Calvin outside.

"Now what's this?" He muttered, stepping outside with what looked like a flamethrower in his hands. "Oh? Bob! And goodness, Ken! What on earth happened, boy?" Calvin crunched across the gravel, and flailed hands at his security ostrich. "Away with you, Frank. Bob is not a food or an intruder!" he paused. "…yet."

"What was… what was that you muttered under your breath, Mr Fischoeder?" Bob could finally step out of his car, and dashed around the front to help Ken.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Calvin dismissed him with a wave. "I think you should show more concern as to the state of my temporary dependee!"

"I don't know how it happened, sir. He just came back to the restaurant after hanging out with Gene for a while, then got all clammy and faint. Might be heatstroke or something I… guess."

"Nonsense, dear fool! He has clearly been influenced by your maladaptive spawn into eating filth! Look! He's foaming at the mouth!"

"He's just not feeling well, Mr Fischoeder. And don't say things like that about my kids, please."

"Semantics. We'll discuss your punishment later, Bob! In the meantime, perhaps you should go to bed, Ken. There will be no more tiny fruit for you tonight! Just a glass of water and a bedtime serenade!"

Ken found the strength to look his guardian in the eye. A serenade? Really?

"A-hah, perhaps not, then." Calvin looked a bit ashen. "That's the last time I take your advice, Felix. Perhaps a glass of water for you Ken, and a glass of schnapps for me!"

Calvin placed a hand on Ken's back, and led him into the mansion. "I'll take it from here, Bob. Return to your shack, if you will."

"…fine," Bob sighed. "I'll swing by tomorrow to see how you're doing, okay Ken?"

"There will be no swinging, Bob! I have a child present!" Calvin shut him down instantly. Ken didn't have the energy to unravel that argument. His feet were lead weights as he dragged them up the stairs, with Calvin following closely behind him. He couldn't help but feel grateful towards the man. After all, he was actually giving half a damn, and it didn't seem forced.

Ken managed to remove his shoes before falling into bed, but as far as the rest of his clothes were concerned, they were his pyjamas for the night. Calvin returned moments later to usher in an entire pitcher of water, accompanied by a tiny glass that held barely a mouthful of water.

"I apologise for the tiny glass, Ken," he said. "But it is rare that I have guests who wish to drink something that is not alcoholic! So if it pleases the court, and by the court I mean yourself Ken, please help yourself to as many virgin martinis as you can handle!"

There was another clank of china on wood, and Ken had to take a moment to process the plate of olives that Calvin had plonked onto his nightstand. Who actually ate olives? Anyone, ever?

Despite it all, Ken felt soothed. Calvin was doing a good job at taking care of him – even if it was this occasion only. He felt he should thank his impromptu guardian but the words wouldn't come. Instead he looked up at Calvin and smiled at him with as much strength as he could muster. The man returned him a sage nod and then ducked out of the room, leaving it bathed in the soft glow of dusk.

Ken gulped down a martini's worth of water and couldn't help but chuckle at the silliness of it all. As the water settled, along with his stomach, a pang of energy burst from somewhere deep within him. Had Calvin slipped something in his water? Some sort of medicine maybe? He inspected the rest for particles or cloudiness but found nothing.

Whether it was medicinal or just a genuine feeling of comfort, Ken didn't know. But at least he could look upon Calvin now and feel something a little closer to what he felt when he went to the Belcher's house. Was it just that? Feeling a shift in how he felt towards the eccentric old guy? He didn't know. But anything felt better than just wanting to throw up again. With a frown, he massaged his aching head. He was too tired for this. Things would be clearer in the morning.

Bundling himself up in the bedsheets, he buried his face in the pillow and allowed sleep to take him.


That thing was in his dreams again.

The dreams had always been bad. Worse than any night terrors he ever remembered having when he was younger. But now it was like they had gone up a gear all over again. Now the source of his fear had a face and it could chase him, with its rotting flesh and rattling breath.

One of the worst things about nightmares was the complete lack of control you had over your body. And this meant it was all too easy for it to catch up. No matter how he ducked and weaved, no matter how sly he thought he was, the creature seemed constantly on his tail. Something sharp slashed at his leg and he stumbled. The rotting fiend towered over him in seconds. It took in another deep, rattling the breath, the sound of it causing Ken's entire body to freeze. He searched the monster's face, looking for any shred of decency, any sense of humanity remaining in its grim caricature of a living person.

Ken's searching gaze instead found a pair of glowing, blood red eyes sunken in the monster's collapsing face. The creature stretched out its hands and pounced…

But nothing happened.

Ken suddenly felt as he was suspended in mid-air, limbs dangling uselessly by his side. Cold sweat dripped uncomfortably between the blades of his shoulders and settled at the base of his spine.

"Good evening."

He was awake now. He had to be. It took him a moment to realise where he was and he looked upon the hook nosed eccentric sitting opposite him with a note of gratitude. As strange as Igor was, at least he was nowhere near as scary as the monster.

"Do not be alarmed," Igor said. "I thought I would… pop in. See how you're doing. You're not sleeping well, it seems?"

Ken's heart was still beating tragically. His breathing came in such rapid hitches that he thought he would faint again if he didn't pull himself together. He was back in that Ferris wheel carriage again. Granted, not the best place in the world to be, but infinitely better than that nightmare. As he took in the familiar deep hued surroundings, he noticed that, curiously, the pitcher of water that Calvin had brought him was still there.

He could see farther out of the smeared windows now. The town that lay somewhere in the distance sat solemnly against the inky black. As he watched, the silhouettes of buildings seemed to warp and shift. Lights flickered on and off like candlelight fighting against a cold wind. It made Ken feel nervous although he had no idea why. Was it just his imagination – or were those buildings seeming closer?

Igor was still waiting for an answer, which Ken supplied in the form of a curt nod.

"So I thought," the man tapped his fingertips together. "Well, I suppose that is the issue with nightmares. Sometimes reality is far worse than anything the mind can conjure. But do not fret, dear boy! Perhaps you can make use of this curse, and unlock your true potential!"

Ken grimaced at him. What was this old guy on about? Exactly how could he make use of horrifying, gut wrenching nightmares?

As if he had read his mind, Igor chuckled. "Remember, Ken. No matter how awful your experiences may have been, you came back out alive. Others… were not so lucky,"

Ken's stomach turned. Igor's grin widened with the delivery of his last sentence. Who wasn't so lucky? The poor person that lay dead in the other side of that world? Or was Igor hinting at something much worse?

Igor snapped his fingers and Ken's vision began to fade, like white noise on a badly tuned TV. Words chimed in his head.

"Perhaps, you should listen to their stories…"


End of Chapter Stats

Your relationship with Calvin has grown stronger!

The Hierophant is now at Level: Two


Author Notes

Short and sweet chapter here! We had a choice of giving one far-too-long chapter or one short and one normal length chapter, so I elected to do it this way so nobody got too overloaded!

As such, the next chapter should be up really quite soon! Hopefully it'll be enjoyable and we can get this story properly kicked off!

See you next time!