Author's Note: I can't believe I finished this in a week. Here's an even longer chapter for you. Something's about to go down! And there are some new characters, too.
Warnings: Violence, Profanity.
Chapter 9: A Message in the Form of Will
The morning of the explosion…
B watched the woman escape the burning wreckage of the casino from his safe position across the street, where he was currently crouched by a dumpster. He'd known she would make it out alive; if she hadn't, he would not have considered her worth his time or effort.
Well, she had proved herself—somewhat.
But B found himself fuming with rage for another reason.
He was here. L.
No, it can't be. It's impossible! B must have been hallucinating—that, or the smoke from the fire was altering his vision. There was no way the infuriating detective could have come to Los Angeles so soon.
He should still be in England with the old man! B had not expected him to deduce where he was from the obscure note that he left him. If anything, he had expected him to be drawn to the east coast; that was what he had implied in his letter.
So how had he figured it out?
Impossible…
And what was even more impossible was who was beside the object of his hatred.
She was with him.
How had L managed to find the very same girl B had set his sights on? Was fate playing some sort of game with him? Had L been staying at Waterfront before B had even arrived?
The serial killer continued to glare heatedly at the man as the coughing woman pushed herself to her feet. The two conversed for a brief moment, then began walking away from the burning building.
B's blood boiled. Why are they together? Why is she going with him, of all people? He's a selfish, arrogant prick!
B noticed that his hands were shaking, and he took a deep breath, desperately attempting to calm himself down. He exhaled. There was nothing to worry about. A challenge, that was what all of this was. L may have ensnared his current target, but not all hope was lost. B could still win her back if he tried hard enough…
He would prove to her that he was the better one, that he was more trustworthy than that self-absorbed detective. Yes, this was perfect!
But how to begin?
Smirking ever so softly, B began tracking their movements down the street. He stayed far enough away from the pair to avoid being detected, but close enough to effectively deduce their direction.
They walked for a long time. So long, in fact, that by the time they made their way to an old condo, it was nearly dark already.
He peeked through the fence only after he saw them go into one of the rooms and close the door. B growled deep in his throat, dark jealously coursing through his veins. He held himself firm rather than attempting to burst into the room.
Well, at least I know where they are staying for the night. Now I can put my plan into action without fear of losing them.
B ventured onwards; he had become accustomed to the city, and was now familiar with how to get around. He opted to take a shortcut back to the fence, and jogged nearly the entire way.
As the lunatic careened through the streets, amidst a sea of vehicles and the austere beauty of the city's crumbling remains, he felt giddy with excitement.
Oh, how wonderfully everything is working out! His new plan was flawless. He was definitely going to outsmart L. The detective had made it so easy for him. By coming here (though it was very annoying of him to intrude on B's original plan), he was simply asking to be killed. Did he seriously think he could outsmart B on his own turf?
Of course, the killer knew not to underestimate him; many criminals had done that and paid a heavy price for it.
But I am different. I know L. I know how he works. All I have to do is keep to the shadows and stay out of sight. I always did like games. Maybe I'll drop him another clue? No, too risky. Maybe I'll just leave a little present for my new lady friend…
Finally, B arrived at his destination. Since he had been here last, the fence had hardly changed. It still sported a small gap, but was otherwise undamaged. The creeping hands of time had yet to take their toll.
Let's fix that, shall we?
B reached into the bag hefted over his shoulder and withdrew a pair of wire cutters. With unrestrained glee, he proceeded to hack and clip at the large fence, widening the hole until it was roughly the size of a person.
"Hey!" he shouted into the darkness. Only the sound of crickets answered him. "I know you're in there! You are free now, understand? Come out and play!"
"You! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" A booming voice came from behind B, and racing footsteps alerted him to danger.
A person? Oh, crap!
With that, the maniac did a full one-eighty and dashed back the way he had came, barely missing being grabbed by whoever had approached him. He did not have time to look at the intruder before he ran away.
As he dashed down the street, he barely registered the distant sound of a motorcycle rumbling to life.
B tried to be quiet as he jumped the fence of the old complex. He didn't want to alert L to his presence—not yet, anyway.
As quiet as a mouse, B approached the stairs—and immediately dived under them when he heard the sound of footsteps above him. His heart beat erratically as he listened to the dainty steps pause for a moment.
They started up again, but they sounded heavier—as though the detective were carrying something. Soon enough, B heard a door open and close, and he emerged from his hiding spot.
A close call. I wonder what he's found?
B crept up the stairs, not making a sound as he did so. He stopped at the door and reached into his bag, pulling out a jar of his favorite delicacy: strawberry jam.
My gift to you, Miss, B thought with a smile on his face. Please enjoy it. You too, L. Enjoy it while you can—you'll be begging for death soon enough.
B followed them the next day, until they reached a grocery store. Then, he waited. When it got dark, he went inside and looked over the destroyed interior, being careful to stay silent and ready to hide at a moment's notice.
There was no one around, as far as he could tell. Where were they?
His eyes scanned the entirety of the store until they landed on a green door that was slightly ajar. Are they in there? It might be a storage room…I should avoid going inside. I don't want to be seen at this point. I'll just let L think he's being followed….hehe, he'll be so preoccupied with that that he won't be prepared for what's coming….Well, I suppose I'll go wait outside until morning.
So B sat outside the store all night, nestled comfortably in an obscure alleyway as he contemplated his next course of action. He was certain that L had become suspicious that he was being tracked. If he was as perceptive as B remembered, then he would have taken notice of the strange circumstances of the explosion at Waterfront. After all, how often do all of the pipes in a building explode at once?
It was only a matter of breaking into the boiler room on the side of the building and filling the pipes with the water B had found in the chemistry lab. After that, he had simply dropped in a large amount of pure sodium metal and voila! A chain reaction large enough to disturb the entire building. The heating gas that was still dormant in the heaters had also served as a perfect catalyst for the explosion. The plan had worked out better than B could have ever imagined.
That had been step one—though at the time, it had only been a test for his lovely target. Now, things were much more interesting.
Step two had been the destruction of the fence. The jar of jam was step three—getting their attention. Though that one was flawed. Perhaps he needed to do something else to shake them up a bit more.
As the sun began to rise in the dawning sky, B heard a noise.
"Meow!"
An orange cat was staring at him from the entrance to the store, its wide eyes bright and curious.
B's face broke out into a wide grin. Perfect.
"Hello there, kitty," he cooed. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
L knew that Watari would be put off by the fact that he had deactivated the earpiece. However, he did not quite expect the man to call as soon as he turned the thing back on. It was a godsend that L had gone upstairs. If Emerson had been near him, she most likely would have heard the old man bellowing loudly into L's ear.
"Ryuuzaki!" Watari gasped, sounding as though he had just seen Jesus himself come down from Heaven. "Why on earth was your earpiece shut off?"
"I apologize, Watari. Emerson was sleeping and I did not want to risk waking her up if you called."
"Emerson?"
"The woman I am traveling with."
"I see. I had thought you may have been hurt or killed."
"Well, I am fine. In fact, I may have a lead."
"A lead? To our serial killer?"
"Not exactly." He neglected mentioning the fact that he was fairly certain he and Emerson were being followed. "There is a man—a radio host—who seems to me to be a possible asset. Since he had access to technology, I have deduced that he may have something that can be of assistance in locating B."
"A radar system?"
"Among other things. I know he is intelligent, and that is a good start."
"So do you no longer require the help of this 'Emerson?'"
L paused. "I need her to help me to get to the station. After that, she can do what she likes." He hesitated, then said, "Watari?"
"Yes?"
"Will you do me a favor?"
"…What is it?"
"I want you to look up the name 'Emerson' on the U.S. government's database of citizens. I do not believe that is her real name, but it is all I have aside from a physical description. She is a resident of Los Angeles, is twenty-six years of age, has dark brown hair and naturally brown eyes. She is of medium build and is, I believe, of Caucasian descent."
"Understood. Ryuuzaki, if you don't mind my asking, why do you want me to look all of that up? Is there something wrong?"
"No. I would simply like to know if she is keeping anything from me."
"Okay, Ryuuzaki." The older man sounded doubtful, but L held his tongue.
After a minute of almost complete silence (aside from the frantic clicking of fingers on a keyboard), Watari spoke up again.
"I believe I have found her, Ryuuzaki. I am pulling up a picture and statistics page now…it seems you are in luck. Emerson is not her first name, though it is a part of it."
"It's a last name?"
"No. A middle name. Her full name is Lana Emerson Turk. Birthdate October third, aged twenty six…She was born and raised in a suburban community in Los Angeles."
"Does she have any criminal history?"
There was another clicking sound. "Yes. When she was sixteen she was arrested at a house party for possession of marijuana. Her father picked her up downtown. No history of violent crime or theft."
"Her father?"
"Yes. Her family history shows three relatives: Dominic Palmer Turk, father…Abby Marilyn Garfield-Turk, mother…and Alfred Lake Turk, younger brother."
L started. Alfred…that's the other name she called out in her sleep. So he is her brother. No wonder she lashed out at me; he is probably dead.
"Is there anything else unusual about her, Watari?"
"Not as far as I can tell. Her medical records are normal, as are her employee records, although she was once fired for insubordinate behavior. There is nothing unusual about her—unless you consider her pastimes."
"Which are?"
"Mixed martial arts. She was even an amateur fighter at age nineteen, though she didn't make much money off of it."
That explains how she managed to land a hit on me, L thought, more than a bit surprised by this fun fact about his companion. At least she was not a criminal before any of this happened—though nearly everything she had done since then would almost definitely be grounds for incarceration. Still, L could not blame her. With their family dead and hometown destroyed, who wouldn't do absolutely anything to survive? She seemed, at least, to have some sort of conscience.
L could thank his lucky stars for that. Even if he did find their conversations at best egregious, she had not attempted to kill him in his sleep and had even been a comforting presence (though that last part he admitted begrudgingly).
After a few more minutes of updating Watari, L hung up.
For some reason, he felt…relieved. Was that what he was feeling? Why, though? Was it because he found out that Emerson—or Lana, as he had found out—truly was harmless? He had already suspected as such, but the thought that he did not really know anything specific about her past had irked him for an uncertain reason.
So is that what this is? A polite curiosity? Either way, he had finally found out who she was.
He was glad for it, too. He rather liked the name Lana. Emerson didn't suit her as well. Unfortunately, he would still have to call her that—to keep up appearances.
He distantly heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Emerson—Lana, he reminded himself—had finally awoken.
She emerged from the trapdoor, looking no worse for wear but still tired.
"Ryuuzaki?" she mumbled, brushing her tangled hair out of her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Talking to myself. I find that it often helps me put things into perspective."
"Weirdo. Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
"Yes. I took the liberty of putting some jars of vegetables and those delightful chocolate cream cakes in our bag."
"Good. We should get going, then."
"I was just waiting for you to get up. You sleep as though you are in a coma. I almost considered slapping you awake."
"Ha-ha. Very clever, Ryuuzaki. I'm sure all the girls you've dated loved that attitude."
She seemed to realize that she said something wrong, because Lana—as L now referred to her—suddenly looked sheepish.
L was confused. What had she said wrong? It wasn't as though they were dating. He had never dated a woman in his life.
In any case, they both had somewhere to be.
As the two of them walked out of the storage room and approached the entrance to the store, they immediately went on their guard.
"We have to be careful," Lana told him, "since a bunch of infected people may be out here somewhere. We need to—"
As the pair walked out the doors and turned towards the street, Lana gasped and paused mid-sentence, stiffening so suddenly in front of the detective that he nearly walked into her.
"Emerson?" he asked. "What is it?"
He stepped around her, and saw for himself why she had halted.
"Will," she whispered sadly, her hand over her mouth. The friendly orange cat was lying sprawled on his side, his once-silky fur dirty and matted with blood. His eyes were empty and sightless, his limbs limp and tilted at odd angles.
He was very much dead.
Even worse was the fact that there were visible bloody footsteps next to the body. They led to the street, but faded away at the sidewalk. L could not tell which direction they went in.
"Who would do this? It must have been one of the infected…"
L knew that she was wrong. He didn't know how, but something about this just felt…suspicious. It was as though someone had planted Will there for them to see…
…and L had a fairly good inkling of who.
It was a message.
See what I'm doing? Do you think you can catch me, L?
"No," he said aloud. "It's too perfect. It's like he was placed here for us to see."
"By who? What kind of sick freak…?"
She turned to look at him slowly. "Ryuuzaki…you don't think it's him, do you?"
"I don't have concrete proof, but I would say that there is at least a five-point-six percent chance that B is responsible for this."
"That's not a lot."
"If you had my experience, you would know that is a substantial probability. But even if it's not B, it's clear we are being targeted."
"Why would he let us know that? Wouldn't he want to catch us off guard?"
"You don't know B. He enjoys playing games with people, and leaving hints. He is very crafty…we need to keep our eyes open, Emerson. Knowing B, he has another plan in mind. I'm guessing it's got something to do with the hole in that fence."
L heard her swallow. "Got it. Let's be extra careful, then. Eyes on the prize." She reached into her pocket, and her fingers pulled something out. A switchblade knife, in all its deadly glory.
Huh. So she really could have stabbed me in the back last night. It's a bit ironic.
But as far as escorts go, she is probably the most trustworthy one I can find.
As they began their trek to find Stripes, Lana was aggravated.
At Will's murderer, but also at Ryuuzaki's attempt to speak with her.
Not even twenty minutes into their walk, the raccoon-eyed man had decided to ask her another question. To say the least, she was irritated.
"What happened to your eye?"
Wow. He really does know how to push my buttons. This guy deserves a prize. "Why do you care?"
In truth, that particular aspect of Lana's life had become so commonplace that it hardly bothered her anymore. She had dissociated her appearance from the death of her family—which was another reason why Takada's probing had irked her so much. It had brought up bad memories.
"It's not that I care. I merely have a polite curiosity. I didn't mean to offend you."
Lana relented, letting out a guilty sigh. "I'm not offended, Ryuuzaki. I know it's gross."
A phantom pain shot through her eye. "I got slashed with a knife. That's it."
"I see. Was it an iron knife?"
"Why the hell does that matter?"
"Because of the color. Eyes don't turn that rusty blue from just any knife."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm assuming you were not naturally born with two different colored eyes. I have solved cases involving people whose eye pigment has been altered due to an injury. Specifically, a puncture wound often caused by iron weapons. Do you know what ocular siderosis is?"
Lana shook her head, now mildly curious.
"It's an eye condition caused by the introduction of foreign substances, most notably iron. The particles can concentrate in the eye and also change the color through the process of oxidation. That's why your eye looks rusty and clouded."
"So that's what I have. Huh. I never knew. Piper was a nursing student, but she hadn't gotten her degree yet. Maybe she never learned about it." She looked towards the sky. "I guess it's nice to know. To be able to put a name to it. Makes it seem a lot less cool, though."
Ryuuzaki looked at her strangely, but Lana spoke up before he could say anything. "How do you know all of that, though? Are you an FBI agent or a doctor?"
"I never said I was an FBI agent."
Lana whipped around, a horribly confused look on her face. "What the hell are you talking about? I thought you said you worked with Agent Misora!"
"Yes, but that does not mean I am an agent. I am more of a detective. I have amassed knowledge in a variety of subject areas."
"What the fuck, Ryuuzaki? You should at least be honest about your job! How am I supposed to trust you?"
"I should be asking you that, Emerson. You haven't been very forthcoming about your past."
"That's because it doesn't matter. I'm helping you. I'm sticking my neck out on the off chance that you keep your promise to me! What, do you think it's easy for me to trust some dude with weird hair and eye makeup with my life? You could at least tell me what your job is. This could all be bullshit!"
"I do not wear eye makeup. And if you believe that, why don't you walk away?"
Lana's eyes narrowed. "You know I can't do that."
"And why not? I'm sure there are plenty of old grocery stores for you to raid."
"Please just shut up before I kill you. You would totally die without me."
"So now you are threatening me? If you want to attack me, be my guest. I would enjoy another opportunity to have a one-on-one match with you."
His calm tone was infuriating. Lana couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not, but she snickered anyway. "Whatever, Ryuuzaki. It's always so difficult with you. You're so damn serious. It's bizarre."
"So are you."
"How am I bizarre?"
"You claim to be unemotional, yet you anger at the slightest provocation. You contradict yourself."
"No I don't!"
He ignored her; he seemed to be on a roll. "Are you sure that you are unemotional, or is that just what you would like to believe?"
"Goddammit! I give up! You know what, Ryuuzaki? Fine. You win. I'm just some whiny, hypocritical bitch with anger issues. From now on I'll just keep my mouth shut and you can go on being a narcissistic asshole. That sound good?"
"You should not call yourself that."
His quiet tone startled her; Lana had been expecting him to retaliate. "What?"
"You should not belittle yourself by using such a callous word. That is not what you are, even if you do act like it on occasion."
Lana thought he would yell at her—or at least agree with her sarcastic self-evaluation. But…
Is he trying to reassure me?
"Why aren't you fighting back? I just called you an asshole, in case you didn't notice."
"For some reason, arguing with you is not altogether unpleasant. But I find myself disgruntled by you calling yourself such a harsh word. I don't particularly like cursing."
His eyes flitted over to her, the dark orbs seeming to really be seeing her in that moment. For the first time, Lana felt as though he were staring into her soul. A prickling sensation traveled all over her skin, and she felt a flush creep onto her face.
"Well, thanks for your concern…I guess."
The two walked in silence for a few more minutes, with Lana pondering what he had just said to her. He didn't like that she called herself a bitch, even if she was being sarcastic (and had called him names on several occasions).
Why? Did he just not like obscene language?
Yeah, that has to be it. It's not like we're friends or anything. We tolerate each other. That's all it is.
Lana was very good at denial.
"Ryuuzaki…" she began tentatively, but paused in her tracks. Her eyes snapped up and her head tilted to the side. "You heard that too, right?" she whispered, her muscles tensing.
"Yes." The detective looked around warily, his features cold and calculating.
Lana had heard something in the distance. It had come from behind them…
The pair slowly turned around, and stared confusedly at the figure behind them. He—or she, Lana added—was still fairly far behind, but was clearly following. They seemed to be injured, their shambling gait stopping them from going any faster. Their head was lowered, their body swathed only in the dirtiest rags imaginable.
Lana's heart seized in her chest. "Ryuuzaki," she whispered, fear lacing its way into her very bones, "we have to run. Now."
She grabbed the man's arm, pulling on it slightly to get his attention.
He looked over at her. "Do you know them?"
She shook her head, adrenaline beginning to pump through her veins. "No. It's one of them. It's one of the infected."
With that, she turned and started running, pulling Ryuuzaki along with her. She had thought the man would trip, but he was remarkably light on his feet. The two raced down the sidewalk, air whipping at their skin and clothes.
The figure gave a low growl from behind them, voicing its frustration with its escaping prey.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Lana mumbled as she tried to pump her legs harder. "All of these buildings are boarded up! How are we going to get out of this?!"
"We'll have to find a place that is not," Ryuuzaki said. "If we just—"
As they darted past a corner, a figure dove at them, interrupting the pale detective.
Snarling and spitting, the woman latched onto the man's arm, her rabid face coated with a thick layer of blood and grime that splattered from her mouth as she hissed at them.
"Ryuuzaki!" Lana cried, grabbing the man and pulling him backward.
The woman stayed attached as she clutched his leg instead, even as she fell to her stomach on the cement. Lana didn't have time to warn Ryuuzaki when she saw the deadly glint of the knife—
Just as it was sunk deeply into his thigh.
Lana screamed in terror and fury as she dove in front of her wounded companion, kicking the sick woman's hand away. She heard a sickening crack as the blonde howled in pain, rolling to her side as she clutched her broken wrist. Lana kicked her in the side for good measure before turning back to the injured man.
His eyes were wide, his mouth open in a silent cry even though the expression in his orbs revealed to Lana his true agony. She managed to catch him before his leg gave out, and threw his arm around her neck just as he had done for her.
She began hobbling with him as fast as she could, trying to cross the car-filled street at a much slower pace than before. Lana could hear the woman trying to crawl after them—but she also heard something else.
Shuffling footsteps and low growls permeated the air, and Lana looked up in horror.
All around them, in every direction, were infected people. There had to be at least fifteen of them, some with broken limbs who were stumbling as if drunk, others who were almost naked. One old woman was moving faster than the rest, her torso bare and wrinkly breasts sagging and bloody.
No, no, no! We're totally fucked! How am I going to…?
Suddenly, she saw it. Across the street there was an alleyway that led to an obscure back street. It was a long shot, but it was their only chance.
She began dragging herself and Ryuuzaki over to the alley, her sandals scraping roughly against the asphalt. Her companion tried to help her, his uninjured leg hopping with her steps. Still, they were moving much too slowly for Lana's liking. She could see that the sickos were fast approaching.
If they didn't lose some weight, they were almost certainly going to die.
"Emerson," she heard Ryuuzaki's voice strain slightly. "You should leave me behind. Take the bag. I have a…"
She didn't let him finish. "Hell, no. I'm not leaving you here, Ryuuzaki. I can't do this on my own."
"If you don't let go of me, we will both die."
"If I let you die here alone, I'd never…" I'd never forgive myself. "I'd never get back home. Besides, you saved me once. I'm just returning the favor. An eye for an eye, right?" She grunted, hitching Ryuuzaki's weight over her shoulder again. He was starting to feel heavier.
"Even if you save me, I'm as good as dead anyway. I'm losing too much blood."
"Stop trying to give up! Stay with me, Ryuuzaki!"
The two had made it past the alley and reached a chain-link fence that ran along a perpendicular street. A dumpster sat just around the corner, and Lana nearly sobbed in relief. Hope crested in her heart; she had an idea.
It wouldn't stop their pursuers, but it would buy them some time.
As gently as she could, the woman set Ryuuzaki down against the brick wall, and began pulling on the giant wheeled trash bin. The groans and screams of the infected got closer; they were almost here.
"Come back here!" a male voice shrieked, unnerving Lana further. "Don't try to get away from me, bitch!"
She could faintly hear the sounds of some of them fighting and tearing at each other, and she tried to block it out; a few of them were still heading towards Lana and Ryuuzaki.
But she was ready.
As soon as they came around the corner, Lana yelled a battle cry, shoving the dumpster forward with all of her strength. There were several dull thuds as the metal bin mowed them all over, and cries of anger and agony filled her ears fit to bursting.
The dumpster completely blocked off the entire pathway, and Lana sighed in relief—but began to panic once again as she ran over to Ryuuzaki's slouched form.
His chin was resting on his chest, and the blood pooling under his impaled leg almost convinced Lana that he was dead.
"Don't die on me, Ryuuzaki." Her voice shook as she once again picked the detective up. His body was nearly limp now, the blood loss making it difficult for him to stay upright.
But he was still conscious. His head bumped against hers, his nose pressing against her neck as his eyelids fluttered. He was somehow even paler than he was already, and his breath was becoming shallower.
"Please leave me behind, Emerson."
"Ryuuzaki?"
"Yes?"
"Shut the fuck up for once, and let me save you. I won't leave you behind. I won't leave anyone else to die. I'll kill myself first. I can't…I can't do it again…"
Soon enough, the pair had managed to hobble towards a large building that was separated by the fence. It was huge and old, its imposing stature made up of aged gray brick. There was a white sign on the fence. Although it had been chipped and weathered away by time, Lana could still make out the words. Parkerville Warehouse flashed at Lana though the dirt that was painted on it.
Parkerville? That's the old clothing warehouse next to the factory. We should be safe in there, if there are no sick people in it. But how can we get in?
Lana searched frantically for something, anything, that would allow them to get inside. But the fence was solid; there were no holes or lesions that she could see, and the gate beside them was chained shut and locked. No matter how many times she tried to jimmy it, the gate wouldn't budge.
Please open! She begged desperately.
Lana didn't believe in God—she never had, especially after what had happened—but now it seemed that all she could do was pray and hope that someone or something would save her and Ryuuzaki. The dumpster would not hold the infected people back forever; it was more of a stalling tactic than anything else. Even now, the terrified woman could hear the metal trash bin squeaking as their pursuers pushed against it, hissing out death threats and obscenities.
"Dammit!" Lana croaked out, stumbling down the walkway in search of another entrance.
Ryuuzaki was barely conscious, his feet nearly dragging against the ground and causing her to trip up every few steps. They were nearly to the end of the alley. Another gate stood several feet in front of them, locked just as tightly as the one they had already passed.
Breathing heavily and with sweat rolling down her face, Lana turned around and stared at the dumpster. It was shifting and twitching as the infected rammed their weakened bodies into it, but none had gotten around it yet.
Then, with dawning horror, Lana glimpsed a bony hand reach over the top. Another followed, and with a loud grunt, a man made his way onto the lid.
One of the sick was climbing over.
His face was gaunt and horrific as he stared Lana down, his eyes hazy and filled to the brim with unimaginable anger that caused her blood to freeze. His hair was a tangle of wires that fell past his shoulders, and his unshaven face become visible as he landed on his knees in front of the dumpster. He pushed himself up slowly, and in Lana's mounting fear she saw him as a skeleton, a lifeless husk of what was once a human being.
"Shit!" she said out loud, her limbs paralyzed and refusing to move.
But where could she go? She had reached a dead end, and her only companion was currently bleeding out all over the ground. There was no one around to help them.
They were both going to die.
Lana had exhausted every option available to save them both, but it had not been enough.
Still, she had never been one to give up.
There was only one thing left for her to do, and it was as dangerous as it was possibly helpful. Danger had never stopped her before, though.
With her mind a blank slate and with the sick man lumbering towards her and the man she was carrying on her shoulder, Lana did the only thing she could.
She opened her mouth, and screamed.
"Help us!"
He was alone.
He was always alone, ever since his parents had left and never returned. Thankfully, they had left most of the food behind; every time they had gone out scouting, they only took the bare minimum.
We'll only be gone a few days, they would say. Be a good boy, and don't go outside, okay?
So he hadn't. Even after a whole week had passed—the longest time they had ever been gone—he never went out to look for them. He was only too aware of the things that lurked outside in the darkness. He had been taught to play it safe after a life of growing up the way he had. He hardly even remembered what life was like before the monsters had come.
This made it easy to stay cooped up inside.
It had been, by his estimates, around a year since his parents had disappeared. It couldn't have been longer than that, because he had been keeping track of the canned food that remained.
What a calm year it had been, too. He had really gotten to know himself, even if he had forgotten what his own voice sounded like. He hadn't had any human contact in all of that time.
Ironically enough, though, he had gotten used to it. Now, the thought of touching another human was aversive to him. He much preferred toys.
Currently, he sat on the floor in his room. An old puzzle sat in front of him, some of its pieces scattered on the floor around it. He had done it hundreds of times, but it never got boring to him. Even the completed image—a stark white background with his initial in one corner—was still satisfying to him. Repetition was comforting to the boy.
He was about to complete his puzzle for the six hundred and fifty-sixth time when he heard something—a noise he thought he would never hear again.
A woman was screaming.
"Help us!" she cried, her voice high and terrified. "Someone, please help!"
'Us?' Is she not alone?
The pleas for help were coming from outside.
Mildly curious, the boy got up and went outside, the light of day making him squint in pain. From within the fence, he could see two strangers.
One was the woman whom he presumed had been screaming, and the other was a man—but he was slouched over, his limp form hanging off of the dark-haired woman's side.
A monster was coming after them—and from the sounds of angry grunts and yelling, there were more coming.
He never imagined that he would see people again; he was tempted to just ignore it and go back to doing his puzzle. Then he remembered something that his parents had said to him about not trusting strangers, but his gut was telling him not to listen to them.
Sighing, he approached the gate behind them and took out the key that his parents had given him before they left.
Lana had screamed her voice raw. No one was coming; the man was edging closer and closer.
This was it. They really were going to die here. There was nothing else that she could do.
"I'm sorry, Ryuuzaki," she whispered aloud, staring down at the infected man.
At least she could go down fighting.
"Over here."
Dumbstruck, Lana stiffened.
Was that a…a voice?
She turned around, and nearly fainted.
Behind the gate stood a young boy. He couldn't have been more than twelve; he was small and slight, dressed in pale blue pajama pants and a white shirt that matched his shaggy, stark white hair.
He stared at her, and she saw him clutching a set of keys in his hand.
"It's open. Come inside quickly so they go away."
Lana didn't need to be told twice. She nearly sobbed in relief as she pulled Ryuuzaki through the gate with her—just as the infected man reached out and grabbed a handful of air from the place where she was previously standing.
The boy slammed the gate closed on his head, knocking him backwards as he released a bloodcurdling scream of fury. The boy relocked the gate expertly and turned to face Lana, his features expressionless.
The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments as Lana tried to regain her bearings. This boy had saved her and Ryuuzaki?
She opened her mouth to express her gratitude, but the boy beat her to it. When he spoke, his voice was air.
"We should go inside."
I had to bring him in. Who doesn't love Near?
Don't forget to review!
-Vicious Ventriloquist
