The fence. There'a something valuable past that fence.
The rangy grass I was concealed under was starting to invade my personal space the longer I hid in them. Pointy cusps softly pricked my clothing and skin that was exposed due to my mangled clothing. I was a mess, there was no point in debating over it.
"Blessed nailed buried eaten. Blessed nailed buried eaten. Blessed nailed buried eaten. Blessed nailed buried eaten."
Knees wobbling under my weight, my bones trembling under the mercy of the freezing winds as another gush swept over the area. Grass rustled as I felt the air skim against my lips, cementing them harder into the likes of the petrified chills traveling through this forest.
The only noticeable way to get past the fence was to go through the gate, the only space absent of brimming barbed wire. It was fortunately left wide open, but my problems arose from the cultist situated right in the middle of the frame. His figure was brightly illuminated by a bonfire behind him churning hot inferno out to its surroundings. I quietly shuffled along to the other side, trying to have a better look at the structure, looking for a gap. Anything that could distract him. There was nothing I could throw, nothing I could use to distract him. Sneaking up behind him was also out of the dilemma. Maybe if I climbed up the barbed wire REALLY slow, would that work?
No fucking way. He'd see that, and jam his machete up my ass. My mind felt distant, my legs soupy. I was on the point of collapse by the time I finished my slow trek over to the other side, where the fence extended no longer and was replaced by stone walls. It didn't matter, they both stopped from getting over to the other side. The area was completely blocked off, forcing me to descend onto a halt as I stumbled upon a couple of shale slides lined up together, separated only by boulders set deep into the soil. No way I can climb up them. Way too steep.
Shit. Keep light on your feet, be aware of your surroundings at all times, and above all else, survive.
I retreated back towards the fence, my mind fully intent on finding some way to get past it. There has to be a way, there just has to. This can't be it! I can't just get stuck here, not after all I've endured. I need to make that cultist go away somehow. Maybe expose myself and have him chase me, loop him around the area and clear it through the gate. Or straight up charge at him with my weathered machete and hope to come out on top.
Or not at all.
The twigs underneath my feet crunched up as my boots dug into them, my attention more focused on the tree trunk knocked over from its root and left afloat on the ledge beside the fence. My eyes followed where it led to, up to a safe haven where I could get across without bothering with the fence. Looks stable enough to stand on, if I'm careful.
Labored breathing pressed through the drone of the campfire, twigs lining the trunk snapped from their roots and fell onto the ground as I felt my chances of slipping through unnoticed dwindling down with each crackle. Did the guard have a flashlight? I doubt I was concealed very much this high up. Once he saw me, that was it. He would pick out the odd sounds given the contrast to the persistent silence. I breathed a soft whine as I strayed my gaze away from my feet, almost relieved when I saw that the platform wasn't much farther ahead. I was trying to focus on my footing, one wrong movement, and I could lose my balance and plummet all the way down to the ground. Skull shattered.
I watched my shadow develop larger and larger before my legs finally came upon solid land as my boots crushed into the soil, creating footprints after my trail. The platform was barren of anything useful, only my momentary means in order to reach what the fence kept hid. Only a tree log left standing in my path, the only obstruction between me and Laird. They should be on the same side as me now, seeing as they made their way through the fence much like me. The only question is, how far away did they go?
Timber whined as I hopped over the fragile wood, left behind as I focused on what was in front of me. The end of the platform, absent of any kind of ground. The fog was making it difficult to see, but I could make out the rippling waves of a pond below as I peered over the ledge, reflections of the moon light mixed in with the blue.
Shit, it's a long way down. I'll injure myself if I don't land the right way. Head first is definitely a no-go, a belly flop isn't too easy on the body either. Landing feet first might be the best approach if I plan on living any further. I'm sure this place would be a nice location to set up a camp with your friends in the evening, before the zealots took over. They used the water to dump their excrements, used the land for wooden huts reeking of unimaginable filth, like a disease. They won't be cured from their 'sins.' They are what they fear. What they see as evil. The effort they're going through in order to cure themselves will only end in failure, and they'll realize all of their efforts still didn't stop microorganisms from wearing down their bodies piece by piece. That alone put my mind at ease.
I exhaled my last breath and braced myself for the fall before I let myself down, ripping through air like an elegant bird before splashing violently into the water, letting myself submerge deep in its confines until my feet made contact with the mushy soil beneath, and thrusting myself upwards, above the surface. The crows must've been spooked, I made out their distressed chatter as they scrambled away from my pitiful attempt at landing on a body of water.
That odd copper residue settled in my mouth as usual, probably from the water I accidentally swallowed. Not a single inch of this hellish desert is clean, my immune system has to be fighting World War 1 at this point. The pond wasn't very deep, fortunately. The water only effected down my chest, which removed the need for swimming up to the shore, a quality that I fully welcomed.
I stopped and listened when I heard something that sounded like footsteps. Maybe labored breathing, I couldn't be sure. I stood there motionless, staring at the enormous shape emerging from behind a set of boulders, donning something on his back.
Laird!
I felt the vibrations of the liquid as I dove underwater, staggering backwards and almost inhaling the filthy drink before pinching my nose. The amber illumination was only a second late as it descended on my position, intently scanning the surplus ripples formed after my plunge. Fuck. Here?! I thought they were gone! I tried my best to keep myself from floating upwards, where there was certain death. They had me in a chokehold. The moment I dipped my head back out, there was no doubt I'd receive an arrow straight into my face. My only chance is to keep still, hope they lose interest. Lungs, don't fail me now. Please.
"Do you need to make water, Nick? I can hum if you're feeling bashful."
The voice was muffled, but I was certain it was Laird, The lantern swayed towards the other side of the pond, away from where I was. Just leave, there is nothing in this pond. Leave! My thoughts hitched as I tried to focus on holding my breath, but the task was more difficult than it seemed.
"We all hear the voices. Come on, our Messiah is waiting for us."
My vision was starting to fade, the world slowly imbuing with blackness. My lungs ached, or was that my ribs? Both. The voices around me began to trail off, the sound in my ears the only thing to keep me company. It's not water, more like something metal churning in the confines of another metal. It doesn't make sense, but I know that sound exists in my head. The constant drone. The static. It's like a song you can't stop humming. I rub my eyes, but all I see is madness. Born from the ashes of something once normal. It's not right, it's not wrong. It's there. The sound, it exists because it exists. Nothing more than another remnant of my remaining psyche.
"I'll hurt you if I must, Nick. Let's go."
Fuck me, they're still there. The lantern swerves over to my position as the lack of my breathing catches up to me, gurgling as I fight over my survival. My jaw is locked tight, I feel rot seeping into my skin. I didn't want to dwell on the number of corpses that must've decomposed down here, left for vultures to pick apart. I don't have much time before I become one of them. I didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about any of these questions that needed answers. My only concern was Lynn's survival, the rest were utterly meaningless.
And mine, I guess.
After what felt like an eternity, the lantern that was in Nick's grasp finally flicked off, now safely tucked away on his waist. Either he satisfied his curiosity, or he forgot what he was looking for. They both faced away from the pond and began towards the woods surrounding us, leaving me to my own in this area. All manner of different sounds rushed to my ears all at once as I thrust myself upwards, free from the limits of the pond, no immediate danger in the area anymore. I was gasping unrestrained by the time the usual scent of the forest settled into my nose, slowly renewing my resolve back to its full potential. I was fine as long as I was careful, they couldn't outrun me. I doubt Laird is much of a good shot during a chase.
I was a jumbling mess by the time I reached the shore, stumbling forward and barely holding onto a nearby branch to keep myself from toppling onto the ground. God, my ribs. That was close. I didn't need to get more beat up than I already was. My hands were shaking, I took a trembling breath in order to calm my frayed nerves, but it didn't help at all.
Keep it together. I'll get through this. I need to. Goddamn vultures, how many corpses did you pick over? The pond had served its function, I took zero notice in it as I focused on what was in front of me. It was a lone wooden hut, complete with a campfire nearby and fences on either sides to block any trespassers trying to go through.
No way but inside. Something about this seemed off, much of the same that clung to this place. A lot I didn't understand and what I did get still made no sense. The handle turned loosely in my hand as I pulled the door back, my hand didn't let go as I closed it after me. Inside wasn't much spacious, one part of the room embedded in darkness while the other part was illuminated by a lantern situated on the circular table. I wasn't too keen on searching for resources anymore, now that my camera was lost. Batteries were of no use, the same thing went for weapons. My machete was more than enough, so unless one of them smuggled in a hunting rifle with them, they were staying where they were.
Two bandages. They'll do. I quickly unfastened the leather pouch left for abandonment on top of a counter and salvaged the pair of bandages inside. They went in my breast pockets, filling the space where my batteries used to be. The other side of the room turned out to be empty as I wavered the lantern over there, placing it on the other side of my waist for later use.
No windows. The only room I hadn't explored was concealed behind a set of curtains, dangling on the frame of what was supposed to be a door. I wasted little time before I pushed them aside, clearing way for the small room left unexplored. It was another circular table, a few bowls of expired corn left to rot in the furthest corner. I scanned the wooden walls for an exit out of this house, something like a window which I could bust open. In the corner of my vision was a light source reflecting onto the walls and the table it was on, but I quickly brushed it off to be the red candles doing their work.
But it was blue, and the candles weren't even on fire.
I paused to stare, dumbfounded at how this was possible. I blinked, but it didn't change what was there. My camera! Right there, not more than a feet away. Left on blue screen. I dithered for a moment, debating if I should even pick it up. It was obvious Laird left it there, but I didn't know if he was done with it. What if they change their minds and just off me without hesitating? They'll find someone else to be their Messiah, and I'll be dead.
No, I need my camcorder. It was like reuniting with an old friend that I thought was lost forever. Such a strong feeling for an inanimate object, but the event was still significant. The black casing felt just like the day I bought it, even though it was a bit cold. I'm glad to have you back, buddy. I gently picked it up, fitted my finger under the visor and flipped it open. All the functions still worked, night vision and the microphones were in good working order. There was a spare battery left on the counter that I quickly snatched into my possession and stashed in my pocket for later use. The power was almost out, but it'd hold out for a bit. I slowly propped it up to my eyes, ignoring the thunderous buzzing in my head giving me a mild headache.
No.
The image fizzles out, distorts into something incomprehensible, and whirls back to life. The static. It scratches at the edge of my peripheral and drags through my vision. I blink and I'm somewhere else entirely, distracted by the itching images forming in my vision. Hot pain slithers through the back of my head to my eyes, I feel something familiar creeping up to my skull.
I'm back.
The windows are bright. Too bright. I take subtle notice in the trees lacking their foliage, mixing along nicely with the joyful snow that is falling down to the earth. I'm here again, the place that represents my fear of the past. Saint Sybil School, we meet again.
The cafeteria, or what remained of it. Much of the tables had been removed or shoved into the walls, something I took great interest in. I keep coming back earlier. It was Loutermilch who did this, chased us through here. It happened so fast, I was trying to keep myself and her safe, while also trying to avoid him. It was all a blur back then, something my kid mind wouldn't care for. Things change, like people. I don't know what happened to Loutermilch, maybe he regrets what he's done, maybe he doesn't. Doesn't change the fact that he's an asshole, but a small part of me hopes that is the truth.
I trudge forward, towards a small sheet of paper left in isolation on one of the tables. It's another hangman puzzle, a failed one. The stickman is dead. She's dead. I'm the player.
D_N_T . L_T . M_ . G_
Don't let me go. The paper is crumpled, torn. I recalled my last round of hangman with Jessica and Lynn, how it felt to hold her arm while she laughed. I'd give anything to go back to that moment again, my last truly happy moment in this evil world. I'm losing my grip on things. I need to assemble my sanity back together, or else I'm going to lose Lynn too.
There must be an exit out of here. The bright neon EXIT signs pulsed erratically, absent of any specific order. A few vending machines lined the wall closer to the tray rail, behind them were large canisters of food among other provisions. What sparked my interest was the tree painting on the wall directly across from the food preparation area, a cross right in the middle of the trunk. I always imagined this thing turning 3D when I was a kid, its roots sprawling out from the wall it was on and wrapping around my neck. The image was always vivid, and I hated thinking about it. I'd always sit in the seats facing away from the painting, getting a confused eyebrow every once in a while. The truth is, I was a weird kid.
I flicked on the night vision, squinting my eyes in order to get used to the green hue taking up all of my vision. It was good to have my camera back, even though I felt its weight sink into my pouch and the fact that it made me feel heavier than before. I'll get used to it though, hopefully.
The main exit out of the cafeteria was thankfully open, so no crawling in vents or anything like that. Just me, and the exit. In the hallway was a single TV on top of a rolling table. I inched closer to have a better look, but was promptly interrupted as gargantuan veins of crimson zoomed across the hallway. I thought I saw something run past the intersection, but that thought swiftly hitched as my back collided against the floor. All of the air built up in my lungs in that moment violently bursted out of my chest as dots soaked my vision, the pain in my ribs too much to endure anymore.
Fuck. I wasted little time before getting my legs under me, dusting off my zipped up jacket like a bad habit. I didn't know what kinds of fucked up shit lurked deep inside my mind, and I had no interest in finding out. Just need to trigger something that'll knock me out of my haze. I took the time to shoot a glance at the TV as I cleared the hallway towards the intersection, revealing the monitor to be deactivated. It wasn't attached to any power outlets, so I don't know what I expected.
The right corridor was a dead end, just a set of duo doors blocking my passage. Down the other hall was an open doorway I carefully invited myself through, past some lockers lining the cement walls. The edges of the doorframe were jagged, partially exposing the wood hidden behind the white paint. 101 B, I remember this classroom. It was unused and creepy, at least to us kids back then. So that naturally inspired some rumors about a ghost that was living inside the classroom, how it sucked the souls of any students that 'dared' to wander inside. I believed it all, and never went in, until it was revealed that the classroom had an infestation problem and they fixed it. Some small renovations later, and 101 B transformed into your generic classroom.
Weird how I remember that.
The lights above had failed in this room. The chairs were upturned over the desks, much like any other classroom in these waking dreams. I was utterly alone, devoid of anyone to keep me company. The visor flickered as I turned the NV back on, taking a moment to adjust to the new brightness level as I set it to default. The eerie tapping of droplets somewhere else in the edifice was the only thing preventing the whole building from going silent. The cool draft breezing into the room from the ventilation shaft took a while to settle into the classroom, my lost thoughts ground together as I noticed another hangman puzzle left on the desk.
S_FF_ . TH_ . CHILD_N
Suffer the children. Distant memories of Knoth's instructions flashed into my vision. It all sounded too similar to his cause, locate the Antichrist by killing all infants that were birthed from their mothers. But he can't be related to this. He can't be. This is the one thing I hope he never sticks his foul mouth into.
Stupid camera! I was caught surprised as the image whirred out of focus, colorful glitches fizzling into the visor before spazzing back into the NV. Each time the camera did this, my heart accelerated. I was fearful that it would suddenly shut down when I needed it the most.
Wiping the moisture off my face, I retraced my steps back out the open doorway as I stood before the next corridor, the only direction provided. Echoes created by the tiled cement underneath my ragged boots still put me at unease whenever I focused on them. It was like a phobia, fear of that one odd sound that breaks the deathly silence. My nerves are too high strung, this can't be good for my therapist bills.
I ignore the duo doors branching into a whole new corridor as I continue onwards, past the school projects hung up on the walls and into an office on my left. The door groaned as I pushed it open, my camera clutched tight into my chest if I needed to have it up and running quickly. Another priest working station, clunky metal wardrobes set looming in the furthest corner. There aren't any computers on the desks, only mindless paperwork and manila folders set under lamps. I step closer to have a better look, but something is not right.
The lights are flickering.
My mind is too slow to catch up. The door behind me slams shut, the fluorescent lights overhead go out in unison, and then whirl back to life as they uncover pools of crimson goo seeping into the room through the cracks in the ceiling. They are traveling along the walls, trying to reach for me through the floor. My feet are dragging me backwards without my approval, I have no time to comprehend before my back collides against a wall and smooths along to the floor.
What is happening to me? Am I going insane? This doesn't make sense. Nothing in this fucking place makes sense. Ever since I came here... The only thing left for me to do is silently cower in the corner and pray to any small minded deity that might be listening for me and Lynn's safety.
I just want to go home.
Recorded
"You let me share my bliss with the children, who may be able to take my bigger talents and turn them into glory."
Still garbled. I shut off the camera as I listen to the raspy clatter emanating from the ceiling, or from inside my ears. They're all coming from the same place, depends on how I interpret it. I don't want to get up. I don't want to keep moving. It's all too much work, and I'm exhausted. I need rest for my weary soul. It would be so easy to give up, and hand myself to the grasp of death. Committing suicide seems wise while in this place, I don't blame anyone for doing it. I'm going on for you, my love. Hold on, we still have much to live together. Our first child, getting old together. These are all funny notions to entertain, but ultimately unattainable. Not just here, but after this? I'm not going to be normal once I get out. I brought my hand down and stared at the crimson bandage wrapped around my gaping injuries. I can't move my damn fingers without feeling the pain dug into me by those nails, fraying what remained of my nerves. I think I smelled awful, my clothes were covered in guts and injuries, Syphilis and Gonorrhea already reproducing inside my body, growing numerous with each second that ticked, and ticked, and ticked.
But none of that mattered. I have been submerged in death and pain for too long. I was going to free my wife and get out of here. No demonic cult was going to stop me, not before I gave my life to the cause.
The door clicked as I rattled it open, taking timid steps out into the corridor as I pushed it shut behind me. No way to proceed but through the duo doors I dismissed earlier. The corridor ahead was sparse in lighting, but the camera battery was about to drip its last contents. I produced my last battery out from my breast pocket and inserted it into the battery port. The power meter jumped back to full capacity as the visor increased in brightness, illuminating the hallway ahead with great faculty.
I was drawn like a moth to the only light source available in the corridor, a doorway branching into a tiny hallway with a couple of doors lining the walls. I remember this place. This is where I read the e-mail about Jessica, right before I got crucified. It's all coming back, slowly. All those haunting memories left in the dust, they've come back for revenge. I'm never going to let her go, am I?
All of the doors were jammed, or locked. Figures. I stepped back into the hallway, heading deeper in its unnerving confines. It felt unsettling, thought I couldn't understand why. Nothing in this damned school was alive, aside from that tongue that ambushed me in the vents. Was it capable of killing me? Can I be killed by the hands of my own mind? I was being killed, slowly. I didn't fear death, I welcomed it, but my waning mental health was starting to get me worried.
I remember this hallway. The corridor intersected to the right, towards another hall brimming with doors branching into offices. The only other door I could take wasn't worth the trip at any rate, leading into a lavatory with a pair of stalls left ajar on their jagged hinges. But more importantly, sinks. I tried the dial on one and received a fresh flow of absolutely nothing. Was worth a try though.
The hallway it is. My labored breathing could probably be heard from the other side of corridor, that's how silent it was. I sat the camera on my chest, letting my own senses guide me as my eyes gradually adjusted to the poor lighting.
A sudden succession of shrill rings splint the silence dominating this corridor, I shrieked as I leaped backwards, managing to crack the exact center of my spine on the edge of a rolling table set in the corridor. I tumbled sideways onto the icy cement, numbness immediately taking over my limbs as I struggled to move them. What the fuck was that?! An odd sound cut the air, then a sharp whizzing working its way up to my head. Am I alive? Am I still able to move? The pain in my spine died somewhat as my senses came back to me, my limbs still under my control.
Is that a... phone?
The ringing elevates its intensity with every step I take further into the corridor, the rough texture of the doorframes around me biting into my worries. They are all vacant, every single one of them. A sharp crackle sends my heart pummeling into my ribs, almost causing me to drop all sense of rationality and sprint like a bitch. Relax, it's only my footsteps. Nothing more than my footsteps.
The phone is closer now. Is it even in this hallway? I couldn't trust anything that happened in these waking dreams. Last time I did, I was attacked by a fucking tongue. Sometimes, it was best if you stopped contemplating some things. This is gonna be one hell of a story to share with the rest of the world. As long as I kept my wits sharp, I would survive this and live to tell the tale.
The camera shut down.
Excuse me, what? I checked the battery to see if it had slightly budged from its position and stopped working, but it was stuck in there tight. I tried the ON/OFF button, but nothing seemed to be working. No, this can't be happening. This is what I had feared. My camera turning against me, letting me down. I don't understand, what even happened?
I recoiled away in shock as all of the doors currently present in this corridor slammed shut in unison, except the one a bit forward and to the right. My nerves were shot, and my reflexes too slow. I simply gawked as some sort of entity stepped out of the office, bringing veins of crimson goo along with it after its trail. This creature was indescribable, almost made entirely of malice. Several arms laid out on his chest, absent of any skin, all muscle. Its chin was gone, only an elongated tongue left dangling under its grotesque head. Its eyes were blue, but their eyelids were either removed or were never there. More tongues sprawled from its chest and thigh, several enlarged penises barely suspended by its groin.
I had nothing to say. My legs were taking me backwards without my approval, to where I came from. My instincts were screaming at me to run, and never come back. It was slowly approaching me, each step it took warping the floor and making squishy sounds. My arms were twitching, prickling. Its aura was death, an unstoppable wave of wild hunger, and lust. I wanted to run with all that was in me, get away from that thing. But some sort of force is keeping me watching, its intentions could only be psychopathy and sick curiosity. I feel hatred, intensified more than ever. It's a feeling I have wanted to achieve since the incident, overriding my drive for survival. The lights above pulse and flicker, indecisive of if they want to function or not. I know what this creature is, what it means. Manifestation of my fears, and nightmares. I would wake up screaming, horrified by what I had just witnessed. This creature is nothing more than death and suffering, things I strive to rid myself of. But this place brought them back, and naturally, him.
Loutermilch.
I twist away and tear through the corridor with all the strength I can muster up. The tiled cement walls, the rolling cart, rooms of people claiming to be one with religion, but using their privileges for evil practices. Everything is a blur around me as I lunge through the open doorway, barely avoiding slamming my shoulder into the wall before I stumbled sideways towards the lavatory. I practically plowed through the door as I spun about, gripped the edge tight and threw it shut.
He's gonna come in here. I gotta hide. I staggered towards the furthest stall from my position and barricaded myself in. It didn't seem possible to rest in this place. Even in these wonky dreams I'm getting pursued. If I keep going on like this, I seriously need to consider the possibility of just collapsing from exhaustion and never waking up again. I'm so tired.
I huddled near the toilet seat as I sat on the icy floor, a freezing chill irritating my nerves for a moment before dissipating away. I should sleep here for a while, let myself calm down, but I knew that wasn't in my options right now. Time is running short, and I'm nowhere close to the mines. As soon as I'm certain that... demon is not here, I'm heading out and finding a way out of here.
And try to forget the static gradually building up in my head. I swear it's getting more clear.
I think I should apologize for the length of these chapters. I'm trying to make sure the next chapter ends with the burial scene and simultaneously leaving content for the next chapter because then it would be too short. Summer is here, and I have a lot more time to write. Have a wonderful holiday.