Chapter 36: Cradle of Forest

Back in the forest, we went through the door to the building. As we went down the incline and along the path, past the giant umbilical-cord-thing, a ghost showed up. It got in the way rather quickly, so I decided to stay and fight instead of running, despite the fact that I wasn't wearing a medallion. Without really planning it, we ended up using a strategy where I stood in front of the ghost and Eileen behind it and we simultaneously beat on it. It was working pretty well until another ghost showed up, causing the headache I already had to double in strength.

"Screw it, just run!" I said, grabbing Eileen by the hand.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful until we got to the area with the twin giant stones. A ghost that was blazing with fire phased through the fence on the opposite side of the area, and while he started far away, he was coming at me fast.

I had no Saint Medallion, but I knew what I had to do, so I dropped the items on the ground, leaving me with only my weapons to hold. I looked at Eileen. "What we did last time," I said, referring to the strategy we'd tried on the ghost where we'd trapped it between us, "Are you up for doing that again?"

She looked toward the quickly approaching ghost of Jasper, which had now covered half the distance, and hesitated a moment before looking back at me and giving me an affirmative nod—obviously terrified, but determined to do what was necessary, in spite of it.

I nodded back. As I did, I noticed a glimmer on the ground next to the Mother Stone. I ran to it and, as luck would have it, it was a Saint Medallion. Shaking my head in disbelief that luck was on my side for once, I quickly picked it up and put it around my neck, slipping it under my shirt, as usual. Now I was ready.

The fire wasn't just for show—I could feel the heat as it approached. I pulled back my axe and readied myself. I began to wonder if the gun would have been a better choice, but I needed to be close to use the sword since the window of time where I was able to impale the ghosts was very small. I'd just have to be very, very careful around this one.

As much as I was disturbed by the lack of eyes on Cynthia's ghost, I was further disturbed by the fact that this one did have eyes, and they were glaring at me with a hatred almost as intense as the heat that emitted from this specter.

This one didn't just float there and take the abuse the way Cynthia's ghost had. It at least tried to fight back, but while it was able to travel quickly, its moves were slow. I hacked at it with the axe, as Eileen got behind it and wailed on it with her chain. The chain made a surprisingly good weapon—it wasn't terribly fast, but by the way her opponents reacted, I could tell the hits were devastating.

Just as Cynthia's ghost, it fell and got up several times. After a certain point, it pushed past me and tried to retreat, but it had weakened significantly by then and was slow moving, and I easily cut it off at the pass.

I continued to use my axe on it, but it surprised me with a startlingly fast move, as it grabbed my right forearm.

I screamed, more out of panic than pain, and tried to pull away as the fire spread from the ghost's hand to my sleeve.

Fortunately, Eileen was on the ball, and she began striking it with the chain until it let go.

By now, the fire had spread more than halfway up my sleeve. I dropped my weapons, and frantically pulled my blue shirt over my head and threw it on the ground.

Meanwhile, Eileen continued to beat on the ghost, and as she did, I noticed that the flames that emitted from it were gradually diminishing—not only was the fire a weapon, but an indicator of its level of strength.

I picked up my weapons and continued hacking away at it with the axe until it lay still and the fire was gone. I didn't hesitate before bringing the sword down and impaling the ghost, pinning it to the ground.

Exhausted, I slumped to my knees and struggled to catch my breath. It was then—once the adrenaline had worn off—that I felt the horrible stinging burn in my right forearm. I yelled in pain and held it against myself protectively. I hadn't suffered a burn in a long time and it was amazing how much more painful they were than cuts—cuts you could barely feel at first, but burns are agonizing from the start.

I looked over at Jasper's ghost. It still stared at me, making gasping sounds. Although the fire was gone, its skin still glowed red. I remembered his screams of agony and what a horrible sight his death was. Now that I'd gotten a small taste of the kind of pain that fire caused, I couldn't stop thinking about what a terrible way to die it must have been.

"Henry … you gonna be okay?" Eileen sat beside me and put her arm around my shoulders, gently pulling me back into the present.

I finally looked at my arm—yes, my right arm this time, my luck was bound to run out sooner or later—and it wasn't pretty. Almost my entire forearm, from just above the wrist up to about two thirds up to my elbow was red and glossy, patches of the uppermost layers of skin were missing, and it had already started to blister. It stung like hell and felt like it was still burning. "Dammit," I muttered, upon seeing what had happened to my weapon-wielding arm, and I hung my head in despair.

I took a deep breath, and forced myself to keep it together. "I'll survive," I said, realizing that I could still use the arm, just not without some pain. But it would make the rest of the journey that much more daunting, which I didn't need.

"Maybe you should go back to your apartment and run some cold water on it," she said, rubbing my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

I shook my head. "That place is falling apart—there's no running water anymore," I said, regretfully.

Eileen sighed. "Then I guess we'll just have to settle for bandaging it, so it won't get infected, and leave it at that."

That was a nice way of saying that I'd just have to deal with the pain, at least for now. I nodded. We would probably be going to the Water Prison next, but I wouldn't be holding onto any hope of actually finding clean water there. At least I probably wouldn't have to do any fighting until then.

I pulled out the portable first-aid kit I had in my pocket, and she helped me bandage the wound since doing it one-handed was a little awkward. She really seemed to know what she was doing—she even pointed out that the ointments and such that came with the first-aid kit wouldn't be good to use because they tend to hold in the heat and make it worse.

I realized how little I knew about her when a question popped into my head. "Are you a nurse? Or … studying to be?"

She looked a little surprised, but also a little flattered, at the question. "Heh. No, I've just taken some first-aid classes."

I was honestly a little surprised, and not just because of the medical stuff—she had a rare kind of compassion where it would seem that helping people would come natural to her. "Maybe you should be," I said, smiling a little.

She smiled back, a little self-consciously, and shrugged—it was quite endearing.

Once the wound was covered, I went and picked up my blue shirt. Fortunately, it landed in such a way that the fire was snuffed out under the rest of the shirt so it wasn't too badly burned—only at the lower part of the sleeve. It had certainly seen better days, but it was still wearable, so I dusted it off and put it back on.

I stood, and helped her up as well, before picking up my weapon and items—fortunately the trip back to Wish House was relatively uneventful.

Back at Wish House, we went up the ramp to the mannequin on the wheelchair, and I snapped the right arm into its socket.

Suddenly, the doll's head began to twitch and shudder as it came to life. I backed away, startled, and Eileen grabbed onto my arm.

Its hands grabbed the rims, and it leaned its body back, pulling the rims and moving the chair back. As it did, its head fell back and it opened its mouth in what looked like a silent scream. The mouth shouldn't have been able to move the way it did, as there were no joints in those spots—it was as if the head was made of flesh, even though it still had the color and texture of burned wood—and it made the display even more disturbing. It shakily leaned forward again, took the rims again, and repeated the motion, backing onto a incline, at which point it rolled off and violently fell to the floor as the chair collided with some of the debris, sending the doll to land on the ground, in an awkward position, as the chair lay on its side, one of its wheels still spinning.

It revealed a large hole in the floor where below was a stairway.

I shook my head at the odd display. "Well, I guess that's the exit."

In the room at the bottom of the steps was an altar where the symbol I'd been seeing everywhere had been painted on the wall, and there was a table in front of it that contained several candles, bottles, and a book. I picked up the book—it was heavy and leather-bound and looked like some kind of bible. I read aloud the part it was open to:

"'The Descent of the Holy Mother - The 21 Sacraments

"'The First Sign: And God said, At the time of fullness, cleanse the world with my rage. Gather forth the White Oil, the Black Cup and the Blood of the Ten Sinners. Prepare for the Ritual of the Holy Assumption.'

"So, that's why he commits the murders?" I said, shaking my head. "He thinks he's ridding the world of sinners? Or maybe that's why he chooses those particular people, at least.

"'The Second Sign: And God said, Offer the Blood of the Ten Sinners and the White Oil. Be then released from the bonds of the flesh, and gain the Power of Heaven. From the Darkness and Void, bring forth Gloom, and gird thyself with Despair for the Giver of Wisdom.'

"So, I guess that's the ritual that allowed him to come back from the dead.

"'The Third Sign: And God said, Return to the Source through sin's Temptation. Under the Watchful eye of the demon, wander alone in the formless Chaos. Only then will the Four Atonements be in alignment.'"

Temptation, Source, Watchfulness, and Chaos, I thought.

"'The Last Sign: And God said, separate from the flesh too, she who is … the Mother Reborn…'"

I paused and looked at Eileen for a second. Was it referring to her? The disturbed look she returned implied that she thought so too.

I tried to continue, but faltered:

"'… and he who … is …'"

After a moment of silence, Eileen stepped in. "Henry? What's wrong? What does it say?" she said with concern as she tried to look over my shoulder at the book.

"'… and he who is the Receiver of Wisdom.'

"Receiver of Wisdom," I repeated, mostly for her benefit, "I … think that means me," I added, gravely.

There was one last line, which I read:

"'If this be done, by the Mystery of the 21 Sacraments, the Mother shall be reborn and the Nation of Sin shall be redeemed.'"

I shook my head in bewilderment.

… the Mother shall be reborn.

I gotta hurry, Mom's waiting.

What exactly was he trying to accomplish?

We went to the only door. It was locked, but there was a ten-inch round depression in it. The "key" to this door was fairly obvious—I inserted the big medallion I'd found earlier into the depression, and as I did, I heard a faint click. I tried the knob again, and it opened.

Outside, back on the spiral stairway, it had gotten darker, colder and there was even more fog. Not to mention that the structure looked rusty and even more deteriorated than the last part we'd seen, and we would have to tread carefully, as much of the railing was gone.

There was a room behind a pane of glass where I could see a sheep with a huge cross behind it. The animal looked real enough, but it never moved—perhaps it was stuffed. I couldn't help but feel that this was meant to be symbolic, but if it was, the symbolism was lost on me, other than something I vaguely remembered from the Bible (the Christian one), some mention of sheep with the lord being the shepherd.

A little more along the path, we came upon another room, and I jumped as I thought I saw something coming at me. Eileen screamed.

I looked at it and realized that it was a body that was bound in white cloth, held tightly on with leather straps. It had apparently been hanged because it was suspended from a long rope of some kind and it swung back and forth, as if being pushed by an unseen force. I wouldn't know how to explain what was on the head, but it looked like some kind of metal helmet that came to a long point in the front.

"What is this place?" she said, clinging to me.

I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I still wished I had an answer for her.

Other than the obvious: Hell.

It didn't fit any version of Hell I'd ever heard of, but I couldn't imagine Hell being much worse.