18. Betrayal
[ Meeting 108; Yamaoka Estate. ]
Chaos ensued. The trials were more disorganized than ever, each realm growing increasingly strange and off-kilter. In some matches, generators would be upside down and impossible to fix. Many maps would merge with each other and both killers and survivors ran rampant. Quite a few of them had begun to work together, and some matches were spent simply destroying everything they could get their hands on in order to weaken the Entity.
But Meg had begun noticing a pattern. Several of the killers never did anything but hunt them viciously, continuing the Entity's games like normal, sacrificing like diligent little worker ants. It was clear that they weren't going to help everyone escape the Entity's realm, and even more clear how brutal and heartless they really were. They were the real monsters here, along with the Entity.
Lines had officially been drawn.
And Meg was actually quite surprised at the killers that were on their side - or at least civil enough to help the cause for their own reasons.
Currently the red-head ran across a stone platform that led to a small log cabin, looking for anything she could possibly use to smash one of the generators. Two realms, Red Forest and Autohaven Wreckers, had fused together in a strange, dystopian wreck in which rural log cabins and an elegant, religious stone temple blended together in odd formations. Ash trotted along beside her, weirdly stone-faced. Meg couldn't remember a time when the older man wasn't cracking a joke or coming on to one of the females. Glancing sideways at him, she said, "you look like something's on your mind."
Ash looked over at her, immediately putting that playful facade into place. "Just thinkin' bout all the ways I can make that Lebanese girl scream."
Meg rolled her eyes. "You do know Zarina is lesbian… right?"
"No; she's Lebanese. Big difference, Red." Ash's tone made it clear he was messing with her, and Meg suppressed a smile.
"What's really on your mind, old man?" Meg asked. "In all the discussions we had about all of this, you've weirdly kept your 'pearls of wisdom' to yourself."
"Guess I don't have one."
"Bullshit."
Ash half-grinned as the pair came upon the ruins of where a log cabin and a large rock monument smacked together, leaving splinters and abandoned stones in their wake. "These stones'll do in a jam," the man said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. Meg's gaze went to the right hand - the one that wasn't actually a hand anymore. It was a glove, a robotic one apparently; all the survivors had heard the stories and most of them called bullshit. Then again… being in the Fog this long was enough to begin shattering preconceived notions and building new ideas. Maybe Ash wasn't a braggart after all; and if his stories were true, then this realm was nothing compared to where he came from. In fact, Meg doubted things changed much for him at all here - hell, maybe he even preferred it here. She knew she would.
Meg paused as realization hit her.
Ash, straightening up after stopping to scoop up one of the heavy stones, arched a brow skeptically in that way he always did. Meg couldn't help but gape at him. "Of course," she muttered. "Why would you want to leave this place? Compared to all the crazy stuff you've been through… why on earth would you want to go back?"
Ash considered her shrewdly. Meg tensed up; she often forgot that underneath all the bravado and inappropriate sexual comments, he was a dangerous man who'd been through hell and back before he even reached the Fog. "Ya know for a hot little red-head with damn fine legs, you think too much."
Meg scowled. Okay, that was more like it. "Can't you be serious for once?!" she growled.
"Alright, want me to be serious?" He approached her, holding the stone against his hip so he could lean down to her level and fix her with a stare that made her shrink back. "Listen good, Red. I like playing the hero. Whether that's here, or back on earth, or in a goddamn time vortex, doesn't matter to me. Now are we gonna blow this place to Cancun or what?"
"O-Okay."
"Groovy." He clucked his tongue at her, a grin curling his lips.
Meg stared at him, suddenly wishing she'd paid better attention when Ash told his stories around the campfire. Blinking owlishly and creeping around him, the red-head picked out a rock of her own and began using it to bash the nearest hook. With each passing moment, the destruction of the map caused tremors and shifts as the Entity fought to keep control over the trial; one such tremor threw Meg off-balance and she slammed right into Ash's side, knocking them both onto the ground. "When I pictured you on top of me, I had something much sweeter in mind," the man grumbled, shifting under her and getting to his feet, helping her in the process.
Meg ignored the harassment. That was nothing out of the ordinary. "Before you joined me - who else is here? What killers? I imagine they're ones who are working with us, because I haven't heard any screams or anything. I -"
Meg's voice cut off when black pooled across the ground at their feet and suddenly claws were grabbing her, pulling her down. Meg screamed and immediately Ash offered his left hand to her, grabbing onto her and pulling to the best of his ability. The survivor roared with effort as he tried to keep the red-head from sinking into the darkness - when a spidery leg came up and pierced him, right through his left forearm. With a wail Ash let go, stumbling backwards, and the last thing Meg remembered was screaming as loud as she could before the blackness overtook her.
When Meg landed on the ground with a thud, pain zipped up her shoulder and down her spine. With a groan, she lifted her face from the grass and looked around. The Yamaoka Estate; and by all intents and purposes it seemed… normal.
Strange.
This was obviously a new trial, but the last one hadn't even fallen apart before she'd been taken. So the real question was: why would the Entity send her here? To keep her separated from others? Perhaps they were all stronger together. Or maybe the Entity was just screwing with her. Punishing her for her disobedience.
It wasn't long before she was on her feet and looking around for any familiar face, survivor or killer. Soon enough she found Nea, who had kicked over a flaming barrel to set fire to a corner of the map. Retreating from the growing heat, the two girls began looking for another area of the map where they could cause damage. They didn't have weapons like the killers did, so it was up to makeshift tools or their own bodies to get the job done. "Is it just me, or is this creepy as hell? The map - it's just… normal?" Nea asked, narrowing her eyes on her surroundings.
Meg simply nodded, following along. Just as Nea used a toolbox she'd found to begin pounding against a generator, the two girls heard a strange grinding sound; Meg had no clue what it could be, but Nea recognized the sound immediately. Whipping around and brandishing the toolbox, she demanded, "show yourself, bell boy."
Ringing bells preceded the sight of none other than the Wraith uncloaking himself and standing before them both; as tall as Evan but much skinnier, he was still nonetheless a frightening sight with his empty white eyes, wide shoulders and spindly legs. But Meg knew already that the Wraith was on their side. Probably had been from the beginning. She'd always gotten the feeling that the bell-ringing killer had never wanted to be here anyways. She wondered if his story was just as dark and tragic as Evan's was…
Maybe when they were all out of here, she'd get the chance to ask.
Meg's eyes moved over to the red string that connected Nea and the Wraith, glowing brightly and pulsing with life. The killer and survivor stared at one another, and Meg watched them lock eyes, wondering if this was another case of opposites becoming attached to one another. Like Claudette and… Max. Had Nea gotten attached to the Wraith?
That was a surprising thought considering Nea really never got attached to anyone.
"Are you gonna help us, or not?" Nea asked, her voice taking on a tone Meg had never heard before. Still demanding, still typical Nea, but there was a softness there that the red-head hadn't known existed.
The Wraith nodded, gaze moving finally from Nea over to Meg. He reached out toward her and Meg flinched back, freezing in place. His fingers brushed over her forehead, then his arm fell back to his side. "Tra… pper."
Meg arched a brow. "Evan… what about him?"
"He… you. Red…"
"The red strings, yes," she answered. "Just like you and Nea. And the Nurse, too…"
He nodded. Just as Meg opened her mouth to speak again, she heard the signature CLAP of a bear trap in the distance and her eyes widened. "Evan is here, too," she whispered. The Wraith nodded again. After exchanging glances with Nea, the red-head said, "I… I have to go. Nea; be safe."
As Meg felt the wind fill her ears and stir her hair, she couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. She hadn't seen Evan since that night at the survivors' campfire. How long ago had that been…? Time moved differently in the Fog; so much so that she had no idea what year it was or how long she'd been away from home. Perhaps she'd go back and her mother would be dead. Perhaps she'd come back to an age of robots and flying cars. That thought process led back to Evan, and a sense of despair filled her. He'd been the very first; the first creature to enter the Fog. God only knows how long it had been for him… He'd be going back to a world completely strange to him. Meg couldn't help but think that, if given the opportunity… maybe she could show him this new world. They could… navigate these unfamiliar waters together.
That thought was silly, though. They may have had the 'red string connection' but he'd said there was nothing more than that. A small nagging feeling tugged at the back of her mind that he was lying, but she didn't want to make this out to be more than it was. And that was because there were a million good reasons why there shouldn't be more.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of happiness at the thought of seeing him again after… who knew how long. Maybe a week? More? On her way to the sound of the closing trap, Meg turned a corner around a building and ran face-first into a brick wall.
Evan's chest.
Meg was the last person he'd wanted to run into. Though she was the reason he was doing what he was doing, he couldn't bear to look at her in the face and try to explain himself. Because when she found out… he would lose her. He would lose the warmth in her stare and the playful smile on her lips. He would lose Meg. And he knew it.
But he'd rather lose her… than lose her.
When she ran straight into him, the force of her small body against his own knocked her clean off her feet, gasping for air. Evan paused for a moment, unable to think clearly or react; he'd been desperately hoping not to see her and now he'd knocked her to the ground. Finally rational thought kicked in and he lowered a hand to pull her gently to her feet. He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright when -
-when he felt deceptively strong little arms wrap around his waist, her warm petite body pressing against his own.
Meg was hugging him.
Evan froze, every muscle in his body tensing up. He didn't know what to do, or even what to think or how to feel. Despite their… sexual history, this had certainly never happened. This hug was warm, full of happiness, full of…
Dare he think it?
No. He wouldn't. But he also couldn't help the way his body reacted; every part of him absolutely aching to touch her. To caress her. To hug her back. And so he did - he couldn't help himself. The man slid his arms around her narrow shoulders and held her to him, stunned by the immense emotion in such a simple touch. Her vulnerability was so bright it was blinding, and Evan metaphorically found himself crouching and whimpering in Meg's light.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, the action stirring a lock of her red hair. Instinctively he turned his face to bury his nose in that hair, taking in her scent. She was pine and smoke and remnants of perfume; she was Meg.
He was doing horrible things to save her… and also to damn her. When he thought about it, was this really what Meg would want? If it came down to risking death for freedom or being stuck here forever, he was almost certain the red-head would choose freedom.
So why was he doing this again?
Was he really doing this for her… or for himself?
Deep down, he knew he was being selfish. Just as he was being selfish that very moment, basking in the warmth of her affection. He should tell her the truth, and tell her now - better yet, he should keep his word to her and help her escape. Even if it meant his own demise or an eternity of torture.
But he couldn't bear the thought of her not existing.
"Evan," he heard her murmur against his shoulder, her voice soft. The word alone was enough to stoke the coals nestling in his abdomen, and he pulled her tighter against him, unwilling to let go for at least another moment.
Finally, he did pull back, staring down at her through the holes in his mask and trying to maintain his self-control. "I… didn't expect… to see you," he finally managed, voice coming out lower than intended.
Those bright blue-gray eyes lifted to gaze up at him and a gut-wrenching smile curled her lips. The glow with which she was looking at him felt undeserved. "I haven't seen you much lately," the red-head replied, confusion slightly contorting the smile. Questions in her eyes. Perhaps she knew he'd been avoiding her. Guilt clenched his stomach again and he released her fully, taking a step back to put a little distance between them. The remembrance of her warm, affectionate fingers on his skin now burned like a sweltering flame, punishing him for accepting a gift he did not earn.
"Busy," he said dismissively, hoping she wouldn't pester. But knowing Meg… she wouldn't just let that go. "I… am glad. To see you."
Her smile grew warm again and her hand lifted. He watched that little hand, so full of affection and life and sweet sweet comfort - but before she had a chance to touch him again, a scream was heard across the map.
Nea's scream.
Evan could see her face fall and concern knitted her brows. "That doesn't make sense," she muttered. "Wraith would never hurt her - and you're here…"
Evan's jaw tightened. He knew exactly what was happening, but was loathe to tell her. Meg turned to run in the direction of the noise, but the killer reached out and snatched the hood of her jacket. "It's too dangerous," he insisted.
She glanced back at him, irritation written all over her face. "Then come with me," she replied stubbornly.
Pain bloomed in his chest - but it had nothing to do with the Entity or punishment. No, Evan had come to recognize this as guilt - something he hadn't felt since he was young. Not until this. Knowing she wouldn't listen, knowing she wouldn't give in, he let out a gruff sigh and followed her. She was quick as a hare but his long legs enabled the hulking man to keep pace. They followed the sound of Nea's wails toward the flat townhouse on one side of the estate and Meg stepped up on the small dais leading into the building, cautious.
Evan followed close behind, feeling anger gnaw at his stomach. This wasn't going to go well. But if this was how it had to end… so be it.
Concern tightened Meg's chest and shortened her breath. Perhaps the Wraith had changed his mind about helping them, or maybe he'd tricked them all along - although deception didn't appear to be the cloaked killer's usual tactic. That was something the Doctor would do.
Inside the building, she saw blood. A trail of it, smeared over the floor. It led down to the basement and fear palpitated Meg's heart as she followed it, steadying herself with shaking fingers on the wall. "Nea?" she asked, immediately feeling stupid. If she had any chance of rescuing her friend, surprise would have given her an edge. The only measure of comfort she held onto was the fact that Evan was behind her, breathing deep and gruff like a bear, imposing and mean. He would help her. He would save Nea. She was sure of it. Down into the basement the girl bravely went - until she stopped at the bottom of the steps, gaping at the scene before her.
Nea laid on the ground, covered in blood while the Clown straddled her, not unlike the way he'd done to Meg on more than one occasion. The red-head felt bile rise in the back of her throat and rage contorted her features. "Get off of her, you fucking pervert!" she growled, though something made her stay in place. Perhaps it was the knife gleaming in one hand as he held Nea's wrist firmly with the other; maybe it was the three severed fingers strewn across the basement floor.
Or maybe it was the cold gleam in his eyes and the cruel smile twisting his wet lips.
Meg could feel Evan behind her, still and silent. She briefly wondered why he hadn't already done something. Why he wasn't wrestling the Clown off of Nea and saving her. Hadn't he agreed to help the survivors? Why was he just standing there?
The Clown's voice, all ragged and wet with sick, interrupted her thoughts. "Evan… or should I say, the Trapper. Heh. Better you than that skinny, bell-ringing hack."
"Jeffrey," Evan growled, obviously displeased but still not moving.
Meg finally dared to glance up and behind at her protector, and saw a familiar tension in his shoulders. He was at a crossroads, it seemed. But why?
The Clown stood up, and Nea moaned softly, bringing her almost fingerless hand to her chest and cradling it. The large, rotund killer grabbed the girl by her shoulders and put her on a hook as casually as he might drink a latte or file his nails. Meg gasped, taking a step forward - until a hand caught her shoulder, pulling her back. "How DARE you!" she growled, hands clenching into fists. Then she whipped her gaze around to focus on Evan, a mixture of rage and hurt in her eyes. "And you - I thought you were supposed to help us! Why are you stopping me?!"
The Clown - Jeffrey, as Evan had called him - wiped his blade on his sleeve and stooped to collect all the fingers he'd clipped. "You don't know, do ya?" he asked, before coughing a few times and spitting on the floor. "He's on our side, girl - decided your freedom wasn't worth anything -"
"That is not true," Evan growled, taking a step forward so that he was standing next to Meg rather than behind her. Jeffrey took a step toward them, still grinning, and Evan grabbed Meg and pulled her into his side. "Don't touch her," he rumbled, every muscle in his body clenched in preparation to fight. "That was the deal."
"Looks like ya got your voice back, eh?" Jeffrey said, loitering around where Nea was hanging almost lifelessly from the hook. "What the Entity takes away… it can give back, am I right?" His beady eyes went from the killer to the survivor struggling against his side and a grunt of amusement left him. "She doesn't even want to be near you. Look at that." A pause. "Well, I suggest you leave - and take her with you. Because if she's left down here… I might just decide to have fun with her just like I did her friend. And we all know what might happen if I decide to do that…" accompanying his words was a finger slowly scraping across his fat neck.
It didn't take a genius to know what that meant. But Meg was so enraged - with the Clown, with Evan, with the entire fucking situation - that she threw herself out of his grasp with everything she had and launched at Nea to try and pull her off the hook... but Evan was quicker. He put himself between Meg and the Clown to fend off any attacks, all while grabbing Meg and hoisting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The red-head screamed in fury at the top of her lungs, kicking, hitting, writhing as the hulking killer ascended the basement stairs. "Nea will return to the campfire," he rumbled over the sounds of her screams, guilt lacing his voice as he carried her away. "You won't."
Meg was too far gone to listen. Not right now. In her rage she managed to find one of the metal shards sticking out of the killer's skin and she pulled and twisted as hard as he could. Evan roared in pain and stumbled enough that she could wiggle free and drop to the ground. Stumbling to her feet, Meg whirled around and launched herself at him with the sole intent of hurting him.
And this time, he just stood there, taking it. Meg suddenly heard the familiar screams of another survivor - Laurie. Laurie was a fighter just like Meg; always had been. But if the Entity had full control over this arena, and if there really were killers rallying behind their master, then the poor girl would have no chance. The only reason Meg herself had a chance, it seemed, was because of the very man taking her punches and scratches without a word.
Panting, Meg pulled away. When her eyes lifted to look at his mask, she found herself on the verge of tears and unable to lift a single finger to wipe them away. So they fell as she stared at him, lower lip trembling as she tried to figure out what to say. Finally, she managed, "why…?"
He glanced away, head turning as if unable to look at her. "LOOK at me!" Meg growled. "Look me in the eye and tell me why you… you betrayed us! I stood up for you, with the others - I told them you could be trusted! So why?"
"So why?"
What could he say to that? Even if he told her why he'd done it, she wouldn't accept that answer. No matter what he said to her, she'd never forgive him. So why bother? He was being selfish and he knew it, so he may as well be the monster he was acting like.
Evan said nothing. The only sound between them other than the distant pained cries of her friends was her ragged breathing and his own slow, even rumbles. He watched silently as the red-head took measures to try and calm herself down and think logically. Finally, she softly said, "Fatso had said something about… that was the deal. What deal did you make with them? Join them so they wouldn't hurt me? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I can take the pain and if they kill me then so be it! I'll just go right back to the campfire -"
"No, you won't," Evan interrupted, hands clenching. "The Entity has had enough. You won't go back to the campfire if you die."
Meg fell silent. Her expression was one of utter fear now, and Evan felt that familiar pang in his chest. "That was the deal," she muttered to herself. When she finally looked back up at him, there was anger there - but cold anger. Frosty. Like she was freezing him solid with a single glance. "If you think that my life is worth more than our freedom, then you're more of a monster than I ever imagined."
He watched her walk away.