Benedict Baker
Journal Entry 1
I don't know what this place is, or where this place is, but I've come to the conclusion that time doesn't exist here. It's already been some time since my arrival, and I only now managed to get my hands on some form of paper to write down my thoughts and findings. But even as time surely passes in this place, the moon never moves from its constant fixture in the sky above. Even stranger was the absence of the multitudes of stars that normally would surround the moon with their company, making the sky a strange, empty scape of black. It felt quite lonely, to look up and see the cratered surface and not see the lights of millions glinting in the dark, which had been a familiar sight since I could first remember.
Which leads to my first order of business. Before I got my hands on this scrap of paper, I was able to wander the lands that made this place. I traveled through a thick oak forest with trees so tall, I couldn't see their tops. They cast a thick blanket of shadow, making the dark woods even darker. Here and there, I could see buildings; a store house, a leaning, decrepit water tower, a huge dead tree reaching up to the light of the moon. I'm sure the landscape would be quite charming in the light of the sun, but that light would never reach this place. Now and again, I would watch as the shadows came to life and lurched from one patch of darkness to another, carefully keeping track of their surroundings and me. I never saw their faces, and I never could really tell where they were from or even the color of their shirts, but I never saw the same one twice. I only knew they had gone when their screams rung out over the boughs and rustled the leaves.
The constant in their deaths was a man I had come to call the Trapper. He prowled the estate, much like the shadows he hunted, but his presence was that of a starved lion in search of its meal. He was no shadow, built much like the trees that grew and harbored his home. His arms were thick, bulging with thick cords of muscles. His thick barrel chest heaved with every breath he forced through that bone white mask. It smiled its toothy, jagged grin, sending shivers down my spine every time I happened to get a glance at his masked appearance. And it was almost always as the blood of his latest victim was being splashed across that stark whiteness. There was no rhyme or reasons to the killings, no motive other than to simply feel the splash of their crimson essence upon his dirty skin. I wanted to ask, with all my might, why on earth he slaughtered numbers upon numbers of people, but my voice never seemed to work when I was close enough to him to try to get his attention. Maybe it was the images of his victims flashing behind my eyes.
In an effort to leave him and the screams of the shadows behind, I walked beyond the trees and brick walls, through a gate of some sort to another forest that extended far into the distance. All I could see where trees. A number of times, I found myself back in that same place, gazing into the dark to see Mr. Smiley prowling the dark in search of the hopeless souls that would succumb to his blade. Every time I found myself back here, I would turn around immediately to traipse back into the unending oak forest. After maybe two more times of making a full loop back, I found my feet sinking into the muck of someplace new.
Rows upon rows of corn shielded much of my view of the place. I could barely make my way through the maze of maize, finding my fortune when I stumbled upon a broken-down hay baler. Climbing it proved fortuitous; I could see the remains of a toppled over silo lit by the yellow light of the harvest moon. From this vantage, I could see the chipping red paint of a set of lockers within, and the outline of some metallic thing that had yet another one of those shadow people tending to it. Their head was on a constant swivel, their sights jumping from the rows of corn to the hay bales that stood in stacks around the dilapidated wooden structure, and to the trees that grew few and far between around the crops. The reason for their unease didn't take long to be realized.
In a frenzy of revving engines and low groaning, the monstrous being sprinted through the corn with its chainsaw held over its head. That very same saw collided with the shadow being that had been toiling so hard on that ancient machine, and the being was no more. I had to turn away from the intense bloodshed and screeching that now violated the very air. But averting my eyes had proven to be fruitless; a large tree, not unlike those in the darkened forest I had come from, stood tall amongst the rubble of cobbled stone. On its large branches, it supported the weight of groaning, bleeding livestock, bovines and swine alike swinging by their ankles which were bound by thick rope. I dared not look into the lifeless, swollen eyes of their rotting skulls.
The massacre in the silo quieted. I could hear the rattle of the monster's breath through its malformed nostrils even from this distance. Peering towards the dilapidated structure once more, I could see its hulking form lifting some bloody article- a leg, that was a leg. Now that it had all these bloody parts and pieces, it seemed unsure what to do with them. It sniffed the leg it held in its elongated fingers, used its other hand to pull the meat from the bone and taste it with a slobbering tongue, then tossed the bloodied bones aside in favor of keeping itself occupied with its fresh meat. It was hard to believe that the bloody flesh in its hands once belonged to a living being, but I decided not to dwell on it too much.
And so, it seemed, did the others. Those who had managed to survive this thing the first time knew to stay hidden in the shadows and keep well out of sight. That chainsaw would mangle and shred whatever it tore into, be it wood or flesh. I watched one such shadow being creep around from behind the silo, where he had been hiding away from the eyes of the monster. But he didn't watch his feet; a branch snapped under his weight, and the man with the chainsaw was revving it in search of the disturbance.
No sooner had the shadow darted back into the safety did the creature descend on it, and the screams began anew.
I sat in the safety of the baler, resting my back against the cold metal that framed this upper portion. Where the hell was I supposed to go from here? I couldn't just run back out of here the way I came; that was a surefire way to get myself mauled. Thinking back now, all the shadows I've seen up to this point have had one thing in common; they all seemed fascinated with working on those broken-down generators that seemed abundant in the most ridiculous places. Those must be the way out, then, or at least part of the way out.
Finding and working on one of the aforementioned contraptions would, of course, be easier said than done. I rose up onto my knees to again peer around the locale, feeling uneasy that the chainsaws and screaming had been subdued for some time now. I could see the lights of a few generators, already muttering quietly. I counted one, two, three fully functioning machines, and sputtering lights from four more that hadn't been revived just yet. How many did we have to do? My heart sunk at the thought of needing to repair seven of these things, but it was the only way, wasn't it?
No use sitting around waiting for the inevitable. I stood and dusted off my slacks, and carefully made my way off the old farming equipment. The first generator I knew to check was the one in the silo, but that meant facing the heap of flesh that was surely still there. Carefully making my way to the old silo, I had the thought that if the mangled man did happen to get his hands on me, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Sure, the pain would be agonizing, but it would be better than the constant stress and fear that made my chest ache. I kept my eyes averted from the bloody mess in the dome of the silo, choosing instead to keep my attention on the crossed wires now held in my hands.
Which wire went which way? I tied a few together, cleaned and changed a few cogs, and managed to get the thing up and running. Well, that wasn't so hard. These things just needed a good cleaning, and they ran as though they had never been broken. Dusting off my slacks yet again, I turned away from the generator-
And looked straight into the empty white gaze of the monster. Up close, it was hideous. It only really had one nostril, and its mouth was permanently agape to display incomplete rows of adult and baby teeth alike, in varying hues of yellows in some angle that was anything but straight. It's face almost looked as though someone had tried to sculpt a human and a canvas bag at the same time, resulting in bunched muscle and flesh that appeared to be pulled in one spot over the creature's left eye. I took a slow step back, and it responded in a gaited step forward, though it did not instigate a chase like it had with all the others running around the fields. It gripped a mallet tightly in its long fingers, the chainsaw in the other, and being this close I could smell the stench of sweat and grime that hung heavy in this creature's mottled clothing.
"Hey, uh, buddy." I whispered, trying to keep a level head though I knew the end was nigh. "That's, ah, quite the chainsaw you've got there." It didn't react to my open palm that gestured towards its weapon, other than to tilt its head to one side. It was inspecting me, just as I had inspected it. "Well, it was nice chatting, I need to be going. Things to attend to and whatnot." I took another step back, closer towards the dome of the silo, which did incite a reaction. The creature sidestepped me and limped towards the bloody pile it had left behind, assuming a defensive posture now that it stood over its kill. "Oh! Oh, I don't want that, its all yours. I'll go this way?" I opted to go the way I had come, back towards the hay baler, but I only walked backwards. There was no way I was going to turn my back to this thing.
The creature was satisfied. It sat heavily on the creaking boards, letting the weaponry slide from its elongated hands so it could instead pick up something from the bloody mess of a pile. Quickly, I made my hasty retreat from the silo in search of the next objective.
I didn't need to search long, nor was my assistance needed. The shadows got the generators up and running on their own. I could feel a surge of electrical currents underfoot, travelling through the dirt and dust towards some large structure in the distance. The gates, I assumed. I passed around ramshackle wooden walls and flaming barrels, walked through the tall stalks of corn, and arrived at the metal sheets that barred the exits from the shadow people. Remarkable, how complex this strange world was. Corrugated sheets of steel, nailed and strapped together, fixed to a track that would roll the doors back into the brick frame of the large doorway. My eyes wandered the cables that stretched overtop the doorframe and hung down to connect to a power box, which was home to a lever.
So that's all it takes to get out of one of these… what situation was I in? It didn't seem right to call it a match, since there wasn't really any fighting. Perhaps mauling? No, that didn't seem right either. The point was that the escape was here, and all that needed to be done was the repair of five generators out of the seven on the map, which are located sparingly. Some are closer to each other than others… It could be dangerous if three generators were left unrepaired in close proximity to one another when it came to the last objective. Pulling the lever now, I had to ponder on a proper way to do the generators, without alerting the monsters to any activity or crossing their path. The simplest solution was to spread the work; more hands in generators meant more were getting done, but at a slower pace. This also didn't account for the death that the others would surely face. Working together on generators meant the work was done quicker, but there would be more of us in one place.
The doors squealed as they opened, pulling me from my wanderings. It was time to get out. I only spared a single look back before making my way through the gates and into the woods beyond. The trees just went further, and further, extending further than the eye could see and eventually melting into the plane of shadows on the horizon. My knees were aching from all the walking, crouching, and hiding that I had found myself doing, and I was desperate to rest. But there was no telling when the next monster would appear, where from, or if I was safe from their hunts until I stumbled into another one of their territories. Surely, I could spare a moment to rest.
No sooner had I sat upon the damp moss did I see a strange sight. The shadows seemed to move on their own, warping around an invisible, rattling mass. I squinted, trying to make sense of it, for there was no way that an invisible entity could be possible. Until, of course, I was proven wrong by the thing itself. Embers flared to life, twisting up its long legs and revealing dark, painted skin. I saw bandages, tattered clothes, a piece of fabric that passed for a shawl, a face that looked as ragged as the bark of the tree I leaned against, and a hand that held tightly to an intact spine. The spine was what grabbed my attention most, for other than the skull that topped it to clearly be used for clubbing, it was also equipped with a sharpened blade and a thick bell, the source of its power.
It was a very tall being, and it stared at me with those same blank white eyes that the malformed creature in the cornfields had. But this creature was different than that thing. It didn't seem to hold any malice, didn't seem intent on hunting, and held an almost intelligent gleam to its blank stare. But in the shadows of this forest, when the only thing I could see clearly were its eyes, it wasn't a comfort. I made no moves, nor did it. Standing so still, it almost resembled a statue, I figured it would be safe to maybe talk to it.
"What got you into this mess, huh…?" I thought it a safe enough question to ask. A weak chuckle bubbled from my chest at just how ridiculous my situation was. Trapped in a never-ending forest, running in circles from cannibal monsters just to repair a series of broken-down generators and do it all again for the amusement of, what, wasting time? I had to be dreaming, right? There was no way this was real. My hands pushed through my unkempt hair, doing nothing to soothe my nerves. "What got me into this mess?"
"I don't know why the Overseer chose you."
Its voice was raspy, masculine, and heavy with an un-American accent. I wasn't sure what type of accent it was and didn't think it right to try to guess. What was important was the fact that this thing actually answered my question, which I didn't think it would. I caught its eyes once more, watching it lower itself into a cross-legged position just a few feet in front of me. It was being friendly, then, which wasn't unwelcome though a little unnerving, given the circumstances. It placed its weapon aside, just within arms' reach, but did not keep a hand on its handle.
"The Overseer?" I repeated the word, pushing down the buildup of questions I was beginning to find myself with. Who was he? Who were the other monsters? Where were we? When were we? But one question at a time, I didn't want to overwhelm the thing. But the being seated before me wasn't necessarily a thing; it was intelligent, it could speak, and it knew of things in this world that I did not.
"The Overseer chooses Its people." The being rattled, folding its hands in its lap as it tilted its head to the side. "Though the people it chooses are more like wisps than people. You are different. You are whole." It raised a long finger and made a very pointed gesture at me. "But you are not like us."
"Not like who?" I pressed, ravenous for the knowledge it held. "Who are you?"
But it didn't answer. Its attention was elsewhere now, turned up to the boughs of the trees overhead where a flock of darkly feathered birds perched. Crows. Their glinting eyes bore into mine, searching my thoughts, dwelling upon an inner monologue that seemed too intelligent for a crow to harbor. The being before me must know something about this; it stood and waved its hands at the things, sending the animals scattering for higher branches in other trees.
"Not here."
Not here? What wasn't here? I made an effort to stand, but my legs had sunken into the ease of being seated and would not budge. I could already feel the ache setting in from all the running and crouching I had done to this point, and the chill of the damp ground would not aide in this particular situation. Reaching a hand above me, I managed to grab tight onto a piece of the tree at my back and pull myself into a standing position.
I shouldn't have stood up. Between the blood rushing to my head and the soreness of my legs, I barely registered that the being had retrieved its bladed club. I felt the skull push against my chest, listened as the creature's breath rattled between its parted lips. Had this been any other situation, I would have thought this being were rather handsome; but I had to look at the reality of it. I was exhausted, and this thing knew that. It already had its weapon at my chest.
I expected death. I only hoped it would be quick.
But it never came. Instead, I heard the word, "Come."
So I did. The skull fell away from my sternum, and it wrapped its long, spindly fingers about my wrist. It led me deeper, deeper into the woods until they opened under a yellowed sky. Still, that damned moon taunted me with its eerie glow, lending its light to the massive wreckage before me. Piles of cars, an assortment of scrap, a scattering of birch trees and the ever-present generators that seemed to call every locale home. But we went past those machinations, past the bright bits of metal and plastic, and went straight for the building that I had seen a few times before. A shack, decrepit, wooden, a patched-together structure held in place by metal sheets and beams at its corners. I swallowed, not sure I enjoyed the thought of entering this hut with the creature that dragged me along, but I didn't have a choice, did I?
The inside was not what I expected at all. I remembered the inside faintly from wandering inside on another patch of land; lockers, and occasionally a generator. Inside this one, however, waited a different surprise.
The massive man I had first come to meet.
The Trapper.