MGE Joshua's Grimm: Cradle Of Madness

by Gmatrix

Joshua just wanted to go back to his world. Now he finds himself thrust into a nightmare made from his own past. Will he survive? Will he succumb to his own demons? What hides in the dark will finally be brought into the light, but not in the way he'd want it to. (Important A/N: This takes place before Ch. 25 at least. I will note when it does within my main story, so please wait.

3. Chapter 3: Deep Into That Darkness

Chapter 3: Deep Into That Darkness Peering, Long I Stood There….

"Ugh….alright, where are you, you asshole?!" A familiar voice called out angrily.

"Over here." I replied as I stuck my arm out of the guestroom.

"How in the hell do we use the chamber pot? Mimil went No.2 and now she can't figure out how to get rid of it." She asked with a scowl.

I went back upstairs to find Mimil and Wilmarina trying to figure out the upstairs toilet and I had to mentally stifle a chuckle as I approached them. Pointing to the toilet lever, I pushed it down and the sound of the toilet flushing startled them slightly.

"And that is how you flush a toilet. Any other questions while I'm up here?" I asked with a calm smile.

"Is there any food? I'm hungry…." Mimil asked before rubbing her stomach.

"I'll be right back." I replied before heading back down to the kitchen.

I began searching the pantry for a light snack for Mimil. Most of the food was canned beans, canned soup, canned vegetables, and what looked like spaghetti-Os. I also saw a few cans of beef stew and harvest vegetable soup. I did find two boxes of granola bars and took a chocolate chip granola bar back with me. I then checked the fridge and found a bottle of Red's Apple Ale as well as a bottle of Angry Orchard and took the Red's with me. Once I was back upstairs, I handed the granola bar to Mimil who had gone into one of the bedrooms to sit on one of the beds. I then found Mersé in the other bedroom and handed her the Red's Apple Ale after removing the cap with my swiss army knife's bottle opener.

"Apple flavored ale. You look like you could use a cold one." I said as I handed it to her.

She sniffed the mouth of the bottle before taking a sip and shrugged before taking a large swig. Elt was examining the light switch and flipped it off and then back on.

"Don't do that too much. The last thing we want is for one of those things to notice the flickering light and bust the door down." I scolded as I grabbed his hand.

Mersé, Elt, Yuriy, and Mimil all gave each other an uneasy glance as I left the room. I headed down into the kitchen and grabbed the Angry Orchard from the fridge before heading back down into the basement to throw my clothes in the wash. Once I got to the guest room, I found Primera in the basement bathroom looking at the shower with a raised eyebrow.

"That's a shower. People wash themselves off with it." I said as I appeared in the doorway.

She let out a small, surprised gasp then turned to me with a furious glare painted across her face. I internally giggled when I heard her gasp but wore a poker face as she looked me dead in the eyes. She noticed the bottle held in my right hand and shook her head in disappointment. I could care less as I had been craving an Angry Orchard for a while.

"Why am I not surprised to find you with a bottle of 'that' in your hand?" She said with venom as she walked past me.

Primera slowly trudged upstairs before stopping halfway up the stairs and glared at me. Her eyes soon betrayed her as she looked off to the side and started blushing.

"You know….I may not like you, but whatever you do…don't die on us. The others have put their faith in you after hearing about your little 'adventure' while gathering medicinal herbs. I'll admit I found it hard to believe that you managed to do everything you claimed to until Eristia validated it all while we were looking for you. So don't die…if you do and we all get stuck here because of you…I'll never forgive you!" She said before hurriedly rushing off in embarrassment.

"So she does have a good side to her hidden underneath her bad attitude…." I thought as I took a sip from my cider.

I then walked over to the workbench and set my PA-63 and Angry Orchard off to the side as I pulled up my pantleg. The tape I used to secure the M1905 to my leg was starting to make my skin itch, so I carefully used my swiss army knife to cut the gun free from my leg. I set the M1905 next to my PA-63 and grabbed the bottle of gun cleaning solvent, some small cotton patches, and a cleaning rod before taking both guns apart. The barrel on my PA-63 was filthy from the fight with the Werewolves and took four patches to clean. As I was cleaning the barrel, I heard someone making their way down the basement stairs.

"What on earth is that horrible smell…" I heard Elt ask as I turned to see him pinching his nose.

"Haha! Hopp's No.9 will do that to ya! It takes time to get used to the scent." I replied with a grin.

I pried the fourth patch from the cleaning rod's tip and set it on the bench as I grabbed a dry cotton patch and ran it down the barrel a few times to wipe out the excess solvent. Elt approached me from behind and noticed how filthy the other four patches were. I tried to clean "Maria" when I was back in Lescatie, but I didn't want to just use hot soapy water without access to oil, which I couldn't find. On top of that Sasha didn't have any old rags she was willing to part with and I didn't want to ruin any of the good washcloths by cutting them up with my swiss army knife. Now that I had access to the "proper" tools I wasted no time in maintaining my gun. I then grabbed another cotton patch after tossing the other dry patch and covered the new patch in gun oil before swabbing the inside of the barrel.

"Futuristic guns need that much oil?" Elt asked curiously as I swabbed the barrel of my gun.

"That's just for the barrel. I have to remove the hammer spring and hammer strut and clean those, too. I also have to clean the FN M1905 and do a full inspection before I shoot that one since it's so rusty. Last thing I want is for the trigger return spring on the M1905 to break and disable the gun after only firing three or four rounds." I replied with a smile as I searched the toolbox for a pin punch and a hammer. "I take it you have some important business if you came to see me?"

"Oh! Mersé found another strange device in one of the other rooms. She messed with it a little and now there's a strange voice and weird buzzing noises coming from it." He said as he pointed upstairs.

I wasn't surprised that the radio made no sense to them, but rather that Mersé managed to figure out how to turn it on. What she was hearing was probably a coded message. As much as I wanted to finish cleaning my guns, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to get in touch with someone who could give me some context as to what was going on. I pulled out my phone and opened a note with a morse code chart and promptly headed upstairs.

I found Mersé in the radio room with a raised eyebrow as she listened to what sounded like a male voice reading off numbers in Russian. A part of me was disturbed by the voice speaking in clean Russian despite being a little gruff sounding. Her face was twisted in a puzzled expression as the numbers were followed by a series of short and long buzzing sounds. She gave me a puzzled look as I entered and began listening intently to the radio.

"What do you make of it?" she asked me as she looked back at the radio.

"It's a coded message. I'll handle this, you go get some rest." I replied as I pulled my earphones out of my pocket.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it." She said with a shrug as she left.

I sat on a corner of the desk as I pulled my notebook out of my backpack and plugged my earphones into the radio. The Russian voice was monotonous and spoke without any sense of urgency. I began writing numbers on a page in my journal. I still couldn't get over the fact the voice was speaking in actual Russian and began to wonder if I really had made it home. A thousand confused thoughts raced through my head as the voice rattled off number sequences that were always followed by a string of morse code buzzes. That's when the voice said something I couldn't make sense of

-*Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there*-

-*The woman has gone to see the doctor*-

-*Grandpa is all dressed up for the occasion*-

-*It's a clang and a bang as the workers press on*-

-*Welcome to Chinatown*-

-*Take a look in the mirror. What do you see*-

-*The devil has an icy hand*-

-*What sleeps in the cradle isn't a baby*-

This was followed by a series of numbers that after decoding said to check the garage. I checked my phone's clock and it had been a full hour. Elt must have gone to bed as the others were already resting so I quietly turned off the radio, unplugged my earphones, and stuffed my journal back into my backpack before heading downstairs into the kitchen. I began checking cabinets and drawers but couldn't find a garage door opener. At this point I started to become annoyed with my situation but opened the door to the back yard and saw the garage did have its own back door.

I checked the door, and it was surprisingly unlocked so I cautiously cracked the door open. The sound of a creature's wail in the distance unnerved me and I couldn't help but feel I was being watched so I stepped into the garage and locked the door behind me. I took out my flashlight and scanned the inside before reaching for a light switch on the wall next to me. Flicking on the lights revealed a small table against the same wall as the lights at the far end with a CB radio microphone sitting on it but no radio. I figured it was best to bring the radio to the microphone to keep myself from disturbing everyone else, so I left to go swipe it.

I carried the radio back to the garage as quietly as I could and connected everything once I got there. My mind began racing as I thought of what to say to whoever or whatever would respond to my call. I turned the radio on, leaving it on the station that had spewed off code earlier, and listened intently to the silent crackle of radio static. Since the voice had spoken russian earlier, I began speaking russian myself.

"Good day…good day. This is Point Alpha….please respond! Over…" I said into the microphone.

I was answered by only the slight crackle of static. I took a deep breath before trying again.

"Good day…this is Point Alpha. Please respond! I have survivors with me, and we need support. We are looking for any available rally points. We are all capable fighters and will provide manpower in return for any assistance! Over…"

I was answered once again by the crackle of radio silence. My frustration at the current situation started growing. I thought back to when I left Lescatie and the small groups of monsters I exterminated as I headed back to the clearing Eristia and I passed through before getting to the old mines. The hopelessness began to set in before I switched the radio to all AM and FM frequencies and gave it another try.

"Good day…this is Point Alpha…someone please respond! I have other survivors with me! We require assistance and will be able to provide manpower in return! Over…"

At this point I was desperate for answers. But most of all I just wanted to go home. High Priest Noscrim crossed a line with me and like hell I was going to let some old bastard do me in, not after what I had been through during the war and fought so America could still be America. My frustration boiled into anger as I clutched the microphone tightly in my left hand to the point I felt I would crush it.

"For fuck sake! This is Point Alpha! I have other survivors with me!

We need assistance and will provide help in return if necessary!" I yelled into the microphone. "Somebody….anybody…"

Rarely had silence felt so deafening. Not once did I ever think my life would take such a turn. Part of me wanted to take the radio into the back yard and empty an entire PA-63 magazine into it. Despite travelling with a group, I felt more isolated than I ever had in my entire life. That's when I heard a voice of salvation.

-*Good day…do you read? Point Alpha what is your situation? Over.*-

"This is Alpha 1-1, I read you loud and clear, over. I have a handful of survivors with me and request assistance, over. We can provide manpower in return for any assistance, over." I replied as I regained hope.

It was the same voice that had rattled off code earlier. I felt my spirits rise as maybe I'd finally get some answers as to what was going on. Maybe lady luck was finally smiling down on me? Either way I just wanted to find that book as soon as possible if it still existed. The last thing I wanted was to be forced into fighting to survive in this god-awful place for the rest of my life.

-*Excellent! A message with coordinates for a rescue extraction point were broadcast over an hour ago, did you receive it? As of this time I can't spare any significant number of troops for a rescue mission, so I'll send my best who goes by Antonov. Over. Once you arrive at said coordinates, he will ask a passcode. He will ask "what is a patriot" and your answer is "someone who asks 'did we win' and rejoices at the declaration of victory despite the cost". You will have five hours to prepare as he is on a mission but should be back at base by that time. Over.*-

"Yes! I received several coded messages earlier. I will begin decoding once this conversation ends. Over" I replied.

-*Great! This is Point Gamma, Signing off*-

The radio went dead silent, but I was grinning ear to ear. Finally, I had made some progress. I turned the radio off and slipped silently back into the house before heading back down into the basement. I resumed cleaning my PA-63 and found a hammer and pin punch in the toolbox and gently tapped out the retaining pin for the hammer spring and strut before cleaning them. I reloaded my empty PA-63 magazine and once that was done, I put "Maria" back together before taking a swig of my Angry Orchard and starting on the M1905. The Browning's insides were in desperate need of a cleaning as orange rust was caked all over in a thin layer on the insides. I searched the toolbox for something resembling PB Blaster to help remove all the rust. I then checked the bottom shelf of the workbench and found a can of PB Blaster, but it felt almost empty when I shook it.

I lightly sprayed the internals before using a copper wire brush from the toolbox to scrub away some of the rust then wiped everything down with a cloth from the cleaning kit. While not perfect, it was better than nothing. I then tried to remove the grip panels, but they were stuck so I used a small flathead screwdriver to gently pry them off the frame. The undersides of both panels were smeared with sticky, black gunk in a few spots, and it was even covering the outlines left by the panels on the frame. It took ten minutes of heavy scrubbing and five cleaning patches to completely wipe away the mystery gunk before I put the M1905 back together. Once that was done, I took my clothes and jacket off after emptying my pockets and placed them in the washer. I set the wash to forty-five minutes and poured some detergent into the soap tray and gently closed the door and started the cycle.

As my clothes were washing, I grabbed my hard cider and headed to the bathroom. I stepped into the shower and placed my Angry orchard on a soap shelf and savored the hot water hitting my body. There were times during the war where I never got to wash down, but something about taking a shower after being in a fantasy world and then thrust into a world of uncertainty felt rewarding. I downed the rest of the cider as I sat on the shower floor and let the water soothe my worries even though I knew it would only be temporary. Once I finished washing up, I put on the clothes Sasha had given me and placed my backpack down next to the guest bed before plugging my phone/ipod charger into the socket next to the bed and letting both my ipod and phone charge their half dead batteries after I tucked them back into my backpack. By now it had been two whole hours, so I decided to go over the coded messages from earlier. The messages were all part of a series of coordinates, so I pulled out the map and began marking them down. It took me an entire hour of looking over the map and I finally had marked a hospital and a factory, but the others didn't make any sense. One point was marked outside the city limits in a wooded area, and another was in a graveyard slightly north of town. The rally point we would be heading to was on the south side of town but took us past the pharmacy back to where we started from.

I scratched my head as the rally point location didn't make sense. The road we started on was collapsed behind us when we came to, but the rally point was just a short way past the collapsed road. I wasn't sure there would be any possible way around or if whoever I talked to on the radio would suggest a different rally point. I stood up and crept upstairs before heading back into the garage and attempting to make radio contact again. I turned the radio on and was met by the low crackle of white noise.

"Come in, Point Gamma….a problem has been encountered with your rescue point coordinates…come in, over. The coordinates you gave are a no go. The road just a short way before it is collapsed and inaccessible, over. We request a new rally point. Over." I said calmy into the microphone. "Do you copy? I repeat…rally point is a no go. Request a new rally point, over."

There was no response. The last thing I wanted was to try to figure out a way around a dead end only to be ambushed and outnumbered by freaks. I didn't have the ammo for such a situation, and I wasn't sure how long everyone else would last. We needed a different rally point, or we may as well just lay down and die. I kept my composure as I spoke into the mic again.

"Point Gamma this is Alpha 1-1, do you copy? I request a new set of rescue point coordinates. Over. Current rally point is no good. The road a short way before it is collapsed. Over. Please respond…."

I was once again met by silence. I felt my hope slowly beginning to dwindle again. There was no way we'd survive a large group of pale freaks without some more firepower. There wasn't even another gun in the abandoned Humvee I could use to help turn the tables.

-* Alpha 1-1…this is Point Gamma. We have received your transmission but regret to inform you your request is denied. Over. There should be an abandoned Humvee near your position. Inside you will find flares and a set of thermal goggles to help you see through the fog. Over. Point Gamma, signing off*-

At least I got an answer. I then heard the door to the garage creak and was surprised to see Wilmarina. The look on her face showed a deep concern as she stood there in the doorway. I wasn't sure what to say as I wanted to keep the fact we were soon going to be up "shit creek" without a paddle a secret, but part of me felt it was better to tell her.

"That didn't sound good…" she said, breaking the silence.

I stood up and grabbed the radio before tossing it at the wall next to me. Wilmarina flinched as the radio hit the ground with a loud crash and I grabbed t and flung it across the room. A nasty scowl painted itself across my face as I drew my baton before furiously walking over to the radio and beating it to death. Several arcane russian curse words escaped my lips each time I brought the baton down on the radio as hard as I could. I then begun stomping on it as small pieces of the internals lay scattered on the ground before dropping my baton and picking the radio up one final time and smashing it down on the ground. I let out a few deep disgruntled breaths as I began calming down a bit.

"Getting all worked up isn't going to solve anything. We have to focus our energy on staying alive if we want to make it out of this." Wilmarina said as she grabbed my left shoulder.

"…..The person I got in contact with said there were some useful supplies back in the Humvee…..I'll be back. You all stay here while I go get them." I said with a blank stare before trudging my way back over to the house.

I silently slipped down into the basement and went over to the toolbox. Inside on of the drawers was a claw hammer so I swiped it, stuffed it between my belt and waist, and taped the M1905 back on to my right leg and tucked my PA-63 back into my waist. I then went made my way upstairs and over to the front door only to be stopped by Wilmarina.

"You shouldn't go alone! What if something happens to you? At least let us help you!" She whispered worriedly.

"It's only a short distance. I'll be back in a few minutes, so wait here." I said as I shrugged her off.

I then turned the doorknob and stepped out into the fog shrouded streets, leaving Wilmarina behind with a disappointed stare on her face. I could hear the cries of freaks far off in the distance as I made my way down the street towards the humvee without a care in the world. It only took three minutes of walking to reach the fence and humvee at the end of the street. My bloody handprint was still on the glass as I climbed up and into the humvee and began searching all throughout the inside for the thermal goggles and flares. I finally found a small duffle bag in the back and unzipped it to find the goggles and six flares inside.

I pressed the power button on the goggles, and they powered on, so I took a quick look through them. Everything outside the right side of the humvee was a shade of blue with some warm colored silhouettes in the far distance. I let out an irritated grunt as I turned to the left of the vehicle only to see a group of "locals" right outside the Humvee. They could see me but weren't rushing the Humvee. As I began counting, I realized there was little chance of escaping this situation alive. I had gotten careless and let them get close enough to cut off my escape. I counted twenty-five in total just staring at me waiting for me to make a move. Some were even holding tools ranging from short metal pipes to things like kitchen knives and one even had a sledgehammer.

"Just my luck…" I said as I stared back at them.

I reluctantly climbed out of the Humvee with them still looking at me. They had come looking for a fight, and I decided to give them one. I drew both my baton and dagger and charged at them, and the fight began. I smashed a few in the face with my baton and slit their throats while parrying blows and they started to surround me as they shrugged off my attacks. I then stabbed one in the heart, and it collapsed to the ground in a heap before one smacked me over the back of the head with a metal pipe. Another tackled me to the ground as I staggered forward from being hit in the back of the head and laid on my stomach. Two pinned me down and stretched my right hand out. The one with the sledgehammer swung his hammer down on my hand and crushed it in one blow. I let out a howl of pain as the freak readied its hammer again and brought it down on my right foot. I felt one stab me in the back with a knife before feeling the hammer crush my left foot and let out another howl of pain. I was flipped over and smacked in the face with a pipe and then felt the hammer crush my left hand.

Oh…..death…..

One stomped on my stomach and another smacked my right shin with a pipe. Another freak stabbed a knife into my upper right arm and all I could do was lay there and bleed.

Oh…..death…..

As much as I wanted to struggle, to break free, there was no point. I couldn't walk or hold a gun. I was dead weight like this. All I could do was embrace my fate at the hands of this mob of pale freaks.

Oh…..death….

The one with the sledgehammer circled around until he was hovering over my face. He looked down at me with indifference and tilted his head slightly. By now the pain was unbearable. I looked up at it with my teeth clenched and waited for it to finish me, but it kept staring at me without making a move. I felt a sharp pain in my left shin and looked to see one biting into it and rip out a chunk of meat. I let out another howl of pain before looking the one with the sledgehammer in the eyes.

"What are you waiting for?! DO IT!" I hollered before the hammer swung down on my head.

Won't you spare me over another year…..