Break traps, jump the windows, do generators and escape. That was the plan. They've been over this, time and time again. They talked about this. They planned for this. If he just follows the plan then everything will be fine. Perfect even. They'll talk about it around the campfire. He wouldn't be a problem. The problem was them.
Jake peaked his head around the tree trunk. In the distance through the crooked branches was his good friend hanging two feet off the ground. A cruel breeze swinging her side to side like a human wind chime. Her whimpers of pain stabbed at Jake's heart worse than any hook could.
Beside her was the masked thing that captured her. It stood there watching the shadowy tendrils crawl up the steel beam, inching closer and closer to its captive's face. Claudette looked up in horror as the spider's claw came down on her. She caught the claw mid swing, pushing back with all her might. The creature seemed indifferent or silently relishing the nightmarish display.
Break the trap, jump the window, and unhook Claudette. That was the backup plan. A contingency encase the first plan failed, but neither plan considered this. The beast watches and waits for its master to do its wicked work. It was savoring the suffering.
Jake watched and waited for a chance, an opening, something that will let him save her. If there was a chance, it wasn't revealing itself to him. A crow flew from the branches and landed beside him. It pecked at the ground, completely accepting of Jake's presence. Jake didn't take his eyes off it. One wrong slip up and the startled crow will lead to his doom.
Another crow dove down, finding Jake's shaggy head of hair as a perfect resting place. Strange how the realm works. If Jake didn't know better, he'd believe these crows were real and not some extension of the nameless thing that created them. The spies from the shadows gathered around him. Silently watching and waiting. Was It watching and waiting in anticipation? Was It waiting for him to succeed or fail?
Jake took a slow, silent breath. Without making any sudden movements he turned to check on Claudette. Still hanging off a hook with that butcher with iron hooks digging into its skin watching.
"Come on." Jake cursed under his breath. "Leave."
He wished he knew where the others were. Dwight usually kept track of that. Jake struggled to keep a mental map of everyone and Dwight made it seem so effortless. The realm was ever shifting, ever expanding that no map could ever hope to chart. Jake focused on himself, he thrived in the solitude; the here and now. He tried to recall where his team was.
Off in the fog, somewhere in that vague, gray mess Meg was somewhere hopefully working on a generator while Jake was here. That's where he last saw her, elbow deep in the mechanical guts. They already loss someone else to that monster in the mask. It used the same tactic of waiting for the nameless Entity to do the work for it. If it comes down to just two, they don't have much chance of getting out alive.
Thoughts of doubt crept in Jake's mind. She's doomed, done for! Run! Run as far as you can get! Focus on yourself! Go fix a generator and save yourself!
Jake didn't dare shake his head. The nosy crow picking bits of twigs out off his head. The terrible thoughts clung to him like a festering tumor. They spilled out to the front of his mind. Fear forcing itself upon him. A terrible voice that sounded too much like his own spoke to him.
She would leave you to rot given the chance. She would have-
Then Jake saw the look of fear on her face. Those wide, bloodshot eyes with the pupil shrunk so far that it was a tiny black dot. He knows what it's like, they all do. The dark, the cold, having what made you you ripped away by It and violated beyond what was thought possible. Jake wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, even the mindless beasts that stalk them. That empty void in his chest was a constant reminder of what bonded them all together. He couldn't let Claudette go through that, not again.
Meg would make a great distraction. Jake thought. She could outrun the killer long enough for Jake to save Claudette. If they go looking for another generator instead of patching her up, they might make it out in time. Meg will just pull one of her "escape at the last second" kinda stunts. Jake himself sadly wasn't much of a runner.
The monstrous tendril crept closer and closer. Claudette's clock was about to strike the final hour. If there was any time for a heroic rescue, it would be now.
Jake turned away from his fear to the audience of crows he had assembled. Their tiny, black beady eyes staring at him, staring through him with the eldritch hunger of their master.
She's not coming! Meg isn't coming to help! You have to do something! You have to save her!
It wasn't fear talking. Jake heard a new voice drown out the festering fear. A voice that pushed back the dark clouds and parted the storm. Eerily familiar. The voice was trembling. It was something small and fragile forcing itself to be big and bold. To fill the role that it was never meant for. Jake could paint a perfect picture of the voice's face. His broken glasses and nervous smile gave Jake new found confidence. He's ran through these woods countless times, what's wrong with another go around?
Jake, still careful not to disturb the crows, wrapped his hand around the flashlight hooked to his belt and gave it a light shake. The batteries rattled in its plastic case. There was little left to use. He'd have to make it count.
Jake bolted from his spot, the dark angels flew in a swarm of black feathers and startled squawks. Claudette's face lit up when she saw Jake come to play the savor. The indomitable monster turned its head. It gripped the bloody handle of its cleaver. Its feet firmly planted in front of the hook. Then it turned back to Claudette, content with its kill.
Jake tried his damnedest to grab the killer's attention. He shouted, he taunted, he even did that little crouch dance that always seems to piss them off one way or another, but the monster did not budge. This was its domain, it was in complete control of the situation.
The tendrils crawled closer. Pointing at the base of Claudette's chest. She doesn't have much time before the final blow is struck!
You have to be brave, so that they can be. The voice reminded Jake.
"You too scared to chase little old me?" Jake unhooked the flashlight and began clicking it on and off in a erratic motion. The beam flickering on and off in the beast's face was enough to pull its attention away from the horrid display.
"You scared? You're so scared! You're not good enough to kill all of us!"
It huffed and sorted like an enraged bull. It gripped its cleaver until its knuckles grew white. A subtle twitch of its head told Jake that it knew that this was a trick. It knew and it didn't care.
The monster charged after the bold survivor, a faceless fury burning within it. Jake dashed away and the chase begins!
"Yes!" Jake silently cheered.
Jake couldn't help but smile. Meg'll go pull down Claudette and patch her up. They'll go find the last of the generators while he works his magic. They'll get out! No festering darkness, no creeping cold, just the warm campfire waiting for them on the other side of the gate! They were going to escape! All he has to do is run!
All that hope blossoming into a face wide smile. His face beaming so bright that it could be mistaken for the flashlight in his hand. For once in a long time, Jake felt hope. A certainty that they would escape brushed against his fingertips so close that he could feel it. Then he heard the snap of metal teeth digging into his flesh.
Jake fell to the ground. His leg bitten by the bear trap hidden amongst the grass. The tip of the teeth biting into bone. Jake cried out in agony
The beast stopped in its tracks and turned its head to the side. The smile of the mask matched the one underneath. He marched back to the hook to check on his prey. Jake wedged his fingers into the bear trap, using all of his strength to tear open the rusty jaw. The mechanical workings were covered in wax, too stubborn to move. The butcher came prepared.
"Meg!" He screamed as loud as his voice would allow. His screams echoing through the pines. "Meg, get Claudette! Get her now! Its coming back! Meg!"
Jake pulled and pulled with all his might. In the distance he could see Claudette struggling to hold against Its relentless assault. He cried out for Meg again, begging her to save Claudette before it was too late.
From the shadows, Meg was racing closely behind the beast for the hook. She was in a full sprint; a race car on nitro. She ran and ran with all her might and the butcher battered her away as if she were put a fly.
Jake reached out as the spider's tendrils pierced Claudette's chest, pulling her up into the dark void of black smoke and whispering fog that split opened the sky. He saw the fate that awaited him and he knew of a fate much worse if he gave up.
The Trapper stopped and turned to Jake. Soon the beast was standing over. A towering monster that took the shape of a man. Jake could see the curved bars of iron snaking in and out of its body, showing warped and twisted reflections of Jake's own face. The mask smiling while it stared down its next victim.
Jake pounded his fists against the monster's leather hide. He punched, kicked and squirmed to be free of the butcher's grip. It continued its march to the hook unabated as if Jake's efforts were little more a light breeze. His struggles were in vain.
The hook was drawing near. Jake didn't have much time. He clung to the dying embers of hope that he would be saved, that there was an escape. Meg jumped from the behind the tree trunks and into the path of the killer. She spread her arms wide to either side and Jake realized what she was doing.
"No, Meg run! You can still get out!" Jake begged, but she wouldn't budge an inch.
Meg blocked the path between the killer and their horrendous hook. She stood her ground, the unmovable object braced for the unstoppable force. But Meg was far from invincible.
Without batting an eye, the butcher raised its cleaver and struck Meg down with all its might. The cleaver dug into her shoulder with a soft crunch. The arm dangled at the underside of the shoulder clinging to the rest of the body with a few inches of flesh . Blood painted the grass crimson and bones splintered and shattered into the dirt. Still Meg stood tall. Her eyes blazing with righteous fury.
Jake continued to struggle. He screamed for her to run, to hide, but that same savor's spirit was infectious. The killer raised its cleaver and struck her again, cutting off the rest of her arm and lodging itself into her ribs. Jake watched in horror as Meg collapsed. Her gargled screams the only sound to escaped her lips. Reduced to a pinata with the candy spilling out.
Jake finally wiggled free from the killer's iron grip. He hit the ground feet first and ran without looking back. He'd seen enough to last a thousand lifetimes.
Jake didn't even know if the masked beast was after him still. He just kept running. Running through the endless acre of pine trees. The moon shined down shafts of light through the leaves and twisted branches, illuminating the featureless path ahead with no end in sight.
On any other day Jake would feel at home here. No legacy to follow up on, no overly high expectations to let down, just him and the wild. Nature only works in ultimatums: Survive or don't. Here it's no different. You either live or you die, but at what cost?
They were gone. Everyone was gone. Claudette, Meg, and Dwight. His friends were gone and Jake was all alone stumbling in through the pines. He dashed behind a large tree dripping with putrid sap. He curled up by the roots and closed his eyes. He focused on the call of the crows, the wind in through the leaves and pretended he was back home. Back home in the pines, all by himself, just him and the wild. The way he liked it.
Jake was ready to cruel up and die. He waited to face his mortality with the slight hope that this death would be his last. And then a voice spoke to him.
You have to survive to prove that it's possible. Keep that hope alive.
It wasn't fear nor hope talking, it was Jake's own voice. That will to survive may dim, but it never goes out. Even in the darkest of times there is a light at the end guiding the way.
The crows rustled in the branches above. Jake's heart pounded in his ears. He was not alone. He picked himself up, wiping the sticky sap off his gloves and ran deeper into the fog ridden forest.
"I won't give up here." He told himself.
The masked butcher strode through the fog as it were his own. Its cleaver dripping red with fresh crimson.
"You want me? I'm not giving up yet, so you're going to have to work for it!" Jake taunted as he dashed into the fog. The hunt was still on.
"And it appears that your son is in good health, maim." The overworked doctor told the parents.
"Oh that's so good to hear!" Dwight mother squeezed him like a childhood toy. "We'll be able to take him home soon?"
"I believe he can leave today if you would just sign some paperwork." The doctor pulled out his desk drawer. A fine collection of crumpled papers stuffed in with the promise of being cleaned later. He reached in and pulled out a single sheet. "This is the release form. Just sign here, here and here and he'll be good to go!"
Dwight's mother signed the document in the blink of an eye. The pen steaming at the point when she put it down. She turned to Dwight gave her son another bone crushing hug.
"Your coming home, sweetie! Your finally coming home!" She cried, tears streaming down her already wet cheeks.
The doctor brushed his shaking hand through his disheveled head of hair. He took a nervous sigh, preparing the words he had to say.
"Now, we found some suspicious markings on your son's body, maim." He pointed to Dwight's scar ridden arms. "I would advise that you stop by the police department before you leave down. Now I can't force you or your son to do anything, but I would strongly recommend reporting to the police given the… strange circumstances in his disappearance. Your son has been gone for…"
He flips through the documents scattered over his desk, finally finding the one he wanted out of the bunch and holding it up to the blinking overhead light. The calendar was dripping with red ink. Weeks and months crossed out in a million little Xs.
"A whole year now?"
A whole year. Still didn't seem real. Just a year? Countless days spent running in that tangled realm reduced to but a single year. Months spent wallowing in fear, starved for the hope that It wanted. Dwight struggled to stop himself from shaking. It couldn't have been that short. He refused to believe it.
"Yes, he's been gone for a whole year and we are very thankful that you found him!" Dwight's mother got up and shook the doctor's hand. "We'll stop by and tell them everything we know."
"Very good. Dwight," The doctor faced the tense teenager. His eyes filled with compassion and hope, as if he just witnessed a miracle. "You're going to be okay."
Dwight hesitated to touch to doctor's outstretched hand. The white lab coat casted a sharp glare into his eyes. When he gripped his trembling hand with his own he expected to feel a jolt of lightning.
"Thank you doctor."
As Dwight left the care of the hospital he saw how stretched thin they truly were. A handful of doctors and fewer nurses to boot. Dark circles hung from their eyes. A trophy for those long sleepless nights caring for the sick. The nurse that tended to Dwight was waiting at the front door of the clinic. Smiling and waving as he pushed open the glass doors to freedom.
He waved back. Dwight wanted to ask for her name, to give a proper thanks, but the scent of blood drifting from the depths of hospital proved too much him. The doors flew open and Dwight was outside.
The sunlight burned his eyes. Dwight shielded his eyes. The sun pointed a personal beam of light directly into Dwight's eyes socket to make up for the lost time. His retina sealed shut.
"My eyes! My eyes! I'm blind!" Dwight cried out.
He reeled back inside, bumping into his father's rather small frame. The slight force almost sent both of them falling to the floor. Dwight's dad grabbed him firm by the shoulders -mostly to support himself- and held Dwight up.
"Son. Son! You're not blind. Open your eyes."
Dwight peeked open one eye and the insidious sun was waiting to hit him with another flash of blinding light. The irony was not lost on him. At least the sun wasn't flickering on and off in mockery.
"I can't. I can't it's too bright! Help me!"
"Here son, try these."
Dwight's father slipped on a pair of sunglasses over Dwight's glasses. Through a rough fit, they mostly did the job by dimming the damn sun's rays. Dwight opened his still burning eyes as they adjusted to the sun. His father's face smiling nervously at him.
"You're okay son. You wear those glasses as long as you need to."
Dwight's mother sprinted outside.
"Dwight! Dwight are you okay? What happened baby? What happened?" She held him tight. Dwight felt his back crack from his mother's forceful embrace.
"I'm fine, mom. It's… it's just bright outside."
Dwight's mother put him down.
"Are you sure? We can wait until it gets dark and-"
"NO!" Dwight suddenly blurted it. The thought of being out in the dark, being dragged away by nameless things. No. No not again. Never again. "I want to go home now!" He told them. His voice trembling with fear. "Let's get going!"
Outside, the town of Weeks a desolate ghost town. Outside the hospital stood rows upon rows of ruin and decay. Buildings that once stood tall not rot from the inside out. Crumbling monuments reduced to echos of the past. Only the wary denizens of Weeks remains, trapped here for one reason or another.
All eyes were glued to him. This uneventful town is experiencing the biggest news story they had in years. Some stared at him with awe and wonder, and other looked upon Dwight with fear and horror. In the back of their minds they knew Weeks was doomed to a slow death. They're last hour will be nothing more than a dying gasp of an old corpse. The life sucked away by that nameless parasite Dwight knew all too well. An empty husk devoid of hope.
Dwight couldn't bare to look at any of them any longer. He knew the thing that haunted them, the stench of its handy work hung in the air like a mesamic cloud, so thick it was palpable. The missing posters that coated the walls on every corner on every street, piled on top of each other begging for attention. He wished get as far away from here as humanly possible.
His father put his hand on Dwight's shoulder. He ushered him to the street.
"Don't worry son, we won't be staying long. The car is just right out here. Come on now." Dwight's father ushered him into the old, rusted machine. With a turn of the keys the engine sputtered and spit a puff of black smoke from the exhausted.
"Darn thing's always doing this." Dwight's father grumbled to himself as they took off.
The town didn't look much better on the car ride. What the few structures that remained were nothing more than shadows of their former selves. On the ride back home Dwight saw the shambles of the scrapyard where the old man sat in his little guard box smoking cigarettes and listening to the radio playing the same five songs.
The police station was run by a skeleton crew wasting the day away sitting at the front steps of their dilapidated station. A few vagrants wondered around the sun scorched streets. Talking among themselves as if the town wasn't eroding away before their eyes. Maybe if they ignore it, the corruption that took hold will move elsewhere and life could return to normal; if such a thing is still possible. Dwight's mother and father ducked their heads as they passed. Dwight's father pulled his hat over his face.
"Uh, dad? We passed the station." Dwight pointed through the dirty glass to the boarded up building being swallowed up by the horizon.
"Don't worry about that right now, sweetie. Just enjoy the ride." Dwight's mother said as she flicked on the radio.
Before them lay miles of empty open road. Rows of trees lined up on either side. The road cutting the forest down the middle. Lush green as far as the eye could see. A long claw of trees reaching out of Weeks. At least these woods were bathed in daylight. Dwight kept his head away from the window. He didn't dare peer past the branches. Too many memories weighed him down.
At the end of the road stood a small silhouette. A handful of buildings that formed the small town Dwight called home. Home. His home. Dwight wiped the tears from his eyes. Part of him was still expecting to wake up from this perfect dream. To wake up back at the campfire before the nightmare continues. The rest of him just savored the moment. The taste of freedom and sunlight on his skin. He was actually going home.
"We've been so worried about you, sweetie." His mother cried, still wiping the continuous stream of tears rolling down her face that threatened to flood the inside of the car. She patted down her cheeks with a handkerchief. "But you're safe now. Everything is going to be okay, just like they were before." She choked on her words. She could hardly contain her excitement. "We're going to be a family again!"
Dwight's father glanced nervously at his son in the rearview mirror. The untold truth on the tip of his tongue.
"Now son, things have…. changed since you were gone." His father spoke as sweat began to drip from his brow. His gaze set on the road. "But… but you don't have to worry about that. You're safe now, son. You're mother is right. Things will go back to normal. And if you ever want to talk about… you know…. what happened, we're here for you."
Dwight swallowed his words like bitter medicine. There was a time and a place for talking. This was neither. Dwight kept his attention to the floor of the car. Dirty with some bits of old chip bags and the occasional soda can. Dwight reached down and began picking up the bits of trash, collecting them in a pile beside his feet. A nice distraction for the long drive.
"Don't worry him with all that nonsense!" His mother scorned. "Dwight, sweetie, everything is fine."
"Everything isn't find, Margret. He deserves to know. We can't just keep it from him."
"Keep what from me?" Dwight asked.
"Nothing sweetie. Don't worry about it. Your father just had a long day today. Isn't that right dear? She shot him a cold glare. The same warning a mother bear would give if you stood too close to her cubs.
Dwight's dad shrunk in his seat. He rubbed the rim of his steering wheel. His hands fidgeting with stress.
"Yes dear." He signed his declaration of defeat. The conversation was over.
The rest of the ride was uneventful and shrouded in silence. Dwight felt the words he wanted to say bounce up and down in his throat. He would open his mouth as if to say something and close it shortly after. He knew what he wanted to say but couldn't find the right words for it. The perfect words might not exist. How could they? How could he tell them what he's been through and not seem crazy?
The woods opened up and the small valley town greeted them with open arms. Home. Finally. Left just as he remembered it, perfectly preserved in his memories.
Dwight pressed his face to the window like an excited child. All the old landmarks were there. All the nostalgic places where he spent his childhood were still here. The old corner store, the playground, and the high school-
High school. The name tasted sour. Dwight shook his head and focused on the good. He had the privilege to experience high school again. It was treat compared to… before. At least no one would be trying to kill him there. There's hope.
The high school sat on a large hill. The institution cast a dark shadow over the neighborhood, bleeding into the suburbs below. Large, imposing and practically imperial. The school served as a breeding ground anxiety and dread. The various factions fighting among themselves with those like Dwight caught in the crossfire. To say that it wasn't fun would be an understatement worthy of an award.
Dwight's smile grew as they passed the horrid establishment and the small little homes emerged with their cute cut lawns. Small, neatly put together boxes all painted in bright primary colors that caught the eye. Things were different however. Many houses had bars wielded to their windows and long chains snaking over their doorways. Shifting eyes peeking behind dark curtains, retreating into the safety of their home before Dwight could get a good look at them.
Missing posters matching those in Weeks clung to the wood poles of landlines. They weathered papers flying free after being torn down by the wind and rain. Dwight covered his eyes to them. He was afraid he'd see his own face on one of those papers or someone he knew.
At last they arrived at his house. Dwight didn't particularly like his house. There was nothing wrong with it of course. It had all the usually things that made it homey: a door, a roof, couple of walls. All that good stuff. It just had the unfortunate luck to be his house; his home. On the outside you wouldn't notice the difference from his house and the neighbor's, and that was the point. Nothing stood out.
Dwight didn't remember having his house match the iron bar craze that has swept through the neighborhood and he certainly didn't remember having to unlock three separate locks with three different keys to get inside his own house. His mother fumbled with the keys delicately as if they would shatter at a moment's notice.
"These are the only keys we have." His mother told him. "If you need to get in the house just call me and I'll unlock the door for you."
"Okay, mom."
"And if I'm not here -which I always am- but if I'm not then just knock three times and Derek will let you in."
"Okay, mo- wait! Who's Derek?"
Dwight's mother and father shot up at the question. They gave each other a quick worried look before returning their attention to unlocking the door. Dwight's father broke the awkward silence.
"We'll tell you when we get inside where it's safe." He glanced over his shoulder, looking down the street to make sure no one was watching them and then the trio rushed inside the iron clad house.
The inside was also nothing special. A few common chairs in the front, kitchen in the back and the bedrooms upstairs connected by a thin hallway branching off to the stairs. Dull, uninteresting, and nothing of importance, just as he remembered it.
Everything from the walls to the furniture was mundane. Plain, boring, uninspired made slightly nostalgic by trauma. The perfect summation of Dwight's entire life. The word "Average" tainted everything around him.
Dwight felt sudden a tidal wave of exhaustion crash into him. His knees became weak and wobbly. His head became light as a feather and his arms grew heavy. When was the last time he he saw a bed; his bed? It's been so long. The hospital wasn't exactly a weekend resort.
"So about Derek. Dwight you should know that we love you." Dwight's mother began.
Dwight's head was pounding.
"Love you so much, son." His dad chimed.
"And we missed you."
"Terribly missed you."
Dwight's eyelids grew heavy.
"And when we couldn't find you we-"
Dwight propped himself against the wall leaning up to the stairs. His father caught him before he had a chance to collapse on the floor.
"You must be exhausted after all you've been through. You need some rest son. We'll go and make some room for you." Dwight slowly nodded his head.
The thought of sleeping in his own bed gave him a second wind. He climbed the thin set of stairs. His parents rushing behind him but not pushing past him. He turned the corner to his room and to Dwight's surprise there was a small boy waiting in front of his bedroom door.
"Dwight! Wait!" His mother called but it was too late. Someone was waiting for Dwight upstairs.
The boy was small yet much more muscular than Dwight. His toned arms wrapped around a stitched together teddy bear of various fabrics with mismatching colors and patterns. The stuffed bear squished against his football themed pajamas.
"Mom, Dad? Where were you? Is someone visiting?" the kid asked in a voice like cotton.
The truth hit Dwight like a runaway truck. He turned to see his parents anxiously smiling at the bottom of the stairs. Dwight didn't have to say anything, they knew what they did: They replaced him.
Frank felt the rush of cold air slip through the holes in his mask. The air tasting fresh and the scent of pines flooded his nostrils. The dark fog faded away and he found himself above the treetops. He braced himself for the fall, pushing his arms out in front of him to take the brunt of the impact.
The branches snapped like brittle bones. The tree's limbs catching and releasing Frank over and over. A nest of birds were sleeping soundly until Frank came crashing down on their home. They flew off in a panic. Nothing remained of the nest but an explosion of twigs, leaves, and feathers.
Frank hit the ground hard and heard a crack. The smiling grimace flew from his face and landed somewhere in the dark. He felt something cold and wet on his back. He held his breath, checking himself to see if he'd broken anything only to feel the slime of an unfortunate egg on his back.
The disheveled birds gathered to the scene of the crime. Frank watched to two bigger birds look longingly at the crushed yellow puddle and then quickly fly off into the night without a second thought. Off to start again, Frank reckoned. The smallest one didn't run with mommy and daddy. He sat on his branch and watched Frank, not moving a muscle.
"You gonna do something?" Frank taunted, whipping the goo that clinged to his jacket. The yellow yoke hit the ground with a loud splat.
The chick stood his ground. Silent and defying. It watched and waited. Was that anger behind its eyes? Was it taunting him? Mocking him?
Frank's blood began to boil. That flying rodent thought it was better than him. It thought Frank couldn't do anything to it. It thought it was invincible.
"You little shit!" Frank gritted his teeth. He picked up a nearby rock and threw it with all his might.
The stone flew through the air like a bottle rocket, smacking the bird with a direct hit! The bird fell to the earth. From where he threw it, Frank heard the satisfying sound of tiny bones breaking. It rolled in the dirt, squawking for help. Frank walked over and crushed the malignant creature under his shoe. The crying cease and the woods and the silence returned.
Frank spit on the bird's body for good measure before dusting himself off. He surveyed the scene. His eyes cut through the darkness like a hot knife through butter. He spotted his mask face down in the dirt. He picked it up, wiping what little dirt that would part with the award winning smile. It glittered in the moonlight like a dirty pearl. The drawn on smile was covered in mud, blood and now some fresh dirt. The eyes holes were unobstructed and that was enough of him.
The mask, his mask, and in a way their mask. The mask of the Legion. But the Legion wasn't here. It was just him. A one man Legion in name alone.
Frank felt a bitter empty around him. He wasn't use to being without his pets. They followed him around like love starved puppies, willing to do anything for him. They were an extension of himself and now they were gone.
Who needs them? Frank's thought. It chose me! Not them. ME! I am the Legion! ME!
Frank placed the mask over his face: This was his true face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. It was the knife he and Julie shared. Her warmth still clung to the grip.
Frank stared at his dirty reflection in the blade. The face of the Legion smiling back at him.
"I'll show them. I'll show them all. I'm just as worthy as best of them! It chose us!" The reflection told him.
Frank looked out through the forest. A sliver of road could be seen through the pines.
"You're damn right!"
Frank walked through the dark as if it were his own. Any mysterious noise the woods uttered did not phase him in the slightest. He knew that a much worse fate awaited him if he dare failed. Not even death would be an escape from Its wraith.
He stumbled onto the open road. It stretched for miles on either side. The pale moonlight illuminated the sun scorched street. Not a soul in sight, not a body to be found. He was on his own.
Frank slipped the mask into his jacket and tucked his knife into his pocket. If he was going to blend in he would have to look the part or at least not make it so obvious. He grimly giggled at the thought of walking into town wearing a mask and wielding a bloody knife. Next thing you know he'd be with It again. What would he say? "Sorry, I fucked up back there. Maybe point me in the right direction next time?"
Frank snorted. As if. He was on his own, dropped in the middle of goddamn nowhere without even a hint to where his prey might be. Great, just great. Perfect even! Just what he needed to find someone. Not a single clue!
As if to prove him wrong, a piece of news paper flew in on the wind right in front of Frank. All he needed to see was that pathetic little face to know that it was important. He caught it before the wind could steal it away. He unraveled it, reading the bold headlines of newsprint.
Teenage boy found after being missing for a whole year! Frank read what was beneath the headline, past the trashy articles and simplistic ads. Dwight Fairfield was found in the nearby town of Weeks, covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe. Reason for disappearance still unknown. Dwight was taken to Weeks Central Hospital and was released into the custody of his parents shortly after.
"Weeks, huh?" Frank said to himself. A smile stretched across his face. " Guess that's good as any place to check. Now," Frank saw a glint of light in the corner of his eye. A small coin half buried in the side of the road. Frank picked up a small coin lying in the dirt. "Heads: I go left. Tails: I go right."
Frank slipped his thumb under the coin and flicked it up into the air. It glinted briefly in the moonlight before falling and bouncing on the pavement. Frank leaned down and saw the board face of first president staring back at him.
"Left it is. I'll be seeing you soon, Dwight." The prey's name tasted sour from the mere utterance. Frank tore the newspaper to ribbons and abandon them to the wind. The only piece he bothered to save was that sad little mugshot of Dwight. Frank took a good, long look at it.
"I'll have you dead in no time!" He growled.
Frank walked quietly down the lonesome road. The world around him was bathed in silver moonlight. For a moment he smiled, reminiscing of those lazy days spent with them. He quickly smothered his budding nostalgia. There's not point. He doesn't belong to this world anymore. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on the hunt, Frank!
Frank felt the fury burn within him. He was on a mission. He proved himself once before, he can do it again. He could feel Its wordless will burned into his brain. His mission at the forefront of his mind.
Find the prey and bring him back!
He looked up to the night sky. The moon in full bloom against the night sky. A lone wolf howled in the distance. Frank couldn't help but join in. He howled like an animal, announcing to the world that the hunt was still on!