Meg felt tired. A constant downpour of drowsiness assaulted her senses. Her body begging her to lay down and rest. She was always tired, something always kept her balanced on the border of tired and exhausted. The pendulum never swaying to one side for too long.
It was the chases. The athlete always found herself running from something. It didn't matter much what that something was, in this place it wasn't hard to tell what wanted you dead at first glance. Always running, always hiding, death around every corner with no rest in sight.
That was thing that bothered her the most. She was always running but never getting anywhere. She'd run from knife wielding maniacs or the jagged claws of deformed monsters that might have been human once upon a time; but she always ended up in the same place. Running to the campfire or hanging from a hook. No matter what happened, how it happened or why, she'd arrive at that lonesome campfire. A place that festers in solitude, no matter how many others you surround yourself with. Even when they're right next to you they feel a million miles away.
Maybe she was just tired of thinking about it. Part of her wanted to let all logic slip away, to embrace the oblivion that surely awaited all trapped in this twisted game: Oblivion. Sweet, sweet oblivion. No more pain, no more disappointment, just drifting away in the gentle dark. The last scraps of hope thrown to the fog.
Meg knew she couldn't let these thoughts fester. She bit her lip until she felt her own blood wash over her tongue. She tasted it, it tasted like iron. She was here, she was alive and she needed to be alive for everyone else. This was a nonnegotiable truth.
No, she wasn't physically tired. Something in her head just stopped clicking. Like her brain decided to stop trying. No matter how hard Meg thought about, she couldn't will this feeling away.
Meg found herself on a suburban street. To her left was a shallow row of decrepit houses that looked like they haven't held host as a home in a hundred years. Cracked wood and loose bricks held together by an all too familiar mystical force. To Meg's right was a flat, equally run down building. The fence ripped open beside a rotting picket fence. The sign above the entrance read: Belham Pre-School. The colors faded and worn down by time.
Old plastic structures of a self assembly fort lay strewn across the grass. The image so reminiscent on toys abandoned in a child's backyard. Who ever played with these was long gone however. Only Meg was here to silently mourn the lost innocence.
Meg just wanted to rest. The athlete's legs throbbed from overuse. It was the same painful burning she experienced in her races when she was really pushing herself to her limits. Here, she was pushing herself in every waking moment.
Her knees felt rubbery. They wanted to give up too. Meg hung her head low and lazily spat on the pavement. What's the point in going on if it's all the same? What's the point if she ends up here again and again in this evil loop of death and despair?
She can't think that. She can't give up. Wake up. Wake up! Meg gave herself a hard smack across her face. Focus. Stay sharp. You have to try, dammit. If not for yourself, then for your friends.
The dark fog gave way for a bright, white light. The edge of the trees wilted away into a sprinkle of ash. Meg could even smell the slight whiff of burning meat. Meg knew who it was. If the new scenery didn't give it away, it was the nursery rhyme.
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you." She was off like a light, through the parking lot and down into the pre-school. "Three, four, better lock your doors."
Meg turned back to see if the dream demon was after her. Nothing. She didn't know quite what to expect. The creatures in the fog are constantly shifting, constantly changing. Some more than others, but recently the shifts have become more dramatic in some than in others.
She wasn't watching where she was going. Meg didn't realize that the floor opened up ahead and she fell down into the pre-school's depths. She crashed down onto the aged concrete, taking the blunt of the force on her arm. She didn't hear a crack or a snap of any sort and deduced she had no broken bones.
"Always count your blessings." She whispered to herself.
It was warmer down there, or at least it looked like it was warmer. A furnace burned away. The stench of scorched flesh stronger here now than ever. The toxic fumes filled Meg's nostrils. She wanted to throw up, but had to settle for a dry heave.
"Five, Six, grab your crucifix. Seven, Eight, going to stay up late." Meg didn't have time to wait. She had to run. She bolted down the twisted concrete halls. Rusty pipes protruding from the wall. Bent and crooked like the branches on the trees. A jet of hot steam flew out into Meg's eyes. She reeled back in pain. Her eyes burned shut.
The nursery rhyme kept getting louder. "Nine, Ten, never sleep again!"
The wail of the exit gates being powered echoed like thunder. Meg felt the long claws slice into her chest. They were cold, colder than ice. As cold as you'd expect from a demon of death.
The one the invisible children called Freddy laughed as Meg was thrown to the basement floor. A sickly grin spread across its melted face. It rubbed the talons on his glove together. The scraping of metal against metal played a small symphony of suffering.
Then the world shook. A great gong that made the realm ground erupted in bright crimson cracks. The same cracks that sucked her dear friend away.
The dream demon snarled. Its prey was escaping. This simply won't do. It grabbed Meg by her bloody shirt and hoisted her over its surprisingly small shoulders. A hook appeared almost out of thin air. Before she had time to struggle free, Meg was impaled on the rusty meat hook.
It was a familiar pain, but that didn't make it any less severe. Meg let out a scream as she grabbed the hook poking out of her chest. It didn't get easier. It never got easier. If anyone were to tell Meg that pain made you stronger, she'd happily show them the countless scars that riddled her body; the most prominent being the hole in her chest. Each one only made her weaker.
The dream demon smiled and vanished just as quickly as it came. Meg was left alone. The gong continued to ring. The cracks burned brighter like veins of molten magma. With each ring of the gong the ground trembled. Meg knew that time was running out.
She reached back and ran her fingers along the shaft of the hook. She firmly grabbed hold of the cold metal. Her heart skipped a beat as she pulled herself up. The black tendrils crept closer because of the attempt. It was trying to dissuade her.
The gong rang again and dashed all fear Meg had. No doubt that the dream demon was keeping her friends preoccupied. This was her last hope of escape.
Again she grabbed hold of the hook behind her. She pulled up, the rusty hook scraping against her ribs. She grinded her teeth as she fought through the pain. The taste of copper filled her mouth as she flew off the hook and crashed down onto the floor.
Immediately Meg started coughing up blood. She could taste it on her breath, it was like drowning in a desert. She was dry drowning in her down blood. Her lungs filled up like fleshy water balloons.
"Got to…. get out…. Got to ... escape... "
Meg pushed herself up and limped forward to the stairs. Her head light as air, she leaned up against a wall to support herself. She could see the outside teasing her. All she had to do was climb the stairs and freedom would be within reach.
The first step didn't provide much of a challenge, then came the second and the third. By the fourth she had to hold onto the railing to keep herself from falling over, and when she reached the fifth and sixth step her grip failed her and she came tumbling down into the back of the basement.
There was a crack in the wall. A tiny sliver of candle light leaked out. Fading away, Meg crawled closer, clinging to the last strands of focus she could muster. Her blood spilled out onto the warm concrete. It bubbled and sizzled before slowly fading away.
Meg pried away the loose floorboards. The rotten plants loosely stacked on top of each other hid an opening. A small chamber revealed to hold a tattered mattress, littered with crudely drawn crayon doodles. This was a secret shrine of some sort.
Meg went through the drawings. Most of them had pictures of a scary figure with the bright red striped sweater and long pointy claws. It was clear what the children drew themselves as: small, helpless things covering their eyes and hoping the big bad man went away.
But among them was one she recognized. A piece of paper that held a familiar handwriting. She reached out for it. The paper she knew must have been written by her mysterious author of the journal. The tips of her fingers graced the parchment. She was so close that she could taste it.
Whatever was written had to be important. Important enough for the realm itself to dangle it in front of her as a prize. She just had to read it, read the words of Benedict Baker. Words of wisdom that taught her how to survive impossible odds may save her again here.
But that was not to be.
The gong banged one final great echo. A black spider tendril erupted up from the ground and into Meg's stomach. Blood filled her mouth and tainted her breath. Immediately everything below the waist was dead numb.
The tendrils wrapped around her and twisted Meg's body in unnatural shapes. There was a loud snap and crack. Her spine broken like a brittle branch. Just when she thought the worst was over, one last tendril drilled itself into her head and the world went dark.
Before she knew it Meg was back at the forlorn campfire. Jake and Claudette looking mournful at her. They each had a hand cradling their chest. That told Meg that they didn't escape. They had they're brief victory torn from them by the ever shifting fog.
It wasn't hard for Julie to find a ride from Weeks. She had plenty of practice breaking into cars and making a speedy getaway before anyone ever noticed. She knew the steps by heart.
Ball your fist into your hand and use it to leverage your elbow to smash the glass. Ignore the pain and reach inside to unlock the car. Mind the broken glass. Slip into the driver's seat and cross some wires. Simple, easy. She whittled it down to pure habit, much to the dismay of the residents of Ormond.
They were lucky. Here in Weeks the police were too busy stuffing their fat faces with donuts to notice the band of teenagers walk down the street in suspiciously dirty clothing. The blood dried and now resembled dirt on the Legion's jackets.
Any curious onlooker was shooed away by a mean look. The pathetic patrons scurried away like rats at the first sign of danger. Julie hated the sour taste the air had. It reminded her too much of Ormond, too much of home.
"What about that one?" Joey pointed to the beat up van shoved neatly into the alley of two run down buildings.
"Too gross! Let's grab that one!" Susie jumped for joy when she saw the much nicer looking sedan. The paint was chipped and the window cracked, but it was by far the nicest care around.
Julie shook her head. She grabbed both Susie and Joey as they bickered. Her cold glare and flared nostrils relayed her message.
This isn't a joyride. Shut up and pay attention.
Julie had in mind they're perfect getaway car. Something that danced the line of nondescript and flashy. Something that has found a nice little niche; a Goldilocks zone between the two. If she had to pick one or the other however, she'd go with discrete. This Fairfield character had eluded Frank and escaped that… that place. He had to be clever to pull that off and that made him dangerous.
"What about that one, Jewels?" Joey pointed to the sizable van parked outside the police station draped in the lime glow of the neglected streetlight. No windows, looked clean considering where it was and it wouldn't look too out of place if found on some suburban road. Julie was almost expecting a large man in overalls to step outside to go work on some maintenance of something or other.
Perfect.
"Joey, you idiot! That's outside the police station! We'll get caught!"
"Shut it Suz! Julie here can hot wire it before anybody even notices. Right Jewels?"
Susie had a point. Pigs might be lazy here, but they shouldn't underestimate them. Even a small town sheriff might be stupid enough to think he's brave. A gun and a badge does wonders for the ego.
"I bet she can start it up in five minutes flat!" Joey proclaimed.
"Well… duh? Of course she can! I was just saying that-"
"What? That you don't believe in Julie?"
"N-no! Of course not! This is Julie we're talking about!" Susie hissed between her braces. She glanced back at Julie, scanning her face for any sign of disapproval. "I… In fact, I bet you twenty that she can do it in three minutes!"
"You're on!"
Julie motioned the two of them to follow her. They crossed the barren street to the van. Julie looked through the side mirror. The surprisingly clean mirror showed an empty driver's seat.
Coast is clear so far.
She leaned over to the hood. In front of them was the police station. Just as run down as the rest of this rotten town. Julie could taste the sad content in the air. Just like Ormond, nobody had any hopes or dreams of leaving. Everyone sat in a pen of their own sad filth. It made Julie's blood boil just thinking about it.
"Smash and grab, Jewels." Joey whispered.
Julie turned and held two fingers to her eyes.
Watch my back.
Joey and Susie nodded in unison. "We'll warn you if anyone sees you."
Julie balled her fists into her hand and smashed the window with her elbow. Quickly she reached inside and unlocked the side door. In the blink of an eye she was already in the driver's seat fiddling with some wires.
A spark leap onto Julie's jacket. The engine sputtered, the exhaust spat out a puff of smoke and the car roared to life.
There was a tap on the glass. Julie turned to see a pig cop showing off his bright shiny badge. "Ma'am, step out of the vehicle!"
Fat chance.
Officer fatass banged his plump sausage fingers against the unbroken window. His cheeks flaring up like an angry bullfrog. "Get out of the car, now!"
Julie pulled the gear shift into reverse and slammed on the gas. The van's wheel ran over the pig's foot. He hopped up and down, clutching his broken foot.
Julie unlocked the door and Joey and Susie jumped in the back.
"Let's get out of here!" Susie screeched.
Julie slammed her foot on the gas. She steered the van onto the sidewalk just quick enough to give officer lardass a love tap on the way out. Julie let out a mute fit of laughter. It sounded like the dying fish gasping for air, but Julie was too busy watching the donuts loving officer cradle on the sidewalk through her rear view mirror.
Susie let out a loud cackle. "What time was that? What time was that?"
Joey looked at his watch and sighed. "There's no way! My watch is broken!"
"Na-huh! Show me the time, Joey!"
Joey held out his watch in defeat. The hands betrayed that Julie took less than three minutes to steal the car.
"Ha! You never were good with numbers!" Susie held out a greedy hand. "Pay up!"
Joey groaned as he reached into her pocket a smacked a handful of dollar bills in Susie's open palm.
"Ha, ha! Gonna buy me something nice with these!"
What would you even by? Julie thought to herself. Anything we want, we can just take. Money does us no good.
She drove off into the night towards that little neighborly town. Walls of trees surrounded them. Julie couldn't escape the feeling that It was watching them, even now.
The sun slowly dawned over them. The bright light caused Julie to squint her eyes. Her eyeballs rejecting the very notion of natural light. Note to self, swipe some sunglasses.
"What can you buy with twenty bucks?" Joey echoed her sentiment.
"That's for me to worry about. Don't strain yourself thinking about it, Joey!"
"Hey! You saying I'm dumb?"
"I"m not saying you're smart, now am I?"
Julie slammed her foot on the van's breaks. Her two goons in the backseat collectively slammed their faces on the seats in front of them, silencing to two insolent children. Julie shot them a threatening glare through the rear view mirror.
If Frank was here, you'd two would've kept your mouths shut!
Joey was the first to speak up. "We're sorry, Jewels. Won't happen again." He rubbed the front of his face that just had an intimate moment with the cheap leather seat.
"Kiss ass." Susie hissed between her braces. Joey, respectively didn't respond.
Good. Now let's get moving.
The road stretched far ahead of them. The morning sun did little to alleviate the creeping drowsiness. Julie pushed on and forced her eyes to stay open in the burning sunlight.
At the end of the horizon sat a pathetic suburban down. A place so boring that Julie couldn't stomach to remember the name. This was the place that held her prey, the one thing preventing Frank and Julie from being reunited. If she killed Fairfield, than all her problems would melt away.
Ready or not, Fairfield. The Legion is coming for you!
She kept driving straight down the road. The road towards the small little stagnate town. The road to her prey. The road to Frank. How ironic she found, that the path she walked lead to darkness while the road she drove on was bathed in daylight.
"You really think it was Benedict's?" Claudette asked. Meg sat beside her, staring into the harsh glow of the campfire.
"I know it was. It had to be. Why else would it have been hidden there?" Meg leaned back on the rotten oak. Her legs still burning and her head still throbbing.
Jake got up and casually threw another branch on the fire. Meg looked down at her hand. Every square inch of skin had some trace of a scar in one way or another. A human pin cushion used and abused countless times until it was unrecognizable. It was those fingers that grazed the page. Meg continued to study them as if the words had lept off the parchment and were found on her skin without her realizing it..
"We don't know that." Jake shook his head. "It could be another trick of the fog."
"We can't be sure it's a trick until we read it for ourselves." Claudette brushed the dirt off the journal and opened it's worn pages. "You sure it was his handwriting?"
She held the book open to Meg. The pages filled with the familiar swirls and dots of the fabled Benedict. Words that they have read countless times, memorized by heart and have sworn to muscle memory. The gang would often spout quotes of the elusive author without even realizing it.
Meg nodded her head. "Positive. I'd notice that writing anywhere. I'm certain it was his."
Jake stoked the fire with another branch. Not that he had to. The fire never dimmed nor blazed, always in a state of burning. Like the entity that held them all here, unwavering.
"So what's the plan? We find it and then what?"
"We.." Meg opened her mouth as if to speak and promptly closed it when the words escaped her. The paper could hold anything, from a means to escape to another mindless rant of depravity and desperation.
Perhaps it was all just nothing. Something to fixate on in a fit of madness. Hope was something of a rarity and the thirst for even a sliver of it was maddening.
It's just the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over again.
Run, slash, bleed, hook. Run, slash, bleed, hook. Run, slash, bleed, hook.
The only difference being what did the slashing and how. Other than that it was all the same. LIke a twisted groundhogs day, they were repeating the same actions over and over and over again. Always another generator, always another loop, always another skill to learn and relearn over and over and over again; until you are caught and thrown into Its clutches.
Still, it was something to cling to. Something to stoke the dwindling fires of hope. It's what Dwight would have wanted. Meg believed he said at one point. Whether this memory was based in reality or another fabrication didn't matter. If he didn't say it, he would have said it if he was still here.
Meg walked over and picked up a small rotten log, no bigger than high school textbook. She turned to the fire and threw the log into the flame. For a moment the flame rose. The hungry pyre crackled with delight at the sudden treat before dying back to the mundanity to held before.
"It's something." Meg echoed her own thoughts. "And that's what matters. Next match at that preschool, I'm going to get that paper and bring it back. Even if it's the last thing I do!"
Jake and Claudette stood up. The fire in their eyes blazing brighter than the campfire.
"We're right behind you, every step of the way!"
The three huddled together. A bond forged through countless adversities. They would persist. They would endure. They last this long by the skin of their own teeth.
"There could be other pages." Meg picked up the journal and ran her fingers through it's pages.
"You might be right." Claudette said. "If we find that page, we'll know for sure."
"The journal stopped getting new pages, maybe Benedict found a way out and left us a trail to follow!" Meg cradled the journal close to her chest. She could feel the hope blossoming in her heart like a sweet summer flower.
"We can only hope." Jake said. "No matter what happens, I won't give up on any of you."
"Same thing goes for me Jake, you too Claudette!"
For so long they survived just to survive. Survived the hunts, the sacrifices and more recently survived the loss of a dear friend and leader. But now they had a mission. A mission they hoped will lead to their salvation: Follow Benedict.
The fog rolled through the groaning store house. The distant crows squawked in the distance. Their echoes rippling through the mournful trees as they released their leaves to the ground below.
Ground. If you could even call it that. Claudette knew it wasn't ground. Maybe the concept of the ground but not actually the ground. Or maybe it was yet another unfathomable concept that It weaved into her mind.
Claudette stared at the ground. There was dirt, grass, even a tiny ladybug crawling up the dark green blade. But it wasn't real. None of this was real in the traditional sense.
Just don't think about it. Focus on the objective. Survive. That familiar voice in her head told her. Claudette shook her head and looked off in the distant fog.
Crumbling brickwork erected from the dirt, long winding trees scraped the sky with crooked fingers and bare branches. Tall thin pillars baring glass fruit that flickered faintly above their mechanical roots.
Claudette crept closer. The silence of the woods was deafening. The only relief was the squawk of distant crows. Was it her friends or the beast that hunts them?
Focus Claudette.
She saw the generator overgrown with moss and dust. Pressing herself against the brick wall she peeked around the corner. Nothing. No lullaby, no wailing in the wind, no roar of the chainsaw. Nothing but the empty drone of the forest.
She began her mindless work on the dilapidated machine. The pistons slowly pumping to life after crossing just a few wires. It was mundane. There was not surprised by it anymore. Claudette would wager that she'd be able to keep up with the best mechanics in her small town with the experience she gained here. Sadly you can't put down an eldritch spider god down as a reference.
She laughed at her own joke when the generator exploded in light. The dark was pushed back and Claudette found herself under the pale spotlight. She breathed a sigh of relief when two more generators went off in the distance. The beasts were getting sloppy.
Through the trees there was the old warehouse. Broken windows gave a glimpse of its contents, old boxes, pallets and one tempting generator all cradled in the crumbling building of moaning metal. Claudette walked inside like she owned the place. She noted the stairway to the basement to her left, the pallet to her right and the generator just ahead. She knew the window around the corner lead to another pathway to more pallets and a hill she could jump from later. Most killers lose her after a round of two around the loop.
It was funny. She wasn't afraid anymore. She knew these killers. All their tricks, traps, and toys. Each one was a puzzle she knew intimately after however long she's been trapped here. Nothing could scare her anymore.
It was then after such a fevered declaration did Claudette felt a chill creep up her spine. The sudden, unmistakable feeling that she was being watched. The cold crept closer. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Claudette ran to the right to the pallet leaning behind the wall. The heartbeat only grew louder and louder. It was everywhere! It came from all possible directions!
"Where are you?" She screamed and that is when she heard the hissing gasp of air.
A white cloaked figure materialized beside her in a mind boggling blur. The gasp of air followed by the swing of a rusty bone saw ripping through flesh. Claudette feel forward, slamming the pallet down on the ghostly nurse. The nurse wore all white. A bed sheet wrapped tightly around her face. Every breath was heavy and labored as if the mere act of existing was taxing on the fitful creature.
It grabbed the air as the palm of her hand lit up with light. In a swift blink it was front of Claudette and struck her down without a second thought. Next thing she knew, Claudette was being carried away into the depths of the basement and hung like an ornament on the sickly hooks.
The nurse vanished into thin air. The beast back on the hunt. Rage surely surging to make up for the slow start. The invisible warden lashing it's monster's back.
Claudette swung on the rusty hook. The sharp metal digging into the underside of her collar bone. She was already mentally preparing herself for the end, for those horrible tendrils to crawl up the hook and finally put an end to her.
A lonesome draft washed down into the basement and Claudette heard something. A faint sound, but unmistakable. The sound of paper flapping in the breeze.
And there it was, tucked away from sight worming beneath a pile of scrap. Claudette knew it had to be the page that Meg was talking about or at least one of them. The answers to all their problems, the start of the journey to truly escape laid just out of reach.
Without thinking, Claudette pulled herself from the hook. The metal sawing into her flesh. The tendrils creeping and growing faster with anticipation. It was right there. All she had to do was-
A single spider claw swooped down on the young botanists. Claudette reached and grabbed it just short of plunging into her beating heart.
"Claudette!" Jake cried as he sprinted down the stairs, crashing and pushing himself off the crumbling wall towards her. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down to the floor. "What were you thinking? We have to go, now!"
Claudette crept towards the pale sheet of paper. Through the floor of blood and rust she plucked the paper from its holdings.
"This is what Meg talked about. The page of the journal."
"There's no time to read it, we have to go!" Jake said as the wail of the exit gate flooded the realm.
Claudette shoved the paper in Jake's hands.
"You take it." She said, staring him down with hard eyes. "I don't trust myself to wait until we escape."
Jake nodded and the two raced up the stairs to the outside. They hoped through the window, sending a blast of broken glass to hide in the grass. The pale moon showed them the way. The exit gate was just down the dirt trail.
Claudette saw a bundle of skulls tucked together on a tripod of bones. A hex totem. It was swallowed up by the trees before she could discover if it was lit or not. The gates were just ahead. Meg holding down the switch. Lights blinked and flickered, the sirens blazing the announcement of sweet escape.
"We're going to make it!" Claudette was almost crying.
The air hissed behind them and in the blink of an eye, Jake was on the ground bleeding. The nurse hovering just above him, claiming her prey.
Nothing Claudette could do. No matter how well she knew these monsters, once in their thrall she was as helpless as the rest of her friends. Helpless as the rest of her fellow victims.
"Take it!" Jake handed the paper to Claudette. "Now run!"
Claudette heard her heartbeat roared in her ear. The nurse slumped over from the fatigue of her powers. Claudette snatched the paper from Jake's hand and ran through the exit gate. She didn't look back even as Jake screamed in pain. The mental image wouldn't leave Claudette's thoughts. The pierce of the hook, the creeping tendrils of that thing and finally the brief cold oblivion.
She sat at the campfire. She never got used to the feeling. That feeling of walking up as if from a dream. The paper was crumpled in her hand.
It had to be wrong. It could be right. Can it? No, no this wasn't right! It couldn't be!
"Well? What is it?" Meg tore the paper out from Claudette's hands. Her eyes shrank to two spheres of white.
Jake sat up from his log. A firm hand clutching his chest where the hook had been. He stared at the two girls with horrified eyes. Death still reflecting off the growing tears bubbling up.
"Guys, what's wrong? What's written on there?" Meg held up the paper in disbelief. Jake dropped to his knees. The two great puddles forming behind his eyes finally burst. He turned away to hide the tears running down his olive cheeks. "No… No! It can't be that! Not after all we went through!"
Meg looked at the paper. Her fingers digging into the dirty parchment, her nails tearing the empty paper into tiny snowflakes. Nothing was written, a smile decor around the edge gave the illusion of writings. In a vain of desperation Meg mistook the decor for the long sought after writings. There was nothing. Nothing at all. They were grasping at straws that this realm held aplenty.
"This must what lab rats feel like." Claudette collapsed onto the rotten long behind her, content to just stare into the flames of the empty campfire.