Behold! The Nightmare presents…

Title: Bring Me to Life

Author: Lain Monroe

Rating: PG-13.

Summery: Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) return to life to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Micah, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I do own Bridgette, Gideon, and Aaron. Shindo is owned by Shindo. April Frost is owned by Brittney.

"Fear makes you fragile darling
Hate is so heavy when you're weak
Now we're both lost in anger
When we're alone we'll
Find some peace..."

            - What Do You Need? by the Goo Goo Dolls.

  "… Well, couldn't we try stalking them down in a town before ours?" Micah suggested. It was the next morning… at, around, 11:00 a.m. He sat, face to face, with a hunching Bridgette; leaning forward, her arms draped down, pampering Charlotte who sat in her lap, her legs crossed. His posture; a plain, sitting up, arms at his sides, legs crossed… not even slightly close to as bad as hers.

  They sat on his bed… the only light in room; day light glowing through the windows. They needed to figure out what to do about these outlanders… they had been discussing the matter for hours and hours… since, very shortly after, they both woke up. They hadn't even eaten yet… they needed to figure this out; they had to! It was so important! The entire mission rested on it… what they chose to do about it… but what could they do?

  Bridgette shook her head, gently. "No… we'd be noticed. The towns around here are small, Micah. Everybody knows everybody. They'd know we weren't regulars… and these outlanders are not just outlanders… they're police officers… with guns."

  The last words made Micah hang his head... "We can't stand up against guns."

  Bridgette reached out to set a hand on his shoulder… but stopped, and drew back… a strange look spread on her face like the plague. "We can't stand up to them at all!"

  "What?" That's not at all like Bridgette..., Micah thought.

  "I've been thinking, Micah… the thought first struck me Yesterday… and I thought about it all last night… Micah, the reason we died was Him… we died for Him… but then, being the all powerful God He is, why did He let us die? Why didn't he stop what was happening? Save us?"

  Micah looked up… totally and completely shocked. Bridgette had once spoke to him of how, before her rein, she had been a suicidal wreck… a total and complete mess that didn't give the slightest of a damn about anything… and certainly not herself… and then, when she had become one with He, it seem that, suddenly, everything had purpose… even her. Everything was as it was supposed to be and she loved it… she loved everything, then… funny; how she died in the one time in her life she didn't want to die.

  … But that's out of the point. The point is; this wasn't at all like her. No, this was very different.

  "Bridge, what are you talking about?" Micah asked, softly.

  Her eyes became glassy and, for a moment, Micah wondered if she was going to cry. "We died because of Him… it was "His will"?" It sounded more like a question then a statement. "But we didn't know that then… how do we know that it's not "His Will" that we die, now, this time? Perhaps, even, in this up coming ordeal with the outlanders… the FBI."

  "Bridgette, no…" Micah realized he was pleading, and quickly changed his line of speech to the first thing that popped into his head: "What are you getting at?"

  "As long as we stay with He Who Walks Behind the Rows," she began… and Micah realized she was going to cry. "… we will die."

  Micah leaned forwards and rapped his arms around her neck and shoulders… hugging her; holding her close… he whispered: "Shhh, Bridgette… you're wrong… we're not going to die, Bridgi… not again… we're not going to die…"

  She began to cry as soon as he rapped his arms around her… and she cried against him… he thought: This is so wrong…

  This is all wrong…

  That's blasphemy, Bridgette.

  Micah stood up on the slightly elevated platform.

  He looked down at Bridgette, who sat beside him and slightly in front of him… looking up and back at him… her legs hanging off the edge, crossed at the ankles... holding the kit close to her chest, rapped up warm in her hands.

  The children were all gathered around… waiting for the meeting to get underway… for their leaders to tell them what to do… to make them totally aware of what was happening… Gideon had already given them the rough draft that there were outlanders coming and Micah and Bridgette had been in discussions over what to do about it all day… which it was, now, late afternoon.

  They hadn't come up with much…

  Micah frowned and motioned for Bridgette to stand and join him. She shook her head No, ever so slightly. Then motioned for him to go on… he understood… she wasn't quite alright today.

  He turned to the children… they all gathered around… waiting.

  "Welcome again, my brothers and sisters," Micah opened. "We have called you all here today for gravely important reasons… as our good brother Gideon has already informed you, there are outlanders on their way here… but what he has not told you is that these outlanders are police men… sent to end our happiness… to destroy us and our town!"

  A gasp rose from the crowd of children like an ocean wave. Micah razed a hand to request their silence… they obeyed, of course.

  He continued: -

  "As you must understand, we cannot let this happen… there are now the questions of, "What can we do?" "How can we stop them?"... well, to be honest, my children, I am unsure…"

  An objection rose out of the crowd… mostly from the older, more violent boys… angry with their leaders? But what could they do? What could anyone do?

  "Please, please, be calm!" Micah had to shout for them to hear him. It took them a long moment to ponder; but then they obeyed. "… Bridgette and I have come to this much of a conclusion… no matter what; we can always fight back… if worst comes to worst and there is nothing we can do then the older children, thirteen and up, will gather together, receive weapons, and fight the outlanders!"

  The more violent children were pleased, now… most were please... except, maybe, a small few. But not all can be won… they'd just have to do what they could do.

  Bridgette cringed when Micah gave the order. Her words seemed to float on the air like an overdose of stinky perfume…

  If we stay with He Who, we will die.

  Micah turned to Bridgette.

 She wrinkled her nose; starring up at the rickety building… the little house the rebels were hiding in. It was a beaten old off-white farm house; the paint peelings, the windows all boarded up, the small wooden porch falling down, it was a mess.

  The previous day had passed… their plan was still incomplete… the outlander were farther then three towns over (at least… they sent three of the children out before to keep watch of near-by towns so they would better know when the outlanders were approaching). There were here, now, to take care of the rebels.

  Micah began, trooping up the gravel drive way to the ransacked old farm house… shrugging, Bridgette followed.

  Pushing through, into the house, Micah strode in as if he owned the place… Bridgette, making a smoother entrance, slipped in on his tail.

 "Cozy," she muttered… do I even need to tell that was sarcasm?

 A young girl known to be April Frost had been resting on the couch stirred at the sound of voices and jerked awake when she traced it to the psychopath cult leader that, now, stood in the same living room before her.

 April Frost; eleven years of age (though she could pass for older; she was tall… at eye level with Bridgi) with short, bleached blonde hair with blue high-lights and white tainted royal blue eyes. She dressed in a short sleeved red T-shirt with "You Can't Afford Me" written on the chest in blue glitter, the words outlined in white stitch, and bell-bottom jeans.

 April yelped and scurried to sit up, brushing the hair from her golden tanned skin.

 At her yelp; the other rebels all seemed to scurry into the room like mindless rats. Aaron stopped around the far wall from Bridgette and Micah… Derek tried to run to his sister but Aaron held him… leaving April closest… except one.

 The blonde with the dark blue eyes, Shindo, stepped out and in front of the younger girl… it was most clear that she was the leader of this resistance group.

 She was dressed in a black T-shirt with the word "Cruel" screened on the front in red, fancy, Diablo writing… with it; black, loose denim jeans and black boots.

 Micah smirked, slightly, amused by the rebel's display… they were clearly frightened of them… as they should be… all except that girl! She wasn't scared of them at all… not even in the littlest bit.

 He turned to her, then. His smirk, somehow, seemed nasty towards her. "… and what a brave little angel we have here."

 Shindo narrowed her eyes. He was in no position to be calling her "little".

 "Get… out…" she said slowly, standing tall. Suddenly he felt it, wafting off of her like scalding waves of heat… she was not at all the honest and innocent girl she appeared to be… in her heart, in her soul… she was tool of the Devil (so to speak)… though she made no doubts about being quiet and mysterious in her ways.

 "No thank you," Bridgette smiled, fakely. "I think we'll stay a while…"

 Shindo watched Bridgette, unsurely – somehow knowing that she was the one who didn't care about spilling blood before or after the age of favor, so long as the ones whose is spilled is a defiler – but stood her ground.

 "I understand that you children refuse to take part in our happy community," said Micah.

 "Yeah, good for you," Shindo flicked a strand of blonde hair that had fallen into her left eye back; her dark blue eyes intense.

 "That is simply unacceptable."

 "It doesn't matter!" April suddenly burst, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Shindo's eyes pleaded with her to be silent but it was too late. "You guys are just retarded weirdoes! And you're psychopaths, too, you know that?! We're not working for you and there's nothing you can do to make us!"

 Bridgette smiled, warily. Shindo jerked to look upon her. Micah could almost hear her screaming No! "Well would you look at that," Bridgette purred, stalking, slowly, a crossed the floor to the child; April, hunched on the couch where she had previously been sleeping. "Such strong words for such a… small… fragile… child."

 Bridgette ran her hand down April's cheek, slowly, gently. April shivered and cringed, expecting pain.

 "Don't you dare hurt her!" Shindo barked.

 Bridgette turned, slowly, allowing her hand to fall from the child's face. "Now what makes you think that I would do a thing like that?"

 Shindo's eyes were ablaze with rage, but her face remained blank and cold… solid. Now is not the time…, she kept telling herself. Now is not the time… have patience… have patience, old girl.

 Micah watched the display between the two girls, idly. His interest was fading in Shindo and her little "rebel" group. "Bridgette, dear,"

 Bridgette looked upon him, now. "Yes, darling?" she said "darling" in a peculiar way… with a strange accent… something you'd hear from super high class ladies in London or New York, sipping on expensive teas, warring thousand dollar dressed, and parading around diamond covered mansions.

 He motioned for her to come to him and she did… then, he spoke, whispering to her: "Let's finish this…"

  Bridgette nodded and turned back to them… she held both her hands behind her back, casually, and slid the large hunting knife out from under her shirt. "Alright…" she spoke to them now. "If you refuse to join us… then you shall be treated just as you deserve… just like them."

  She said the last three words slow enough to stop ones' breathing. Shindo's eyes grew hugely wide with panic. "Get out!" she shrieked… an order to her comrades… and possibly a plea to Micah and Bridge. But no one moved… they were all frozen in place. "GET OUT!"

  Bridgette brought out her arms and flipped the knife right side up in one hand. She turned her fierce green gaze on Aaron, who was running to the door with Derek. With a quick series of jerks of her arm she flung the knife straight into the seventeen-year-old's back; right inbetween the two scapula bones. He cried out, blood spurting from the new wound... and fell, face first, to the floor.

  "NOOOO!" Shindo shrieked. Her features tight in panic, fear, and rage. She spun on Bridgette; evil burning in her deep blue eyes. The look that cursed her face seemed as if it, alone, could kill.

  Bridgette, with her chin up and a cocky grin on her face, flowed right past Shindo, brushing her out of the way. The look of hate only grew on her face.

  Bridgette bent down and yanked her long, gleaming hunting knife out of the dead body of Aaron Corrion's back. Little, eight-year-old, Derek stood… whining in fear. A cute little Latino with rather long clipped dirty brown hair, dark skin, and chocolaty brown eyes, was he. Some of Aaron's blood had spattered onto his clothing and face and hands.

  Bridgette smiled at him, and whispered, so only he could hear: - "You are young… there is still a chance for you. We'll take you away from this mess… you will be one with us, in our group. Don't be afraid…"

  The boy felt soothed by her words, and nodded.

  Bridgette stood and turned back to the rest of the room. Bridgette could read Micah's words in his eyes before he said anything…

  His eyes asked: "Which one do you want?"

  And hers' responded: "Either one is fine with me… why don't we save Shindo; keep her as a sacrifice… give her to He Who Walks Behind the Rows in front of all the children on the eve after we take care of the outlanders… as a celebration."

  And his said: "Perfect…"

  And hers spoke again, lastly: "… now take April."

  Micah turned to the weird looking eleven-year-old… blue and bleached blonde striped hair? Royal blue eyes with white flakes? Although; her sense of fashion was a picture perfect image of what your typically normal preppy girl wares at that point in time… our time… now.

  He looked up at Bridgette. "I hate to kill children," he eyes said… but he continued, anyway. It was his duty as they were defilers.

  The girl wormed, leaning as far back into the couch as she could, she would be pale with terror were it not for how warmly goldenly tanned her skin was. She was so scared… Micah, having more sympathy for them then Bridgette, would make it quick on her… so she would not have to suffer too much.

  Taking the knife from where he had hidden it in his sleeve, he held it up tall. April screamed and began to kick at the couch to let her back up into the couch even more… even though she couldn't.

  Micah sighed, tsked, tsked, and shook him head. Did they honestly believe that screaming and whining like that would or even could change anything?

  Shindo began to leap for him, to stop him from cutting the girl… but Bridgette was on her before she ever made it half way a crossed the room towards him. She grabbed Shindo's arms and twisted them most painfully until she fell to her knees and into a reluctant submission.

  Micah watched this take place… standing strong before April; his arms at his sides.… April didn't take her eyes off of him for one second. He turned back to her… his lips twisted in the perfect combination of a smirk and frown.

  Micah brought back his arm and the knife. "No! Please! No! AAHHH!" April shrieked… but it was useless… ever so useless. The knife swung around, cutting her throat wide open in a great gash… slitting her throat.

  She clutched it… and just sat there on the couch, holding her neck, bleeding everywhere… for, about, two minutes… and then she was dead. She slumped back limply… dead… very dead.

  Micah looked at Bridgette; breathing heavy… blank… her face was solemn.

  "Trust not those whose the desire to punish is great," Bridgette whispered… a quote from Fredrick Nietztch.

  Shindo glared out with eyes full of deep, black hate at both of them. Her beautiful facial features around her eyes and upper nose twisted in her rage… she was theirs', now.

  … Their sacrifice?