Disclaimer: Not mine.

Persecutory Delusions

Chapter 1: That Crazy Kid Who Talks to Trees

Skittery sees the shadow move, and he knows that the others were wrong.

In the outskirts of the city, there is a place where poison clouds the sky. There, the entire world is a flat, steely gray that seems simultaneously sterilized and coated in grime. Box-like factories rise up into the air, their utilitarian forms casting jagged shadows over monstrous piles of gravel. The smell of burning rubber hangs heavy in the atmosphere.

That place is where Skittery stands now. He is concealed behind one of the gravel heaps, inhaling the toxic air in short, nervous gasps. This is why he's been waiting around the factory district for almost an hour now. He knew he was right. He knew it.

When he moved to this town a month ago, he had no idea that They were here. He thought it was just your average major city, complete with decaying urban landscape and sugary sweet suburbs.

He was bored at first, had too much time on his hands. Now, he's glad of the free time. It makes it easier to watch Them.

At the base of the factory wall, the sweeping shade cast by the building camouflages the shadow-creature, and as the sun sets the sky progresses toward blue-black night. Seeing the shadow is now almost impossible. Skittery can barely make out how tall it is, let alone how it's shaped or what it's doing.

Skittery cannot decide whether or not to get closer to the shadow. If he goes, he may be able to see it better, maybe find out why it would be lingering at a factory like this. But he doesn't know enough about Them yet for it to be safe. What if They're more dangerous than he thought?

As he frowns into the darkness he thinks that maybe he can see the creature move back and forth, a little like it's dancing. He wonders why on earth it would be dancing. It's not exactly a ballerina, after all.

Another second and Skittery has waited too long. The shadow-creature has stopped moving. Whatever was there is gone.

Damn it. He should have tried.

Turning his back on the factory, Skittery starts walking. He is going to do his homework like the good little suburbanite he is.

When he goes to school the next day, Skittery has not forgotten the creature. He pays even less attention in class than usual, instead drawing shadowy faces in the margins of his papers. His teachers try to get his attention, but it is futile. Even when they threaten him with detention, Skittery does not stop pondering the strange creatures he has seen.

When lunch comes, he ignores his friends in favor of contemplating Their possible motives. His friends do not like this very much, and proceed to throw random, theoretically edible items at his head. The second time someone throws what is probably a French fry (it's hard to tell, since it's cafeteria food) at him without him noticing, it is apparently the last straw for his companions. Skittery is shaken out of his musing by the sudden appearance of a hand in front of his face.

His eyes follow the hand to an arm, the arm to a shoulder, the shoulder to a neck, the neck to a face, and suddenly find themselves looking at Race.

"You're still alive, right?" Race's face is comically serious as he waves his hand in front of Skittery's eyes.

"Yeah, I just… I'm fine," Skittery says. Farther down the table, Jack stops doodling in the ketchup on his tray long enough to frown at Skittery.

"Come on, Skitts, don't do this again," he says, "No one is after you, alright?"

Skittery sighs a little and slides down in his seat. Jack shakes his head.

"I thought you were over it. It's not the FBI, or the CIA, or whatever else you've come up with this time. It's just your imagination," he says.

"Aw, don't be so glum just 'cause the government's not stalking you," Race says, smiling and sitting down again, "They're probably just too busy with the aliens and the evil Satan-worshippers."

"Never said anything about aliens," Skittery mutters. Race rolls his eyes and turns away.

After an inordinate amount of time spent brooding at his lunch tray, Skittery thinks he has successfully escaped the conversation. Then, he notices that Blink is staring at him from where he's slouching against his chair with one arm around Mush's shoulders.

"What?" Skittery asks.

"…nothing," Blink says. He seems confused. It looks painful. Skittery wonders how long it will take before Blink gives up and just asks whatever it is he's so stumped by.

"What are they?" Under five seconds, it would appear.

Skittery sighs again. He's not good at explaining this.

"They're kind of like ghosts," he says, "Except they're solid. They look like shadows, and they stay near shadows so they can hide easier. Also," he pauses, not wanting to sound too crazy, "Also, they can walk through walls."

"So they're like that girl?"

"Uh… what?"

"You know! That girl from X-Men! Who goes through the walls!"

"Oh. I… guess so."

"Yeah."

"But I don't think they're girls. Or guys either, really. I think they're kind of… outside that."

"Skitts?"

"Yeah?"

"You're weird." Blink shakes his head ruefully. Beside him, Mush frowns and makes a little confused noise. Blink glances down at him.

"What?"

Mush looks at him. "Hmm? Oh. It's nothing, I just thought… but it's nothing."

Blink smiles and sort-of-hugs him. "Whatever you say."

They're so obvious Skittery wonders why no one's tried to beat them up yet. It's been like this for weeks, and you'd think more people would have realized by now.

Not that their group of friends is that bright. After all, they've never believed Skittery about the creatures. And if they don't realize that's true, they're not going to notice anything. He thinks that maybe Snitch believes him, but Snitch doesn't go to their school. Not anymore, at least.

The disbelief doesn't annoy Skittery as much as you'd think. He's used to it, after all this time. But it does make him worry a little. If his friends don't take notice Them soon, Skittery has no idea what will befall them. When there are things like Them around, there's no telling what will happen.

He's going to the factory again later. He has to find Them.

Skittery has known about Them for a while now. He's getting to be familiar with Their habits. He thinks that eventually he's going to try looking them up online, because you can find almost anything on the internet. He doubts that it will work, though. They seem to have singled him out, for some reason he's not sure of. Skittery doesn't think anyone else can actually see Them.

He guesses they just don't know what to look for.

Skittery isn't crazy, really he isn't. He's just more observant than everyone else, and he has had the bad luck to be caught up in the middle of a conspiracy.

On the bus the next day, Skittery tries to figure out whether or not he's insane.

The bus is a good place to think because there are so many distractions. The shouts of the other passengers and the bumps of the bus over pot-holes and the odor of exhaust mingle into a monotony that allows Skittery's thoughts free reign. Sometimes he even feels himself drifting into something very much like a trance.

He thinks the exhaust may have something to do with that.

In any case, Skittery spends a good deal of every morning staring out the window and thinking. A lot of the time he thinks about everything, nothing, and the meaning of life, but sometimes something useful comes out of it, and those are the times Skittery looks forward to.

He is certain, now, that the shadow-creatures have been following him. Any time he goes downtown, they're there. They haven't ventured into the suburbs yet, for which he's glad.

He has to figure out what they want before they do that. If he doesn't, he is certain the outcome will not be good. Not for him or them.

Outside the window, manicured lawns of an unnatural green overpower everything else and make the outdoors an expanse of chemically-treated perfection. Shade from the exquisitely shaped young trees slithers lightly across the grass, and the dark shadow—

The shadow.

Oh God. They're here.

He knew this would happen eventually. He just hoped it wouldn't be so soon.

Skittery presses his forehead against the window's glass, staring down toward the street corner. There, under a delicate sycamore, loiters one of Them. It hunches over so that though it is a foot taller than any human, it seems to be only around six feet tall. It is so dark it is almost unbearable: darker than midnight, darker than a tyrant's heart, impossibly and abhorrently dark.

The bus speeds toward it, and Skittery half expects that the creature will simply stay planted in place and watch it go by. Then, as they pass, the shadow moves. In a flash it begins to trail the bus, hanging so close behind as to almost touch the bright yellow paint. The place where its face should be presses ominously up against the back window right where block letters spell out, "EMERGENCY EXIT."

Skittery is the only one who has noticed it.

With a frantic effort, Skittery manages to tear his eyes away from the bus's pursuer. Before he knows what he is about to do, he cries.

"Stop!" he shouts to the bus driver, "Stop! I have to get off! Let me off!"

The desperation in his voice is astounding even to him, and the driver can't help but pull over. He protests all the while, but when Skittery dashes past him, he merely stares in disbelief.

Skittery doesn't notice. He is completely focused on the creature. His legs seem to have bypassed his brain and are running of their own accord. He is not thinking, cannot think. It's too important. Too immediate. He must get to that creature.

Because this time, it's different. Every other time he's seen Them, They've been in the city, and They have stayed passive and hidden. Now They're encroaching on Skittery's land, and he's not going to let Them take hold. Not when there are people here who do not, cannot know what They are.

Outside the bus, Skittery ignores the incredulous stares of his fellow students and finally comes to a halt. The creature is less than ten feet ahead of him. It too has stopped. Now, it is so still that it seems inanimate.

Skittery looks at it.

It looks at Skittery.

In that one moment, Skittery can see the creature clearer than he has ever seen one of Them before.

He sees its misshapen form, the way it curves in ways that can't be possible. He sees the place its face should be, and the light-absorbing circle of darkness that is there instead. And he sees the aggressive stretching of its crooked finger toward him as a voice that comes from everywhere and nowhere slices into Skittery's mind.

"Skittery,"It growls, "You are ours…"

He turns and runs back onto the bus.

The bus is exponentially quieter than it has ever been before. It seems that Skittery has shocked them into silence with his strange display. The only sounds are the low whispers about That Crazy Kid Who Talks to Trees. As the bus begins to rumble toward the school once more, Skittery looks back outside.

The shadow is gone.