The Extremely Crappy Days at Ashfield High
Chappy Twenty Nine: Boom Boom Baby
"Wait! Dammit, wait!" yelled Zeik as he rushed after Joshua, who ignored him and kept on running. Zeik didn't like being ignored though, and randomly fired his gun in Joshua's direction. This would certainly stop the teenager, and it did.
He spun around, a nasty look on his face. "What the hell was that? You could've shot me!"
"Well, it's not my fault I don't like being ignored! Now, where are we going?"
"Somewhere where those dog things won't bite our asses off, now let's go," he answered quickly, but another person caught up to them, out of breath.
"Myron!" Joshua exclaimed, his tone watered down a bit. The shorter boy glanced at both of the others; he wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans. "I'm f-f-fine," he said, "But t-those d-d-d-dogs…"
"Yes, yes, yes, we know the dogs are coming to rip us to bloody pieces. Why, I have no idea, but that's not the point. The point is, they're coming, and we need to move," Zeik stated, and looked around. Joshua followed his gaze, a tad confused.
"What? What is it?"
The man smirked and pointed towards a building somewhat nearby. "There. The nice little puppies should have trouble trying to get in there… or they could be eluded until they just, I don't know, give up…"
"H-How d-d-do you know f-f-for s-sure? We, We don't k-k-know their c-c-ca-ca-capabilities."
Zeik turned to Myron, clearly flustered. "Look, I don't give a you-know-what if you don't want to go. I could care less, honestly. But if you have a better idea, I'm all ears."
Myron didn't say anything else, and while Zeik shrugged and began walking, Joshua placed a hand on his shoulder. He smiled and gave the slightly geeky teenager a light push. "Come on now, don't be so gloomy!"
Myron nodded slowly. However, he looked up at the brunet, quivering. "J-Josh… I have a b-b-b-bad, bad feeling… T-T-That c-cross thing, I still, still h-h-have it…"
"The cross?" Joshua scratched his head as Myron reached behind his back and brought out the item. It glinted slightly, and Joshua folded his arms. "Hmm… Well, it's just a cross; don't know why that girl had had it in the first place. Nothing to worry about."
"Alright… if you, you s-say so…" replied Myron while placing the cross back in his right back pocket. The taller teenager smiled and went after Zeik, but as he did so, a distant siren sounded.
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Specks of snow floated softly to the ground. The sky was dark and Cheryl awoke, the sound of sirens swirling through her ears. She groaned, a dull pain steadily increasing in the front of her skull.
But the sirens were growing louder… and louder… and louder…
Still quite groggy, she shakily got to her feet; her vision returned to its fullness quickly, and her head turned, trying to find something to acknowledge. It didn't take long for her to realize she was back at the observation deck, where she'd arrived with James Sunderland perhaps a little more than an hour ago.
"How… How long was I out…?" she mumbled, a peculiar tranquility invading her mind. It had not been snowing before she went unconscious. Wait… Why couldn't she remember what had happened!
Something then brushed against her leg. She bowed her head to see a… puppy. 'A dog? What the…'
Come on Alessa… It's time…
The animal started to move forward into the fog, stopping occasionally to look back at Cheryl. She interpreted this as the puppy wanting to follow it, which she did. It did not advance too fast, nor too slow; it kept itself in her sight.
That unusual blanket of serenity wrapped around her brain once more, and she couldn't bring herself to question the animal's origin or purpose. Stranger yet, she knew something was putting her to this extreme ease…
It was only after a minute or two that the dog stopped. Cheryl didn't though, and soon saw pieces of metal scattered across the ground. A tire had been flung to the side, and her eyes widened when she saw a ruined vehicle a few feet before her. It lay in shambles, large gashes apparent in its design. She gasped and looked around, seeing a similar thing with another, bigger car. She assumed it was a van, and a maroon one at that. It had been sliced cleanly in half, oil dripping from an exposed pipe.
Cheryl's own car, however, was nowhere to be seen, and just like that, the drowsy calmness from before vanished. The fog had diminished slightly, and she could see a man standing at the rails, his back to her. He was shuddering, his black gloves clenched around the horizontal, cylindrical steel in front of him.
Sunlight oozed forth from behind the clouds and the area was shone upon briefly. The mist hovered away gently.
"You… Alessa… I suppose we were not excluded from the town's relentless wrath… On the contrary, we were the ones it targeted most…"
Cheryl recognized the voice vaguely, but it wasn't until the man turned around to face her that his identity became clear. There he was, Jeremy Blackheart. His face was caked with dried blood, and he was shivering just a tiny bit. Christian Richards was there too, lying on his back. His face was extraordinarily pale, but he was breathing normally. It was like he was sound asleep, immersed in some terrific dream.
"Your perspective of The Order, I would assume, is that we are all evil, crazed lunatics, correct? That is your general opinion on my brethren and I, is it not?" asked Jeremy suddenly, his voice nearly emotionless; it sounded as if he was far off, his thoughts revolving around something totally different.
"…It was…" answered Cheryl quietly, her eyes wandering over to Christian. "…it was for awhile…"
Jeremy nodded. "Yet Sister Claudia never spoke to you exactly like I am now, right?"
"…Vincent did… but he… he wasn't really all that much like her either."
"Of course, for you see Father Vincent was an excellent example of how many of us were. When I had been around his age, around the time my daughter had been born, I was very suspicious about our brotherhood's actions. I could not… believe, like some of them did… but that changed the night the girl was burned. I noticed the occurrences immediately. I had thought it absolutely inhuman what Dahlia had done… using her own daughter…"
Jeremy sighed, looking back out at the lake. "For that short period of time I distanced myself from them, but I could not get rid of the idea in my head… No matter how hard I tried, my faith started to burn bright… I eventually returned to my brotherhood, but times were rough… A man, a nonbeliever, he interfered, and that interference resulted in the death of Gillespie and Kauffmann… Not long afterwards Stone and Rosten met their ends as well."
"We pushed through though, but when I thought nothing worse could happen… My daughter passed away after giving birth to my granddaughter, Melissa… however, I knew her death was meant to be… that it was a necessary, even if minor, step on the road to Paradise…"
The man walked over to Christian, watching him intently. His gray, gray hair glistened in the light, and he let out a disappointed sigh. "And yet… we were wrong… God never came into being and led us into Paradise, we just continued to drift downward and downward… Now, whatever was left of The Order is gone… Tell me, Cheryl, are you happy about this?"
He looked at her patiently, not really angry, yet not exactly delighted either. She had listened, not entirely paying attention to it all, but she still absorbed the main information.
"Well, you people just… took lives as if they meant nothing. I'm not saying all of you, but… first impressions last, so, yes, I am happy; happy that your "sacrifices" will finally come to an end."
Jeremy chuckled. "Who knows, really...? I cannot guarantee you that other remnants of The Order still exist. I… cannot even guarantee anything any more… I was so sure this would work out perfectly, that everything we… accomplished had a purpose in the end… Alas, I suppose I was wrong, that we were all wrong…"
"Y-Yes, for once you're right about something, Jeremy… finally r-right…"
Cheryl spun around and saw Noah Franklin approaching, his left hand placed on a portion of his coat covering the right side of his abdomen. That part seemed wet with something, and he was limping, obviously in pain.
Jeremy looked to him, sighing. "Noah. I see you are injured."
"Like you should care. I wouldn't be in this condition had it not been for you."
The older man nodded and closed his eyes. His head bowed. "Yes, I realize that… but even if you do kill me, it is already over. Whatever force The Order has been acting with has begun to immerse itself with this world. The boy, Christian… soon he will be gone… The time of the Awakening is soon…"
"I understand that, but I refuse to die until I'm finished with… what I must do," stated Noah as he stopped. Cheryl glanced from him to Jeremy, confused.
"Awakening? What-,"
"Yes, the Awakening; it is the time God awakens from the ashes of the war between the Conjurer and the Receiver. God would rise in the form of a young maiden, and the blood spilt from the Conjurer and the Carrier would ignite the flaming road to Paradise… It is just another legend spread throughout The Order… Yes… it was my favorite…"
"Mine as well…" said Noah thoughtlessly. He shook his head.
"So, now what? When is this awakening supposed to happen?" demanded Cheryl as Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. "I began plans for the ritual sixteen years ago… so I would presume that in another hour or so… That is all the time left."
"An… An hour? How…"
Christian murmured something suddenly, rolling over on the rough ground. Noah grinned all of a sudden, his right hand reaching into the opposite coat pocket. "It doesn't even matter anymore," he said, shaking his head. He brought out a sharp shard of painted glass.
Jeremy sighed one last time upon seeing the thing. "What do you really plan to do with that, Noah? I'm curious."
The brunet shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I picked it up from the window that man shot… that blasted stain- glassed… window… But I think… I think I know…"
"No… No, please! You can't just kill him!" exclaimed Cheryl at him as she stepped between him and Jeremy. "He's the only one who knows how, how to save him!"
"Let him be, Alessa."
She turned around, giving Jeremy an incredulous look. "Let him… be? He's going to kill you!"
"That… That is fine. Besides, there really is no way to stop any of this… It's over… Completely over…"
"Over? After all this… you're just going to give up? There has to be a way to save his life!"
"That's just it. His life was never meant to be saved."
Noah winced and walked past her, carefully rotating the glass with his free hand. "He obviously doesn't know a way to save the boy, so there's nothing else to it."
Cheryl backed away from them while Jeremy just stood there and watched Noah approach.
"May I… inquire something of you, Noah?"
"G-Go… ahead…"
"Alright then… If you go through with this… how do you think it will affect them? Alexis, Catherine, Melissa… I'm sure it crossed your mind at one point or another."
"Indeed, it did, and I gave it some thought." He looked down at the glass. "However, it's not… up to you… or me… anymore…"
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The church trembled violently, unexpectedly, and bits of dust fell from the ceiling. Walter Sullivan didn't seem fazed by this occurrence, his statement still hanging in the air.
Henry ground his teeth, his patience suddenly running thin. "Look, just stop playing games. Our son-"
"I'm not playing games, Henry. Games are for children. And unless I'm mistaken, none of us here are children."
Before Henry or Eileen could even respond to him, another, more powerful tremor struck the building. The ceiling began to give way, large chunks of it falling to the floor. Dust and sand lifted up, and Henry hurriedly shielded his wife. The blond did nothing to protect himself as he was separated from them by the massive pieces of stone and wood.
With an odd smirk he turned and left the church.