The Extremely Crappy Days at Ashfield High

Chappy Thirty Nine: Drifting

It was through watching the news that Myron discovered the fires that were wreaking havoc all across Ashfield. He was tucked away in bed, sick as anything could be—unless it was an empty can of paint, because those don't catch colds—and he was flipping through the cable channels aimlessly. He happened upon the news at last and decided he might as well watch it. Because, you see, Myron was the type of person that watched the news.

There was also a segment regarding something that happened on a bus that left one man dead and the other in critical condition. Myron paid only the slightest attention to it, and that's when the doorbell rang.

He pulled himself out of bed and looked over himself quickly. All he was wearing was a simple white t-shirt and some baggy, black shorts. No one came by that much, anyway. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed the sleepiness out his eyes. Then he left his room, peered out the peephole of the front door, blinked in some sort of surprise, and opened it.

"H-Hey, N-N-Nicole," he said, and the blonde girl nodded at him from outside with a smile.

"Hi, Myron. I brought you your homework, well, from the classes we have together at least." She held a couple of books and some sheets of paper out to him, and he took them tentatively. He went through them and then sniffled.

"T-T-T-Thanks… So, uh, how, how is every-everyone?"

"They're fine. I think Josh and Christian went to go visit Miss Mason for something after school. I just hope they're not getting into trouble or anything."

"I w-w-wouldn't w-worry. Josh and Ch-Chris can take care of themselves."

"I know."

---

Joshua shielded his eyes from the raging, lilac inferno as it ate away at the furniture and space surrounding it. The flames changed colors without pause, becoming blue one moment, then a dazzling fuchsia the next. It was all very perplexing. He looked around, squinting through the heat.

Someone caught his arm. "Joshua, come on, move!" He was thrust unceremoniously toward the door, which was barricaded by pieces of flaming debris and burnt wood.

"Shit…" he muttered, a window catching his eye nearby. He made to jump through it, but he looked behind him to see Linda on the floor, a piece of debris having pinned her leg down. He reluctantly raced over to her and knelt down beside her. "Hey, can you move? Uh… Stop squirming and I'll try to get it off."

The rubble was easily removed, and Joshua helped her up, moving towards the window. "Come on..."

She coughed. "What about… her…?"

"Ms. Mason can take care of herself, but if we don't get out of here quick we'll be burned to death!" He chanced a glance behind him, cursing under his breath. "Ms. Mason, where are you? We need to go!"

The window shattered, and in came Zeik, who had thrown himself inside. He got up, shaking bits of glass from his hair with his better arm. "Hey, weird kid!" he called, waving his arm erratically. Joshua groaned upon seeing him, but he urged Linda forward.

"Go with that guy and get out of here! I need to find Ms. Mason!" Quickly he spun around and hastened to the back of the apartment. He found her in a back room, gathering things from a wardrobe.

"Ms. Mason, what are you doing? We need to get out!" She shook her head fiercely, turning to him.

"…This is all because of me, Joshua, and… it doesn't seem like things are going to get any better…"

"Oh, nonsense! Just come on! This isn't the time to be so angsty!" He grasped her arm and led her back. Strangely, she did not protest. Her home was beyond saving, and Cheryl seemed to realize that. They both escaped through the open window, and a group of people had gathered outside.

Cheryl screwed her eyes up and pulled Linda aside. "That man, who was he?" she asked her fiercely, but Joshua got between them.

"That was Lucas Schreiber, some psycho who I guess is part of that cult," he said, glancing at Linda. "But… yeah, who is he?"

"Lucas… he was a colleague of mine. We… were students of the Valtiel sect…."

Cheryl sighed in exasperation. "How many of you people are there…"

"No!" Linda protested, "I didn't know what Lucas was doing, I swear! I never intended any of you any harm, but the Crimson Paragraph requires this! It has to happen so God can… ah, never mind. Lucas isn't acting himself, I'm telling you. He wouldn't do this."

Zeik looked around himself. "Don't tell me your friend went to that shit-hole… You know, Silent Hill?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, don't you guys talk, or whatever?"

"I had no idea!"

"Enough!" Cheryl exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Christian-he's in danger, right, Joshua?"

"That's what Abraham said, but I don't really get what's going on…"

"It's Lucas…" muttered Linda. "He's trying to violate the prophecy in some way, trying to alter it… He's not the Lucas I once knew…" She composed herself and turned towards them with a newfound confidence. "He'll be in Silent Hill."

---

The entity controlling Lucas Schreiber looked over its new body with a sickly expression on its face. It clenched the fists, practiced various facial movements… At last, it clicked Schreiber's tongue and uttered a single word.

"Christian."

The blond boy gulped and awkwardly fidgeted. Lucas's body shifted forward. His pupils were the most intense shade of crimson Christian had ever seen. It disturbed him. "…All those years I remained dormant within you… Oh, how strange it feels to finally be out! I must tell you, I owe Lucas quite a bit of thanks. After summoning me and subjecting me to sleep for nearly two decades… he had unknowingly given me the chance I required. God was destroyed, you see, and I will make certain that does not repeat itself."

"So then…" Abraham said while he bit his lip, a horrid fear gnawing at his insides, "I take it you are Valtiel?"

Lucas' face mixed itself up in an odd expression. One of the hands aimlessly dabbed at the face. "Valtiel…?" It grinned. "Is that the name you humans have conjured for me?"

Christian and Abraham exchanged uncertain glances. "What do you mean by that?" inquired Abraham.

"All entities have a true name at their very core, or not really the person, in your case, but the soul." Valtiel frowned. "Forgive me. Beings like myself do not exist on the same plane as you do. We have not earthly bodies to hold us down and restrain ourselves to your plane of existence."

"Because your spirits, right? You are infinite," Abraham said while shifting to the left.

"Not only that, but we were never incarnated," informed Valtiel. "We are entirely pure, not tainted, as you are, except, of course, in the case of Christian."

The teenager looked down at himself, almost in disgust. "…I just don't get it… I'm no… God, I'm just a kid!"

"…A bit of shame," Valtiel stated, eyeing the boy with those crimson pupils of his. "You do not carry the sacred blood that would enable you to harness the God's power, rendering you useless."

"What's that?" Abraham narrowed his eyes, moved forward suddenly. "What do you mean by 'sacred blood'? The Crimson Paragraph never mentioned anything about blood. All it required was that God be transferred to a maiden who had a connection to the Carrier!"

"Your Crimson Paragraph means nothing. To be at its full potential, the God must be within a host with the ability to use its great powers. This is impossible now. Lucas was one such person; he was powerful enough to will me down just enough to control me, but he is dead now, as you can very plainly see." It nodded towards Melissa's still body.

"She too. Would a demon have attempted to attack her, she would have been capable of fending it off with her blood. The Conjuror holds the same type of blood, in all of his incarnations."

"Then how are you supposed to be able to use your powers if Lucas is dead?" Abraham demanded in frustration.

"I have existed inside Lucas' body since before he died. I have complete control of him; if God possessed this body, it would have no way of managing it. It has no experience in controlling you humans. It must be welcomed into a healthy, lively person, and as you said, Abraham," it sneered, "it must be a maiden."

"But you can't just pick any random person off the street! Not everyone has this special blood of yours!" he retorted, but Valtiel shrugged.

"I am aware of that. In fact, the person I have in mind does not have the blood. However, she is quite an exception… Who better than the Holy Mother herself?"

Abraham grew quiet, closed his eyes, and pondered this. The dilapidated building sighed. Slowly, he looked up. "The Holy Mother…. Alessa Gillespie… but she died. Robert Langer told us that she died in that fire…"

"…Yet she lives on in her reincarnated form of Cheryl Mason. Heather Morris. Two bodies, same soul. She was meant to be the original host, so why waste time with all these trivialities?"

"But she still can't use your god's powers. Your out of options, it wouldn't work."

"No, but the God could never be able to harness all of its power, that would be impossible. Being restricted to a bodily form holds us back very much. Why do you think the previous earthly forms of the God were indistinct and weak? It is because your world must create some sort of limit for itself, it must restrain everything. It is not infinite, as we are. The God is much too powerful to exist in a manageably corporeal form. An actual body can support it."

"Then what about this Paradise? A god can't just make a new world if it doesn't have access to all of its power," Abraham said. Valtiel smirked.

"Ah, but that is where you're wrong. The Paradise is already there, although very unstable. Glimpses of it can be seen here, in this town, but that is nothing. The Paradise is not a utopia for you inferiors. It is a realm similar to where beings like me exist, and the God could then exist without the strain of your world upon its being. Humans would be stripped of their pathetic bodies. We could mold everything to how we see fit! We could live in a world that has no limits!"

Abraham glanced around the interior of the building, searching for an avenue of escape. He could feel the beads of sweat coming down his face. He suddenly felt very sickly.

"…And what would happen to us humans? If we lose our bodies, what about our souls?"

"That's simple. Considering a soul bears no memories, but carries them all the same, you would be lost in your memories. You'd lack the physical form to technically exist in this new world. Perhaps some of them might conjure up some type of form to take. You would be lost in a limbo of sorts, more in a comatose-like state than anything."

Christian struggled to fight the bile down. He thought of his parents,-his adoptive parents- his friends, all the people he had ever met… even those cultists that had abducted him not so long ago. He felt so helpless. If he was so important, shouldn't he be able to do something…?

"…That's horrible…" he mumbled, drawing himself up to face Valtiel. "You'd disregard all those lives; deny everyone's chance at life? Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

"You misunderstand. We have little control over the matter. You humans projected your will onto us. You brought this upon yourselves by meddling so fervently. Our realm is gradually consuming yours, in any case. This town will soon be completely assimilated, and then your whole world and then maybe even your reality! And it's all because you inferiors use your twisted logic in such unbelievable ways. However, I act only under a single charge: to awaken God. It hardly matters to me what happens in the process."

"What?" Abraham practically yelled, glaring at Valtiel. "That was all a prediction? Just what is your objective, anyway?"

"I cannot be sure. The God is working under its summoners' consciousness. Whatever they desire, it desires. I'm just informing you about what will most likely happen."

Christian and Abraham backed away, the latter inhaling deeply. "But Cheryl Mason isn't even here," he said confidently. "I doubt you can stay in that corpse for long."

At this, Valtiel laughed, crushing nearly all the hope Abraham had of surviving that day. "No, she is heading this way. She is coming here, to Silent Hill. I can feel it. But this is quite a dreary body to inhabit. I plan on using Christian for just a little longer."

"No!" Abraham protested, rushing forward. Quickly Valtiel flashed a hand out and clamped it around the other's throat. He studied the scar on the brunet's face, grinning.

"That scar… I gave it to you, I recall. You blamed Lucas, didn't you?"

"What did … you expect? How was I supposed to know some spirit was inhabiting him?"

"Indeed." He fastened his grip and his eyes flared with blood thirst. Christian ground his teeth and threw himself at Valtiel, but he was swiped aside with ease. He yelped and cupped his cheek, glaring daggers at Valtiel, who merely said, "Don't quicken your inevitable death, Christian. Just allow me to eliminate this-,"

Abraham delivered a hard kick to its chest and knocked it back, stumbling down to his feet. He ran for Christian, intending to take him and try to escape. Valtiel was faster. Just as he grabbed Christian's sleeve Valtiel stepped before him and shot his hand out at his throat. Abraham gasped for air, and hands reaching up to claw at it. Valtiel snickered and hit him back a distance with his palm.

Abraham skidded on the wooden floorboards, groaning hoarsely. Lucas' body approached casually. "It is funny, you know, how feebly you humans try to resist your fate. Unfortunately, I cannot begin to relate." It willed the crude spear that impaled Melissa and held it above Abraham's heart, which, by the way, began to race.

"I apologize for this, as I do for the scar as well, but please understand that these are events we cannot control. They are beyond you, and they are beyond me."

"Wait!" Christian exclaimed, shuffling forward. "…What will killing him do for you? Just leave him alone!"

"How altruistic of you, Christian, caring for this man's safety. Tell me, do you know him? Do you know that he was exactly like those others fools that made up that cult. He ran away, but you can never escape your past."

"I don't care!" shouted the blond. "I'm tired of this! I'm tired of all these people getting hurt when there's no need for it!"

Abraham got to his knees, aching all over. Valtiel chuckled and stepped away, picking him up by the collar of his jacket and dragging him across to the exit. He motioned for Christian to follow.

"You were lucky. Now then, I believe we have some guests to attend to."