A/N: Sorry for the extremely late update on this story. I've actually had most of S3 completed but I've been dealing with some personal issues and my creative block was really interfering with putting out what was already done. but I'll continue to update the chapters in hopes of getting into S4. Sorry for the long wait!
It had been a couple of days since the troubling situation occurred between Quest and the rest of the community and at this point, Jolyn wanted out. The night it happened, he quarreled with Felix about it before Tristen could return to their quarters and overhear what he would consider bickering, and to Jolyn's surprise, Felix had no choice but to agree. He just didn't want to see the issue with it at first—he thought there could be some sort of logical explanation or rational reason as to why Quest endured what she did...but it was beginning to scare him. It was only a matter of how far these sort of "punishments" could go and Felix wanted no part. What happened to Quest was the last they ever wanted to do with this group and it was against Jolyn's morals to stay silent or even side with someone as dictating as Gerrard and the Mortemists—at least that's what he learned from his sister.
It was a crisp, cool morning. Not too cold. Mostly just low temperature with the addition of some chill from the thin blanket of non-sticky snow that fell the previous day.
Jolyn and Felix woke up dressed in their average attire: Oversized shirts and worn pants that had to be tightened by a drawstring that embraced them just above the waist. They both sat on one bed and shared a massive quilt, feeling linked as though they were Siamese twins. Exiting their cabin, they walked in unison on the Haven's brown-haired field. They walked towards a clothesline that was at least two yards long and held up by five, thin wooden columns. Since it was mostly uniform, a majority of the clothing looked identical. To make sorting easier, each pair of clothing had a clip labeled with a number.
"Morning, boys," a heavyset mortemist greeted as she laid her eyes on the close boys. Jolyn could never get her name right. As a matter of fact, he could barely recall anyone's name. The only person who bothered to remember any of their names was Felix and it was why he was far more likable and easier to have conversations with. It was obvious he made more of an effort to get to know these people, whereas Jolyn on the other hand just preferred to observe and keep to himself. Seeing that Felix had witnessed Jolyn's ordeals, he could do nothing but vouch for him, explaining that he had "been through some stuff" before the Mortemists found them. But, realistically, that was such a shitty excuse that people only swallowed up through pity. Who hadn't been through trauma at a time like this? It was practically given out like community newspapers, so it was a weak cop-out no one was ready to discuss yet.
Felix greeted her and the Mortemist she was working with, by name. He reached into his pocket and gave her two, numbered clothespins identical to the ones holding up his own clothes,
"And how are you doing this morning?" she continued to converse.
"Didn't sleep well last night," Felix answered honestly.
She frowned at his claim, sharing that she experienced difficulty sleeping last night as well. Despite not saying anything else, she simply overshared, claiming that the recruitment of a new face had her excited. She spoke while looking down at the orange-painted clothespin, seeing the number '118' written in black sharpie. She passed on the clothespin to her comrade, who went on to search the clothesline that seemed like a voyage due to the thirty-something members' worth of laundry.
Jolyn reached into his pocket next, pulling out a yellow, plastic clothespin with a number he didn't care to remember written on it and handed it to her,
"Thirty-eight," the woman said aloud with a charismatic chuckle.
Looking around as their conversations carried on, wanting no part in it, honestly. He patiently waited until it was his turn, taking in a deep breath of the cold air as if it could freshen up his murky soul on the inside. Just as he momentarily looked over his shoulder after hearing a couple of chatters out in the distance, he saw Quest walking with a group of other men and women. They were carrying around pails of water that they must have collected from the uncontaminated stream nearby. Unlike the other girls, Quest lacked something. She fell far behind them and even announced that she would be taking a short break, but none of the others seemed to care, seeing that they didn't even bother to give as much as a look of concern. The rest of them walked off, leaving her behind as if she were nothing but a liability to them. She placed down the pail beside her and rolled up her sleeves, looking down at her right wrist. A fresh wound was bound to hurt for days, so Jolyn came to no other conclusion when seeing her. She rested her other palm over it, hoping to ease the pain by applying pressure somehow. That's when she noticed Jolyn looking over at her. It was humiliating enough to be an example in front of others but she wanted to keep her head held high and never wanted to be seen hurting, so noticing Jolyn was offensive to her. She rolled down her sleeves and continued walking, pretending as if her bruises were never even there. As she strolled off, she maintained eye contact as if she was hoping to achieve some kind of hocus pocus that would eventually make Jolyn forget everything he saw. That's when he felt his entire right arm go numb after Felix suddenly nudged at his funny bone,
"Gael," Felix looked on, almost embarrassed, "Jocelyn asked how you're doing today," Felix translated, somewhat curious as to what so overwhelmingly grabbed Jolyn's attention beforehand.
He put effort into curving his lips upright—into an untrue smile. Gael. God, he hated that name. Nothing personal to anyone else, he just didn't think it fit him particularly. He thought he looked more like a Jonathan or maybe even a Tory if he had to go by other than his real name.
"I'm doing great. Thanks," he lied.
"You and Tristen are getting that new face we've all been discussing, right?" She took a minute and paused, "Albertson?"
Jolyn looked down at the table most of the time seeing that they hadn't moved since the clothespin was given to her. At this point, Felix already had his garments handed to him and had his clothespin added to the collection of pins from previous pickups with other Mortemists,
"Yeah," he responded simply.
"I hope you have a safe trip,"
Jolyn tightened his lips even more and attempted to bring them to his ears. It was that same smile he used to put on for people who thought their unsolicited opinions were more than welcome. He saw it as more of a tolerable smile than a disingenuous one and he was sure it came across that way,
"Thanks…" he tried to recall her name. However, it only escaped his mind yet again, "Yeah, thanks, I appreciate that.."
At that point, she got the message and Jocelyn handed the clothespin to her associate. Once they located Jolyn's clothes, he returned and handed Jolyn a neatly folded pile of his shirts, pants, and undergarments. Thanking her, Jolyn and Felix returned to their cabin.
"You gotta try a lot harder than that if you want people to start liking you, y'know," Felix enlightened, essentially becoming the unsolicited opinionator.
"Give me a break," Jolyn sighed, "At least I could look them in the face before. It's just weird now after what happened last time," he said, watching Felix push open the door to their cabin. Jolyn was the first to break away from their shared blanket and waited for Felix to close the door behind them, "My mom went through a phase where she used to watch nothing but crime documentaries."
"Documentaries?" Felix sounded perplexed, "What does that have to do with this."
"Hear me out," Jolyn paused, "Didn't you ever think it's a little weird how everyone spoke of Gerrard when we first came here?"
Felix shook his head,
"I mean, he practically built this place from the ground up," Felix sat on his bed, "Maybe people are just thankful, so they praise him."
"But to this extent? They just do whatever Gerrard says. Like," Jolyn paused once again, thinking of the best way to say it without directly freaking Felix out, "It's almost like his word is law around here or something?"
"Because he's the leader, Jolyn…"
"You're not listening!"
"I am listening!" Felix became exhausted, "I don't know exactly what you're trying to say, but I think you're being a bit too paranoid right now. Believe me, I know you want to leave this place and I'm willing to go with you. But...Gerrard's just a guy with a really bad temper and that's all there is to it."
Jolyn shook his head and folded. He gave up on whatever he was trying to address and mainly because he was becoming a bit discouraged by it. Maybe it was as simple as Felix claimed it to be. He thought back about his paranoid aunt they left back in NYC and always wondered if living with her for so long could cause a few of her heretics to rub off on him and it was something he was always a bit worried about. As for Felix, he was glad that Jolyn could just drop it.
Now, all that was left for Jolyn to do was prepare himself to be taking Gerrard's lapdog for a walk. He quickly threw on his thermals after stripping down to his underwear,
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Felix asked, feeling the rich warmth as he sat on an overturned basin by the fireplace.
"Am I sure?" Jolyn began to button up his top, "You make it sound like Gerrard is giving me much of a choice."
Felix couldn't answer quickly enough,
"I just don't like the thought of you going out there with someone you don't get along with."
"I'll be fine," Jolyn said, "After dealing with your family, I'm sure I can take care of myself.
Felix furrowed his brows and darted a look so taken aback, it might've made Jolyn feel bad,
"I don't have time for this shit again," Felix stood up and walked over to the doorway, aggressively snatching the sweater off of it and squeezed his feet inside of his moccasin slippers, "You're not gonna keep blaming me for what my dad and Noel did," he looked over at Jolyn. He could understand that Jolyn was upset about the events that happened back in Quebec, but he didn't want to take the passive aggression on this topic anymore. Felix could feel his face become hot and he flung his arm around, "Our families are dead and all we have is each other now! So if you don't want me around, Jolyn, just freaking say so! You can run off on your own!"
Jolyn sat down on his bed with a face full of contempt but couldn't bring himself to direct it at Felix—mainly because he truly wasn't to blame. It was just the way things played out that made Jolyn so unhappy with everything. When Felix realized he wasn't going to get a response just like the last argument he opened the door and remained still for a moment or two, taking in a deep breath. He clenched his mouth, having his prominent jaw flex,
"I'm gonna grab a cup of coffee," he said, sounding like he was fighting back a different choice of words, "Do you want anything before you leave?"
"I'm not hungry," Jolyn declined the offer, "I'm gonna go,"
"See you when you get back, then..." Felix said as he exited, shutting the door behind him.
Given some time to think to himself, Jolyn was big enough to admit to himself that he was wrong for opening that can of worms. Hoping that Felix would return for Jolyn to make an apology, the Leroux never showed back up to the cabin. He understood—he deserved it and wouldn't blame Felix if he was given the silent treatment for the next few days. So he grabbed his belongings, stuffed them into a beige backpack, and set foot outside. He ambled across the field and passed through the armory which was on the open end of the yard—a shed that resembled a garage with missing parts to the rooftop. It held your usual tools, be it gardening rakes, machetes, or semi-automatics. Despite it being so useful, it was usually unkempt and there always seemed to be a spider spinning a web in a corner somewhere. Gerrard and any of his associates would be lucky if there wasn't a day he walked into one face first.
"Morning," Jolyn was greeted as soon as he entered.
It was an older gentleman named Rafael—a Spanish individual a part of the committee. He usually wore a straw hat and the usual uniform. His skin was bright red due to his rosacea and he wore glasses that made his eyes look smaller than they were. He sat in an old torn computer chair and usually had his face plastered to a magazine he'd re-read before someone was willing enough to grab him a new one.
He did his job but very leniently yet he took it seriously. It was a big responsibility to grab what the Moretemists needed whenever they were headed outside of the Haven, but he trusted people enough to responsibly grab what they needed. Jolyn greeted him back with a nod of his head and explored the garage. The firearms were either lined up along the wall or shoved in a massive wheeled toolbox. Already armed with his very own knife, Jolyn grabbed a Super-Shorty shotgun and calmly placed it on Rafael's desk. Momentarily taking his green eyes off of his magazine, he took one look at the gun before shuffling through the unorganized draws of his desk. For the first few minutes, all they both heard were the noisy shells and bullets rolling around and bouncing off one another until Rafael finally found the right ones. Partially opening the box, he placed it on the table, revealing only five shells left.
Passing Jolyn a yellow-paged notepad, it was Jolyn's responsibility to write down the gun type, the number of bullets taken, the number of bullets left, and to sign his first and last initial: G. T. for Gael Terrance.
The Mortemists had an unrealistic rule about their guns and their ammunition, and there was a reason why ammunition was rarely used. It didn't take long for anyone who knew the Mortemists to see that they were essentially being pacifists to the dead—or as they liked to say, "The Fallen". But there were some cases where the ammunition did the job at marking themselves as a reality check. Of course, these people weren't stupid enough to believe that a reanimated wouldn't try to harm you because they were humanized or given mercy, but shooting the dead was something that should always be a last resort. If you were sent out with five bullets, you were expected to come back with five bullets. If not, you had some questions to answer, and whoever was paired with you, had to either vouch or say otherwise,
Despite claiming that he wasn't hungry earlier, those feelings changed along with his mind on Felix. So, on his way to the meetup, Jolyn grabbed himself a blueberry muffin and quickly scarfed it down before he'd end up regretting it. He walked past the small cemetery that had a new wooden cross added to the collection since last night. The gate that led through to the front yard of the church was normally chained and locked, but from afar, Jolyn could see that it had been unlocked. As he approached the gate, Tristen and another man came into his sight. Cutting their conversation short, Tristen approached Jolyn the first chance he got,
"What the hell took you so long?"
"I was waiting for you back at the cabin," Jolyn defended, taken aback by Tristen's hurry to be rude more than anything else.
"You can wake yourself up and get yourself ready. I'm not your mother," Tristen retorted. Jolyn remained quiet while deflecting Tristen's glares. His morning already didn't start on the right foot and it was too early for the noise called Tristen's voice. When he realized that Jolyn wasn't going to entertain him, he rightfully changed his tune. Looking over his shoulder, Tristen beckoned the young man he was accompanied with, "Anyway, there's been a slight change of plans. Rudy's gonna accompany you instead."
"Why?" Jolyn questioned, hoping not to offend the stranger.
"Because," Tristen briefly paused thinking he shouldn't be questioned, "I'm needed here. So, it's up to you and Rudy to fetch Albertson, okay? I've seen you work and you seem capable enough," he said, still managing to make a compliment sound like an insult.
Fetch? An interesting choice of words, Jolyn thought, seeing the irony between the laptop and himself.
Tristen pressed a crumpled-up piece of paper to Rudy's chest and walked off without exchanging words any further. He opened the tall fence that led through the side of the Haven and securely locked it with chains and a padlock behind them. Jolyn certainly didn't get along with the fella but if there was anyone he needed more to be on this mission with, it was definitely Tristen. He had only ventured on foot to Albertson's house twice. Tristen had probably been there more than a handful of times.
He looked over at Rudy and examined him—a fairly young guy with dark brown hair, tall and a stocky build. He didn't look exactly friendly at first glance but the opening of his mouth proved otherwise. He was the first to break the ice and properly introduce himself. Jolyn, usually to avoid being thrown off, showed himself as the introvert he always was.
Felix headed to the chapel, where everyone had already gathered for their breakfast. A good amount of people had already gotten their breakfast and they either ate it out in the fields, in their cabins, or here in the very chapel. It had been chicken soup for the past week or so and as much as Felix wanted something new, he couldn't complain. The chapel had two doorways. One led to the very front, which was locked and barricaded with a massive block of wood that took about four people to remove and roughly three to install. The second entrance was the back door that extended through a small path on the far left of the chapel—the main path that the Mortemists usually looked to as their entrance and exit to the chapel.
Looking to the far right, Felix walked towards the table that held up a huge pot of reheated soup. He waited in line beside two others who were seemingly getting seconds. As per usual, he was greeted by his alias. Much to their relief, the server pointed out that from the looks of their attendance, Felix was the final person to be served that morning. What remained in the pot wasn't much, but just enough was scraped and scooped to give Felix a bowl of broth, carrots, and other greens. Looking around the chapel, he realized that almost every seat was either taken or occupied. Sure, it would normally sit all of them during service, but it wasn't service at this time. Therefore, people took up extra space as if it were their very own homes. Some comfortably sat on the floor beside their friends but it was just one of those days where Felix wasn't in a mood to subjugate himself to that kind of social space. So, he exited from whence he came.
As he strolled a couple of feet out, something caught his eye, causing him to glance over to his right. He saw Quest sitting alone on a short log bench with enough room for three people. While he kept walking, Felix recalled what he and Jolyn spoke about that morning and he stopped in place. Reluctantly, he turned around and began making his way towards her. Jolyn frequently expressed how he thought Quest was quite pretty. And although she wasn't necessarily his type, if Felix looked long enough, you could certainly see a charming thing about her. She had dark skin, a heart-shaped face, and usually wore her hair in a natural 'fro with a side part. For this day, in particular, she had it held back with some hair clips. She was soft-spoken, very polite, and did a constant pouty thing with her upper lip, which oddly gave her most of the appeal. Clearly, she was avoiding eye contact for whatever reason. Since she had been shunned by almost everyone for the past couple of days, having someone approach her must've felt like she was only bracing herself for more humiliation,
"Mind if I sit?" Felix requested. Without saying a word, she pulled the items that were placed neatly beside her, closer to her—notebooks and such. However, as soon as Felix sat down, she stood up. He was surprised, not meaning to frighten her, "Y-you're leaving?" Felix questioned.
"Don't want to take up any space," she replied. As she struggled to hold most of her items. Instantly, her books fell and the cold breezes blew some of her loose pages out, "No!" she cried.
Felix placed his bowl down and quickly leaped to her aid. He managed to get some sheets of paper, but there were about two that were carried away as if they were feathers free from a bird. He took a good glance at it, seeing that Quest was clearly a poet. Quest feared dropping her bowl, so Felix carefully returned the folded pages inside of her notebook and handed it to her in a manner that wouldn't cause her any more issues. Reaching for it, she unintentionally revealed her wrist left with scabs and bruises. She cautiously hid them with her sleeves as she quickly retracted, nearly dropping her book a second time. Overall, she thanked him.
"How...how is that?" Felix questioned, referring to her wrist. Although he was there the night it happened and could have stepped in, he wanted to let her know that he cared. He was new to this community, so these rules were upsetting and new to him. However, upon his inquiry, Quest looked like she struggled to speak and that's when Felix realized he overstepped. Playing it off, he shook his head and eagerly hoped that changing the subject would do both of them the favor of getting to know each other and, most importantly, show that he sympathized, "Uh, sorry about that. Look, I...could really use the company right now. My friend went on some recruitment without me and left me to rot here..." Looking around, hoping this wasn't some test or practical joke, Quest nodded and walked with him back to the log. It was awkward at first but Quest appreciated the friendliness. Felix stirred as he stared into his tenuous soup,
"Looks like I'll just have broth for breakfast. It'll be like getting ready for a colonoscopy."
"Colonoscopy?" Quest questioned, purely confused and a little disgusted.
"Yeah," he chuckled, "When my granddad had to get 'em. All he was allowed to drink was liquids and broth."
That time around, Felix felt like he saw her face crack a smile—a meager but appreciative smirk. Quest eyed her bowl and carefully put her bowl beside his. Using her spoon, she scooped out an untouched half of a potato and chicken wing. Felix looked back at her and grinned happily,
"Thank you."
She nodded,
"You're sort of new, right?" She seemed to say more, "What's your name?"
Felix nearly slipped up. He wiped his mouth as a false coverup for his momentary lapse,
"...Huxley."
Unsure whether he knew her name or not, she introduced herself either way.
"I'm sure you know already, but I'm Quest."
The map obscured Jolyn and Rudy's vision just before Jolyn placed it down. The house looked familiar but all of the houses in this part of Limington looked exactly the same. Even after the country collapsed into nothing, every sad excuse of what used to be a property proudly waved the American flag. It was safe to assume that Jolyn wasn't a patriotic person, so seeing people's houses with the American flag never really wowed him. Being raised around an immigrant mother and an activist of a sister just caused him to have a different outlook about his country. And even if its prime was in the past, he was very much convinced that the current state of his home had to be the very doing of the United States. They always cut off their noses to spite their faces and, now, there were no noses left.
Jolyn and Rudy scavenged out of what Jolyn thought would serve them as a shortcut to Albertson's house. Despite the difficulty of being able to tell the houses apart, Jolyn remembered the broken step on Albertson's porch. Hopelessly, he crossed the road, noticing a couple of reanimated in the distance,
"Fallen," Rudy announced.
Jolyn heeded his warnings and carefully sneaked towards the porch of the house he identified as Albertsons. Just as he hoped, it was still damaged from his visit to the residence. Carefully, they both climbed the steps and approached the sealed entrance. Jolyn knocked on Albertson's door at a volume that wouldn't notify any Fallen. Thankfully, it didn't take long this time for Albertson to open his door and welcome the guests inside. Hesitant due to the smell, Jolyn gave Rudy a regretful look that apologized for not alerting him any sooner of the odor. Once inside, Jolyn stood by the window, meanwhile, Rudy stood in isolation, not wanting to lay a hand on anything. His face was beet red, possibly from intervals of having to hold his breath. When Albertson returned to the main room, he rolled in with his belongings compact and ready in a suitcase. Jolyn, who kept a lookout through the windows, took a double-take at Albertson. He was a timid old man but he reminded Jolyn of that character who was solely around for a comedic relief trope. Jolyn often found it difficult to make demands to skittish strangers but even Rudy looked at Albertson as if he were a joke,
"You won't need a suitcase where we're going, Mr. Albertson," Rudy said before taking a deep breath.
"But all of my favorite suits. My books. My certificates and my family albums..." he pouted.
Jolyn swallowed,
"We understand that Mr. Albertson but…" he traded looks with Ruby, "...luggage can slow us down. If we run into trouble out there, we're gonna need to be able to move fast. Isn't it better if you leave it in a place you know where it is?" It was a tad manipulative, but Jolyn thought of the best way to make him consider the worst-case scenario, "You wouldn't want to lose all that stuff out there would you?"
Although it was a tough pill to swallow, Albertson understood and he went back to get something far more appropriate for their trek back to the Haven. As soon as Jolyn announced that the nearby fallen were out of range, Rudy took this as his opportunity to get some fresh air. No matter how cold it was, Rudy would rather freeze than have his nose be permanently damaged by the funk that lived rent-free in Albertson's household.
Sooner or later, Jolyn exited the house with Albertson following. Just like anyone afraid to let go, he took his house keys with him and tossed them into his pocket as if he were going out for a stroll to the nearest supermarket. Along his shoulders was his daughter's duffle bag she would take to gym class in high school. He did himself the favor of only taking a couple of photographs, two or three books, and most clothes. But he lacked the most important thing: Something to defend himself with. According to Albertson, any weapon he ever owned ended up jabbed inside of a walking corpse somewhere, and that it was probably slugging itself halfway across Maine by now. It was between Jolyn's personal knife or the Haven's shotgun. With a man who shook and shivered as much as Mr. Albertson, he was better off with a knife. Jolyn removed the knife from the holster case wrapped around his ankle and offered it to Mr. Albertson,
"Hold onto this. And please, don't lose it. That's very important to me"
Mr. Albertson grabbed the knife with an obvious sense of being unacquainted, dropping it as soon as it was handed to him. He rushed to pick it back up, getting pestered looks from both Mortemists after secretly having exchanged looks of pity.
This was it—they did what they were ordered to do and retrieved the recruit they coerced into converting. Although Jolyn wasn't in on the whole mission due to being one of the lastest members, he had an even more direct hand in it now. Both he and Felix were aware of Gerrard's preference to constantly pester Albertson and to prey upon his loneliness, his deprivations, and his fears to make him join them, but they didn't think much of it at first. The only time Jolyn was beginning to realize it, was when it came to himself, which was somewhat selfish—but it was easier for people to understand their own treatment as opposed to others. Jolyn and Felix were cold, lost, and hungry when they were found by Gerrard. All it took was the mention of food, friends, and a warm bed to sleep in for them to be absolutely sold. It was the same for Albertson, and all it took was being under a microscope for people to understand that. However, in due time, Jolyn was given that microscope.
As a trade-off to avoid babysitting their newcomer, Rudy led the way back, claiming that he remembered it vividly. Jolyn looked around as they entered a forest not too far off from Albertson's home. Jolyn remembered this forest: It was cold, stripped of any vibrancy, and there were heaps of dead, crumpling leaves surrounded at the base of the trees. Almost too much to be natural. From what Jolyn could gather, Rudy's social ability made up for his lack of patience because he was in such a hurry to get back to the Haven and practically outran the ones behind him. Although Jolyn knew the way back, it was reckless to be out here on your own, especially with a man who severely sheltered himself. The former New Yorker's eyes scanned the area, looking up at the thin and undressed branches of the trembling trees. He paused and focused on what appeared to be lacerated parts to a rope, its fibers spread out at the end. Mr. Albertson halted behind Jolyn and mistook the young man's evaluation for stargazing. Jolyn's vision trailed through the rest of the trees, seeing a pattern of cut ropes and cloth. Instead of lingering on the possibility of what they could mean, Jolyn thought it would be best to play it safe. He cupped his hand around his mouth and called out to Rudy, who was already a great distance out. The moment Rudy turned to look at them, he instantly became white-lipped. He lifted his finger and pointed,
"WATCH OUT!" he shouted.
Jolyn looked over to see the nearest cumulation of heavy leaves fall over due to slow movement coming from the inside. Almost as if it were emerging from the base of the tree, a Fallen's thin arm grabbed Jolyn's foot. Jolyn kicked it away and shuffled backward, colliding into a tree. Mr. Albertson, in this case, became extremely apprehensive,
"Albertson!" Jolyn shouted his name. The older gentleman was easily swayed by Jolyn's words and inched away just in time as the Fallen struggled to use its frozen bones to stand erect. Albertson looked around the forest, seeing other corpses emerge from other similar heaps of brown-tinged leaves, "Oh my god."
Suddenly they heard a low shriek. With both of them looking up, Jolyn felt overwhelmingly numb after seeing Rudy get grabbed by what appeared to be dead. Alas, through an attempt to make it back to Jolyn and Albertson, Rudy was caught between two tree trunks. Compromised by irresolution, Jolyn could feel his toes move but not his feet. Albertson quickly handed Jolyn back his knife, shouting "save him!" over and over again. Jolyn may have pretended to be smarter and bolder than the rest but, in the face of adversity, it made him realize that pretending was all he was good at. Jolyn looked around and calculated whichever path was safest to take. Albeit, not the best idea, but he shouted for Rudy to hold on, hoping to give some type of assurance that he would save him.
Rudy stunned the Fallen by striking it twice with a kick. Just as he turned to flee, Rudy was surprised by what appeared to be a more recently turned Fallen. Taken by surprise, Rudy lost his footing and fell backward just as the dead fell on top of him. Attempting to keep the monster at a safe distance, the dead got a lucky hold of him and sank its rotting teeth into his face. Rudy let out a terrifying shout as he felt his face being torn apart. A split second into his attack and the dead stopped moving. Rudy opened his eyes and could see the body being shoved off of him. He winced as the fangs were carelessly pried from his flesh, blood oozing over his cheek as the dead's was removed. Touching the fleshy wound on his face, he looked at his fingers, spotting bright red blood. He tried to come up with some rational answer to make himself feel better. Maybe he knocked his face on a jagged rock when he fell? But all it took was for him to look over and see the exanimate creature laying two feet away from him. It was almost as if he was being provoked by something that now claimed his soul despite lacking one itself. Rudy remained in place and closed his eyes as his vision began to blur from the tears that flooded his optics. When he opened them once again, he saw Gael and Albertson remorsefully standing over him. As Albertson shivered and trembled, Gael extended a hand,
"C'mon," Jolyn said. But Rudy was ready to give up like all the others before him. He knew exactly what this meant and there was no way of escaping it. Jolyn furrowed his eyebrows, "Come on, Rudy..."
Jolyn reached forward and forcibly lifted Rudy to his feet. Somewhat feeling coaxed to get moving, Rudy ran with Jolyn as Albertson followed them through the eerie forest, being stalked by other frozen Fallen that planned to pursue them from afar.
Felix was with a recently formed party of five, each given a bucket. As much as he could respect people for putting their all into wanting to make the Haven a community of never-ending functionality, he couldn't help but feel reminded of the times he worked non-stop on the farm with his brothers. Some days, he just wanted a break and this was one of them. But by being a part of this group, Felix didn't want to feel useless or come across as a leeching parasite, so whenever he was asked for a favor, he couldn't bring himself to say no.
Unfortunately, since the community's growth, the barrels that were used to collect rainfall weren't holding up like it used to and the shallow amounts of water were frozen solid due to the cold. Now, it wasn't always up to Gerrard or the committee to call the shots. Other members could go by their own instincts and offer up a proposal and if enough people were on board, they just needed to bring it to their superiors for permission. Just as the party was on their way to begin their trek, they heard shouts coming from the far end of the plain just by the chapel. The shouts, which Felix recognized, caused him to instantly rest down his bucket and beam across the field without hesitation. While one of the other women ran to fetch one of the committee members, Felix made his way through the skinny path of the cemetery and saw Jolyn, successfully accompanied by Albertson. However, hanging from his shoulder was Rudy, a guy he had seen around but never knew personally. Even more shocked by the unmistakable bite on his face, he turned around to call for some help. Showing up just in time, Tristen put his speed to good use and arrived with the keys in no time, unlocking the gate. He assisted in aiding Rudy inside of the Haven while Felix locked up the gates behind them.
She knew it might have come across as profane but although it wasn't deemed forbidden, Quest was exploring Apollo's old Cabin as if it were a reclusive tomb. Using the little light that shined in through the curtains, she browsed through the overhead bookshelves, reading the titles of his collections of passed-down guides on candle-making. Just as she picked up a book to flip through it she found an old photograph of what appeared to be Apollo and an extremely beautiful woman with a ruby red dress on, and a young man she presumed was Apollo's son—looking extremely dapper like his father. She chuckled softly to herself, sincerely hoping that Apollo would be with his loved ones despite her disbelief in the afterlife.
Then, taking her by surprise, there was a sudden, loud bang on the cabin door almost as if a wrecking ball had torn through. As soon as the door swung open, she was shocked to see Rudy's limp body being held up by his arms as his boots were dragging along the floorboards.
As they coasted past her, Quest quickly returned Apollo's belongings to where they once rested before anyone could make sense of what she was doing. On her way to the exit, she looked outside, seeing multiple faces of the people in her community.
After Rudy was tossed into the bed, Tristen ran off to seek the rest of the committee.
"What were you doing in here?" Quest was startled by Jolyn. But before she could give a clear answer, he cut her short seeing that it was the least of their concerns at the moment, "Do you think you can help him?" Jolyn hurried.
Nodding, Quest wasted no time in shutting the door to obscure the many brown, hazel, and blue orbs peering inside. Briefly, she and Jolyn looked at one another, at a loss for words for different reasons. Jolyn knew her as the girl he watched get assaulted. She knew Jolyn as Gael—the guy who did just as everyone else did that night. She approached an old drawer that was given to Apollo as a gift from a dumpster dive—something no one probably ever expected to be proud of. She opened it and located the very same first aid kit she used when watching over Apollo. The only reason Quest was appointed this kind of responsibility was because she was raised in a family of doctors. Her mother was a podiatrist and her father was a gynecologist with parents as doctors as well. Although she never had the chance to tell them, she wanted to break the line of medical practitioners. Looking after the ill was somewhat of a skill set she never thought would benefit her until it came to looking after her grandparents, mother, and father. But even with them gone, it was a practice that was beginning to feel like destiny.
She requested Jolyn open up the curtains for light. For hard-to-see places, like his eyes and back of his throat, she used a tiny flashlight, examined his face, and rested the back of her hand on his feverish forehead. Despite his shivers, his forehead was bubbling,
"It's affecting him quickly. Quicker than it did—" she looked over at Jolyn and paused. She returned her gaze to Rudy's left cheek, "...Quicker than anyone I've looked after. Was he bit anywhere else?"
After Jolyn shook his head, she requested that Jolyn go collect some antiseptics and pain killers from nearby cabins. Despite barely knowing the guy, Jolyn didn't want to leave his side. But after having immobilized the way he did back in the frozen woodlands, it was the least he could do.
It was interesting how just hours ago, Quest wasn't desired until Rudy came along. She wasn't complaining but something about it felt self-righteous. She did her job at patching up Rudy's face with gauze and ran to his aid if he did as much as sniffle. Watching over him like a hawk, she lit the fireplace to keep both of them warm as the nights grew even more frigid. In any case, to the Mortemists, taking care of someone before they turned was about making sure their last moments weren't insufferable. Even though this was an inescapable passage of death, it didn't mean that the experience shouldn't be made any less depressing than it already was. Overall, she was terrified to be put in this position yet again. She wanted to avoid recalling the darkest memory of the past week but the more she stared at Rudy's deteriorating state, she just couldn't help herself from thinking about the possibilities of him turning on her and having the same incident repeat itself. Suddenly, she heard the sound of some snaps and crunches coming from the outside. As Quest looked over, she noticed the top of three heads vanish momentarily before slowly floating back up—two nosey blondes and an inquisitive curly brunette. Quickly walking over, she shut the curtains for the sake of privacy and respect.
After a palpable moment of despair, there was a startling knock on the door moments later. Prepared to shun snoopy Mortemists off the property like a grumpy old neighbor, she was surprised to see the boy she knew as Gael, Huxley's friend, and an older man she had never laid eyes on before.
Jolyn greeted and glanced over Quest's shoulder, seeing Rudy's body tremble irregularly, Quest knew of Gael's position as a witness to the attack and decided that it would be more than suitable to grant him and the stranger access. They all watched over his body in silence, including Mr. Albertson. All he was ever familiar with was the before and after. And although Rudy was technically still alive, this wasn't either of those moments. He was currently in the battle of the between: between life and death and between the before and after. Seeing Rudy's body, partially illuminated by the nearby fireplace, sent chills down Albertson's spine as if he were in the very scenery of a horror picture. Jolyn stood at the foot of the bed, and shook his head,
"This is my fault. I should've reacted quick enough."
Albertson looked over at him,
"If this is your fault, then I'm just as much to blame," Albertson said, hoping to alleviate Jolyn's shame.
"I'm sorry," Quest interjected. She studied the older man in the room with her, "Who are you?"
"Oh!" Albertson fidgeted. Even though he was already welcomed into the group, he still wasn't at ease given the circumstance. He inched over to Quest by leaning inward and offered a handshake, "I'm Lennard Albertson," he properly introduced. Quest shook his hand and could feel it fight through the trembling. However, she appreciated the bravery he tried to maintain. So this was the man who was the talk of the town? He was shorter and older than she expected. With the way Albertson was constantly spoken about, she expected a tall politician with a deep voice and unshakable confidence. But she was careful not to judge. If anything, she understood him and felt bad that he was convinced to join such a foul place. She took her other hand and rested her palm on top of his rattling hands. To that, he gave a nervous chuckle, "I'm still a little...shaken up. That's all."
Quest gave a sympathetic smile, causing Albertson to remove his glasses and quickly wipe his watering eyes.
Observing them close at the bedside, a hand jumped up and latched onto Jolyn's wrist. Everyone else in the room jumped from the sudden sound of Jolyn's yelp. Able to easily recoil from Rudy's feeble grip, Jolyn nearly backed through the wall out of fear that Rudy had turned. Grabbing the lantern near her, Quest bravely brought it close to Rudy's face, informing the others that he was far from fine but had yet to turn. His eyes were filled with an unspeakable exasperation as if he were more troubled by something else rather than his imminent death. Everyone gazed at him, completely speechless as his eyes watered with rage-filled tears,
"Kill me," he begged, his voice shaking.
Quest glanced away in disgust. Even if Rudy's unfortunate lifespan might have made him think a little more inconsiderably, it was the last request she wanted to hear. Thankfully, he understood that which is why his gaze was set on Jolyn,
"Gael," he wheezed, "I can't turn."
Jolyn's nose flared. He couldn't deal with having such a responsibility put on him, which wouldn't ultimately morph into guilt. He just couldn't. Instead, he froze. He opened his mouth, having nothing more than a breath come out before shutting it again. Finally, he found the right words to say,
"Rudy, you know what happens if we do that..."
Rudy's face tensed almost as if he was in excruciating pain but instead he was just holding back tears. He threw his head back onto his pillow and began to cough violently and hoarsely. Quest ran and got a foot basin and pushed through Jolyn, anticipating the blood mixed vomit that Rudy expelled. She rubbed his back as he remained bent over, spewing for nearly a minute straight. It was gruesome to see someone go through something like this up close and personal. As Mr. Albertson watched Rudy lose an inch of his life every second, he couldn't bear to watch anymore,
"I-I can't do this," Albertson stammered. He walked towards Rudy's bedside and rested his palm on his shoulder, "I wish there was something I could do. I'm very, very sorry."
"Please, you can just put me to rest," Rudy whined.
"I-I can't..." Albertson shook his head in genuine sorrow.
"I got bit because we were trying to save you!" Rudy spat, "The least you could do is put me out of my misery!"
Mr. Albertson momentarily paused with his eyes shut. That was the last thing anyone wanted to hear—it crossed his mind before that maybe if he were more of a fighter, a lot of people would still be around. But the fact that Rudy brought it up somewhat verified his suspicions that he wasn't the only one thinking it, and now it was out in the air for Quest and Gael to run with. With a final, somewhat resentful, apology, Albertson left Rudy's bedside and exited the cabin.
Coincidentally, that was when the time for Gerrard to visit Rudy's cabin finally arrived. The first person encountered at the cabin was Albertson, standing by the porch with not a clue in the world on where to turn in for a good night's rest or place to think. However, considering all that's happened, he wasn't even sure if sleeping was an option. He moped in silence before being approached by a stocky-looking gentleman who stood a lot taller than he did. Gerrard offered a handshake as he approached Albertson. Thinking it was the courteous thing to do, Albertson fought his exhaustion to accept the handshake as a show of respect. He knew this was the honcho and he didn't want to give a bad impression. They introduced themselves to one another despite already knowing each other's names, but before they could get any more acquainted, Albertson felt the need to get something off of his chest,
"I apologize for the abrupt subject change," he casually segued, "I'm not sure if you're aware or not, but one of your associates was bitten today."
"Oh, you mean Rudy?" Gerrard asked, receiving a confirming nod from Albertson. He playfully slapped Albertson's shoulder, "Yeah, I know. Wait here. I'll take care of this and I'll be back to show you where to sleep in for the night."
Albertson oddly watched Gerrard walk off as if he were a store manager on his way to deal with a customer—there just wasn't any sign of the type of sympathy he expected. Which was deeply concerning, even if it were someone who was used to it by now. Albertson watched Gerrard make his way up the stairs of the cabin and knock before entering. He pushed open the door and requested that he be left alone with Rudy. That was Quest's and Gael's cue to go back to their cabins and sleep in for the night,
"You're still waiting out here?" Quest inquired as she and Gael strolled past Albertson.
Albertson couldn't seem to get his eyes off the cabin door, so his response to Quest's question was quite delayed,
"Huh?" he finally glanced over at her, "Oh, yes. I'm waiting for Gerrard. Hopefully, I'll have a place to sleep shortly."
"Alright…" Gael nodded, "Don't think too much about what happened today okay? Just try and get some rest…"
Albertson watched as the two young adults walked off in separate directions to get to wherever it was they needed to go. He got such a strange vibe from both of them despite their unconventional bonding time together in the cabin. To him, everything felt so routine. And even if people were far more desensitized to death during a time like this, he expected far more different reactions from people who were supposed to be part of a community looking after one another. Glancing back at the cabin, Albertson noticed that the entryway was left ajar. His eyes carefully scanned the perimeter, seeing only a few people far out in the distance to be of any significance. He briefly readjusted himself and faced the cabin. Carefully, resting his backpack down, Albertson made his way up the stairs, pausing even after the softest creak was made. Once he finally reached the door, Albertson pressed himself up against the wall right alongside it and listened in. If angled at the right position, Albertson could get a glimpse at Gerrard's silhouette towering above Rudy's bed, having the room's fireplace and lantern bounce off his thick spectacles.
As unpleasant as his dying breath was, Rudy managed to move his lips despite the blood that was hardened around them. He mumbled through hoarse breaths and could barely move as much as a finger, growing weaker by the minute,
"Gerrard…" his voice wheezed, "Please…"
Gerrard carefully kneeled by the bedside and got uncomfortably close to Rudy despite the stench that his dying breath gave off through his parted lips. He softly rested a hand on Rudy's head and looked into his eyes almost as one would a priest preparing his followers for prayer,
"Rudy. I know it's unpleasant but you know what comes after this," he watched, practically in silent ecstasy as tears formed in Rudy's eyes,
"Have...to kill...me…" he struggled to push each word out of his struggling lungs.
"Oh, but we will," Gerrard closed in, "But only after the ritual..." he whispered eerily into his ear, "You've participated in it before, so it's only fair that we grant you the same favor," he said. More fight was being put into Rudy's breathing than into any other part of his body and it didn't take a genius to tell. Gerrard stood up and walked around the bedroom, rummaging through the drawers that withheld Apollo's old belongings, "And to make this easier on the both of us…" he began to pull and tear apart fabric until they were long and thin. He approached Rudy, lifting Rudy's arm without facing any resistance from his faltering acolyte. Ignoring the weak whines that hummed from Rudy's lips, Garret tied his wrists to the bedposts, "Soon, we'll welcome to the afterlife," he caressed Rudy's face before walking towards the exit as Rudy's eyes followed him.
Albertson, who was silently shaking on the other side of the door, was getting a good glimpse of everything that was occurring. There were times when he thought he would be spotted but he had the outside darkness to thank for the stealth. Once Gerrard was done with his odd confrontation, Albertson instantly made an about-face to return to the position Gerrard last left him. Going about as fast as his older age could take him, he attempted to maintain his heavy breaths to avoid looking suspicious. He heard the door open and shut behind him and heavy footsteps soon occurred afterward. Albertson stood in place quite stiffly, afraid to even turn and look into the face of a man he didn't want to call human. If he looked into the face of Gerrard, Albertson would obviously give his feelings away,
"How is he?" Albertson questioned, only moving his head ever so slightly without facing Gerrard's general direction.
"Everything's taken care of. No worries," Gerrard vaguely answered. This, however, made Albertson wonder if he would've given such an answer had he not been a freshman in their community. He walked into Albertson's field of vision, maintaining an equilibrium that only a cold-blooded killer could have after doing what he just did, "Ready to see where you'll be sleeping tonight?" the community leader asked.
Albertson faked a smile and nodded, nervously tightening his sweaty fists in his pockets.
Gerrard took the lead and beckoned Albertson to follow.
Albertson looked back at Rudy's cabin one last time, becoming haunted by the interior that slowly dimmed due to the burning flames coming from the inside.