AN: Happy Friday guys, also I'm just going to apologize in advanced for all the shit that goes down in this chapter (wait, did I say that out loud?). Anyways, thank you again if you reviewed, input is always welcome and I hope everyone enjoys the chapter.

***20***

I layed in the bed for what felt like years but sleep wouldn't come. Not really at least, every time my eyes drifted shut I found some fresh hell. Sometimes it was the asylum, some times I was running from the dreamers, sometimes I was back in my old life, only to have demons from the dark come bursting forward to swallow me whole.

The sun could have been climbing above the horizon when I found myself crawling through the sewers. The red and green pipes surrounded me, the water came up to a knee and soaked through my boots. There was a dry piece of land that lead to stone stairs. A grimy piece of paper was balled up on the ground:

This God is real...This is the gift of the Walrider...The greatest sin in the world is willful ignorance of God... To stand in the way of salvation is a sin for which there is no punishment too great.

This was in father Martin's handwriting. Weren't you dead you soggy old bastard?

Rattling chains echoed off the putrid water and rusting walls. I didn't take long to dwell on the father's message. The stairs seemed to grow as I began my ascent. The rattling grew louder, closer. My steps got more frantic with each second.

"Little pig!"

I sprinted.

I flew over the steps two at a time. The door at the top only went further away.

Chris' breath reeked of coppery blood and stung hot with rage.

I looked wildly over my shoulder. How far was he? How long did I have? My head wasn't facing all the way back before I crashed onto the door and sent it rattling on its hinges. Frantic I ripped at the handle.

Get me out of here!

The door swung open wildly. I would have sprinted through but was stopped.

"Hey buddy! Long time no see."

Trager.

I opened my mouth only to taste copper. The chains still rattled somewhere behind me. Me head slumped down.

"I was wondering when you'd be back. I always knew you weren't a quitter."

Rusted scissors pushed their way through my gut and out of my back. Bile joined the blood and foamed out of my mouth.

"C'mon buddy, there's no reason to make a mess." The scissors twisted, "well if you're not going to talk back, screw you!"

The blackened blades clipped together. My spine snapped. The world was black again. The rattling chains faded into a memory, my thundering heart beat was all that was left to distract me from my ragged breathing. I would have shot upright but my back was locked up again. I settled on whipping the cold sweat from my face instead..

Sleep was overrated. I did my best to slowly stretch my back. Fuck the bed, I was getting up whether my body wanted to or not.

By the time I convinced myself to start moving I could smell a hint of coffee. Hopefully that meant it was late enough to actually be awake. I pulled my crutch from the ground and stiffly made my way to the kitchen. I thought I was making plenty of noise but apparently I caught Matt of guard coming around the corner.

"Wh-! Oh, I didn't see you there Miles."

"Sorry about that." I would have made an attempt to sound chipper but I was too tired to bother.

"I'm just making a pot of coffee, do you want some?"

"Sure, that would be great. Hey Matt?"

"What?"

"What time is it?" I would kill to be able to look out a window or at a clock right about now.

"A quarter to seven. Were you having trouble sleeping?"

I must have been showing how tired I was.

"Just a bit," If I were in a better mood I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face, that was such an understatement, "don't worry about it, it's nothing."

"Whatever you say Miles. How do you want your coffee? There's creamer in the fridge."

"Just a spoonful of sugar, if you can."

There was a couple of clicks while Mike stirred in the sugar. The mug was warm to the touch when he handed it to me.

The refrigerator opened and a creamy sweat smell wafted up.

"People think the creamer in the fridge is Ruth's, but it's all mine" Matt chuckled a bit at himself.

I hummed in acknowledgement of his comment. The coffee was hot and I burnt my tongue a little.

"So, when do you think Ruth's get together will happen?" I needed to know when to make myself scarce.

"Judy usually gets here kind of early. Alexa likes to play with Garret, and Ruth and her usually bake cookies or pie for everyone else. Probably eight thirty? Patricia comes in just past nine. Stephany's a wild card. Sometimes she gets here before Judy, other times she gets here just in time to say goodbye to everyone, but she has a new baby at home and her daughter is a bit of a handful, so we usually let it slide." Matt seemed like he was going through a mental check list "Oh, and Christine said she would be here but her mom's in town. Both of them will probably come by."

Oh goodie it was going to be a full house.

"One more thing, detective Schaefer called after you last night, so he'll be here at some point."

Yay.

"Well, would you look at the time. I need to get going." He made his way to the front door. The wind cut its way into the house when Matt opened the door. It had to be below zero out there.

I was left in silence once Matt was gone. I stayed at my place on the bar stool.

What had that paper said… I know I found it in the asylum. Why was that something I was remembering now? Was I just reading too much into it? No, there had to be a reason.

Wilful ignorance is the greatest sin. What did I not know?

My back itched slightly.

I didn't know what was going on with that for starters. I didn't know why the dreamers were still hanging around here. I didn't know how I was going to kill the things.

A few lazy footsteps came down the stairs.

"Oh. You're awake." It was Melody.

"Good morning to you too sunshine." I wasn't in the mood to deal with a bratty teen. Not now at least.

"Ugh, you're so lame." she muttered thinking I hadn't heard her while she walked into the kitchen.

"I'm blind, not deaf" I said while she poured coffee into a glass.

"You're still lame."

Remember Miles, murder is wrong. Usually.

I bit my tongue.

More commotion came from the other side of the room.

"Good Morning, Miles. I thought I heard someone talking in here" the sun couldn't have been up yet and Ruth was already yelling.

"Good morning Ruth."

Melody said nothing.

"Ok you two, go get cleaned up. Misses Park is on her way over."

It's not eight thirty, It's not even seven. It's the weekend, what are all you people doing up so early?

"Is she bringing her little freaks this time?" Melody finally spoke up.

Kid, if I still had both my arms I would use them to strangle you.

"Young Lady!" there we went with the yelling again "Connor and Garrett have been through so much. You be nice to them!"

"Whatever."

"Don't you take that tone with me."

There was an overly loud sip of coffee.

"...I'll be in the back." I did my best to slip out of there before everything got worse.

The two still hadn't said anything by the time I shut the door behind me. While I wondered what I was going to do I changed back into the too-long jeans and another oversized shirt.

I couldn't just hide in here all day. Maybe Connor and Garret wouldn't recognize me? I had a mess of hair on my chin, and I did lose a limb recently.

Oh, who am I kidding, you don't forget the guy that was standing over your dead father.

I took my sweet time getting the buttons of the shirt done. The missing finger was something I'd gotten used to, but now that I didn't have my other hand I was really started to miss it.

A knock at the door rattled me away from my thoughts. I could hear Ruth talking to Mrs. Park from here. I strained to listen for the elderly lady, but heard nothing. Waylon was always pretty quiet, he must have gotten it from her.

There were quiet foot steps and a few frantic ones. Alexa must be awake.

My innards felt heavy and threatened to twist themselves into knots. I let Waylon die. I was an ass to him. How was I going to go out there and face his grieving mother and children?

Get a hold of yourself man. She doesn't know who you are and no one's going to say anything. I leaned against the crutch and and took a few breathes just to calm my nerves. The walk to the kitchen was short.

"Miles, there you are. This is Mrs. Park," Ruth was the first one to speak when I got into the room.

"Hello, Ruth has told me so much about you." If I remembered correctly she was a thin twiggy woman, her voice matched that description. It barely rose above a whisper and sounded permanently tired.

"It's nice to meet you." I shifted awkwardly on the crutch to hold up my hand for a shake.

She returned the gesture, I went to sit on the couch.

See. Here I am in the main room acting totally normal, nothing out of the ordinary here. Nope, nothing at all.

Except for my back feeling like it's covered in ants. Nobody's talking Jesus yet, what gives?

"That's mister Miles." Alexa spoke from the stairs "he can't see" she added as a half whisper.

Ruth and Judy were in the kitchen and hadn't heard the kids. I didn't have the luxury of a distraction.

"Connor! Get back here!" A voice I recognised as Garrets whispered at a the small footsteps descending the stairs.

The little steps got closer, grew muffled once they hit the rug, went passed me, and then sagged onto the couch to my left. The stinging on my back was getting unbearable, what had to be Connor's little head leaned against my side.

"You're dad's friend." His tiny voice was almost too quiet for me to hear.

"Uhhh…" Shit what do I do? I don't know, just don't move.

The kid just sat there, the two on the stairs scurried away, Judy talked to Ruth, my back twisted and twitched. I fought to keep a straight face.

I didn't have the TV to distract me, Connor started taking a nap at my side. Or at least I think he did, he was sitting so still.

It seemed like a short forever before Ruth and Judy came into the main room.

"Hey Miles, do you want- Oh would you look at that. He's fallen asleep. Judy get a look at this."

The elderly lady walked around the couch "He never takes to strangers, you must have a way with kids." she sounded pleasantly surprised.

No. No I don't have a way with kids, or anybody else. I am the opposite of a people person.

"Umm. Sh-should I move?" I asked anyone who was listening.

"Oh no, make yourself comfortable. I haven't been able to get him to have a full night's sleep, he's probably exhausted."

That made two of us.

The two ladies took a seat on the other side of the room.

Connor stirred just as they walked away, "it's gone now?"

What did this kid just say? Judy hadn't heard him, neither had Ruth. The rough skin on my back crawled.

"But they're not gone"

What did Murkoff do to this kid?

There was a ding from the kitchen, Ruth walked to it, saying something about the pie must being ready. Connor grew silent again while the room stirred. The scent of baked apples filled the house, somebody new knocked at the door. Judy let the guests in with a new gust of wind.

The cold took the rest of the world with it.

Why was it so quiet? Where was everyone? Why did it feel like my back ws getting flayed again?

There was a shake on my shoulder, my heartbeat thundered.

"Miles?" a soft woman's voice trickled in through the haze, "Miles? Wake up"

Had I dozed off? I wiped at my eyes, Connor was still at my side.

"I-I'm up." I did my best to shake off whatever had just happened. It felt like someone had ran a hot piece of metal across my back.

"Detective Schaefer is here" Ruth said from over me.

How long had I been asleep? Wasn't he supposed to be here at noon?

"OK, just let me, uh…" I got to halfway standing before I realised that Connor was holding onto the armless sleeve of my shirt.

It took some coaxing from Ruth before the boy let the shred of cloth go. I got to the other side of the couch before Connor climbed over the furniture and whispered "They're still here."

My back rattled again and I hurried away from the living area.

I didn't know where Schaefer was. If he was talking it was lost in the noise of the room. I uselessly tried to look around the room when the sound of crinkling paper caught my attention.

"What's this supposed to be?" I barely recognized the detective and made my way over to him.

"It's a picture of- uhh." Garret was speaking then abruptly stop when I got closer.

"Detective?" I said from my standing position. I hoped I was facing the right direction.

"Mister Upshur" his voice came from my right, a ruffle suggested that we was coming up from a crouch, "There's quite the crowd here. Do you mind if we speak in private?"

"Not at all, there's a room in the back" What had been so important that he decided a home visit was better than a phone call?

I hobbled to the back, his even footsteps and the slight scent of whisky clinging to his cloths said he was following close.

I stepped into the guest room, he shut the door behind him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were at the Mount Massive Asylum?" He was matter of fact, like he'd rehearsed this question a thousand times, but never imagined what the answer might be.

"What?" I hadn't decided what the answer to that question was either.

"I did what you suggested, looked over the released Murkoff tapes. Did you know that there was a second set of footage? Well, of course you do, you're the one who filmed it."

"What makes you say that?" I thought Murkoff has scrubbed me from existence, they were thorough as far as I could tell. Hell, they even got my gym memberships thrown out.

"If you go the second set of video and look at the very beginning, there's a press pass hanging from the rear view of a car. You can't make out the name, but if you look closely you can see a birth date on that pass. Guess what date you gave the hospital?

"Now, of course that's not enough to prove it was you. But I do my job okay, so I did some digging. From the dash board I found that the car was a 1987 Jeep Wrangler, I got a friend of a friend involved, and low and behold; the same car was recovered at the Park residence in Boulder, Colorado. Do you know that it had Washington plates, that's where you're from. Right?"

The murmur of conversation drifted through the walls.

"Ok? If I was there what are you going to do about it?" I leaned a bit more heavily on my crutch.

"Well, I was going to ask you what was really going on with these escaped patients of yours, or what exactly it was you that you found there. But then I got this." There was the crinkle of paper.

"I'm sure this would mean so much more if I could see what was on that paper." the room grew a little heavier. There was something electric in the air that told me one misstep here could lead to a violent misunderstanding.

"It's nothing much, a kids drawing. Waylon park's kids actually. I'm sure you recognized them. It's pretty convenient that you ended up around them by the way."

"Convenient isn't the word I would use."

There was a cough for the detective to catch his breath "Right, well. It looks like there are a couple of kids here, there's someone else on the ground. There's a lot of red around that one, but there's another person. He's pretty tall and there's a lot of black scribbling around it. You saw Waylon's tapes, right? You remember that controversial ending, with the person in the middle of all those black scribbles?"

"I saw it. You have a child's drawing in your hands. They see things, they draw them too. It helps them cope."

"They write things too. What does this say? 'Miles and his monster watched dad die.' that's pretty explicit, don't you think?"

"Where are you going with this detective?" I adjusted my stance again. My skin was still crawling.

"You roll into my town, you have a checkered past that you don't tell me about, and then the killings start. Who did you bring with you?"

"I told you, I didn't bring anyone." not exactly at least.

The detective was growing closer, he inhaled before speaking but was interrupted by the door opening. Little footsteps traced around the detective and came to tug slightly on my left sleeve.

"Hey kid, we're talking. Can you wait outside?" Schaefer did his best to sound non-threatening, but was still wearing a cop voice.

"They're here now" Connor whispered.

"...What?" Schaefer again.

"They're here now" Connor didn't get any louder.

The scars on my back swelled with a blistering pain again. I tried and failed to stay standing up.

"Miles…?" Schaefers attention left Connor.

The sounds from the living room went from idle conversation to something more clear: "did you see that? Was there someone out there?"

"I don't know."

"There it was again."

Something hot blossomed across my back, thick blood welled past the stitches and soaked the shirt.

"They're here. Go say hi." Connor murmured above the hum of static.

Static.

"Miles… What the hell is that?" the detective stood over me now.

Static. Something slammed against the wall.

More sound from the other room

"What was that? I swear I saw someone!"

"Over there, my god, are they ok?"

A lone howl rose above the layer of static.

"No!" I yelled through gritted teeth.

I must not have been loud enough, the pressure in the house shifted. I felt the cold cut through the building even from the back room.

It didn't take long for the screaming to start.

Schaefer bolted out of the door and into the hall. I doubled over, more hot blood weeping from the wounds on my back.

"Get back!" there was gunfire, stampeding feet. A grown woman screamed for her mother. A baby cried. The howling got louder.

A gun shot invited more screaming as people started running over me and into the room.

"They're here! They're here! They're here!" Connor started at a frantic whisper but was screaming my the time the detective stepped back into the room.

"Get in the back!" He yelled before a gun roared again and the door slammed shut.

The static filled my ears, the howl started putting pressure on my mind. For a second I could see the room painted in black ash and swampy water. They were here, wielding the swarm as a weapon. A tool to rip us limb from limb.

I clawed at the carpet under me, Schaefer pushed the dresser in front of the bedroom door. Someone painted in reeking blood grabbed a still screaming Connor and pulled him into the bathroom.

The dresser was barely in place when the door started shaking.

The world was fading in and out, coming to me in ghastly frames, some of the room was painted in my own remains, some of the world filled with the walriders swarm. Flashes of rot and fire. This place was one of death, a new scream ripped itself from my lungs.

Schaefer wildly reached for the radio he carried at his side.

"I need back up!" He screamed not nearly fearfully enough.

This was it.

The door rattled on the frame.

I had a good run. This was the end.

Shards of wood splintered from the door and rained down as hot embers in the cold air. A few bit into my skin as they landed, the burning was lost on the sea of agony coming from by battered back.

Schaefer shot his gun at the dreamer beyond the door. A yelp cut through the static before the door exploded in.

Now you just pissed it off!

The dresser tumbled away like it was made of sticks; Schaefer went with it. Frantic screams from the bathroom grew louder. I twisted in agony to face the dreamer.

It flashed in and out. The things charred skin stood out against fire red flesh. It towered above me, taller than I remembered. Heat wafted off of it, the skin of my face blistered while my back did the same. Its broken jaw hung open to release a howl that shook the walls and rattled my chest.

A chipped claw of a hand rose and swung down. Like five daggers it ripped into me before I was sent tumbling through the air. The wall stopped my flight, my shirt squelched under me before I slumped down in a puddle of my own blood.

Before I had the chance to breath again more bullets ripped through the air.

The world came in strobes, Schaefer sat half pinned by the dresser with his gun raised and firing at the approaching monster. I was shaken by another wave of agony, I tried to yell, to move, to do anything to hide from the pain.

The dreamer jerked and twisted as each bullet ripped through its charcoaled body.

Static that used to mean a friend slipped into the room. Thick streamers of black metal rushed through the air, little pellets tore through my exposed hand and face. For a horrifying second the full form of what had been the walrider swirled itself into existence. Burning lead hands ripped at my shoulders.

More shots fired.

Static rang.

The screaming grew louder.

A howl hung in the air.

The ghost in the swarm stopped. Its flat face panned away from me and to the wall above, the blank plate split where a mouth should have been and a new earsplitting shriek cut the air.

Fresh blood spilled from my ears and rolled down my cheek. From under the tide they found a little more gun fire in the commotion.

The scenes of the room came and went slower, swelling from the dark and distorting away, leaving me sightless again. The dreamer collapsed, a leg falling away from it completely. The swarm went mad, thrashing this way and that- taking some of my skin with it- as it was flushed from the room. Ghostly hands clung to the door frame as the last of it was torn from the building. As it was ripped from the room a last bullet tore through the air before Schaefers gun clicked empty.

The world was dimming again. A thick acidic haze rose from the dreamers smoking body. My back throbbed in time with the smoke twisting into the air. The last thing I saw before the mess twisted towards me was the swarm disappearing around the corner.

I was left in the dark when fire surged through me.

Without taking time to breath I screamed and twisted to escape. I had to do something, anything. The blood in my veins must have been boiling and my organs cooking from the inside out. My arm blistered then went back to normal in the space of a second.

My throat went raw, cracking from the heat, then mended itself back.

The static was gone. The howling was coming from me now. Someone yelled in the distance:

"You're here!"

The fire faded and I slowly stopped writhing against the wall. The room was cold. My head swam. This mornings coffee made another appearance.

The bathroom door creaked open, the only one to stir carried themselves on light footsteps and ended up grabbing my loose sleeve.

"you're here!"

I went limp. Foreign energy ripped through me; muscles twitched while my eyes grew heavier.

"You're here!"