AN: Hello everybody, here's chapter 9. First off thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. Secondly, next chapter gets kind of (extremely) rough, its not super gory or even that bad on language but... just brace yourselves.

Anyways, there is a semi-gory part in this chapter, please enjoy.

***Miles***

Death. Death and grime and horror and pain and fear and every other damn thing from that fucking asylum held me. Like a prison of rotting flesh and screaming souls.

Running, I was running. Running down a hall. Running down the battered brown and bloody halls. Over a filthy table, through a door off its hinges. Running. Why was I running?

"Buddy!" "Little pig" "Silky" "My son…"

Oh right.

Through the door, down the hall, onto the floor. I don't want to be on the floor. Pain now. Pain in my legs, down below the knees. I can't move my feet.

"I knew I should have cut the Akeley's first!"

Shit, I spin around. Trager. Trager with scissors. Trager with a knife. Blind pain shoots through my leg. Pain that blots my vision, that stops my breath. My leg is warm and wet. I'm clawing with my arms, with my still bleeding hands.

"Whoa-ho, Where do you think you're going?" he's too happy. Happy to kill a man, to mangle living muscle.

The blade in his hand digs into my thigh. Suddenly I'm on my back on a stretcher. Trager looms over me.

"How about a nice stroll after this? A little trip to the beach?" The blade in his hand slices my leg to ribbons. The fluid drips off the already soaked stretcher and onto the rancid floor.

"Oh right" He cut a slit up the side of my body, I screamed, I knew I was screaming, but I couldn't hear it. The only damn thing reaching my ears was Tragers babbling.

"Now, for that tongue…" the scissors from before inched towards my face "Open wide"

Struggling now, retching at the restraints that I knew weren't there before, fighting away from the blade. Oh god he was close. Closer. Closer. Not again!

Heavy breathing, not mine. Trager was right there, now he's gone? To my left. Holy shit, is that Chris? Oh god it is. He snaps Tragers sunken head from his dried shoulders, the good doctors blood paints the wall. Chris turns around.

"You're next…"

God damn, struggling at the restraints, pulling at the leather manacles. No, I'm not dying on a fucking stretcher, no, no, no, no!

I look back up at Chris. He's gone. Where? Where is he? I look back to the restraints, not there. Nails? There are-

Oh god they hurt! Slivers of iron are dug into the flesh of my arms, they're in between the bones, holding me in place. Rust colored blood is welling up through my jacket sleeve. It's hot.

It's bright. What the hell? Fire? The room is burning, I'm upright now. Stuck to a wall? I can't tell, the flames are eating at the encrusted walls. The room is alight with angry red, the living heat reached my mangled legs. Hungry flames ravage my flesh.

"We are free now my son. You have reached your salvation" It's Martin. He's there in the burning room basking in the flames. The fire is eating me alive, it's climbing Martins pale fleshy body. He's laughing, he's turning to ash and crumbling away and laughing.

I'm screaming, I can't hear it but I know I am, the burning pain is too much. I have to get out, I have to survive, I have to-

"Miles!"

I have to… I'm laughing

"Miles, get up!"

"Hmm, what." Donald's sunset lit living room slowly drifts into focus.

"You heard me, up you go." It was Donald, who was still dressed in his ghillie suit for some reason. "You were laughing like a freaking maniac" there was a slight chuckle to his tone "must have been some hell of a dream you were having."

"…ya sure. Ok, I'm up. What are we doing now?" I would have stood up from the couch to make my being awake more convincing, but I was in no mood to move.

"We were headed down to the basement so we could set up some cots for Waylon and his family." he gave a bit of a nod as if he were motioning to Waylon, but there was nobody behind him.

"Ummm, and where exactly is Waylon?"

"He's right-" Donald spun to see the now empty corner of his living room. "… he was just here a minute ago."

"Right, anyways, did you get anything uploaded off the camera?"

"Not yet, oh ya, that reminds me. I was watching a part and there was essentially a ghost, I picked Waylon over for information about it and he told me that it was Murkoffs pet project called the Walrider, what do you know about it?"

Well this is awkward "the bastards dead. It tried to kill me, but I pulled through"

That's a lie.

Damn straight it is

"Fuck, really? But what do you know about it? Waylon basically flipped out and shut down before saying much"

"Ok, well let's see, every time you see a red smear that used to be a person in that video it was the Walrider that did it. Its incorporeal, and needed a big ass machine to keep it alive. Also it was made by a Nazi."

"Slow down for a second, Nazis?"

"Yep. The old guy was still alive when I got there, names DrWarnike. He had this whole long monologue about it too, that's near the end of the video on my camcorder."

"I'll be right back, tell Waylon that the cots are down stairs in the first closet on the left"

"At least change out of the ghillie suit, you look like an ape got busy with a shrub"

I doubted that he would take my advice, but I had to at least try. As I sat on the couch I noted that the room had gotten significantly more shadowed, it had to be close to eight. Taking a second I took a deep breath, I needed to collect myself for a second, get something to eat and drink then go to bed. I didn't want to go to bed though, not if I was just going to have terrible dreams. Reliving nightmares wasn't very high on my to do list

Either way, first things first, something to eat. I stirred, trying to stand, only to realize how far the kitchen was and how painful moving was.

I muttered under my breath "well shit" then I called out "hey Waylon"

It took a second but he eventually peaked his head around the corner.

"Don't suppose you could grab me a bag of chips or something?"

He disappeared back behind the corner only to pop out a second later with a sandwich on a plate and a bottle of water. He hobbled over on his crutch and set them both on the coffee table in front of me.

"Thanks." I started to peel myself from the cushions "oh ya, Donnie said that there were cots in the basement in the first closet to the left"

He started to leave without saying anything in reply.

"Hey! You can talk to me, it's not like I'm contagious or anything"

He stopped walking and looked over his shoulder, but still said nothing.

"I mean, it looks like we're in it for the long haul here, there's no reason we should be on some sort of ridiculous no talking basis."

He was still just standing there.

"Go ahead, sit down, I think we need to have a little heart to heart, here, I'll start. I'm Miles, I'm a reporter, and I'm totally not being mind controlled by a robotic ghost monster. There, now it's your turn."

This time he actually turned around. He gave the heaviest sight known to mankind, but he was at least facing me now.

He said to me "I don't really think we need to be doing this"

"Non-sense, sit down, it'll be fun."

Still nothing.

"Come on, we may be running from the police and an evil mega corporation, but there's no reason we can't be friends."

"…fine" he went over to the recliner to my right and sat down.

"Ok, so, what did you do for a living?"

"I was a software engineer."

"Sounds fun. Your turn."

"What?"

"I ask a question, you ask a question, seems like the best way to make sure this doesn't turn into me just blathering on for a while."

He had the weirdest look on his face, like he was bumbling through an awkward office party "ummm… do you have any family?"

"Not really, a half-brother. We don't talk much, his name's Tim, lives over in Utah. Last time I saw him was Thanksgiving nearly a year ago." I had gotten myself upright and had the sandwich in hand by this point. "So, you watch any sports?"

"Not really."

"You're just a chatty kathy aren't you?"

"I thought it was my turn to ask a question."

"Ladies and gentlemen Waylon has a sense of humor! It's a miracle."

He smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

"See, I'm not so bad"

"right… so, ah. What exactly were you planning to do. I mean where do we go after this?" he asked.

"I have no idea. I'm ninety percent sure Donnie won't let us stay for too long, but a couple days is long enough to put a plan together."

"I hope so…"

We sat in silence while I scarfed down the sandwich.

"So, do you know where the basement is?"

"Thinking about those cots I see, there's a door in the hallway that leads to the stairs. It looks shady as all hell, but that's the entrance to the basement."

"Ok, I'm going to go do that now…"

"All right, hope talking to me wasn't too painful."

He stood from the chair and muttered "I guess it wasn't" before leaving the room towards the kitchen.

I decided that he wasn't so terrible, there were definitely things he wasn't telling me, but I didn't think he was untrustworthy. I reached over to the end table next to me and clicked on the light, it was nearly fully night outside, with it being November the sun had begun to set earlier, but it wasn't that late. I would have gone over to Donald's bat cave, but I still didn't want to move.

I wasn't in the amount of extreme pain that I should have been, but I still felt like shit. I didn't want to move at any rate, so I flipped on the tv.

It was on the local news channel, which didn't surprise me. It was pretty standard stuff, sports, weather, something about thanksgiving, school business. Nothing too heavy. I flipped the channel, let's see; reality TV, documentary, talk show, horror movie.

I got stuck on the horror. I recognized this movie, it used to scare the shit out of me, but after my own home recorded film it wasn't so bad. Heck, it was boring in retrospect. Long corridor here, jump scare there, gore, screaming teenagers. Snore.

When did this happen?

What?

On the screen, who did that?

No one did that.

But the proof is right there.

No, this is a movie, it's fiction. It never happened, it's for entertainment.

I dawned on me that the Walrider only knew screens to contain security footage. It was weird to realize that the massive murder machine didn't understand such mundane things as TV.

But you said that killing people was bad, why is it entertainment?

It's supposed to be scary. People don't like to see this sort of thing.

Then why make it happen?

Because it's supposed to scare people, it's complicated.

So people like being scared?

What, no. Look, it's hard to explain, and don't you have life threatening wounds to be healing?

I can multitask.

Great, I'm stuck with a funny man.

I flipped through the channels until I found an episode of Law and Order. It was essentially the perfect background noise and was always on.

"Hey Miles!" it Donald came rushing back into the room, completely overpowering the sound of the TV "who's Billy?" he plopped down next to me on the couch with a laptop in hand.

The truth or a lie, the truth or a lie… "He was the Walrider's host" the truth.

"Shit, what? host?"

"Yep, he's dead too."

"I assumed, the doctor guy seemed like he wanted you to kill him pretty badly."

"Say what you will, but it was self-defense."

"I believe you."

I glanced down at the laptop and saw that it had video from my camera, ready to play.

"Hey, I don't suppose you have my camcorder, I kind of don't want to lose that."

"I figured you'd want to keep an eye on it, here." He handed me the battered machine "I got all the footage saved onto my computer, same with Waylon's, where is he?"

"The basement, you were leading him down there, remember?"

"Oh, right. Well, hand it to him next time you see him, I'm going to be up late looking over this stuff."

"I figured you would be." I took a glance around the room. "I'm just going to crash on the couch tonight, so I'll be here."

"Sounds good, I'll make sure to come and bother you if I have any more questions"

Just when I thought he was about to leave he started talking again.

"One more thing, who's Trager? There were a couple of files about him in here and he was mentioned on this news report a while ago- oh ya, you're wanted for kidnapping, just letting you know. But I haven't seen him on any footage."

The bit about kidnapping didn't faze me much. "Oh, you'll see Trager in there."

I wasn't looking at him when I said it, but at my hands.

"You sure I won't miss him, it's not like you've got much of a narrative with the footage.

"I'll make sure to bring my announcers voice to the next Bedlam house I visit. But trust me, you can't miss him."

"Ok, if you say so." With that he stood up and went back down the hall to his computer cave.

Once he was out of sight, I let my head rest against the back of the couch again. It was dark out, I should just call it a day. Nightmares be damned, I needed some rest.

***Waylon***

It was nearly ten before I managed to herd the boys down stairs and get enough cots set up. Connor was half asleep, which meant that Garret was now wide awake and much more talkative than he had been in the car.

"So, do you think there's a soccer ball around here?" he asked me

"I don't know Garret, we can ask Donald tomorrow." I replied while spreading a blanket over a cot.

"It's late you two, get to sleep." Lisa said motioning towards two prepared beds.

Connor complied and flopped down on the covers. He got like this every night, he may be outgoing and talkative during the day, but if it's past nine he turns into a zombie.

"But Mooooom…. I'm not tired." Garret however had endless energy. We had him in too many sports to count, he loved them all, but was still painfully shy. Either way, the only way to get him to bed was to make sure he had a busy day before, and sitting in a car for four hours wasn't exactly tiring for him.

"Shhh Garret, it's late. We can play catch or something in the morning." I was too tired to fight him about it now.

"Really!?" he was beaming at me, as if he wanted to play a game now.

"You betcha kiddo, but now it's night, so head to bed, ok?"

"Ok, but we are playing a full game right? With teams?"

I stifled a yawn, "Sure, we can get Miles and Donald to play too."

"Yay!" he scampered off and got under the covers of his cot as if trying to fall asleep quickly so that the morning would come faster.

With the two boys at least laying down I turned to Lisa. We began to speak quietly.

"Hey, how are you?" I had to know how she really felt. It was too often that she would put up a tough exterior, usually for my sake.

She took a look at the cots and didn't answer until she was sure the boys couldn't hear her. "I don't even know" she rested her head in her hand "I'm just… so worried, I don't know what we're going to do."

She was only repeating all of my own fears "I'm sure we'll figure something out"

"I hope so"

We both stood there for a second, looking at the bunker like basement.

"Hey Lisa?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She smiled a plane but warm smile and leaned into a hug. I hug her back.

"I love you too"

It's a gentle hug and for a while we simply stood there to enjoy each-others company. She's warm and soft to the touch, it's almost enough to make me forget about the pain in my leg and stomach, after too short of a time we separate.

"Go ahead and lie down, I'll get the lights, you need to get off that leg."

I complied and rested on the cot. I didn't realize how fatigued I really was until I was on my back and ready to sleep. Shortly after I laid down the light switched off, I could only just make out Lisa's silhouette through the darkness. I could see her outline move to the cot adjacent to mine.

"Good night" she said in the darkness

I only wished that the day would come "Good night" I said back to her.