In the requisitioned building that served as their headquarters, a group of military officers stood gathered around a campaign map, discussing the situation and planning their next move. Forty-eight hours had passed since the initial attack. The fighting was entering its third day.
"Well, the good news is that while they're still pushing us back a little, it looks like we've finally halted their spread for the most part," said one of the officers, a colonel. "As for the causalities, more reinforcements are en route. All in all, we should be good just holding the line until we can wear their numbers down."
"So in other words," another officer responded, "we're admitting that it's a stalemate and settling in for the long haul." The colonel didn't reply.
"I don't get it," the commanding general growled. "We have the bastards fully encircled, yet it doesn't seem to be doing a damned thing!"
"Remember, sir," replied a subordinate, "the monsters are coming from the museum itself, so we haven't actually cut them off from anything. And then there's that aerial barrier. It seems to expand as the monsters gain ground."
The general sighed in frustration. "If only we could bring our air power to bear. Their gargoyles are no match for fighter jets, and if we could get rid of that barrier we could bomb the museum and whatever the hell is inside it into dust."
"Oh, one other thing, sir," said a junior officer. "Aerial recon indicates that the monsters are constructing a giant doorway-like structure near the gallery, at least 100 feet tall. Given how surreal this whole incident has been, intel is guessing that it's a new portal of some sort, and based on its size I have a bad feeling about whoever it's for."
At that point, a soldier entered the room. "Sir – General Landon," he stated, realizing that he needed to specify which officer he was addressing, "a woman from the area is standing outside and would like to speak with you. She claims to be the mother of Ib, that girl the monsters seem to be after, and she says she has some important information for you."
The general looked back at the soldier. "Very well, bring her in. We definitely could use more intelligence on the situation." The soldier exited and then came back with a brown haired woman. Slightly disheveled, she looked like she hadn't had a full night's sleep in days. The woman nervously approached the general, holding a notebook at her side.
"Ah, welcome. So you're the mother of the girl these monsters are hunting for," said the general, smiling politely as he tucked away his earlier frustration.
Ib's mother turned pale. "Wait… What do you mean?"
"Pardon me, let me back up," he said. "I'm General Eric Landon, commander of the forces combatting these monsters. My men have reported seeing graffiti spontaneously appear that say things like 'Ib's head,' 'Hang Garry,' and 'Give us them'. They seem to have a strong vendetta against her and that other man."
Ib's mother's heart sank. "A… Anyway," she stammered, "I have something I felt you should see. It's Ib's diary, and some of the entries seem relevant to what's going on now." She handed the notebook to the general. "I stumbled across it the day of the attack," Ib's mom continued, "and it talked about alternate dimensions and strange monsters stemming from a trip to the Guertena Art Museum. At first I wasn't sure what to make of it or if I needed to call a psychiatrist, but now it all makes sense."
"Ah, interesting!" remarked the general as he flipped through the journal. He quickly figured out the meaning of the red G's. "If you don't mind, I would like to keep this for the time being. In any other situation, I would've dismissed this as quackery, but right now this could be the intelligence breakthrough we've been hoping for. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, ma'am. Your service is greatly appreciated."
"Thank you, sir. There is only one thing I ask in return," Ib's mother responded as her voice began to choke up. "Please, please find my daughter. She was out with a friend when the attack happened, and we haven't heard from them since. We don't even know if they're dead or alive." Her eyes grew watery. "If it's at all possible," she pleaded, "please find Ib and bring her back safely, or at least confirm her fate so her father and I can have peace of mind."
"We'll… we'll do our best," General Landon said hesitantly. Ib's mother tearfully thanked him and exited the room to see her husband, who was waiting outside.
Once she was gone, one of the officers turned to General Landon. "Sir," he slowly asked, "I presume this rules out any further discussion of using the two as bargaining chips, correct?"
"Most likely," Landon replied. "Legal issues and ethics aside, I don't know how we'd even get our hands on them in the first place, assuming the enemy doesn't beat us to them. Besides, the thought of sitting down and trying to negotiate with those monstrosities makes my skin crawl."
For three days now, Ib and Garry had been living in hiding, hunkered down in the abandoned building that served as their new home. They were fugitives in the monsters' eyes, and having seen the graffiti demanding their demise, they knew it. Being caught would mean certain death, either immediately or later in some horrible torture chamber in the Fabricated World.
Guertena's monsters weren't the only issue, though. They also needed to worry about life's basic necessities – food, potable water, warmth. Although he had quit smoking, Garry still carried around his lighter "just in case" ever since his encounter with the Fabricated World, so building fires was not too much of an issue. Food and other supplies proved a more difficult challenge. The idea of scavenging initially appalled Ib and Garry, and aside from the small blanket they found and used the first night, they held off as long as possible. Even in their situation, scavenging struck them as not only incredibly degrading but also no different from stealing. By the second day, though, their hunger became unbearable. Scrounging around the building, Ib and Garry managed to find a large bottle of water, a small jar of peanut butter, and a can of baked beans – just enough to hold them through the rest of the day. Additionally, they were able to locate a small satchel and, crucially, a can opener.
By the third day, the hunger had returned. "Garry," Ib quietly said, "we can't keep on like this. We need to go out and find more food."
"What?! But Ib, we can't do that! It's too dangerous! Besides, scrounging in the area right around us is one thing, but going out and actually seeking other people's stuff is another."
"It's either that or we starve," Ib replied. Garry heard his stomach growl. "Okay…" he slowly said, "You're right… Let's go." The pair crept out onto the street. Constantly on the lookout for patrolling monsters, they searched for any place where they might be able to scavenge food and other supplies. Along the way, Garry spied a piece of thick twisted rebar and picked it up. It was of just the right size and weight to serve as an improvised club and would likely do a fair amount of damage if swung hard enough. Garry decided to keep it. If they were cornered, perhaps he could use it as a last resort defense weapon.
After several minutes, Ib and Garry stumbled across a medium-sized abandoned grocery store. Jackpot. They went into the building and looked around. The place appeared to be empty. Ignoring the areas where the food would have spoiled already, Ib and Garry began to fill up their satchel with canned and preserved items, which were still edible. They were tempted to simply delve in on the spot but didn't want to risk being out in the open for too long.
Ib and Garry suddenly heard a noise from behind a nearby isle. They froze. They crept over to investigate, when without further warning a pair of thin red tendrils grabbed Garry by the throat and began to strangle him, causing him to drop his rebar rod. The tendrils emanated from a floating white mannequin head, otherwise no different from the ones they saw in the Fabricated World. It shot out another tentacle towards Ib's neck, but she managed to duck away and scramble out of reach in time. Turning its attention back to Garry, the monster wrapped a second set of tendrils around his neck and tightened its grip.
Watching in horror as Garry turned blue in the face, Ib realized what she needed to do and raced towards the piece of rebar Garry had dropped. The mannequin head turned to face her and began to emit toxic red gas. Holding her breath, Ib grabbed the rebar rod, dodged another set of tendrils aimed at her throat, and swung the twisted steel bar as hard as she could against the monster.
Crash. The mannequin head shattered to pieces. Its tendrils shriveled away to nothing while the red gas quickly dissipated. Garry fell onto his hands and knees, gasping for air. "Th… Thank you," he managed to pant as he got back onto his feet.
The two of them looked back at the destroyed mannequin head. "Garry," Ib said, "we need to get out of here. They know where we are now." They hurriedly gathered up the satchel and exited the building as quickly as they could, getting as far away as possible. From a distance, they watched as monsters began to converge on the abandoned grocery store.
As Ib and Garry headed back to their hideout, the pair stumbled across the corpse of a soldier, killed in the previous days' fighting. They stopped. A sickening but pragmatic idea flashed into Garry's head. Putting his inner revulsion aside, he turned to Ib and asked, "have you ever fired a gun before?"
Ib shook her head. "Neither have I," said Garry, closing his eyes, "but there's a first time for everything. The soldier's weapons are of no use to him now, and if you're okay with it, I think that we can use them for our own defense." His skin crawled as he said this. The idea made Ib's skin crawl too, but she nonetheless gave her approval. The soldier's rifle had jammed and was of no use, but they were able to harvest a partially loaded handgun, a spare magazine for said gun, and a grenade.
Over the course of three days, the two of them had gone from refusing to touch other people's abandoned supplies to stealing from the dead. But at least they were alive.
That night, Ib and Garry sat by a tiny fire Garry built, having eaten the closest thing to a square meal they had had in days. "Hey Ib," Garry said, "this might be a strange question, but do you think that these monsters have any sort of free will, or do you reckon they're just unthinking, unfeeling drones?"
"Wait – What do you mean?" Ib responded, slightly confused.
"Well, you recall how, say, Mary at least seemed to be able to think for herself and have feelings like an actual person? Do you think the other monsters are also like that, or are they completely mindless, like zombies or robots?"
"Um, I'm not sure…" Ib slowly replied, trying to think back on all her experiences. "What makes you ask?"
"I dunno," said Garry. "It just popped into my head. My guess is that they're just mindless drones. I could be wrong, but I doubt it. Anyway, we better get ready for the rest of the night."
With that, they put out the fire and pulled out their small blanket. As they had done previously, the two of them took turns standing watch while the other tried to sleep.
The next day, Ib awoke with heartburn and abdominal pain. An improperly packaged piece of beef jerky from last night disagreed with her stomach. Although the pain wasn't unbearable, Garry volunteered to go out and see if he could find anything that might help. To ensure that Ib would be able to defend herself if the need arose, Garry left the handgun and grenade with her, only taking his twisted piece of rebar for his own defense. Garry promised to be back within an hour and then set off, leaving Ib behind in the building.
An hour passed. There was no sign of Garry. Ib couldn't help but anxiously wonder if something had happened to him. Could she have just lost her close friend and partner in survival, all for a stomach ache? She felt guilty for having let Garry go out and try to find something to help her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Could it be Garry? Ib peered up through a window to see, but what she saw made her instantly bolt back down: The footsteps were coming not from Garry, but a pair of patrolling statues, headed in her direction.
Ib broke into a cold sweat. Had they spotted her? Had they discovered their hideout? Even if they hadn't seen her, they might stop and investigate the building. The footsteps were growing louder. The statues couldn't have been farther than two or three blocks away. She had to act, fast.
Ib couldn't take any chances. Picking up the handgun at her side, she went over to the window. The gun felt heavy and awkward in her hands. Ib took aim, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
She missed. Worse still, she had effectively given away her location. The statues initially took cover but then began advancing more quickly and purposefully. Ib panicked and tried firing a second round, but the gun was out of ammunition. Fumbling with the spare magazine, she quickly realized that she had no idea how to reload it either. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
The statues were barely half a block away now and closing the distance rapidly. Frantically looking around, Ib remembered the grenade they had found. It was do or die by this point. Praying that grenades really worked the way shown in cartoons, Ib pulled the pin, double checked that she was about to throw the right part of the grenade, and hurled it out through the doorway before scrambling back and covering her ears.
She heard the statues begin to scramble and then a ear-splitting blast that shook the ground. Bits of the ceiling rained down. Ib went back to the doorway and peered out. To her elation, she saw the broken pieces of one of the statues scattered across the ground.
Something thrust an obsidian-colored gun barrel at her face. It was the other statue, which had survived the grenade. Trembling, Ib raised her hands up in surrender. She wasn't sure whether she'd be killed on the spot or if it would take her away to who-knows-what terrible fate. Either way, it was all over.
For several, painfully long seconds, the statue simply stood there, its arm gun trained point blank at Ib. After what felt like an eternity, it reached its claw out to grab and drag her away, when all of a sudden a male voice shrieked in anger from behind the monster. It was Garry! Lunging at the statue, he struck it as hard as he could with his rebar rod, sending the monster reeling. It raised its arm cannon in defense, but before it could fire a second blow rendered that limb useless. Seizing the opportunity, Ib grabbed the statue's leg, causing it to trip. Cracked and crippled, the monster reached its fully-extended claw out towards Garry. Garry jumped back and then struck the statue two more times right where its head would've been. With a final, horrible-sounding crack, the statue stopped moving.
For a minute, Ib and Garry just stood there, staring in disbelief at the destroyed statue and what they had just done. Finally, Garry turned to Ib and said, "We better get going. Our hideout's location has been compromised. We need to find another place." Packing up their belongings, they left their old hideout for good and began searching for a new location to hunker down.
Even without the monsters roaming around, finding a good hiding place wasn't easy. It needed to be concealed but not impossible to find; accessible but not overly so; and sheltered but in a way that would allow them to see danger approaching. Additionally, the pair steered clear of buildings that looked like they already had other survivors in them. They weren't sure how others would react once they learned who they were. Perhaps they would rally around them. Perhaps they would shun them. Perhaps they would hand the two over to the monsters as a form of appeasement. Ib and Garry weren't going to take the risk.
Finally the pair found a suitable place amid the abandoned, shelled out buildings. Setting up camp, they spent the rest of the day huddled away in their new home. It was only at that point that the two of them realized they had left the spare pistol magazine behind, but it was too late to do anything about that now.
That evening, Ib and Garry settled in for another restless night. It was Garry's turn to be on lookout first, so Ib found a suitable place to bed down and closed her eyes. Before she could drift off, though, she began thinking back to the past two days' events. She recalled Garry's question about whether the monsters had minds of their own and thought back to what happened with the two statues that morning – how the second statue extended its arm out right before Garry killed it.
Something disturbing dawned on her. "Garry?" she said.
"Yes Ib?"
"I just realized something about that statue you killed earlier… When it reached its claw out towards you, it wasn't trying to grab you. I think it was holding its claw out in a 'stop' sign. It was trying to beg for mercy."
Garry paused. He thought back to the brief fight, and then recalled what happened after he kicked that mannequin head back in the Fabricated World. After a period of silence, he finally responded. "You can sleep through the entire night, Ib," he said. "I'm… I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway."
Back at the gallery, Mary was still standing beside the pedestal and orb through though which Father projected his will, watching as more and more of her siblings streamed from the portal.
"Unfortunately, our advance has gone a little slower than planned," Father said. "The humans' weaponry has only advanced further since I left them, and the presence of that small army base nearby meant the military arrived sooner than I would have liked."
Mary listened silently. She did not take any particular interest in the tactical aspects of the campaign, but she knew it all mattered in the end, somehow.
"Don't' worry, though," Father continued. "Although they might have bogged us down for now, that will soon change. The barrier above us deprives them of their biggest advantage: their air power. Meanwhile, more brothers and sisters continue to join the fight. And finally," Father said, directing Mary's attention to the giant portal being constructed, "we will soon be able to bring the behemoths onto the field. They will give us the edge we need."
"That is all very good, Father," Mary finally responded, "but what about Ib and Garry? Can't you put more resources into trying to find them? Are you simply going to forget about them?" Her tone hinted at her growing frustration with the manhunt.
"What do you mean?" returned Father, inwardly delighted by Mary's fixation on the pair. "Are the current patrols not enough?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but not at all! They've been within reach for days now, and yet we still haven't caught them!" she retorted with half-restrained discontent, concerned that he was not taking her seriously. "Father," she pleaded, "you need to put more effort into finding them! They're getting away with their crimes! Is this too much to ask for?!"
"I'm sorry, but it is. We'll catch them sooner or later, but the top priority right now is breaking the military stalemate, and I can't afford to divert more forces away from the front line. I'm afraid there will be no more discussion on the matter," Father coolly responded. In reality he could sense where the conversation was going, and he liked it.
Mary fell silent for a moment and thought. "In that case, Father," she slowly said, clenching her fist. "I'd like to go out and search for them myself. Let me do this, I promise, and I will find them and make them pay."
The glass orb almost seemed to smile. "You have my full and complete blessing, my child," Father stated with almost a warped sense of pride. Mary noticed that her palette knife's blade had suddenly doubled in length and appeared infinitely sharper. Father's tone changed from approving to almost enthusiastic. "Now, if this is what you want, go forth and give them what they deserve! They killed you, so it would only be fair if it was you who returned the favor," he exhorted.
Thanking Father for his approval, Mary began to set off with a small escort of statues and mannequin heads. Before she got far, though, Father called her attention back.
"One more thing," he said. "Tell me: why do Ib and Garry hate you?"
"They hate me because I'm not 'real,'" she responded.
"Yes, but why does that make them hate you?" Mary wasn't sure.
"They hate you because they envy and fear you. They fear your potential and what you are capable of. In their envy they dismiss you as a monster, but in reality you, as a painted being of the Fabricated World, are superior to them, perfect in a way unobtainable by them… and they know it. Now, you have the opportunity to prove their fear right."
(This chapter turned out much longer and a little darker than I initially pictured it. I find that although I have a concrete outline all set for how I want the whole story to go, the bits and pieces - the individual chapters and paragraphs - often take on lives of their own as I write them... That's my take at least.)