Well, this is it. The final chapter of this rather long short story.
This one was a difficult one to write. Actually, the whole thing was ruddy difficult, since I'm rubbish at doing stuff that's even remotely original and my brain can't deal with lots of stuff at once. But I'm pleased it's finished now, even if the ending isn't as satisfying as it could've been.
And yes, it's a pretty long chapter. I originally planned for it to be short, but apparently not...
Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed this. From now on, this short stories will be short- one or two chapters, at the most- so there won't be any more unnecessary waiting around for me to update.
Near Dark
Chapter 4-
The Atticus had been rumbling along for a solid two days. They had left the deserted streets of Monstropolis three Mons heavier, yet the atmosphere within the heaving structure was decidedly sour.
Arrival at the next city was scheduled for that afternoon, and a lot depended on what the next abandoned city had to offer; both fuel and food were running low on the Atticus, and although no-one liked to say it, thoughts of breaking down or, even worse, starving to death were playing on everyone's minds.
Aside from Randall's, that is. He had pretty much given up caring about his own fate, let alone the fate of the others on board. In his own mind, he felt as if he had nothing to live for. Well, almost nothing. Whether or not this was true would be decided at their next destination, Shriek City. Randall wasn't keeping his hopes up- years of suffering and torment led him to always rely on the worst scenario to occur- but there was always a chance that she was still there. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.
It seemed as though his will for survival was finally giving up. The years in the Human World tested him to his limits, but no matter what, he always strived to survive. At some points, he couldn't even consciously describe what it was that he was living for. He was just living for living. Instincts demanded that he carry on- he was just too stubborn to give up.
Yet even this will to survive had now abandoned him. What was the point anymore?
He sat in the corner of the cockpit, slumped on the floor, arms folded and expression dark and pensive. Before him, Chuck was manoeuvring the Atticus with apparent ease, his hands dancing across the poorly constructed control panel, his every delicate touch and tweak getting them through the rough landscape quickly.
Chuck glanced down at Randall. The silence was becoming almost too awkward.
"You talked to him, then?"
Randall looked up for a moment, then down again, eyes focusing on his sharply flicking tail. News spread fast through the Atticus, and it seemed that within five minutes of his confrontation with Sulley, the whole conversation (or rather, the whole of Randall's rant) had been relayed several times over.
"You know what happened. Don't ask stupid questions."
Chuck shook his head.
"Quite a coincidence though, huh? The two guys you hate most in the world managed to survive this whole thing and we just happened to pick them up."
"Yes. Quite a coincidence," replied Randall, bitterly.
"You know, Randall, you'd be surprised how much better you'd feel if you just let it go."
"...Let it go?"
"Yeah. Forgive them. I mean, there aren't many of us left in this world anymore. Time's running out for us Monsters. The Humans have nearly taken over. We're pretty much done for. Doesn't this put some petty argument you once had into perspective?"
After a few seconds of yet another eerie silence (aside from the roaring of the Atticus' engine), Randall stood up, moving close to Chuck, and spoke directly into his ear in a low, angry whisper.
"It wasn't petty."
He went out of the room with a dark scowl etched on his face, shutting the door firmly behind him.
The next room he went in unfortunately contained the two Monsters causing said dark scowl. Randall stood in the doorway, glaring at Mike and Sulley who seemed to be innocently sitting at the small dining table snacking on a sort of rice product. The two of them paused mid-mouthful, staring back at Randall. Mike accidentally dropped a handful of rice onto the floor, yet his eye remained firmly fixated on Randall's defiant stance.
Randall looked ready to explode- or implode. One or the other.
"I forgive you," he hurriedly uttered. He then turned on his heel, heading straight back into the cockpit. Mike and Sulley glanced at each other.
"You said it would make me feel better," Randall growled at Chuck, who hadn't overhead what had happened but had an idea as to what might've gone on, and was at that moment feeling particularly proud of his influence on the lizard-monster.
"You have to mean it, Randall."
Randall looked out through the wide windows of the cockpit, turning away from Chuck.
"You've got to make your peace, Randall. You'll regret it if you don't."
Randall snorted.
"Says who? Why do they deserve my forgiveness? It's not as if they've apologised properly anyway."
Slowly shaking his head, Chuck struggled to find the right words. A simple thing like forgiveness did not seem to come easily to Randall.
"You know how they feel about you. Sulley in particular. Over these past few days, they've both shown as much respect to you as possible. They clearly regret what they've done, and this whole situation has made them realise how wrong they were." Chuck looked at Randall for a long moment, eventually turning his attention back to steering. "You need to do this, Randall. If you don't...Well. Let's say I know what it's like to let someone die without giving them another chance. It kills you, it really does. I just don't want you to be in the same situation."
"And I appreciate that," Randall said decisively. "But that doesn't change the situation I'm in."
He sat back down in the corner of the cockpit, shadows sweeping over his face as the sun began to set.
"Anyways, I've got other things to think about. Sullivan and Wazowski don't matter."
It was the following morning. The entrance to Shriek City stood before the Atticus, once tall and proud, now just a pile of rubble and dust. This city, like many others before, looked dead, but there was always a chance of a survivor or two. One in particular was at the forefront of Randall's anxious mind.
Everyone gathered in the main room of the Atticus for the morning meeting. Patrol groups were assigned, each with their own leader. Randall was to lead the second group out, after Chuck and some others had made an initial report on the status of the city. They would explore for a little while, ensuring that the area was safe before penetrating the city walls.
"Got that, everyone? Okay, let's g-"
Chuck's loud voice was cut short by a ferocious BANG, and the Atticus shook and groaned. Everyone held on for dear life, gripping on the dining table and leaning against the walls.
Soon after, a second loud bang occurred. The Atticus swayed from side to side.
Chuck rushed into the cockpit to be faced with a tank. A human tank.
"EVASIVE ACTION, NOW!" He put the Atticus in gear and slammed the throttle down, the Atticus zooming around the tank with surprising nimbleness. Yells could be heard from others on board as they were thrown from side to side.
Ijzendoorn appeared in the cockpit, shaken.
"Wh-what are we going to do?!"
"We are going to get out of this place as quickly as possible," Chuck said, trying to remain calm. The Atticus was going at full speed, leaving a dust trail that obscured the view of anything behind.
Ten agonizing minutes later, and the humans were nowhere to be seen. Chuck slowed the Atticus down a little, mindful of their fuel running out. They were now in the centre of the city, surrounded by empty high rise buildings and abandoned vehicles. Gradually, they ground to a halt. Everyone on board collectively sighed.
Chuck returned to the main room to see at least a dozen pale, panicked faces.
"I think we lost them. But it's not safe to go out there, no way-"
"Yeah, and what about the survivors?" Randall interrupted, seemingly unperturbed by what had just happened.
"There might not even be any survivors, Randall. Especially with so many Humans close by."
"Fair enough. So answer me this," the lizard-monster continued as all eyes turned on him. "What happens when we run out of fuel? Eh?"
Chuck returned Randall's defiant stare with an equally commanding look. He much preferred it when Randall had been the quiet, secretive one.
"...You're right. We've got enough fuel to find the nearest Laughter Station and park up next to it. Then we'll need a few volunteers to go out and collect some canisters. That's our plan for now," Chuck sighed, looking, for the first time as the Atticus' commander, almost defeated. "Though it's subject to change."
He headed back into the cockpit, the engineers returning to the engine room and the others settling down, ready to make a move. The nearby presence of the Humans had made everyone nervy and quiet, and there was almost a chill in the air at the thought of what might happen if the Humans managed to catch up.
Randall pushed some others aside roughly, following Chuck into the cockpit and taking him to one side by putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Look, Chuck," Randall began, his face suddenly closer than Chuck had realised. The scar that ran down the length of his face, jagged and sickening, looked strangely fresh. His voice was low, threatening. "I gotta get out there. I gotta see if she's still alive. I know where we are, and I know where she lives – lived," he corrected himself.
"Randall-"
"I'm not asking ya, I'm telling ya. Got it?"
Chuck paused, then nodded.
"It's your decision, Randall. But I can't send anyone out to help you. I just can't risk it."
"Fair enough."
The Atticus was parked up by the side of a Laughter Station- it was too large to enter it. Chuck had gathered a few of the monsters onboard, Randall and Sulley included, and they prepared to go outside. Various weapons were being loaded, protective gear was being worn where appropriate, yet despite this, Mike fussed over Sulley to the point of driving him to distraction.
"Are you sure about this, Sul?"
"It'll be fine, Mike."
"Whatever you do, Sul, if anything goes wrong, just save yourself! Okay? If you see a Human, come back here right away, because you are not leaving me behind, Sulley! No way!"
Mike's panic was interrupted by Chuck calling everyone together. The group was ready to set off.
With Chuck leading the way, the six monsters assigned to this mission slowly disembarked the Atticus, each peering from left to right, padding forward slowly and cautiously. When they were sure that the coast was clear, Chuck signalled for the larger ones of the group to move forward and start looking for any abandoned canisters, whilst the others stood guard.
The sun was at its peak in the sky. The swathe of clear blue above seemed almost unaware of the devastation below, a few Monbirds skirting about and whirling in the air, twittering with such ease and contentment that the Monster World had long since forgotten.
Randall watched the Monbirds with unease. He had to leave the group behind, but as much as he hated to admit it, he did care about the others on board the Atticus, Chuck especially; he had been supportive of Randall at every moment, even when he was at his most difficult. To just abandon them seemed traitorous, but if all went to plan, Randall would return safe and sound and with another Mon to add to the crew.
The others were progressing slowly. They'd found a few large canisters and were rolling them towards the Atticus carefully, so as not to let any of the Laughter escape- the canisters were battered and damaged.
All of a sudden, a loud, deep BOOM reverberated around the area, and smoke could be seen in the distance. Scattered gunfire erupted. The Humans had found something, and they were coming ever closer.
With everyone distracted and turned in the other direction, Randall seized his chance. He shifted, blending into the background, and slithered off as fast as he could- time was not on his side. He'd have to find her and take her back to the Atticus before they left, and with the Humans approaching ever nearer, Randall could count on Chuck and the others completing their task quickly.
He hugged the rather large gun he was carrying to his chest. In a matter of moments, Randall had managed to go down the street and turn a corner; the Atticus was out of sight, and the lizard-monster felt utterly alone. Slowing his pace, he became wary, his imagination making him hear and see things that weren't really there. But he'd have to concentrate on the task in hand.
A sign on a building at the end of this street pointed out that Randall was now walking down "Yelp Road". He was headed for a house two blocks away.
An eternity seemed to pass between Randall reading this sign and arriving at his destination. He scurried along as quickly as he could, appearing simply as a floating gun and a few sharp hovering teeth, but despite being invisible, he still felt considerably unsafe. Nearly all of the windows in the buildings were broken, so glass was scattered about on the ground. Vehicles were randomly placed about the road, some upside-down, others crushed until they were almost unrecognisable. Yet there were very few bodies, even of animals, left behind. This seemed to be common of most of the cities they had visited- the Humans seemed interested in experimentation, as opposed to mindless slaughtering.
Either that, or they wanted the Monster World to fully decontaminated ready for their own official arrival.
As he finally turned into the road that he had been looking for, Randall slowed his hurried pace. The sight before him was different and shocking to anything he had seen since the invasion.
Almost all of the buildings had been knocked down along the street, some now just a pile of rubble and dust. Bodies lay strewn across the pavement and road, and Monster weaponry could be found scattered about here and there. This seemed to be the location of a severe struggle between the two sides, and it was obvious which side had been victorious.
Randall gradually padded forward, stopping at the site where a small, modest block of flats had stood amongst the previously taller buildings. Only two walls, part of the back and the left hand side, were now standing. The rest of the pile could barely be deciphered between walls, furniture and bodies.
As he inched forward, the stench of rotting flesh weaselled its way into his nostrils, curling down his throat and choking him. With clenched teeth, Randall began to move some of the larger stones and bricks, gently rolling over a body or two when necessary.
Ten minutes of foraging passed. His breathing became more rapid. He shook his head.
She wasn't here. Thank God.
Randall turned, climbing down off the heap and back onto the road, when something caught his eye. A little glimpse of blue to the left, in a lump of rubble he hadn't noticed- it was placed between this building and the next.
The blue was identifiable as Randall approached the slab of stone.
But, just to be sure, Randall carefully lifted the stone up. His hands felt clammy, his throat dry and rough, stinging. The hammering of his heart shuddered throughout his whole body. He pressed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth.
It was her.
Marie.
I'd appreciate any advanced critique with this one. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, so any suggestions as to how I could improve it (as I'm sure there are many ways in which this chapter could be improved) are welcome.