The air slammed out of her lungs and her gun bounced from her sweat slicked hands as she met the fast-approaching ground. Thankfully, her leg had gripped the railing as they both toppled over the side in a failed effort to stop her fall, and so the creature fell a few seconds before she did. Moving as quickly as her burning legs and lungs would allow, she grasped for her knife and, braced with both hands, slammed it through the creature's exposed arm and into the packed earth below. Stunned, the thing spit and rolled and screamed – giving her the seconds she needed to snatch up her gun and fire two more rounds into its ragged face. It stopped struggling. Then stopped moving completely. She pulled herself into a seated position in the snow dusted ground and glared at the fallen form, waiting for any twitch or some signal that this thing was going to spring up and try to tear her apart again. But nothing happened.
Pretty sure the thing is dead.
She wondered if it was made in a petri dish, or dragged out of some grave, or if it was some poor soul who got caught up in something terrible. And she was no stranger to the terrible. She had seen firsthand the fallout of the Outbreak.
Was this a bioweapon? No, this was something else. Jagged teeth protruded from a face perfectly punctured by the rounds she blasted through it. The tint of greyish blue marred by tufts of hair covering the exposed torso. She didn't need to see anymore. Maybe it wasn't a bioweapon, but it was damn sure related. She knew she was in the right place. And she had an idea of where she was.
As she braced her palms in the dirt to bring herself to her feet, she felt a prick of something sharp. Digging into the heel of her left palm was the tip of a crystal. She lifted it to study in the light, and realized there was not one, but two. It shone a beautiful citrine. She decided to keep it, and scooped up the second one as well, wiping the dirt off with the pad of her thumb. Maybe it was lucky? Pushing to her feet, she slipped her weapon back into the holster, suddenly very aware of the scarcity of ammunition. She probably should have grabbed a few extra weapons when she was back at the truck. Reluctantly, she holstered her gun and drew her knife. It wasn't the worst case as far as blades go, but if there were any more hostiles running around like this one – close combat was going to get tricky.
Moving back around the front of the house, she climbed the stairs once more. With the raucous smack-down brawl happening on their balcony, if someone in there had been sleeping, they probably weren't anymore. Using the butt of the blade, she tapped on the wooden door.
"Hello!" she called out. Silence.
She struck the door again and this time, it creaked open.
"Excuse me, I'm just looking for a phone?"
Pushing the door open wider, she walked through the simple kitchen into a living area with both a couch and a bed. A small closet. All empty.
Turning to leave, Celia's eye caught something bright and almost out of place above her. Illuminated by dying candlelight above the fireplace, sat what appeared to be some kind of alter adorned with crude paintings. A masked being with feminine features.
That must be Miranda.
Surrounding her; A blob monster, a beautiful woman, funeral mourner holding what looked like a doll and a scruffy looking man in a hat. What a motley crew. Some might think this was some sort of symbolism, or a family photo album. But she knew. She was in her village. This town was Miranda's home.
Moving back through the center of the village, a hand-written wooden sign caught her eye.
"Castle Dimitrescu"
Seemed simple enough. She followed the outline of the castle on the horizon, soon approaching a stone wall surrounding a graveyard. To her right, she noted what looked like a church sat beyond a set of gates. Checking along the stone wall, she found nothing but locked gates and at the center, a huge concrete mural depicting a demon with a woman with their faces obscured.
Creepy.
As she ran her fingers along the carved detail, she stopped as her fingers trailed along a seam that ran directly up through the center. Were these…doors? Moving her hands back to the figures, she noticed the circular indents.
"Locks?" she wondered aloud. Her boots crunched leaves and sticks as she stepped back, nearly chuckling.
Pretty damn advanced for people who shit outdoors.
Hoping the church would hold some answers, she pivoted and slipped through the iron gates leading to another fenced off cemetery. Stones lined around the building, behind it, a path led to a gate with circular patterns.
The church was as simple as the rest of the town. A few rows of ancient pews. This place couldn't possibly hold everyone who lived here. Turning to face the altar, she was mildly surprised to find the same pictures as the house back in the village.
"Jesus Christ, another cult…" she muttered as she examined each picture. Were these some made up beasties Miranda conjured up to keep the flock in line? Or did these things really go bump in the night? Celia had seen enough shit to know, it could be either one. Sliding into one of the pews, she opened up her bag. Feeling a little worse for wear, she dug around for something to eat.
Man, wish I had some hand sanitizer.
Unwrapping the beef jerky, she stared up at the ceiling. Sitting was a bad idea. As she chewed on the smokey beef, she felt her entire body release – like a spring snapped inside her and she was going to melt down into the floorboards of this godforsaken place. The spikes of adrenaline that kept her moving since waking up in the wreck came with a price. Though not ideal, she found futility in staving off the sensation, so she laid down on the floor under the first pew, nervousness keeping she from closing her eyes as she ground her fingernails into the underside of the wood.
Who were those idols on the alter with Miranda?
Closing her eyes, she tried to relax her muscles and still her thoughts. With one hand on the butt of the gun in her holster, she started to drift into darkness.
xx
"Please Mother Miranda, Stop!"
Celia opened her eyes. Was she dreaming? She must have been having a nightmare.
Miranda was dead.
She laid as still as she dared – finally exhaling when she could hear shouting in the distance. Someone yelling, pleading. The pounding of feet.
Was it another one of those things?
Silence. Celia climbed up from her hiding spot and slid herself against the wall. She waited in the first pew away from the windows, facing both openings. Finger delicately on the trigger. If something did make it in here, she was going to be ready to show it a good time. But nothing, and no one, came. She waited 10 minutes. 20 minutes. She glanced at her watch. 08:19. That's when the smell hit her. It smelled like…fire. Like something close was on fire.
Putrid, thick waves of smoke were being carried on the breeze, surrounding her and making her gasp for air. Kicking open the back door, she heard another loud crack and snapped her attention to the source - a raging fire was blazing on the hill in the distance.