Clockwork Little Happiness

4

tight-rope walker

The searing pain in my hand paired with the gentle hum of Louisiana wildlife at night, with the crickets chirping, and twigs crackling underneath the weight of creatures also running away from Paige's blood-curdling cry for help snapped me from my pain induced reverie. I reached back into the driver's cab and cut the headlights to Blake's car, blanketing the dashboard and everything in the woods surrounding the truck in an indistinguishable blackness, like the whole world was all of a sudden set to 'mute' and only the blood dripping rapidly from my fingertips could breathe it back to life again.

I didn't hear Paige's voice again and somehow, that gave me hope. Maybe she'd gotten far enough away from whatever had scared her or had been trying to hurt her - how could I had gotten her attention? Where was Blake? I stumbled forward to where I'd seen that circle of light, sneakers crunching through leaves and pebbles and swayed a bit when the gash in my palm became too much to bear, but I steadied myself against the tree trunks and kept going. Tried to keep going. Paige was out there... I heard her and if I could just get to her and Blake-

My shoes staggered to a stop when I reached the clearing of our old campsite and saw the state of it all. The only tent in sight was turned over, mesh door flapping in the breeze, but that wasn't the weirdest thing about it... nobody was there. No Paige. No Blake.

I stepped out carefully, dying embers of the fire lighting my way just barely. Everything was there... all of our things laid out in expectation of our return but seemingly abandoned. Did I imagine hearing Paige's voice? Because of the adrenaline running rampant in my veins and managing to escape Ambrose, was it a hallucination stirred up in my mind?

I couldn't trust my own eyes now or anything I heard-

The front of my shoes bumped into a solid mass then, softer but larger than a rock and I looked down to see Blake's body sprawled on the grass, the blade of a hunting knife driven to the hilt in his throat. I nearly choked on my next breath, covering my mouth as nothing but the metallic stench of blood polluted the camp site.

Dead, I thought to myself. He's already dead. But Paige- that scream I heard before, it wasn't my imagination. She was here... and she could've been alive still. I had to find her before it was too late.

Blake's cell phone was inches from his fingertips and with shaking hands, I picked it up from the grass. A single bead of his blood dribbled down the screen and my stomach did a sickening roll.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Blake," I whispered, tears running in laps down my face as my shaky fingers dialed in for help.

We were so far from a normal, populated town and surrounded by so many tall and dense trees that Blake's phone rang on and on, endlessly and infinitely and it was only when I moved toward the center of the campsite near the fire pit when I heard the unmistakable click of the line picking up.

"911, what is your emergen-"

The call dropped.

"No, no, no," I panicked as soon as the line went dead and hurried to redial but nobody picked up again. Over, over, and over I tried and the voice never came back on.

Too far. I was too far away from the phone lines.

I wiped the blur of tears from my eyes and thought about what I had to do next. Now that there was a phone, a real working cell phone, I could go back to Blake's truck, try to call again there in the road or if worse came to worst... drive back to Ambrose. There had to be better reception there and if there wasn't-

No, I didn't want to think that way, not when I found a phone and with Blake's car key still in my jean pocket. Carly and Paige needed me now. I had to go back.

I retraced the path up to the dirt road, taking slow and steady steps once I was away from the glow of the pit fire and cloaked in woodland darkness. Every time my sneakers crunched and stomped over crisp leaves, cracked rock formations, and fallen branches, it sounded like a skyscraper collapsing. The world had suddenly become too silent, too soft. And the only thing anyone could hear was me.

From what I remembered, Blake's truck wasn't that much further up so I moved a little faster through the tree trunks, clutching the blood-stained phone tight in my hand as moonlight shining through the tree tops lit the way-

I froze, hearing another set of shoes - heavy like a man's, on the dirt road ahead and I stopped behind the cover of a tree trunk. Even under underneath the total blackness of night, I could just roughly make out the outline of another truck. A pale yellow color with a long bed like the one that had invaded our campsite the night before, paint chipping and rusted around the headlights. I thought of the man who kidnapped Carly and my skin crawled... he finally found me like he said he was going to-

I covered my mouth then and shrank behind the protection of the tree when I realized that man wasn't Bo. It was the other one... Vincent, I vaguely remembered Bo calling him and my head ran in circles trying to understand how he got out here, how he found me again. The truck. Did he see Blake's truck?

I had to think of something fast, for Carly, for Paige who was out there somewhere and for my friends who were already dead. Blake's car must not had been far off and I panicked in thinking of a way to get back to it without getting caught, without Vincent discovering it first. Taking a deep breath, I leaned around the girth of the tree trunk, catching glimpses of Vincent's long legs striding around to the driver's door. The dog was with him and started barking, lifting his nose in the air and barked again toward the treeline. Toward me.

Vincent must've noticed as he paused in front of the open driver's door and stared out into the woods. Those two black eye sockets of his mask, so big and so void of life that I couldn't stop the chills racking my body. I was looking at death in it's physical form. My expiration date coming at last.

I curled in behind the tree trunk, holding my breath and my fingernails dug so deep in my palm I felt my injured hand bleed again.

Silence.

And then the truck engine started, lights casting a silvery cone along the forest border and I kept still until the truck disappeared down the road. I scrambled to my feet and booked it the rest of the way back to Blake's car, dry branches and bushes scratching the skin of my arms. I was panting, dirtied and blood stained once I made it out to the dirt road and the sight of Blake's truck sitting undisturbed where I left it made me almost laugh in relief. I had the phone and the car-

A gargantuan hand locked around my neck then and slammed me against the side of the car. The milky white cast of Vincent's mask hovered above me, his fingers tight around my throat, just putting enough pressure to keep me still but not enough to knock me out. I pushed against his chest but it was no use; he was in impenetrable force, an unstoppable threat and for how many times I evaded him before, he was going to kill me for it now.

My heart pounded in my chest when the familiar glint of a syringe floated in front of my face, twisting and jerking away from the injector sloshing with a foggy, pearlescent liquid.

The tip grazed the junction of my neck. "No!" I cried. "No, no, no, please, no-" I flinched as the needle point pierced my skin, Vincent's mask the only thing that wasn't bleary and swaying back and forth as my body grew limp. He only watched, his hand scorching hot and powerful around my neck as consciousness left me.

I tried to hold on, but I couldn't stop slipping into that endless black void that felt like death.

I woke up in a cold sweat, my cheek pressed roughly against patchy leather cushions and the smell of pine needles, congealed blood, and gasoline made my eyes creak open. It was like someone had taped another person's arms and legs on my body with how heavy and lifeless they felt, but I managed to move my head just enough to see the surroundings. The sea-like rocking of a truck cab, the dirt speckled windshield, nothing but darkness on the other side and my temple pounded with piping hot blood as the memories came crashing back.

Vincent found me. I was his prisoner again.

I started to breathe faster as the panic set in, my face growing flush as I thought about how I would never get away from him, out from that death trap of a town and help my friends. Paige... I was supposed to look for Paige. Where could she have gone? My fingers twitched slightly as the drugs tore through my system and I tried not to move too suddenly in fear of alerting Vincent. He'd take me back to that basement... if that wasn't already what he was going to do.

My stomach did a horrific roll when I saw the white faded sign of Ambrose welcoming us back into town and the dog that followed me out of Lester's truck jumped on my legs, barking once like he was excited to be back home. If I wasn't going to get out this time... if this was going to be my very last moments alive... I hoped one of us would make it out. Carly, Paige, Dalton... there had to be someone still alive out there. There had to be.

I squeezed my eyes shut again when the truck came to a slow stop, fearing Vincent would discover me awake and kill me before he even brought me back to their house of wax, and I tensed up as soon as the engine cut out. I was trapped now. He'd know I woke up... he'd know-

"Hey, you don't ever leave here without me! You know better than that!" I flinched at the abrasive tone of Bo's voice coming from inside the house and I pressed myself flat against the cushions, bracing myself for Vincent to drag me away but nothing came. The driver's door opened and slammed shut. "Don't be so stupid, what's the matter with you!?" Bo went on and I could hear the distinctive crunch of boots against the dirt, up the porch steps, and then...

Silence.

Vincent didn't come back for me.

My heart hammering, I slowly lifted my head and saw that he parked in front of that old dilapidated colonial house at the top of the hill, a dying lamp light flickering in the corner of the front door and I hurried to open the passenger door - it was still unlocked and despite my legs half numb from the drugs, I managed to pull myself from the cab.

I hit the ground with a clumsy thump, wincing when my bad hand started bleeding again but the more I moved, the quicker the drugs wore off from my body, so I tip toed as quietly as I could around to the back house, staying low to the ground. It wouldn't keep me safe from Vincent or Bo for long, but I was far enough where I could catch my breath and figure out where Carly could've gone. Were they keeping her in the gas station? Or the church?

What if... if she was in the house? My heart sunk at the thought and like a red herring, my cut hand spasmed with pain, like it was trying to deter me from making a haste decision, but just waiting - waiting, listening, and watching - to die was worse. Much worse because it wasn't just me. My friends, wherever they were and whoever was left, were still here.

I had to go inside.

Sucking in a slow and steady breath, I stood up and crept deeper toward the very back of the house where shrubbery and vines grew like demon limbs up the dusty panels of the house and out toward the small basement hatch. There was no padlock and with baited breath, I reached out for the handle.

It popped open.

I exhaled with relief, covering my mouth afterward in fear of someone hearing me and moved closer to the humid, pitch black entry way into the house. I had to duck low, cobwebs paper thin and silky against my arms and face as I crossed through the dusty threshold, down a short set of rickety wooden steps into the place that could only been the cellar, ceiling so low to the ground it resembled more like a crawlspace.

I left the hatch door open as it allowed in the only source of light coming from the moon, slowly stepping forward as though the floor was rigged with invisible bear traps and froze when a massive pair of bootheels clambered above, making the ceiling shake slightly and spill more dust. Bo, I thought, or Vincent. But the footsteps didn't move out from the first floor... like they didn't know. They didn't know I was down there.

Not yet.

I was so scared; scared to move, scared to breath or blink too loudly, but somehow my feet kept moving despite the destabilizing fog in my brain. Find Carly, find Nick, or Dalton. Someone. That was all I could think about, all that mattered.

The door leading back into the main house was even smaller than the one going out of it and the long narrow stripe of a hallway was dark in washed out grey colors, picture frames hanging crookedly on the walls, outdated and yellowed by decades. It wasn't like the basement. There wasn't a speck of dust, dirt, or another indication that the place was long abandoned like everything else in Ambrose and it made my heart race thinking that maybe this was where those men brought the living. Maybe somebody else was here.

I took tiny steps, hyper aware of how every shift in movement created some kind of echo within the house as I tried navigating my way around. There was at least five extra rooms and I winced as the floorboards croaked when I stepped in front of the only open door in the corridor, my blood roaring in panicking waves in my ears as I half expected two pairs of footsteps come rushing up the staircase, but nothing moved out of the kitchen below.

I was safe. For now.

My heart still drumming a frantic beat, I ducked inside the pitch black room, only slightly highlighted by outside light coming in between the curtains and that small golden beam shining up from the crack in the floorboard-

No... that wasn't just a hole. That smell... I knew that smell like I knew the sound of my own voice, the tang of my blood in the air as it smeared my clothes. Melted plastic and burnt honey.

Wax.

I was above that basement I first woke up in, where Vincent took people who were going to die and being close to that place again made my stomach churn sickeningly slow, like I wasn't far off from joining all the others who they trapped in wax. I got lucky... somehow I still lived. Bloodied, scared, and lost... but alive. Still alive. And I was growing to resent it.

Rubbing the dirt from my face, I took a deep breath, realizing that the house was connected to the museum and that it was a safe passage away from Bo and Vincent, from the whole town, but I wouldn't go down yet. I had to look for survivors first. I had to know if somebody else made it this far.

Tip toeing back out into the hall, the inaudible hum of Bo's voice in the kitchen reassured me that neither of them were aware I was upstairs and I clung close to the wall just in case that old squeaky house gave something away.

My blood went cold when I saw the shadows of two figures hiding around the curve of the staircase, their black outlines swaying against the carpeted floor while footsteps thudded into the living room downstairs. Slowly, like it was an inspection.

I didn't blink, couldn't move or risk a breath in fear that what I was seeing what a result of my own mind's deterioration so carefully, I reached a hand out. My fingertips touched the clammy skin of the smaller silhouette-

A voice gasped, blue eyes spinning around to look at me and the face of Carly nearly dropped the baseball bat in her hands at the sight of me.

"Oh my god, Morgan. Morgan-" she whispered, throwing her arms around me then, baseball bat weighing them down and her hair was a comforting scent of pine needles mixed with warm blood.

"There's a way out," I whispered back when she pulled away. "I found a way."

"Then let's get the hell out of here," Nick hissed, peering down the length of the stairs to see if the coast was clear and despite the two looming shadows swaying down below in the kitchen, they still didn't know we were in the house.

We crossed back toward the room with the underground tunnel, it's golden gaping hole in the floor like the open jaws of a diseased animal and my stomach was in knots at the thought of going back down to the place where it all started for me. Where I couldn't get far away enough. Where Vincent always brought me back.

"This will take us to the museum," I whispered when Nick peered suspiciously down the ledge.

"You sure it's safe?" He asked.

"I've been down there before. We should be okay if we're quiet."

Nick appeared apprehensive, but it wasn't like we had much options and I was sure he knew that. Regardless of what he did in the past, he'd do whatever it took to get Carly out of Ambrose and I'd do whatever it had to make sure he did too. He descended the ladder slowly first.

"I saw Paige and Blake's bodies," Carly murmured. "They're dead."

I was glad to be behind Carly then because they couldn't see me wipe the tears running down my cheeks at her words.

Gone.

They were all gone.

"We gotta go," Nick told us solemnly. "Now."

I waited until Nick and Carly were safely at the bottom of the ladder before climbing down myself, my skin raising in goosebumps at being in such uncharted territory, where Bo took me to die, when I first saw Wade's husk of a body- oh god, I remembered then... Wade. He must've been in that contraption still. Carly was going to see what they'd done to him... what was going to happen to us too if we lingered too long.

Carly flinched and covered her ears at the clanking of the generator, rumbling like an agitated bear and the closer we got to the bowels of Vincent's workshop, the darker it became.

"I can't see anything," Nick said. "There's gotta be a light here somewhere."

"Wait, no, what if they hear-" I started to protest then when Nick and Carly began flipping the breakers, hitting every switch but none of them made noise, much less had any effect inside the tunnel. At least as far as we could see.

A single bulb flickered on above us then and I squinted through the sudden burst of light. Nothing looked familiar but I knew we were headed in the right direction because of the smell. It was unmistakable. I'd never forget that smell for as long as I lived; if I was going to live past the night...

Nick led the way through the tunnel and my stomach ached the closer we got to the center, the gash in my hand throbbing like it was trying to tell me somehow this was going to be a mistake.

"Dalton," Nick murmured, picking up that familiar red cap lying forgotten on a table. But if his clothes were there then that meant... my heart dropped dead as I realized what that meant and before I could warn him, Nick carefully approached the metal contraption. His fingertips lightly grazed Dalton's wax encrusted cheek. "I'll get you out of there."

I shut my eyes and turned away at the sickening crack of Dalton's neck snapping from his body, like a wooden doll, like a chew toy ripped to shreds by a dog. Sweet Dalton who only wanted to record some of the best times of his life with his friends... and now he was gone too.

Carly cried into Nick's chest, her tears like knives in my throat.

"Guys, we have to get out-" My words died on my throat when Nick raised his head at the thunderous approach of footsteps in the tunnel and I turned to see the one person I nearly died two times trying to get away from.

"That's Vincent!" Carly exclaimed and as much as my mind screamed at myself to run, I couldn't move. My legs were like roots running miles and miles into the ground and nothing, nothing in the world would set me free. It felt like the final time... the last time Vincent would drag me under again, would spare me for reasons I'd never know because now I ran from him too many times.

He was going to kill me.

I only broke out of that immortal thought at the sight of Vincent's twin knives in his hands and Nick's fingers pushed at my shoulder, knocking me out of the way before he tipped over the table, colliding straight into Vincent. I shrank against the wall, frozen by my own fear and a hopelessness that only came when Vincent was near - he took everything from me... my friends, my safety, my will to keep going... to survive and make it back home to my family.

All I saw now was death.

Vincent's blade whipped through the air, slashing Nick across his back and pure dread coursed through my veins when his gaze zeroed in on me; the one that kept running away. This would be the last time.

"No, no, please, no-" I found myself mumbling, sliding down to the ground like a cowering child as Vincent stalked forward, knives lowering to his sides in an almost placating manner. He was going to take me alive if only to put me in that wax chamber next.

"Leave her alone!" Carly's bat swung wildly then but Vincent's hands were quicker and he caught the handle, throwing Carly to the ground and the sound of her body crashing down made my heart spasm back into action. I had to get up. I had to do something or I was going to watch the last two people I cared about die in front of me...

My knees shook as I pushed myself up, my heartbeat jumping to my throat when Nick had tackled Vincent to the wall, knife point inches away from his neck.

"Stop," my voice came out hoarse, drowned out by fear. "Vincent, stop!"

Vincent's attention shifted in my direction then, grip on the knife loosening slightly and it was enough for Nick to flip them both around, knocking Vincent to the ground.

"Come on, Carly, move it!" Nick went for his sister then. "Move it!"

"Wait, Morgan!" Carly reached for me over Nick's shoulder. "Morgan!"

"Just go!" I called after her, seeing Nick hesitating at the base of the stairs connecting to the museum and he glanced back at me. I just shook my head at him and with glossy, almost remorseful eyes, he nodded back. He understood what I wanted him to do.

Vincent was on his feet again within seconds and in a desperate plea, in one last attempt at doing what I couldn't for Blake and Paige - for all of them - I blocked his way, my palms against his chest and whatever it was inside of him that stayed his hand, that kept him from taking my life all these times, I prayed he could do it once more. Long enough for Nick and Carly to get out of Ambrose.

"Morgan!" Carly cried for me again, but Nick pulled her away and I was happy for that. It'd be just them two now... they were going to need each other.

"I won't run," I said to Vincent. "Kill me or turn me to wax. I don't care anymore... just... just let them go."

Vincent's grasp was tight around the knife handles, but he lowered them again to his sides, watching me as if he were watching a film without sound. Then he shook his head. Abrupt from firm, but I didn't understand what for: No, he wasn't going to kill me? Or he'd never leave my friends alone?

"What?" I begged. "What will it take?"

Confusion washed over me as he sheathed both knives, his fingers curling around my forearms and he pressed me flush against the wall. His breath came in ragged intakes through the mask. I thought of when he had dragged me to the cot in the corner of the room, drugged me to sleep, his massive hand warm and steady on my shoulder so I'd stay put.

I realized then what he wanted.

I promised him.

In whatever way I could, in a way he'd understand because he wouldn't speak, I told him I would remain in Ambrose if he'd let Nick and Carly leave. They couldn't come back for me and I didn't expect or want them to try. Navigating through the backwoods, coupled with the impression Ambrose would leave on them would be enough to keep them away forever. Even if they somehow told the police... I didn't have hope. Over a dozen others had been turned into wax... and no one ever knew. Nobody ever would know.

It was worth it, if meant Nick and Carly got to live their lives, together like we were trying to by coming out here. For all the others who couldn't anymore.

But Bo was gone too, beaten nearly beyond recognition when I convinced Vincent to let me venture up to the museum to make sure they made it out safely and I thought Vincent would kill me in blind rage, his grief heavy like veils of smog as he mourned at his dead brother's side. Twins, I realized after seeing their features so close together like that and as mangled as Bo was now, their relation was unmistakable.

The museum door was wide open, humid Louisiana night air blowing against my cheeks and the sight made my shoulders slump in relief. They made it... they got out.

Exhaustion wracked my entire body as I wiped at my grimy cheeks and my fingers came away stained with dirt and wet. Tears. Tears streaked rapidly down my face.

But I didn't feel a thing anymore.

I turned to Vincent again and saw him standing to his full height, hands twitching close to his dual knives and I thought maybe he'd changed his mind, decided that I was going to be next and he'd go after Nick and Carly after for what happened to his brother, but he didn't touch them.

"I promise I won't ever leave," I swore to him again. "But... promise me something too. No more bodies. Please."

Vincent's only visible eye, a deep and striking blue, stared into me; through me. I didn't know what he was seeing or what he was thinking, but the silence that settled between us felt like an acceptance. As long as I was there, the killings would stop. Running again... I didn't need to think about what the consequences would be. I already knew.

It was a harrowing decision, but one that might've lived in the back of my mind for a long time and maybe that was why everything came over me like a worn and ratty blanket, smothering any primal instinct to cut and run - to make one final attempt at saving my own life while I still could. I made my choice and Ambrose was where I was going to stay from now on, as long as I was meant to live, until Vincent decided he'd dispose of me.

Those two things might've been the same.

A/N: Thank you for reading! We're at the end of the movie now, but I still have more to go. I really had trouble deciding if I should keep Bo alive or not since him and Vincent are basically a two for one deal, but the more I thought about it and what canon Bo would do, I realized he would just end up killing Morgan regardless of what Vincent wanted, so for the story to progress in a (sort of) positive direction, I think he needs to stay dead. I apologize in advance to anyone who hoped I kept him alive.

Title reference: from the 1885 painting Tight-Rope Walker by Jean-Louis Forain