When Karen came to she was on the ground, staring up at the clouds, rainwater pouring into her nose and open mouth. The sky was so dark it might've been late evening, but her body told her it was midday. Thunder rolled across the sky, deafening, as she pushed her legs under her to stand.
She was soaked to the bone, covered in mud, and once again in her nightclothes. Surveying her surroundings she found she recognized the endless dirt road, stretching out in either direction; though she couldn't recall where from. A movement caught the corner of her eye, and she glanced to the treeline, locking eyes on a mighty stag. In the dim light, and through the strips of rain, she could mostly only see it as silhouette.
It stood stock still; not the panicked stillness of a prey animal, a wink away from bolting, but something quieter. The silence between them felt pointed, and she had the uneasy sensation that the creature was waiting for her to notice something. It was so big, she knew it could trample her in an instant, but for some reason she wasn't afraid to spook it. It ignited a furious curiosity inside her; a need to know what it wanted to tell her.
Then it swiveled its head, broad antlers sweeping the leaves on either side of it. It jutted its chin to the right- one eye catching the light and shifting from her, down the street, and back. She snapped her gaze in the direction it indicated, and her blood ran cold as she saw the silhouetted lump of a body in the street. Frantically she looked back to the animal, but it was gone. Only darkness lingered beyond the trees.
She shook with cold, no barrier between her and the icy rain, and wrapped her arms around her middle as she took a stumbling step toward the corpse. Another rumble of thunder crested overhead, accompanied by the bright flash of lightening. Momentarily illuminated in the glow, she recognized the faded jacket on the body ahead, and the messy ginger hair now clumped with mud.
"No," she whispered, her voice coming out choked. She rushed to him, throwing herself down into the bloody muck beside him. His face had been blasted in two, chips of bone swimming in the puddle beneath him. A sob racked her body, even as the distant sense of déjà vu tickled the back of her mind.
When Sean's lips began to move, with half of the skin ripped away to expose the teeth and jaw beneath, she scampered back with a shriek. A cold, lifeless mockery of his voice echoed from his dead throat. She could only look on in horror, hands clasped over her mouth, as he spoke.
"Come on, please," said Sean's corpse; his remaining eye glassy, and staring up at nothing. "Somebody be generous."
Karen was crying now, she knew it from the burn in her eyes and the lump in her throat, even as the rain washed away her tears.
"Sean?" She pleaded, knowing as she said it that there was no hope. "Is- is that you?"
"Come on, please," he repeated, hollowly. "Somebody be generous."
Fear trailed along her spine and she scrambled back to standing, slipping a little in the mud that now coated the soles of her feet. She turned on the spot, frantically searching for anywhere to flee, when her eyes caught on the bouncing glow of a lantern.
Of all people- Arthur and Strauss stood a ways down the street, seeming unfazed by the pelting rain, talking by lantern light. Strauss had his usual posture, slightly hunched with a cryptic smile, and seemed to be asking for something. His hand was on Arthur's shoulder, leading him away. Arthur was stiff, but attentive, as he often seemed around the usurer. Through the storm she could only make out a couple words of their conversation. A name.
Thomas Downes
They were far ahead of her already, and wandering further. She ran after them, waving and calling out; but her voice seemed to rip away on the wind, and the mud sucked at her feet, slowing her down. She pushed on after them, even as they faded to nothing but streaky silhouettes in a dim circle of retreating light.
In her desperation she failed to look at the ground ahead of her, and her toes caught on something heavy and solid, sending her stumbling a step. Looking down to see what had tripped her, she felt her heart drop into her stomach.
Hosea. He lay sprawled on his back, unmoving, red blooming through his white shirt where a bullet hole pierced him through. His mouth was open, gaping, and full of rainwater. She clutched her chest, shaking her head stiffly as she tried to reject the sight before her.
"Show you care." He said, in a voice that was barely his. Water poured from his lips as they moved, but didn't muffle the sound. The words seemed to seep straight into her.
"Show you care."
She tore her gaze away from him, frantic now to reach Arthur. Arthur would know what to do. He'd be able to help. A few steps later, though, she saw the outline of yet another crumpled body. She didn't want to look, but couldn't bring herself to turn away. She trudged onward, numbly approaching.
Lenny lay face down in the street, His clean grey jacket soiled with dirt and blood. A spray of blood trailed from the top of his head, where a bullet hole gaped. Karen's shoulders shook violently, picturing his ever-present wide smile. The laughter he gave away so easy. Lenny was just a kid.
"Let's try and help each other." Came the twisted reflection of the boy's voice, though she couldn't see his lips moving with his face pressed to the ground.
Her heart squeezed painfully as she stumbled away from him. She felt ready to scream, but couldn't seem to gather enough air in her chest. Where had Arthur and Strauss gone? The light had faded away entirely, leaving her utterly alone. She plodded along, some unseen force driving her to keep moving, though all she wanted to do was collapse.
The rain was relentless, running down her face and dripping from her nose and chin. Sticking her nightclothes to her skin, the material flimsy and translucent under the constant deluge. She rubbed her eyes to no avail, the water from her lashes running into them and clouding her vision.
A hacking cough punctuated the air, the noise rising up out of the storm from somewhere ahead. She ran onwards, an arm thrown over her brow in a futile attempt to shield her face from the tempest. A silhouette was visible a short distance on, not the lump of a dead body, but a man hunched over. Broad shouldered and tall, he stood with his hands on his knees, struggling for breath.
The air caught in her throat as she realized it was Arthur, and she rushed toward him as quick as she could without slipping on the muddy street. His hand was gripping his chest now, coughing and gasping like he couldn't get his lungs to work. Panic flared behind her breast, bright and frenzied.
"Arthur!" She screamed, close enough now that he should hear her through the howling wind and the downpour that had become torrential.
Hear her he did, lifting his head to look around, and she bit down on a sob before it could bubble out of her. His skin, usually sun bronzed, had a qualmish pallor. His broad shoulders shook with coughing, dwarfing the mountain of him as he hunched over. Blood was smeared across his lips and had dried in the stubble on his chin, but he had no visible injuries. His eyes though, were still so blue; bluer now, even, rimmed by red.
His hat, the beaten up leather one he was never seen without, tipped off his brow and into the mud at his feet. Before she could reach him, he was bending over to pick it up. Only, he still couldn't breathe. He fell hard, the bulk of him making a great thud as he smashed into the ground, wheezing and sputtering.
She pushed her momentum forward, sprinting to his side and hurling herself to the ground; the road too slippery under her feet to stop short. His breath was coming in shallow stutters and coughs, and her hands fluttered over him, unsure what to do. He was too heavy for her to lift on her own, and even if she could get him up there was no shelter to speak of. She ran her fingers over his shoulders, the backs of his broad hands, his brow. Brushed the hair out of his face, tender and hesitant, wanting to comfort him.
He couldn't speak, though she could tell he wanted to. His eyes were desperate, laden with meaning she couldn't decipher.
"It's okay," she said, voice pitched high and shaky. "You're okay. Just rest, we'll get you out of this."
His eyes, blue as heartbreak, roamed her face. The hopeless despair there stoked her panic, and she cast her eyes around again for somewhere to get out of this rain. But there was nothing; nothing but this awful, endless road. She dipped her gaze back to Arthur, and the hope drained out of her, too.
His eyes were going cloudy, like Jenny's had in Blackwater. Like Mama's had, years ago. His breaths were slowing, his gaze fixed, distant and unseeing. She bent over him, tightening her arms around his muscled shoulders, and sobbed into his chest as his breathing faded away.