Dboy checked the map for their direction. Although the detour had taken longer than expected, it helped them avoid major cities. The weather was growing colder and harsher, and they all needed to stop in civilization soon to gather supplies and warmer clothes. Feeling frostbite creeping into his fingers as he examined the map, hatred welled up inside Dboy. He knew he should have died after dropping into the river, and yet here he was, still alive. Unfortunately, he also knew that Shmee and the others wouldn't kill him—suffering, it seemed, was his fate. Before becoming flesh and blood, Dboy had accepted it. Now, as a humanoid, the cold brought a new, unbearable level of pain.
Smelling the ocean air, Eff grinned ear to ear. "Taking a walk near the shore is a nice change of scenery," he rasped.
Sickness shrugged, not bothering to look down at the sea below. "Yeah, if you want to freeze to death," she muttered, tucking her bony hands under her arms.
Shmee's eyes gleamed, almost hypnotized by the marine layer of clouds. "It is beautiful," he said quietly.
They've been talking like this for a while now, Dboy thought, rolling his eyes. He would try to skin them all later for this small talk.
"Todd Casil was his name?" Reverend asked, eyeing Shmee, who was still absorbed in the view.
"Correct," Shmee replied. "But he was never meant to be a flusher, same with Devi. Both just got 'infected,' for lack of a better word."
"So that's why I wasn't able to overtake her?" Sickness asked, intrigued.
"Yes, love," Shmee said. "It wasn't because you were 'weak.' You were barking up the wrong tree. Same with Todd and me. Though, through trial and error, I figured out how to control him—and in the end, use him to my benefit."
Eff, now interested, pressed for more. "So you took over his body to escape. How'd you manage that?"
Shmee shrugged, tilting his head—a habit showing of his. "I dunno. A simple 'let me in.' Cassie, the desk lady, was in trouble—someone had tied her dainty wrists to a toilet." He side-eyed Eff before continuing. "Either way, he submitted, and I took full advantage. Through his death, I was born."
"Somehow you were certain that would work? Okay, I'll buy that for now," Eff said, pulling his hood up against the biting wind. "Johnny C, that boy died once before and came back. You seem to know more about that than we do."
Shmee, now fidgeting with his Rubik's cube out of boredom, answered, "Yes, I do. I knew the world ended when our dear Creator devoured it like that. But things were cleaned up when Johnny returned."
Reverend chimed in, "So how are we all here, then?"
Shmee grinned. "Oh, Reverend! You said it yourself: you're always a slave to something. You couldn't convince Nny of certain beliefs after he found a new temperance in his life post-death. But he still had residual feelings from the first half of his life, which manifested in you. If it weren't for you, Reverend—Sickness, the doughboys, and I wouldn't be here. You were proof that the Creator's impression of Johnny didn't completely die, even after he ran off. Even when you reincarnated in a landfill, Sickness crawled out of Devi's apartment remains, and the doughboys woke up in Nny's house—there was enough energy to bring us here now."
Dboy seethed as Shmee continued talking. It felt like salt being rubbed into a wound. Eff noticed Dboy clenching his fists, his knuckles turning white. He knew the conversation was getting under Dboy's skin.
An opportunity to push it.
"So, what happens with flushers like Nny, then? Where do you think he is now?" Eff asked Shmee.
"Ohhhh, our dear Creator had no choice but to be done with Nny. I have a feeling he's out there somewhere now, living his life, no longer killing or haunted by what once afflicted him. A retired flusher—a rarity," Shmee said. "But they do usually die. I know for a fact Johnny came in direct prolonged contact with a flusher that met a tragic end. Which is how he was turned. I always believed that to be certain. But with Nny the outcome was different, he came back from the dead. So the creator expunged us before totally disappearing in one last oorah. All because Nny never really got over shit, and because of that our creator was finished here on earth."
Dboy stopped dead in his tracks. Eff, Reverend, Shmee, and Sickness noticed as he dropped to his knees, screaming.
"WHAT A FUCKING DICKHEAD, THIS COCKSUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!"
Dboy snapped pounding his fist into the forest ground, he wanted to kill Johnny for bringing him into existence in the first place.
"All this shit I had to deal with—he should've just stayed in hell! I was there! I was reclaimed! I was back on the other side! That beast fucking knew that... why couldn't I just have stayed there?!" His voice cracked as he continued to scream.
Eff struggled to contain his laughter as Dboy's outburst continued, while Sickness and Reverend watched in bewilderment. Shmee walked past them and squatted next to Dboy, who was now crying furious, glowing blue tears.
"You're misery personified," Shmee said quietly. "You are closer to the unknown than the rest of us. But the Creator wasn't powerful enough in the end to keep any of us contained. Unlike you, the rest of us have a desire for life. You were outnumbered, in a way. Shit happens, though. The blood on the wall dried up, and that's it."
Silence stretched on as Shmee stood and turned toward the group.
"But I think it goes without saying, Dboy still has a special connection to the other side, possibly from the Creator. If I were a voice of Misery, I'd have it too. But I absorb trauma. I don't entice anything except violence from time to time."
Reverend sighed. "Everyone here except Dboy has similar objectives. And although you are powerful, Shmee, perhaps Eff, Sickness, and I are powerful enough to go against you or Dboy. But connecting the dots, it seems Dboy isn't going to be out of his 'misery' anytime soon."
Dboy marched up to Reverend and grabbed him by the collar, choking him as he pulled him close. "Just what the fuck are you assuming, you disgusting meat man?! What's going through that cesspool of a head?!" Dboy snarled, his blue swirling eyes glowing in rage. He couldn't accept the theory that he couldn't be killed or ended.
"I-I-I can't be cer-tain," Reverend choked out. "It's just a bullshit theory!"
Dboy shoved Reverend to the ground as Eff burst into maniacal laughter.
"Y'know..." Eff said gleefully, "I've been wrong about our Master. I think he might've favored me after all. He couldn't reclaim you, Dboy, because why waste all that energy when expunging you is easier—and the rest of his extensions wanted it?"
Eff laughed even harder, taking pleasure in Dboy's suffering. The doughboys' only joy in life was making each other suffer, and Eff seemed to have won this round.
Shmee stared at Dboy, who held his face in his hands, emitting unimaginable anger. He couldn't help but voice a small theory of his own.
"Going to Maine has been called on you, Dboy. Maybe something is waiting for you there that will end your suffering. What it is, we don't know. But I know for certain that I'm not being reclaimed. None of us are."
Stomping away ahead of the group, Dboy refused to listen any longer, effectively ending his part in the conversation.
Sickness walked up next to Shmee, curious about what he, the most powerful of the five, knew. "How are you so sure about that?" she asked.
Shmee twiddled the Rubik's cube in his hands as they walked along the trail. Figuring out the unknown was difficult—especially as a byproduct of the unknown. Shmee thought it was like solving a Rubik's cube. Once you figured out the strategy, other things would start to make sense. But this was the Creator, and it was everything and nothing. Created in both heaven and hell but put here on earth to destroy and put balance to it.
Shmee sighed heavily. "I'm not sure," he replied, "but I'm certain that depressed fool is the only one feeling this way because of what he represents. The rest of us can't connect with his very existence since we're not like him—a voice of Misery, yearning for everything to end."
