Eight

1 – Scott

    “I am sorry I left you like I did,” not-Hassan commented, not speaking until after Scott was able to make eye contact with him.

   Scott tried to muster up the strength to speak but couldn’t find the words. It was all too much at once. It was tragic, the way Chelsea’s death felt like such a distant memory so quickly.

   It was dark outside. Scott could see stars in the sky outside the cave’s entrance. He wasn’t for certain if he’d been unconscious for a few hours, of if it’d actually been days.

   Not-Hassan had a small fire going, a pile of wood burning that provided them warmth. Nevertheless, Scott still felt very cold. Makeshift bandages and knotted leggings covered the stub-remnant from where part of his leg had been. Scott couldn’t begin to fathom how Hassan could have kept him from bleeding out.

   “As you can imagine, with everything happening, there isn’t an established set of guidelines to follow. I shouldn’t have attacked you as heinously as I did either. I lost my temper, and, for that, I sincerely apologize to you.” Hassan explained, and for a moment, Scott even believed the apologetic tone in his voice was sincere.

   That is, until he remembered the face he’d seen, the one that wasn’t Hassan, the one that wasn’t even human.

   “Even a man with the noblest intentions is still only a man, and men are imperfect creatures,” Hassan explained.

   “You’re not a man,” Scott barked. It was about the only thing he could find the strength to get behind.

   “No,” Hassan admitted. “But I was.”   The pain in Scott’s leg wasn’t debilitating, at least, not at the level one might expect. He mostly felt weak and exhausted. This was what dying felt like, he supposed.

   “The reason I went away from you was for my own contemplation. You see, I didn’t know if they’d accept a cripple as a sacrifice,” Hassan explained. His voice sounded callous and matter of fact, but, once more, genuine.

   “Fuck you!” Scott fired back, putting all the power he could behind his anger and hatred, which wasn’t very much.

   “It was something I had to consider, but, since doing so, I have concluded a soul is a soul no matter the container it comes in.”

   “Congratulations,” Scott said, not suspecting the man would be able to comprehend his sarcasm.

   “Oh, but it is still unfortunate, I am afraid,” Hassan confessed, making eye-contact with Scott. The “man’s” face brought into the light from the fire, it was the eyes that Scott could see something was off with. Hassan’s eyes had been as blue as the skies, but this “man” wasn’t Hassan, and this “man’s” eyes had black in them.

   “It is unfortunate truly, because, despite this, I have little to no faith you’ll be able to survive being transported to the top of the mountain before your death. I do apologize for your wasted life.”

   “You intend to leave me here to die then?” It was too depressing to call a win, but Scott could definitely see the appeal in never having to see Hassan ever again.

   “If I leave you now, your only fate is to suffer. As an act of compassion, I will be merciful to you,” Not Hassan answered, calm and thereby terrifying in his inflection, no apparent understanding of the severity of his assertion.

   “Merciful. Are you fucking kidding me? You caused all of this!” Scott yelled, trying his best to fight to a seated position, scooting away from Not Hassan with his hands.

   “I committed cruelty out of compassion. If not me, you would have been slain by Kudos, or worse still, you could have been tortured or made into a makeshift animal by Dr. Rindan. The actions I committed allowed you to nearly play a part in saving everyone else on the mountain. While they failed, your contribution was no less appreciated and no less invaluable to me.”

   “Makeshift animal,” Scott mumbled beneath his breath.

   Like the wick of a candle, suddenly being set aflame, he now had the name to who had killed Chelsea. A madman named Dr. Rindan mutilated her body and set out to make her into his latest sadistic creation. The realization was bittersweet. Scott now had the knowledge but was in no condition to do anything about it. The man, not Hassan, inched closer to him, and, in that moment, something in-between adrenaline and pure desperation awoke in Scott, who understood how badly he didn’t want to die.

   “Don’t fucking touch me,” Scott said, but the man paid no mind to the demand.

   Scott kicked back with his good leg, his only leg, in-fact, which Not Hassan jumped back in an effort to stay free from.

   “You don’t know what’s out there!”

   “I would rather take my chances than die from you.”

   Once more ignored, Scott could only squirm as Not Hassan climbed on top of him, feeling the thing’s hands tighten around his throat.

   “Please,” Scott said, having to fight with all his might simply to utter those words, only for them to fall on deaf ears.

   Not Hassan shushed him; a look on his face that resembled pure-evil masked as reassurance.

   Scott shifted his weight, rolling to his side and kicking at Not Hassan with everything he could. The attack was more about creating separation between them than hurting him.

   Scott rolled to his stomach, crawling with his forearms to the dirt. He felt Not Hassan tugging at his ankle again, but this time he reacted with more aggression, sticking his hand within the fire’s reach and grabbing out a thick stick. He turned his body and swatted the switch at Not Hassan. The creature flinched, releasing Scott out from his clutches.

   “Get back! Or I will set your ass on fire!” Scott yelled, feeling an overload of emotions ripping at the very seams of his mind.

   “I am sure you have learned by now I have no reason to be afraid of death,” Not Hassan replied plainly, walking closer to Scott without hesitance in his steps.

   Scott dropped the stick from his hands, not because he was compelled by Not Hassan’s words, but, instead, because he now truly appreciating the blisters starting to form on his hand. He let out a cry of agony, feeling the throbbing pain that came without relent.

   Then, at last, as Hassan came closer. Scott was able to watch as a bullet pierced through the front of his forehead. Before he truly had a chance to comprehend what was happening before him, he watched as an older man walked into his line of vision and pointed his gun at Not Hassan’s head, firing off one more shot for good measure. Suddenly, Not Hassan’s body fell into a pile of gray ash.

   “How badly are you hurt?” A voice asked, making Scott flinch. He had not been aware of another person’s presence.

   The voice belonged to a woman, this person was closer to his age, likely a part of the same university as well.

   Scott opened his mouth and tried to speak, but he couldn’t find the words. It was too much. It was too much all at once. His eyelids felt like they were stretched so widely he thought the top of his head might split off from the rest of him. He closed his mouth, and, in time, gathered himself, letting out spills of laughing, crying hysterics.

2 – Shaun

   It all happened so fast, the matter of fact, know it all teenager who once had the gumption to challenge Shaun’s flimsy at best leadership, now didn’t have the wherewithal to even breathe. It all happened so very fast.

   The blue sky darkened, seamlessly transitioning to a crimson red. Thereafter, men on horseback arrived. Their neighing steeds suggested their arrival before the fact but didn’t give them nearly enough time to react.

   Shaun grabbed Melissa by the hand and did his best to lead them away from the crowd. Leadership be damned, Shaun had no interest in protecting any of the others if it meant jeopardizing himself or Melissa.

   The way the horses moved was not natural, each time their hooves touch the ground, their lower limbs disintegrated into ash and then, seemingly reemerged, creating a smokey trail with each stride they made.

   It happened so fucking fast.

   Shaun and Melissa took refuge behind a large wilted oak tree, but was there any way to hide from these monsters? Any actual way? They could do nothing except for watch. Many of the Kudos soldiers were off of their horses. They had weapons brought out from their sheaths that they used to swipe at anything in sight. They let out battle cries that Shaun couldn’t understand, participating in a war that made no sense to him.

   Certain soldiers appeared and acted more aggressive than others. For the most part, the soldiers kept their brutality to a minimum. Their intent wasn’t to savor the demise of each victim, rather, it was merely to see to it that each person was dead. That was their objective and their mission, and they had tunnel-vision directed fully to accomplish that goal, oblivious to all else.

   Some of the soldiers were different, however. They were not the traditional Kudos soldiers. Their weaponry was different, with sharp knives brought out, carving into anyone they could find, doing so with both pleasure and excess. Shaun and Melissa could do nothing as they watched Rachel be brought off her feet by one of the “carvers,” who began by tackling her to the ground and then began violently slicing at the back of her neck. Although Shaun felt confident Rachel’s screams were there, he could not actually hear them.

   A whimpering Melissa tugged him by the shoulder, reminding him that they could not afford to remain stationery. Shaun turned his back to it all, but not before taking a double take, seeing that Rachel’s head had now been severed from her body, the man waved it around wildly by her hair.

   Shaun didn’t know how to feel. Honestly, he did not know if there was a human emotion strong enough to respond to such a thing, what facial expression fits when the face of madness stares back at you?

3 – K.J.

   K.J. watched while the trees soared upward, in spite of all logic or rules of reality. They twirled around in spirals, tree branches out stretching over the blood-red sky, with crooked twigs making it look like an enormous spider’s web. Where was Bryan!? She hadn’t the faintest idea. But it seemed as though she had successfully given the soldier’s the slip for now, which did nothing whatsoever to calm her nerves. They would be back, and they would kill her. It was something she knew could not be prevented. Not now. These were not humans on the attack, but monsters.

   She was alone.

   Bryan might have been her ideal choice, but, in truth, she would have settled for anyone at all to be with her, to be afraid and suffering by her side.

   The air was cold and the further she walked forward, the more she discovered trees and other barriers became scarce. She was wide out in the open. She did not like that.

   She pinpointed a field of tall, unkempt grass that was high enough to go over head. On one hand, she would not be able to see any attackers, but, on the other hand, they would not be able to see her either. It was nearly a tossup, but K.J. eventually decided it was a tradeoff more in her favor than not.

   She tried to calm her breathing. It was a dead giveaway to her location. It was more difficult said than accomplished. She walked several feet deeper into the tall grass. She thought about what the man had said, the man who had tried to slit her throat. He said there would be no escape from the soldiers, but he said it might be possible to hide and wait it out. But what were they waiting for?

   “You are a long way from the rest of the herd, little one,” a voice called out. Its presence felt so close that K.J. could have sworn she felt her breath on her shoulders.

   K.J. flinched badly, turning around as fast as she could out of instinct, although, perhaps fleeing would have been the smarter action. However, no one was there when she looked back.

   “How unfortunate,” The voice spoke again. “You have lived such a woeful live already.” The person speaking, whoever it was, had the voice of a woman, firm and direct, full and confident.

   The voice once more felt like it was coming from behind her, but, now, K.J. didn’t look back to see, opting to run for her life instead. Her hands brushed aside the weeds in-front of her, running with great haste. What should have been the end of the field, however, was not. She hadn’t went very deep in, and yet, no matter how far she ran or for how long, she never found where she’d been, the field merely went on and on.

   “Don’t run,” The voice carried like a soothing tune, but K.J. sensed the malice behind it, “I won’t hurt you.”

   Before her eyes, K.J. watched as each of the weeds assumed a glowing aura, radiating off in the night, every one of them with a unique distinction. She saw shades of blue and green, as well as pink and purple. At first, she felt too afraid to touch them, until she realized the alternative meant staying in one place.

   “What the fuck is this,” K.J. mumbled beneath her breath, “This is Hell!” She answered for herself shortly after.

   “I certainly would not lie and say it was Heaven,” The voice answered.

   K.J. ran aimlessly amid the vibrantly colored weeds, knowing somewhere in this, she would undoubtedly die. She could feel the tears running down her face, and once she finally came to a halt, it was not from acceptance, but, rather, exhaustion.

   The lights went out. The red sky was swallowed by the tree branches overhead, leaving nothing but night. In the darkness, K.J. could have sworn she heard sound of raveling, like a fishing line retracting back inward or that the weeds were being sucked back into the ground.

   K.J. breathed heavily, reacting to every small noise she heard, paranoid by the fact she could find herself offed at any second. Suddenly, she felt herself violently grabbed on the shoulders and thrown to the dirt ground. She tried to climb back to her feet, kicking and clawing at an attack she  could not see. “Don’t fight it,” the voice, this time, a man, said.

   K.J.’s breathing stopped; stunned. She recognized the voice very well.

   “You have been flirting with me all this time, little late for cold feet, don’t you think?” The voice served as a memento from a past she had done everything she could to bury and pretend didn’t exist, of a voice that had taken months of therapy to stop hearing every time she closed her eyes.

   She kicked and fought within the dark, but every attempt she made proved worthless, booting at the air and never contacting anyone or anything. Regardless, she could feel the hot air of his breath on the nape of her neck, his greasy lips and jagged teeth biting into her flesh.

   She continued to kick and fight, but all signs suggested no one was there. Then, why was it that she felt his hands cupping her breast? She felt helpless, even more than she had that terrible night, and as she felt hands on her knees, trying to part her legs, she screamed: “No!”

   “Yes,” A voice called out, belonging to the woman, whose face, then, appeared from within the darkness, a white as bright as the moon, the woman’s face had eyes as black as the night around her, only distinguished by white pupils that stared intently in K.J.’s direction. Her lips were black as well and K.J. was able to see the chapped, dryness they brought with them. She sat on top of K.J. and leaned forward, like a lover going for a kiss or a rapist that did the same, but soon, she opened her mouth and exposed her long, jagged teeth.

   It was the only thing in sight in the darkness, and then, the monster’s bear-trap shaped mouth expanded for its next meal.

   “Hey,” A voice called out, and, in a moment, normality returned, or, at least, the mountain’s newly created version of such, with the crimson skies and trees that stood miles high.

   K.J. sat up from the dirt. It had not been her imagination. It had not been a dream or a hallucination, whatever she had experienced. If she had no certainty about anything else, she had complete confidence about that.

   Bryan held her in an embrace, but, at the moment, she was not really looking for a hug, only an escape. “It’s okay,” he said, but it wasn’t the truth. “Listen, it isn’t safe here, we have to keep moving, find somewhere to hide.”

   It must have taken Bryan great exertion to pretend he had grown a pair, acting like the voice of strength, K.J. thought. She felt bad about the thought, stuffing it down in the back of her mind. It was not fair to him. This was uncharted territory for all of them.

   Tears ran down her cheeks as she took Bryan’s hand and pulled herself back to a standing position. Her eyes looked forward at the field of long weeds in-front of them. They would be taking a different route.

4 – Crystal

   The man Crystal and Officer Davis McIntyre found introduced himself as Scott Stanfield. It was a name Crystal had heard prior. In-fact, the longer she had time to think about it, the more she recognized seeing him around campus over the years. The mountain had changed his appearance drastically. His face was covered in filth and his skin appeared pale, sagging as though he had aged decades in the matter of a day. Officer McIntyre carried Scott on his shoulders. It would be no easy feat for the aging man, but, in a silver-lining, Scott had lost considerable weight in the last day or so, albeit through amputation.

   Scott had not said much, which was different than what his college reputation suggested, but wasn’t at all surprising given the situation. Regardless, Crystal did her best to engage him in conversation as a means to keep him attentive.

   “Why did Hassan think it was so important that he brought you to the top of the mountain?” Crystal asked, a question she doubted Scott had any actual profound information about. It was all about keeping him from falling out of consciousness, afraid he might not survive otherwise.

   “Scott sighed, “Not … Hassan. Hassan was a douche-bag, but he was not a monster.” His words were soft, with little force behind them. He spoke slow with small breaks in-between words.

   “I was not certain how far these things’ powers went. I didn’t know they would be able to assume the appearance of an actual person. It is a scary thought,” Crystal replied.

   “The way he spoke to me,” Scott said, and then stopped again, lifting his head up while Officer McIntyre carried him, making eye contact with Crystal. Crystal could see how much exertion it took him to keep his eyes opened. “It made it seem like he thought by bringing me to the top of the mountain, it would bring an end to everything that had been happening, that he thought he was doing  something noble in a sick fuck kind of way.”

   “It might not be much of a consolation, but the scraps left behind by the other Kudos soldiers weren’t so methodical. They slit throats and they mutilated, some of them more demented than others, but most of them went straight for the kill,” Officer McIntyre said.

   It was an unsettling emotion as they continued their travels, their surroundings were layered in uncertainty, but their priority was to find one of the checkpoints. Chances are, it would certainly be abandoned, covered with lifeless bodies, but maybe they could arrive there and pillage resources before the creatures circled back.

   Scott hadn’t bled out yet, but unless they properly dressed the wound or did something, he would certainly bleed out or die a long, painful death from infection.

   “Kudos soldiers,” Scott said to himself. Even after all he had went through, Crystal was surprised to find him taken aback by the audacity of it all, he, then, added: “It doesn’t feel like it is all one group slaughtering people. When Hassan spoke, it seemed like, through some twisted way, his actions would stop them.”

   “I don’t think we will be able to make sense out of it, kid,” Officer McIntyre said.

   Scott didn’t say anything in-response to him, and, after enough time went by, Crystal found herself discreetly checking to see whether he was dead or not; he wasn’t.

* * *

   After a while, they found no choice other than to accept they would not be finding a shelter soon, and even if they did, it would have only left them sitting ducks for an attack. Instead, they found refuge through abandoned campsites. Camps left by individuals no longer worried about possessions, instead, focused solely on survival, as well as camps still occupied by the deceased.

   It wasn’t pleasant, but it no doubt had its benefits. They found bandages and gauze, items hardly enough for treatment of an amputation, but it was all they had to work with.

   Scott’s hollers and whimpering as Crystal unwrapped the bandages was almost enough to make Crystal wish he would lose consciousness. It was a tragic sound, like listening to a whimpering animal after having their paw stepped on.

   Officer McIntyre was quick to muffle Scott’s screams of agony, stuffing a cloth into his mouth to bite on. It was not acted out with much compassion, but Crystal didn’t question him, by no means did she want Scott alerting anyone on the mountain.

   It was clear Hassan, or whoever it had been, had done some to take care of Scott, at least as much as you could take care of someone while also cutting off one of their limbs. Wrapped around Scott’s leg was a “do it yourself” tourniquet of tightly tied cloth, meanwhile, his wound looked like it had been stuffed like a pinata with gauze, which wouldn’t do very much to prevent infection. That wasn’t his goal, however.

   Crystal poured a bottle of alcohol onto the wound. They had found many bottles inside the tents, and in all sorts of different variations. Scott chugged as much of a bottle of malt whiskey as he could stomach. Hopefully it would help eventually relieve some of his discomfort, but, in the meantime, he still squirmed and whimpered with every drop that landed on his wound.

5 – Shaun

   It was a testament to God’s cruel hand how badly things could go to shit at a moment’s notice. What started as a blow off to college before a lifetime of college-debt had become a war that any news network would have a field day with.

   Journalists would speculate on and on for years to come about the infamous mountain murders. Bible thumping religious type would say it was a cleansing of the University, whose devout teaching of Evolution only brought their students further from God with each lecture. And, to their credit, Shaun did feel pretty damn far away from God right now. Podcasts would discuss conspiracies theories they found on their deaths for clicks on their website. For a moment though, if only a fleeting second, Shaun let himself believe he might not end up as one of the names on some memorial wall.

   It felt like things had slowed down, like Shaun was in the middle of an out of body experience or feeling extreme tunnel vision. All he could hear was Melissa’s heavy breathing as she ran in-front of him and the sound of his own footsteps stamping down into the mud. He heard these things, but he did not actively feel the exertion in his legs, as if the act was involuntary, as if he had always run. The red sky overhead projected a fiery tint over everyone that came in his straight line of vision and made them all resemble demons. It was a fitting thought for today’s affairs.

   It was not about leading anyone else, not anymore. It was about his and Melissa’s survival. Frankly, anyone else dying would be only a misfortune to him.

   A fire had started from somewhere, its origins, Shaun wasn’t in any position to investigate, however. Instead, all he could do was watch as the fire spread from one neighboring tree branch to the next, like a money swing from vine to vine.

   “Shaun!” Melissa yelled. It was enough to bring him back to reality, or, … at least, whatever it was they were currently trapped in.

   She pointed at a nearby figure. It was a human shape, one that appeared black enough to be mistaken for a silhouette, but around his head was fur that resembled a lion’s make. As he came closer, Shaun was able to see that the fur was wrapped around a helm of some kind. His face was as black as charcoal, and, in his beaming redeyes, Shaun could feel the same hatred directed toward him.

   Shaun shivered after hearing a loud creaking noise behind him, but immediately returned his attention back over to the man with the lion’s head. Like a shadow met with sunlight, the man melted away, as if he had burrowed into the ground, but, in only a flash, the figure stood in-front of him. Its breath smelled like a chimney, and yet, it had a cold radiance with its presence. Shaun backed away, shoving Melissa off to the side and falling off his feet in the process.

   He continued to creep away from him, only to react on impulse to the shadow’s creature’s attack, with its jaws seemed to take on a smoky aesthetic, expanding and snapping at him with an attempted bite.

   The noise was loud, like a giant mouse trap going off by each of his ears. However, before it had a chance to feast on his flesh, a second loud creaking noise sounded. The shadow creature pulled back, making a screeching noise that sounded uncharacteristically loud and squeaky. A large, flaming tree branch came down, falling between them and landing with a loud thud.

   Shaun felt Melissa’s arm tugging at him, and eventually, he complied, looking around for the creature, but he was not able to find it. The tree branch might have spooked it, but he had seen what it was capable of, and that wouldn’t be enough to stop it.

   Melissa fell to the ground, and shortly after, like clockwork, Shaun did the same, his boots caught in the mud, which nearly came to his knees. It was a different world now, and Shaun could only react to it.

   Any other time, he would have checked to see about Melissa’s wellbeing, but, right now, that wasn’t his main concern. Instead, the first thing he did was turn his body to make for certain nothing was following them. The air was cold and still, aside from Melissa’s movements in-front of him, he didn’t hear anything else. He climbed back to his feet.

   “Should we find somewhere to hide?” Melissa whispered.

   Even though it was said in a soft voice, it still instilled a jolt of panic in him. Perhaps he had gone completely insane, or, perhaps it was rational paranoia in such a situation, or, maybe it was somewhere in the middle? Whatever the reason, he could not fathom the idea of speaking at a time like, of running even the slightest risk of bringing that soldier with the lion-shaped helm back to them. Rather than muster a verbal response, Shaun merely stared at her, then, nodded his head. Part of him could feel how wide his eyes were ajar, but no part of him felt able to remedy that and relax them.

   They walked forward. Their sense of direction was now entirely out the window, with no clear way to distinguish whether they were heading up the mountain or down the mountain. Either way, it didn’t matter. The crazy man they had met earlier, the who tried to knife K.J., said there would be no escape from them, that their best course of action would be to try and hide until it was over with. It was not the most reassuring of tactics, but when the sky turned red and soldiers could disappear in the shadows, there was not any assuring choices available.

   The mountain’s terrain was not like it was, carrying only certain landmarks and mementos that Shaun recognized. The further they walked, the more apparent that fact became. The trees went to the sky for what seemed like forever, but an even more shocking revelation came when the trees ended, and Shaun was able to see what was once a view of Jalint’s forests and even a nearby city. No more did he and the mountain itself curve upward like a ramp. It folded in on itself, like the mountain had assumed the shape of a sphere, caging them into its cruelties. By logic, it had to have an end, however, how else could there have been a red sky overhead? But, at the same time, Shaun understood on some level that the mountain did not abide by his understandings of what could and could not happen.

   “I recognized that man,” Melissa spoke again.

   This time, Shaun was more accustom to it, calmer by someone’s definition of the phrase, his feet were already wet in the daftness engorging the mountain. Shaun didn’t say anything to her, however, not yet able to conjure up dialogue of his own. All he did was acknowledge her with eye contact.

   “I read up on a lot of historical figures for the exams. One of them was a man named Lü Murk, he was a knight for the King of Hardan and was a merciless right hand who was unchallenged and relentless as a swordsman. They say he is Dr. Rindan’s one experiment that succeeded!” Melissa began, even in the heat of the moment, she could not fully escape her own love of sharing knowledge, it seemed.

   “What is your point?” Shaun asked, finally finding the will to speak again.

   They were out of the thick mud, returning now to long, disheveled grass and leaving Shaun to shiver from the dampness on his pant legs.

   “Lü Murk wore a helmet shaped like a lion’s head!” Melissa explained, emphasizing the last two words as she did.

   “Did the history book say anything about what that man just did?” Shaun asked. Meanwhile, as he waited Melissa’s spot, he took his eyes away from her, trying to find the best hiding spot available to them.

   “I know that a lot of stories were treated as legends and myths, stories that made people like Lü Murk and The Aeonians and the lot look like urban legends, but that cultists believe in them. I am starting to think that maybe I believe in them too.”

   “Shh,” Shaun instructed, which only confused Melissa until she saw the same thing he did, it was a small wooden cottage on top of a hill.

   The cottage had a porch propped up by wooden pillars that looked out at the mountains. It was a luxury home, likely rented to tourists in search of a luxury getaway. Regardless, it was not the house itself that caught Shaun’s attention.

   Instead, it was the lone Kudos soldier who stood beside one of the wooden pillars. Was he guarding the cottage, or was he lost? Did such creatures even understand the concept of being lost? If Melissa’s suspicions were correct, did that mean these were actual warriors risen from the dead, recreating a war that had happened millenniums ago? During the chaos, Shaun felt damn certain he heard swords clanking together, like two sides fighting against one another. In which case, did it mean the side opposite Kudos were friendly?

   Shaun rubbed the knot forming at the back of his neck. That possibly was not one he had any interest in checking on. A thought he did have, however, was whether he could kill the Kudos soldier. He knew it was a reckless thought, but his options were few and far in-between, and if he succeeded, at least he would be able to snag the soldier’s sword. And, if he was alone, then, maybe they could take shelter in the cottage? Maybe they had already looked it over and would think it was empty now? A lot of maybe’s were involved in Shaun’s train of thought.

   He looked around his surroundings. Within the tall grass, his findings were slim pickings, not even able to find a large rock to work with. He walked back toward the trees until he was finally able to find a large tree branch.

   “What are you doing?” Melissa asked in a shouting whisper, even though they were both more than far enough away from the soldier to speak plainly.

   “I am going to try and kill that knight,” Shaun answered, and one he did, the realness in his words felt realized. He was going to try and fight one of those things.

   “No, you are fucking not,” Melissa said back, her voice with enough behind it that Shaun actually did think the knight might overhear them.

   “What other choice do we have? We are sitting ducks, but, if I can kill him, then, at least I can steal his sword, from there, we can take shelter in that cottage and try to hold the fort til this is all over. Do you remember, it’s what that guy with the knife said was our best option?” Shaun explained, perhaps in a fashion that more closely resembled rambling than something actually articulate.

   “That man was out of his mind,” Melissa responded.

   “This place isn’t exactly sane.”

   Shaun held Melissa’s gaze, waiting for a reply that never came. She was terrified, and he could relate. “When I was a kid, I remember my mom and I lived in this trailer. Horrible, horrible place. The first week we lived there, the kitchen ceiling split right down the center. There was a hole in the bathroom ceiling from rotted wood, and there was mold in one of the bedrooms. I remember when we were asleep, it was storming real bad. I can still hear the beating of the raindrops on the roof if I stop and think about it. I can remember being so terrified that the whole ceiling was going to come down.” Shaun stopped for a second, letting the words sink in while Melissa looked on, not at all knowing where he was headed with his story. “Something happened that terrified me. I remember loud thunder and the room filling with white, and, for a second, I remember seeing the stars in the sky and the frame of the trailer being a distinctive white in the darkness, like someone’s skeleton in the cartoons when they are electrocuted.”

   “But, when I sprung to my feet, the blackout curtains were up and the house was intact. That dream felt so real, so pure, but I know it was a dream. Do you know why?”

    Melissa shook her head.

   “Because that is not real life and something like that can’t happen,” Shaun answered firmly. “These things that are happening, this is not real life, this is a nightmare no one’s meant to wake up from. This is the type of thing no one lives to tell the story of.”

   “Then, let’s do it,” Melissa said back, unable to hide her reluctance.

   Shaun shook his head. “This is my decision, and if I am not able to kill him, then, maybe he can’t be killed, but you can still have the chance to escape.”

   “If he kills you, then I won’t know what to do. I am not as strong as you are.” Melissa had tears running own her cheeks.

   “Are you kidding me?” Shaun asked, fighting up a smile, “You are the one that has helped me make it this far. Hell, I would not have even made it through college if it wasn’t for you.”

   “Wouldn’t have made it to this field trip either,” Melissa responded, it was an attempt at humor, but neither of them would make the attempt to laugh.

   “When that officer came in with the injured man. I was scared stiff. I didn’t know what to do, but you stepped up and helped him.”

   “I am not as strong as you think. I was dreading this trip before all of this happened, because I knew I would have to face the real world. You move through it all so freely, so easily. I want to work with children because everyone looks like they have got it figured out when they are looked at through the eyes of an eight-year-old.”

   “And you will be great at it,” Shaun assured. “You have been taking care of me this far.”

   Melissa wrapped her arms around Shaun in an embrace. Meanwhile, Shaun focused all of his efforts on how badly he was shaking, trying to disguise it. They kissed, and, for a moment, a fleeting second at best, everything didn’t feel so ruined. Shaun smiled and Melissa reciprocated beyond the tears. Shaun could feel the wetness in his eyes as well but looked away before the tears spilled over his cheeks.

   He carried a large stick on his arm. Calling it a large stick was, perhaps, disingenuous, as its size suggested something closer to a small log. Shaun walked forward, not taking a second look back at Melissa, even though he wanted to. The knight had not moved very much since the last time Shaun looked away, which added credence to the thought he might be standing guard over the cottage. It made sense, after all.

   Shaun supposed the spot would be ideal for anyone in search of shelter. Did these “things” follow strategies? Could they “sense” the difference in one another or could someone wear a suit of armor and successfully fool them? These things were such an aberration that it made Shaun uneasy to try and even make sense out of them. Could they be killed at all? That was a thought Shaun hadn’t delved into too deeply. He found himself about twenty-five feet away from the knight now, and here he was, wondering if he was attempting a fool’s errand. What if, when he hit it, it turned around nonchalantly, unsheathed its sword and beheaded him, what then?   Then, there went everything. The credits would roll on his life. His aspirations of being a filmmaker would make for a line on his epitaph, and any future he would have had with Melissa would be presumption at best. No, Shaun thought to himself, stuffing the feelings in the back of his mind. He was ten feet away from the knight now, and as much as his arms might have felt like gelatin, he did his best to tighten his grasp around the wooden stick. He wanted for it to be one hell of a swing.

   At last, he arrived, taking no more time to hesitate, he wound the stick back and swung as hard as he could.

   The knight noticed his presence but was unable to react fast enough to stop the attack. Shaun felt the wood splintering into his hands after it met its mark, and to Shaun’s relief, the Kudos soldier let out only a guttural grunt before he dropped off his feet. Shaun didn’t stop there, bringing the stick back up again and stamping it down over the soldier’s skull. It was an act that made him feel insatiably morbid, but no blood came from the man’s head, that, in some ways, made it easier to not think about.

   Soon thereafter, he watched as the knight no longer fought or reacted. The knight soon no longer made any movement at all, in-fact. Then, a confirmation came that he was dead, although, not in the way Shaun had anticipated. The knight’s body dissipated, decomposing into dirt, leaving nothing except a light suit of armor and his sword, still sheathed in its hilt. Little to no trace remained of the knight, not unlike the man K.J. had killed some time prior. They can die, Shaun said, looking over to Melissa. Sweat drenched his body, but the very second the stick collided into the knight’s head, he felt such enormous relief.

   Melissa also had a look of relief on her face. It was not a smile. Even in such dire times, neither of them could force a grin from mashing someone’s head in with a stick. Shaun held her gaze for a few seconds, trying to force the words to come out and bring her over.

   A moment later, their eyes no longer made contact as Shaun saw the fleeting, rapid visual of something movie behind her, almost like a blinking silhouette. The knight who wore the lion’s head, Lü Murk, Melissa had identified him as, appeared behind her. Melissa tried to let out a scream, but she was muffled by the soldier’s black glove.

   Melissa winched, which was enough to let Shaun know that she had been stabbed. Shaun let out a scream, one that immediately got Lü Murk’s attention. The man with the lion head cricked his head up and in Shaun’s direction. Shaun could have even sworn he heard bones cracking as he did so.

    Lü Murk wasted no time in response, disappearing for a few seconds while Shaun looked around, confused and terrified. Shaun withdrew the sword out from the fallen knight’s scabbard and readied it in-front of his face. Out of dumb luck, doing so managed to successfully defend against a slashing attack by Lü, which caught Shaun off-guard, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

   The lion-headed knight wasted no time before he returned to the offensive, readying his sword again. Had it been a mortal man, a normal man and not a monstrous aberration, then the sword would have certainly become stuck in the wooden pillar in-front of him.

   Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, and instead, Lü Murk’s attack carried such oomph that it sliced through the thick wood as if it were only a twig. Thereafter, with precision, Shaun was miraculously not beheaded, but his throat was slit.