Seven

1 – Melissa

   Although it was reluctant at first, once they knew the cavalry was on their way, Melissa and Shaun were not able to muster up the courage to step outside the station, standing just outside its doors. Cavalry might not have been the right choice of words, Melissa supposed. The phrase was too medieval. No one was coming for them on horses, after all.

   Shaun and Melissa held each other tightly while they watched the helicopter fly nearer. It would only be a matter of time until it was over. Soon, they’d be laughing at the irony of Shaun wanting to shoot a horror film on the mountain, only to be lost in the middle of one.

   Melissa sighed at the thought, a fact Shaun seemed oblivious to, himself lost in his own word as well. They’d never laugh at this moment. They’d never forget the sight of Chelsea strung up like a mutilated scarecrow and would never forget the pure fear that embodied them.

2 – K.J.

   Bryan wasn’t particularly responsive with the attempts she made to communicate, to touch-base on his emotions and re-group, opting, instead, for one-word responses and a smile without anything behind it. She couldn’t blame him, however. The image of that woman was one of the most traumatic events in her life, and although the officers and rangers had covered the corpses inside the tents with white sheets, there was an ominous torture behind being in such close-proximity to a murder spree.

   “They’ll find Scott. They might have even already taken him to another checkpoint,” K.J. reassured Bryan, who looked at her and provided nothing except a nod in-response.

   K.J. accepted it, hugging him tightly, and even tighter as they watched helicopter be brought down from the sky.

3 – Shaun

   “God, no,” Shaun said, unable to keep in his outburst, holding Melissa in an embrace, her burying cries into his chest. Their reactions seemed anemic in-comparison to some of the other folk standing by them, whose reactions happened in unison and seemed to continue, feeding off one another in a battle of who could be the loudest.

4 – Bryan

   “What, … what do we do?” Bryan asked, for a reason he wasn’t for certain, looking directly over to Shaun for guidance or explanation.

   “How the fuck should I know!?” Shaun asked, in a pitch close to a manic shout, then ran his fingers through his hair, taking in air and letting it out. At last, he spoke again,” They brought down the helicopter, which means they’ll most likely known down any other helicopter that tries to move us from the mountain. Whoever they are,” Shaun stopped for a second, taking a few aimless steps before speaking again, “If we stay here, board-up the walls and cross our fingers, then, we’re a Molotov cocktail away from death.”

   There was an audible reaction from a couple of teenagers beside Bryan, who gathered together with one another like a clique, but it wasn’t the clearest of exclaims, more like a startled yelp at the thought of their own death. Their worries and woes reduced to what happens when you step on a dog’s paw. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their faces were just as red, and, as distraught as they looked, Bryan couldn’t imagine he looked much better. Then again, he was much more adaptive when it came to keeping his emotions from being outwardly displayed.

   “Then, what are we supposed to do then?” One of the teenagers from the clique asked, their spokesperson, Bryan supposed. “Run around like chickens with our heads cut off, then watch as our heads actually get cut off!?”

   The pimply-faced teenager’s attempt at humor fell flat, both because it wasn’t the time nor situation for a class clown, and because it simply wasn’t very good. Shaun rolled his eyes, his body-language tightened like he was about ready to throw down with the kid. Tensions were high, and even someone as levelheaded as Shaun could feel the heat in his chest.

   Bryan brushed his hand over the back of K.J.’s head. In the face of Bryan’s plans, God laughed. It was his only real relationship in who knows how long and a romantic scenery to celebrate it in, and yet, it was met by all this.

   “If we stick together, and stay from the obvious paths, then, that will be our best bet. The way I see it, if no helicopter is able to rescue us, then, the only option law-enforcement has is to send their men up the mountain on foot. If that’s right, then, forgetting about all the different stations and focusing on going back down the mountain is our safest chance at survival.” Shaun explained, both managing to answer the teenager and ignore him at the same time. “If anybody else can think of something better than that, I’m all ears.”

   Evidently, judging by the lack of audible responses, nobody else could think of something better than that. Bryan looked around their surroundings, and, for a moment, it seemed like he and Shaun had parallel trains of thought, wondering which way went lower and which way went higher. It shouldn’t have been too difficult to figure out, but with the aesthetic feeling more reminiscent of a forest than visibly apparent upward and downward slopes, they’d need to find either higher-ground or clear terrain to answer that question.

   The sound of something snapping caught Bryan and the rest of them by surprise, looking over in time to see Melissa fight with a large tree branch, severing a spear-shaped stick free. Melissa took a second to catch her breath before noticing everyone staring at her. Once she did, she shrugged her shoulders, “It’s better than nothing at all.”

   Bryan shrugged as well. Indeed, it was.

5 – Melissa

   It was only natural for Shaun to take charge of the group, easily fitting the leadership mold. Melissa twirled the stick around in her hands. Before she knew it, she wasn’t the only one with a stick anymore, with many others finding ones of their own. If enough of those men found them, bringing their own weapons for the occasion, then such paltry means of defense wouldn’t stand a chance. Still, with a collaborative, group mentality, they’d be able to subdue a few of them if the situation arose.

   They’d spent a day and a half’s time walking up the mountain, but they did so at their own leisure, with the added pep in their step that imminent death brought, they’d be able to reach the bottom sooner.

   “So much for a college blow off,” Shaun said, looking over to Melissa, a weak half-smile on his face.

   “Still better than having to retake the exams,” Melissa joked, feeling the sweat drip down her face, then, dropped off from her chin.

   “And old people say young folk need to leave the house more,” Shaun responded, a shune that seemed a little less forced than the half-smile.

   “Next vacation, we should board ourselves up in a cabin somewhere.”   “A cabin, good setting for a horror story,” Shaun jested, then, corrected, “Let’s opt for a nice restaurant and call it a night.”

   “I don’t suppose either of you actually know where we’re going, do you?” A voice asked, the pimply-faced leader of the teenagers, Melissa hadn’t caught his name nor cared to learn it.

   “Down,” Melissa answered plainly.

   “Like your mom on prom night, but if you have any insight, I’d love to hear it,” Shaun said, and from his tone and demeanor, Melissa could tell he no longer had any issue in debating the point.

   “Excuse me if I don’t want to see myself cut up like an art school major’s craft project!” The pimply boy exclaimed, sounding matter of fact and nauseating.

   Probably for the best, Shaun bit his lip and kept from offering a comeback. Melissa rubbed his back as a subtle way to thank him for his restraint.

   What else, really, could be done in a situation like this, a situation of such uncharted territory? Their only option was to head down the mountain back to civilization, and even though Melissa knew that was their safest option, she had an unsettled feeling at the pit of her stomach, fearful whatever was out there waited to strike again.

6 – Officer McIntyre

   Officer Davis McIntyre led the way, swallowing his apprehension and stuffing it down. Everything certainly had gone tits up, but he owed it to this young girl to do his best at seeming together, even if the truth could be no further from that.

   They ventured deeper into where nature was allowed free rein, the areas that hadn’t been dug, that hadn’t been spruced up to resemble a “natural beauty,” a concept that contradicted itself. When left alone to its own accord, sometimes nature is allowed to make immaculate and illustrious creations. Flowers brandishing themselves in a magnificent array of colors and oceans that go as far as the eyes can see, but sometimes too, nature makes some of the worst eyesores you will ever see. The further they went, the deeper the swampy-green mud became, advancing from their shins to their knees. The disheveled land went up and down unpredictably, and before long, it began to look as though they were smack-dab in-between two small hills. The odor of the mud reminded Officer McIntyre of an old aquarium.

   The trees sometimes curved, crookedly bridging over them from one of the hills to the next, and sometimes standing straight and normal. Most of the trees were rotten away and some of them were less trees and more like particularly ambitious stumps. This must have been what it was like to walk in the bottom of a meth head’s jaw, Davis thought.

   Nevertheless, what mattered most was the deeper they went off the beaten path, the less attention they would draw from the creatures, and it was no loss that no one could see them or where they were headed.

   It was a quiet occasion, which was probably for the best. Still, McIntyre couldn’t help but think he should have been trying to force conversation, that he should have been trying to comfort Crystal and keep this from being any more traumatic than it already was. On more than one occasion, he opened his mouth and closed it, thinking of something to say, then, seconds later, thinking better of it. Perhaps he didn’t need to force the issue, in-fact, maybe it was even better that he didn’t. Less conversation meant less chance of attention being drawn to them.

   Looking at what was ahead of them and reacting cautiously to every distinctive noise he heard anywhere around them, Officer McIntyre neglected to pay mind to what was beneath them. In a visual that looked not unlike being sucked into the belly of the beast, he felt as the ground’s foundation became nonexistent, sending him falling in a haphazard fashion with his left-leg falling into a surprisingly steep hole in the ground.

   Officer McIntyre let out a grunt, conversing with Crystal in rather unceremonious fashion, as his momentum tried to force him into the hole. Crystal grabbed on his shoulder, yanking him to one side and shifting the momentum as she did.

   “Thank you,” Davis said, unable to keep from cringing as Crystal assisted him back to his feet.

   He wasn’t badly hurt, but definitely felt like he might have pulled something, a hat on a hat when paired with his aged bones.

   The hole had been covered with a thin layer of sticks and leaves, either meant to obscure it from any onlookers or as a way to hide it altogether or for it to ask as a trap for anyone who stepped over it. From what he could tell, the hole went down like a set of steps, that is, until it went down far enough and became a cave, eating into the left-side hill. Officer McIntyre felt something, somewhere between immense fear and strong disappoint, a significant emotion that he could find no words to describe, leaving only a sigh to suffice. What he’d thought had been steering them away from the conflict had seemingly, in-fact, been taking them to the lion’s den. Either that, or they merely resided in all parts of the mountain. Officer McIntyre wasn’t certain which of those two possibilities was worse.

   “How long do you think they’ve been planning this?” Crystal asked, a look of worry and distraught. “Or, … do you think they have been planning this?”

   It was an odd question. When Davis was flown up to the mountain, he had been led to believe the murderers were a cult gone awry from their usual small body-counts, but that obviously wasn’t the case. Had it been what they thought, the question would have had a more straightforward answer. Did they plan this? Did their minds work on the same wavelength as them? What exactly were the soldiers that haunted the mountain?

   “I don’t know,” Officer McIntyre answered. If only because it sounded better than not saying anything at all.

   Crystal squinted at him. She looked exhausted, like she was running on nothing except adrenaline, fumes, and sheer willpower. “Your arm is bleeding pretty bad,” Crystal said, pointing toward the cut Davis attained in a scrap with one of the soldiers. The bastard’s sword grazed against the side of his arm before Davis shot him in the head and ran.

   “Just a scratch,” Officer McIntyre said, it was a half-truth at best.

   “I wish I still had my backpack, then, I’d be able to bandage it up for you.”

   “There are more important things to worry about,” Officer McIntyre responded, and that was a whole truth. The wound stung like hell, but he’d more than be able to manage in the meantime.

   A loud shrieking noise ended their conversation and stole their attention, it wasn’t one of the soldier’s battle cries, but, rather, it was a person’s scream, begging for help. A life lesson that Officer learned years down the road as a police-officer was exactly how loud someone could scream if their life depended on it. The vocal cords could reach a pitch he’d never seen done justice in any film or cop show, but this person gave a good audition for the loudest Officer McIntyre had ever heard someone scream.

   Officer McIntyre readied his weapon, his Glock 22 had been fully loaded when he arrived at the mountain. Now, it was down to exactly seven bullets, a commemoration for the eight instances he tried to be a hero. He had some reluctance about going down the steps and down into the cave. In-fact, he even took a momentary pause out of hope Crystal might try to convince him against it. But, unfortunately, she seemed ready to follow him. His assigned task had been to save survivors, but this was an all different ballgame than what he was told at the station. Maybe it was because he had nothing to lose, but something deep inside gave him the will to go into the cave.

7 – K.J.

   It didn’t take very long before certain landmarks of the mountain started to hop out at them as familiar, making them certain they were headed in the right direction. On second thought though, whether it was the right direction at all was a fact with room for debate. The “fiesta,” as Scott had exclaimed when they woke up for breakfast in the morning, was now no longer a place for celebration, with knocked over tables and spilled food caking itself onto the dirt. K.J. cringed when she took sight of the first dead body, but had a melancholy feeling once seeing the fifth or sixth corpse.

   None of them tormented her the way seeing Chelsea had. Chelsea’s demise had looked like a “cult killing,” sacrificial in its intent, like a wild animal playing with its food. The statements made here and in the tents weren’t elaborate sacrifices, but, more like territorial slayings. They were emotionless, with no other intended purpose besides resulting in death.

   Shaun led the way at the head of the group, meanwhile, everyone else followed, K.J. made specifically certain to quicken her pace enough to force Bryan and them to stay at least in the middle of the group. It seemed safer that way.

   At the front of the group, K.J. heard hollering and some sort of ruckus, but wasn’t yet able to see for herself what caused the commotion. She was in no hurry to learn either, knowing nothing particularly good awaited them.

   “Needs to be done! Needs to be done! They must be stopped!” A voice yelled over and over again. It was a voice K.J. couldn’t say she recognized, sounding desperate and weak.

   “Calm down,” Shaun said.

   K.J. and Bryan slowly worked their way forward in the group in-order to see the man who’d spoken. His body was frail and malnourished, nearly naked except for a pair of tattered leggings. His body was covered in filth, showing he’d become closely acquainted with the dirt of the mountain.

   “If they aren’t stopped, they’ll only keep killing. They’ll find you; they’ll kill you. And they’ll find me, yes, they’ll find me, they’ll find me, they’ll find me, but I won’t die, no, I won’t die. They’ll find me, they’ll find,” the man rambled aimlessly and made eye-contact with none of them, merely spouting off his lunacy to anyone willing to listen.

   For what it’s worth, although K.J. knew not to invest a lot of stake in the man’s words, she, and likely others, was willing to listen if it could possibly shed light on what was happening around them. Nobody had any answers to what was happening, and even if the madman was rattling off bullshit, it was more substantial than anything else they’d been fed so far. The man certainly seemed like he had been on the mountain for a long time and had a vague idea of something, even if important pieces were either distorted or missing altogether.

   “Hey, buddy, I need you to focus,” Shaun said, snapping his fingers in-front of the man’s face in an effort to get his attention. “Who is doing all of this?”

   “Kudos,” The man said, looking Shaun dead in the eye as he said it.

   “Kudos?” Shaun said, clearly unconvinced with the man’s explanation, sounding disappointed as though he thought the man would carry actual answers for them.

   The man made a large gulping noise, trying to relieve the dryness in his throat, and nodded his head, “They’re monsters! They don’t care about anyone. That Odeo Hassius, all he cares about is power, about controlling everything!”

   Shaun sighed, and K.J. could empathize. It didn’t take a history major for anyone in Maharris to know about Kudos or Odeo Hassius. Odeo Hassius, the former King of Hardan, led his Kudos regime throughout Maharris, attempting to seize absolute control of all five major cities. Historians were certainly able to find enough evidence to prove the story’s validity, although, fact had also become mixed with outrageous fiction.

   History books told of Odeo Hassius’ intimidation tactics, about his leadership, and the mentality he carried that his enemies were disposable. That’s what made him a powerful King, and that’s what allowed him to do the horrendous things he did. However, fiction writers had a field-day, as did cultists and general sharers of old wives’ tales, fueling the narrative of super-powered creatures and other fantastical themes involved. It was clear this malnourished, depraved man was of the latter group.

   “Follow us,” we’re headed off the mountain, after that, we can make sure you get help, here, just follow us,” Shaun said, reaching for the man’s arm.

   Perhaps the motion was too fast for someone so timid, however, as the man flinched badly, portraying it as though Shaun was one of the murderers. Trauma was a powerful thing, K.J. knew that firsthand. As soon as the man regained his composure, he spoke, and this time, he spoke clearly, “You won’t make it off from this mountain. Not until they’re stopped.”

   Shaun smiled politely, looking over to Melissa with a reassuring glance, K.J. could tell he wasn’t a fan of the man riling everyone up, “I’ll keep that in mind. Come with us, or don’t, but we’re not staying here.”

   Shaun led them all forward, walking past the depraved man. The situation was unfortunate. They had no other choice to leave the man. If they forced him to come, he wouldn’t do so easily, and might jeopardize all of their lives. Even though that was the truth, it didn’t make K.J. feel any better as she and Bryan walked past him.

   “Hey!” K.J. responded instinctively, feeling herself snatched by the man from behind.

   The shock of being restrained sent shivers up her spine that only worsened when the man brandished a knife and held it in-front of her throat. “You’re not allowed to leave the mountain. Not unless the vessel’s closed. They won’t let you. All we need is five sacrifices, only five, only five, … one for each. I’ll take her and wish you guys be safe. Yes, that’s all I want, and if I succeed, we’ll be one step closer.”

   “Let her fucking go!” It wasn’t Shaun who spoke now, but Bryan, carrying a look of intensity and anger that looked unnatural on him.

   “All of you can leave. Don’t try to make it off the mountain. If you hide, maybe you’ll be able to wait it out. That is your only chance for survival,” the words slithered out his lips, and on the back of K.J.’s neck, she could feel his breath touch the back of her neck like smoke.

   “I swear to God, if you don’t let her go, …,” Bryan continued. It was a hollow threat, however. In this predicament, it was the malnourished man with all the leverage.

   “God,” The man scoffed at the name, “God signs off on every monster.”

   If left in the hands of someone else, no matter how noble their intent, she would suffer. The man had played his hand and he needed her to be kept alive, that much she knew. Still, if she made too swift of a motion, then nervous hands could make hasty mistakes. And so, she reacted in the only way she could think of, she clamped her teeth down on the man’s wrist, holding the knife in place, keeping him from being able to strike. Picking up on K.J.’s efforts, Bryan prried the knife out from the man’s hands and assist K.J. free from his grasps.

   K.J. wasn’t willing to leave it at that, snatching the knife out from Bryan’s hand, she immediately turned back, facing the man, and drove it into his neck, piercing his flesh. The emotion she felt, whatever it was, was a fleeting emotion, and once she watched the blade penetrated the side of his throat, she was truly able to appreciate the magnitude of what she had done.

   The man’s face showed his shock, gasping for air as his hand covered the entry wound. K.J. felt an anxiety fill her, an immediate regret of the fact she was now a killer. Why did he have to grab her like that!? He held his hand over the wound, but it would be no use. He looked at her, no longer with any clear expression, until his eyes widened with a sense of urgency, “Hide.”

   “You’re okay,” Bryan reassured, putting his hands on K.J.’s shoulders, little did he know the act did nothing to comfort her.

   And, soon after, the dying man dropped to his knees, and then, the ground, until, for some strange reason, he faded to ash.

   “What the fuck!?” Shaun said.

   It was a fair question, and one K.J. suspected was on the mind of many of them. What the fuck, indeed. Suddenly, the far-fetched ramblings of the presumed madman carried merit, and that, in itself, was terrifying. They would have to swallow their fear and stuff it down, however. The surrealism would have to be accepted and intermingled with in order to survive.

   “Do we hide, or do we continue as we are?” K.J. asked, the adrenaline and intensity remained in her, providing her the courage to directly engage the group as a whole, but, mostly, she looked to Shaun.

   “He said the vessel could be closed through five sacrifices,” Shaun said, his eyes widened, unable to mask his own fear and disbelief. “Is he talking about the Water Lily?”

   The Church of the Water Lily was a ridiculous one, but, all of a sudden, it didn’t seem as ridiculous as it once did. They believed, more or less, that an all out war was concluded through the use of five magical beings, and that their souls were contained inside the vessel, a flower-shaped artifact made of stone known as the Water Lily. The story went that they provided sanctuary across all five of the major cities and that their souls became encased inside the vessel. That’s how the story went, but as far as K.J. was aware, it never said anything about what would happen if their souls were let out of the vessel.

   “I don’t,” Shaun began, “I don’t know what we should do,” he finished, looking toward his girlfriend Melissa for assistance, but she seemed every bit as flabbergasted by the events as he did.

   K.J. looked down at the pile of ashes on the ground before them. It was bittersweet. On one-hand, she had reduced one of the creatures to rubble. On the other hand, she now had to refer to what she had killed as a “creature”.