Coming Home

Chapter 4


Upon waking, James decided that he would gladly except unconsciousness, just to escape the painful throbbing pounding a hard tempo within his skull.

He was shivering, lying upon a cool surface with arms bare, the familiar weight of his jacket gone. James groaned lightly, cheek pressing further into a wad of cloth that served as a makeshift pillow.

Carefully, gently trying to keep from shifting his head too much, James pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. His shoulder brushed a table, and he realized that he was lying on a wide booth; the kind of booth usually found in a fast food restaurant.

James shrunk back when one of his hands touched a hard knot on the side of his skull -- wincing from the shot of pain. A cut along his temple throbbed painfully, his collar matted with a dried layer of blood.

His throat ached. Touching his neck, James found the skin sensitive and tender to touch. It felt like a bruise was forming. Had he slammed so hard into the wheel that his neck had received injury from the leather and metal?

'Where am I?' He wondered. James pulled the thick wad of material that was used as a pillow, into his lap. He wrapped his arms around it as if holding it as a safety blanket, huddling in the seat while he cautiously surveyed the interior of the building.

There was no working electricity, the fog was still present outside. The soft gray haze allowed a small amount of natural light to trickle in, and James could safely guess that the sun was possibly hovering above the fog.

It was a fairly standard sized building. Two perpendicular walls filled with booths and tables. Several smaller tables and chairs sat scattered near the center of the restaurant. On the farthest wall, a long counter, several registers, and a long menu stretched across the area.

James read the logo above the menu. 'Happy Burger'.

'It is a fast food restaurant.' The clue gave him some comfort in knowing where he was. But the name wasn't familiar.

It appeared abandoned. Each table had a thin layer of dust, the black and white tiled floor dingy and depressed. The paint on the walls was fading, several long curls trailing down to the floor.

The last side of the building was the main entrance, with two glass-framed doors both sealed shut. The rest of the wall and the wall where James' booth was situated, was lined all the way down with large glass windows, each one in surprisingly good shape even though a little dirty.

Carefully, James sat up, hand reaching to rest against the closest window. He peered outside, taking in the unfamiliar streets and buildings. Several cars sat silent along the road, a few with their doors hanging completely open. A four-way intersection's stoplights were working, but other than that, there was no action or life outside. The entire place was utterly silent; dead like a mausoleum. He shuddered at his morbid thoughts.

"Lonely, isn't it?"

James turned sharply, causing his head to ache further and entire body to spasm at the hard movement.

A man was sat casually in a booth not too far away, with arms folded across his lap. His back pressed against the wall, legs stretched out comfortably across the seat of the booth.

"How long have you been there?" James asked, realizing that he hadn't seen the man before when he had checked the store out. He swallowed deeply; an attempt to relieve the soreness in his throat.

The individual shrugged nonchalantly. "A while. You were pretty out of it. I'm not surprised you didn't realize I was sitting here."

"Oh." James turned around to face the other, slightly warmer due to the solid weight within his lap, the material providing him a measure of heat.

Whoever the man was, he was dressed a little strange. Hardly any skin was visible. A long-sleeve, thick black shirt encased his entire torso. The sleeves ran from his wrists, loose enough that they covered half of the man's pale hands, all the way up into a high neckline. Legs were folded casually, heavy boots close to the edge of the booth. He was wearing a heavy pair of black pants, but the design was peculiar. Over the pants, starting from the waist, a thick layer of fabric stretched from hip to ankle. Somewhat like an eccentric robe, strangely formal attire overall.

The man shifted, long pale fingers rising to push away unkempt strands of jet-black hair that fell to his chin. His face and neck were alabaster white, bleached lips and faint gray eyes so pale, that they blended deeply into the white of his eyes.

"How did I end up here?" James inquired, rubbing a tense shoulder to try to relieve the strain.

"I brought you here." The other replied.

"But…I was in my car. Nowhere near a town. The gates…my car crashed into some sort of gate." James explained, confused, trying to work through the incomplete memories from the night before.

"Yes. You were in an accident. But you were pulled out of danger. I have brought you to safety, and made certain that your wounds were fairly superficial."

"Safety? Where is this place?"

The man smiled wanly. "My apologies. I forget myself." He chuckled lightly. "Welcome to Silent Hill."

"I -- then I made it." James couldn't believe that he was here, finally.

"You seemed surprised…and yet, not surprised."

"I was planning to come here. But…some strange things were happening. And once I smashed into the gates… I didn't have the time to think about how I was going to reach Silent Hill."

"Well. It sounds as if everything worked out, in the end." The stranger offered in conciliation.

"Yeah." James shifted restlessly in his seat, running hands up and down bare arms. "Hey. You didn't happen to see where my jacket disappeared to, did you?" He questioned.

"I threw it away." He raised his hand, anticipating James' shock. "I had to. There was blood on it, and in no way salvageable. I used my own so that your head could rest comfortably."

"Oh. This is yours?" James unfolded the fabric in his lap. Sure enough, the thick black cloth revealed pockets and sleeves, longer than any jacket he had ever come across, falling easily down to his calves. The man must be reasonably tall to wear such a long garment. "It's nice."

The other grinned, bowing his head in thanks.

James suddenly realized that the man had a nervous tick and twitch. As he bowed, his head jerked fractionally left and right. The hand that he had held up shook slightly, fingers clenching and unclenching. His shoulders rolled, smoothly at one point, then wildly, like a long muscle spasm.

Also, the way he would turn his head, inspecting James, looked incredibly painful, and birdlike with the fierce unblinking gaze. The stranger was quite unusual; but James realized that perhaps he looked quite peculiar to the other man. He had even offered James, a complete stranger, the use of his coat as a crude pillow.

Reminded of the jacket still folded in his lap, James decided it was past time to return it to its rightful owner. When James lifted the jacket and offered it, the man raised his hand again. "Keep it. You will need the warmth. Silent Hill can be ruthless on the body."

James tucked the jacket back into his arms. "Thanks." He said sincerely. A bright strand of scarlet on the inside of the jacket caught his attention. Opening the jacket further, James was surprised to find long paths of red stitching up and down the inside. The stitching was an array of unfamiliar symbols and glyphs, brilliant yet strangely attractive. Circles within squares, and squares within circles, all meticulously stitched and woven without a single strand frayed or rippled. "What are these?"

"My handiwork. Simple pleasure, I must say. It took me hours to stitch those."

"I'll take good care of it." James promised. "It would be awful for something as beautiful as these to get damaged."

His words appeared to startle the man, eyes widening in the face of James' honesty. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." James begged kindly. He rose, less than gracefully, to his feet, very much thankful for the warmth of the long jacket as he slid it on. The sleeves engulfed his hands, and tails brushing the back of his legs. "I'm only being honest."

"You're too kind." The other rose to his feet as well, sliding serenely from the booth.

James chuckled self-consciously. "I'm being rude, actually. I haven't even asked you for your name." James stuck out a hand as the man approached. "I'm James. James Sunderland."

The other inspected the hand, apparently wary. Quickly, though, a pale hand grasped James'. James had to repress a slight shiver, the flesh chilly as it encased his. "My name is…Val."

"Val." James rolled that name, trying it out. He knew that he had been given a gift. Val didn't appear to be the type to give anyone his name. While other people may consider it rude not to give an entire name, as James had just done, James was not offended. "That's not a name I've come across. I like it, though." He didn't want to sound rude.

Val tilted his head, examining James with a critical gaze through long strands of black hair. "You're a strange one." He noted out loud.

"Really?" James was surprised to hear that. "Hmm. All this time, I thought I was pretty mundane."

"Not possible." Val interrupted, treading casually with exaggerated long steps as he began a large circle around James. "The fact that you are still alive, speaks for itself." Val grinned at the confusion that spread across James' face.

"I don't know if it's that big of a deal--"

Val snickered darkly. He laughed even harder when meeting James' uncertain gaze. "I keep forgetting," Laughing while shaking his head and amused by the entertainment that James provided. "That you have no idea what is going on."

"Should I? Is there any way that this place or these things make any sense?" James questioned.

"More than likely."

James frowned bitterly. "That's not really an answer."

"It's not a lie." Val countered.

James sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. "Yeah. You're right."

"No apologies are needed. Your confusion and frustration are natural. After all…" Val drew close, body almost pressing against James. He had to restrain the urge to take a step back from the pale man. Val smiled, as if sensing James' discomfort. "You can't help that you're human."

"And you aren't?" James asked.

More than anything, that question seemed to undo Val. He appeared dangerously close to collapsing on his knees, caught within deep draughts of laughter. Val's arms wrapped around his chest, holding ribs that ached from the continuous mirth.

"So glad I'm amusing you." James felt foolish and small, like a puppy that had performed an interesting trick to the amusement of towering humans.

"Oh, James." Val's laughter finally stilled, and he released a pleasant sigh. His face was radiant when he smiled so brilliantly. "You really are sweet." Val leaned up and stood at his full height. A twinge of unease passed through James, more insecure since he was close enough to realize how greatly their height differed, Val easily towering over him by a complete head.

Val lowered his head, whispering quietly, as if revealing a secret. "It's hard for me to keep from eating you alive."

James' face tingled sharply as his skin blanched bone white, caught off-guard by the dark statement and the threat lurking beneath the words' surface. "That -- that doesn't sound like a good idea." He managed to squeak out, throat constricting from unforeseen fright.

"I would disagree." Val remarked placidly.

An acid rain of fear poured down the inside of James' stomach.

Val smirked, catching sight of the fear that was plainly painted across James' pale face. James stepped back, and Val matched each step as the shorter man retreated. "Would you beg? Would you run?" Val inquired, head tilting again in that bird-like pose, neck turned gracefully. "Or would you simply fall down upon your knees?"

"V -- Val…"

The man bared his teeth, shark-like, sharp and glistening white. "The fear…it's an ambrosia that haunts the senses. Iridescent and seductive, a wanton innocent. It can easily melt into a biting coppery tang, strong enough to make you gag and weep for more."

"Your fear is the beacon that summons us. It tempts us to break and defile you. At the same time, we want to cherish and love you." Val dove forward, catching James before he could stumble back further. His hands were like steel as James attempted to shake free, folded arms trapped between their chests. Val's arms encircled the him, hands cupping the back of his head, forcing him to lean backwards to meet the taller one's pale gaze.

"Will you become our Fallen Angel?" Val asked, causing James to wince when his hands tightened over remaining aching wounds. Mending skin threatened to pop under the digging grip. "Will you allow us to tear away your tattered white wings, and replace them with obsidian glass?"

"Stop it." James begged through grit teeth.

Val stood unmoved by the soft plea. He leaned closer, lips brushing James' ear with breath as cool as a sigh of wind. "I like you. And that is why…I won't kill you."

While Val pulled back, James stared back in mute fear. He was trembling from adrenaline and apprehension. "You don't even know me. How…how can you make the decision whether or not to be my judge and executioner?"

"I'm more aware of who you are, then you are capable of realizing. It's not that hard to understand. Your blood was spilt over my hands when I picked you up off the pavement."

"Why is it not hard to understand?" James demanded aloud.

Val cut him off, lips meeting lips. James' words stuttered, eyes widening in the throes of shock.

James gasped, and Val's tongue swirled between the space between his lips.

'It -- It's hot…' James moaned, the heat of Val's appendage almost scalding to the touch.

He shifted awkwardly in an attempt to shove Val away. Val's hand rested on James' lower back, keeping him stationary. His other curled through blond strands of hair, tilting the shorter man's head for better access.

James whimpered as Val's tongue slid deeper, stroking along his teeth and slack tongue; tracing every corner and path of flesh until James began to feel dizzy.

'Why is he doing this?' James tried to push with his hands, but they couldn't budge Val's torso, almost rock-hard against his curled fists. 'We're both men. And he practically threatened to kill me. To think that I was beginning to trust him -- '

A wet, final lap and finally Val pulled back. His tongue slithered out of James' mouth, flicking a farewell with the tip of his tongue along the shorter man’s bottom lip.

He released James, allowing him to nearly topple backwards due to the slake grip. James' hand lay over his mouth, eyes wide and dazed.

Val rocked back on his heels, grinning widely. His tongue ran along his lips, overdrawing the caress along swollen flesh. "Are you going to faint?" He asked, curious.

"…You just…You…"

"It is called a kiss, James. It's all right to say it."

"What was the point of it?"

Val's eyebrows crinkled in thought. "Must there always be a point for everything?"

"We're both men!"

"And?" Val quickly caught what was the main problem. Eyes gleamed in humor. "Ahhhhhh. I see. What about the kiss bothers you the most, James? That we're both men?" Val's voice lowered into a rumbling husk. "Or that you enjoyed it?"

"It proved nothing." James refused to face him.

"It proves everything."

"Stop acting as if you have an answer to everything I say!"

"I have an answer because I know you. I know what you will do or say."

"You don't know me."

"You keep saying that, but your faith is waning."

James laughed bitterly at Val's prose and dissection. "Faith? Is it some sort of test, then? It's like you’re a devil meant to break me down."

"An apt description." Val noted humorlessly.

"Look." James stared back, one-sided hostility hanging between them. "I thought I could trust you. I've been proven wrong. Congratulations. Job well done. If you're through tormenting me with your words, then please just leave me alone."

"I can't do that. Events have long passed; we're too far into the game to go back now."

"Please." James beseeched, aching from the uncertainty roiling inside. "Are you saying these things are happening because I'm a stranger here? Am I a trespasser? All I want is to find out why I'm here. After that, I'm gone. I'll leave here, and never come back. I won't bother you ever again. I'll go home."

"You are home."

"No." James rebuffed, shaking his head even though it caused his vision to swim from the pain of his wounds. "No."

"Yes. Yes." Val hissed back, mocking him.

"If you know what's going on, then tell me what to do."

"The journey can only be done through you; at least part of it. My part will come when it is necessary. Keep your eyes and ears open. Your senses will keep the truth from sneaking by." Val warned.

"Some hope." James whispered bristly.

"Hope can be a bitter mistress." Val interrupted, continuing his warning. "But enough of that. You need to go, now. Your presence will not go unnoticed for much longer. Your blood sings to all that are here, and there are ones around who will tear strips of flesh from your body, just to enjoy the sound of your screams."

"Why do you make me sound so important? What is it about me that draws all of these -- things! -- to me?"

"Your blood sings to us." Val repeated.

James' blood chilled from the familiar words. "Do I stand a chance?"

"Possibly. It can go either way."

"I don't know if I can take any more of this."

"I know you can."

James snorted. "I'll tell you again: You don't know anything about me."

"I know that I can snap your neck as easily as a dry twig. I could create a noose out of your intestines." Val's threat was spoken calmly, as if noting the remaining presence of the fog outside the restaurant. "I know what you are capable of, if you can find the strength to hold on and keep going. He has told me so much about you, and I trust his judgment and my own eyes --"

" -- So that is why I know you, James. Because of his words, because I have tasted you, tasted your flesh. Blood does not lie." Val swore, boots echoing as he strode slowly past his frozen form, head remaining turned towards James even as they passed each other. "You can run from yourself. But you can't run from me. Running will only lead you into a dead end, where we will be waiting."

The doors banged open behind James as Val shoved his way through.

Startled out of his suspended animation by the abrupt noise, James spun around to see Val disappearing into the distance, the fog forming a writhing cloud around him. "Wait! Who knows me so well? Who are you talking about?" James yelled, running for the doors as they started to swing closed.

He slammed the doors out of his way, standing in front of the restaurant, gasping audibly as the damp chill seeped into his skin. James clutched Val's jacket tight, trying to stay warm as his breath formed white clouds in the air.

The doors behind him fell shut with a small click. The ringing sound echoed through the empty streets and ricocheted over the buildings' windows that looked like eyes watching his every move.

"Val?" James was almost a hundred percent certain he had seen the man go down the street up ahead. But he couldn't catch sight of him. "Val!"

Silence was all that greeted his fading echo.

"Val?" James stuttered quietly.

A gust of wind blew, spraying hair across his face, jacket swept up and laying along limbs like a second layer of skin.

James shivered from the biting breath of wind.

Off in the distance, down another connecting road a shadow ambled sluggishly on uncoordinated legs. The figure was moving away from him, melting deeper into the fog.

"Stop! Wait!" James shouted, taking off in the figure's direction. "Val! Val, wait."

As he drew closer, managing to eat up the distance between them, James was almost out of breath from the jog. His wounds gave him very little reprieve -- throbbing and aching, chest and ribs still tender from the car crash and both were not reacting positively to the brisk pace. He stopped, hands on his knees, drawing in short breaths. "Please, wait. I need your help."

The shadow faltered in mid-step, stopping completely when James was around twenty feet away.

James couldn't make out the person's features since they were turned away, but it didn't take him long to realize that it wasn't Val. The shoulders were too wide, the arms not visible, and the person's knees were bent inward, practically brushing against each other.

"Hello?" For one odd moment, James worried that for some strange reason, the person couldn't hear him.

A long, gutter-thick rasping breath from the figure caused the hair on the back of James' neck to rise.

The figure turned in a partial circle, torso rolling horizontally, swiveling his hips as he spun jerkily to face James.

Comprehension dawned as the figure's outline came into focus the closer he ambled toward James.

"……oh my…god…" James hissed.

It wasn't a person.

The flesh was glistening, mottled gray layer of skin stretched tight across muscle and bone. Skin stretched over face and eyes, overlapping the noticeable lines of eye sockets and flexing mouth that widened and pulsed against the fleshy barrier. Bald and blind, it hunched its shoulders, facing James' general direction. Ribs underneath the torso were grossly enlarged, thick as James' wrists. No arms were seen, only black pus spilling out of a gaping hole in the center of its chest -- seeping to the ground with a wet hiss and a curl of smoke.

James flinched back, caution warning him that whatever the fluid was, it inarguably meant imminent danger.

As if responding to the flare of warning, the figure shuddered violently, torso wrenching back and head arching. In the center of the creature's chest, the opening bulged, and a slicker flow of liquid leaked out of the opening.

James' natural instinct to duck and fall to the side saved him from the acid that had been aimed at his face.

Black pus spewed forth from the hole in the creature's chest, a viscous fountain of acid that arced through the air, spraying across the pavement. The ground hissed and began to melt underneath the scorching burn, crumbling into a thick pool of grit and tar.

James threw himself onto his feet, circling around his attacker. The creature followed, matching his pace.

He bolted, almost stumbling back to the ground in his haste. Fear shot through him at the idea of turning his back on the creature, but there was no way in hell that he was going to stand still and let himself be killed!

He could hear the awkward footfalls of the creature attempting to follow him, although it was no match for James. Even injured and in pain, James was able to evade the creature's slow lumbering pace.

He was a reasonable distance away when he heard the wet sound of something being yanked, cracking open with a loud dense discharge.

A sour smell slammed into him, making James gag and his throat constrict from the acid that rose from his stomach to sting his tongue.

'I don't want to see, I REALLY don't think it's a good idea…' He babbled, logic failing to convince him as he stilled, turning back toward where the sound had come from.

The creature had made all the noise. Now it probably wish it hadn’t.

Its legs were still twitching, bits of flesh and bone spattering down its chest and feet. From behind it, a taller shadow rose above. A long arm was wrapped around the thing's neck, placing it in a chokehold. Another hand was clenched tight around the wet remains of leaking black tissue and brain matter, where the head had once sat on the creature's shoulders.

It looked as if, in Silent Hill, monsters were prey to larger monsters.

Whatever it was that had brutally killed James' attacker, he hesitated in daring to call it humanoid. From the shoulders down the individual carried the build and stature of a decently sized fit male. The clenched hands manhandling the dead body were cloaked in a pair of latex gloves. The rest of his savior's arms were bare up until the shoulders, where the butcher's apron began. All the way down to the ankles, the apron stretched with portions of the front sticky with body fluid from the carcass. Heavy boots were splayed wide, allowing the person to hold the armless creature off its feet, dangling it in the air.

The descriptions that resembled humanity ended when his face appeared. Or rather, lack of face. Instead, a large red pyramid helmet was donned. How he could bear the weight of the object without his shoulders buckling or neck bending…He appeared to be handling it just fine, since the helmet lifted easily, baring a thin layer of flesh along his neck. James could sense the gaze, cloaked behind the helmet, as the individual stared back at him.

James' legs felt like ice, his breath panting softly as he stared back. The kill had been swift and fairly silent. The butcher had found a way to shift through the fog and had approached the armless creature from behind. From the look of his hands, he had destroyed the entity simply by twisting, and clenching until the skull finally popped and tore apart.

Those same hands flexed open, arms loosening to allow the body to fall boneless to the ground. More blood and gore sprayed across the pavement from the casual drop.

It reeked terribly. Already ripe as if it had been left underneath the baking sun for days. James briefly covered his mouth with the arm of his loaned jacket, breathing shallowly in an attempt to keep from choking over the sour odor.

He felt mesmerized by the sight of the body, transfixed even when he heard the slow tread of boots across the pavement. Looking up, and still staring at the body from the corner of his eye, James watched as the butcher approached step by step. His steps were long, but slow as if slogging through deep water.

Standing still, feeling like a deer watching oncoming headlights, his body rocked slightly in an unconscious effort to flee.

It was all coming in slow motion. Taking only a few seconds, but feeling like hours.

Soon, though, he was directly in front of James. He felt incredibly small and helpless when standing so close. They were both different in height and width, making James more aware of his human frailty.

Spellbound, all James could do was let his eyes widen in trepidation as a hand rose and stretched towards his face.

Fingers splayed wide, as soft as a light breeze, and briefly slid along his cheek.

Alarmed by the touch but still frozen, James stood in captivated silence while the butcher stepped even closer, bringing them chest to chest. The hand widened, now cupping the side of his face. Tips of long fingers just barely touched blond hair, rustling the limp strands.

James' mouth spread into a grimace. As the fingers spread across his face, a slick dampness followed.

The familiar sharp odor hit him, close now, and James realized the origin of the dampness being spread across by finger touching his face.

The butcher's hand was still coated with the grisly remains of his victim.

Understanding gave James the strength to jerk back, the evasive maneuver leaving several strands of blond hair tangled between the butcher's fingers. His legs found the will to move, and it felt like he was flying as he ran from the nightmare that had come close enough to touch him. Leaving the parting gift of a visible black mark across his face.


***************************************

A snort of amusement, as he came closer to the one watching James flee.

"THAT WENT WELL."

A rumbling growl warned him to stand a ways back.

"I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL. YOUR IMPATIENCE IS YOUR FAULT ENTIRELY."

"YOUR INVOLVEMENT IN MY PERSONAL AFFAIRS IS BECOMING AN ANNOYANCE, VALTIEL." The Red Pyramid warned. "YOU DIDN'T EVEN STEP IN WHEN THIS PIECE OF FILTH," A sharp kick to the ribs of the carcass at his feet, "TRIED TO TAKE HIS LIFE."

"THAT WAS NOT MY PROBLEM. IF ITS TOO MUCH TROUBLE FOR YOU TO HANDLE, KEEP HIM ON A SHORT LEASH, THEN."

"IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE. I HAVE TO ATTAIN HIM FIRST."

"DON'T WORRY. I HAVE THAT PROBLEM SOLVED ALREADY." Valtiel promised.

"…YOUR INTEREST IN THIS VENTURE SEEMS TO HAVE RISEN."

Valtiel snickered darkly, "THE CALL IS HARD TO RESIST. I CAN FEEL THE ACHE INSIDE THAT YEARNS TO ANSWER. WHATEVER IT IS ABOUT HIM, IT FEELS LIKE…" He took a moment to find the right word. "HOME."

"I DON'T STAND IN THE WAY OF YOUR INTERESTS, VALTIEL. BUT I WILL DRAW A LINE IN THIS. REMEMBER THAT HE IS MINE."

"IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO KEEP REPEATING THAT CLAIM TO EVERY BEING THAT CHALLENGES YOU, THEN YOU BETTER FOLLOW THROUGH WITH YOUR PLAN."

"YOU THINK SO LITTLE OF MY WORDS AND INTENTIONS?" The Red Pyramid analyzed.

"NOT AT ALL. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF. I'M SIMPLY ENJOYING THE FACT THAT THE GREAT RED PYRAMID HAS FINALLY FOUND INTEREST IN SOMETHING, SO STRONGLY THAT HE IS WILLING TO HUNT IT TO THE ENDS OF THE WORLD."

"IS IT A WASTE OF TIME IN YOUR EYES?"

"…NO. AFTER ALL --" Valtiel's tongue traced along his lips. "HE DOES TASTE SWEET."


***************************************


It had been over twenty-four hours, and James still hadn't called back.

Frank sat beside the telephone, knee bouncing as he waited for his son to eventually call him.

What was James doing? Was he in Silent Hill? If so, then why wasn't he calling to tell him?

He knew he should have tried harder to convince James to stay. Leaving on some mad expedition would not offer any light to his problems. Instead, James may end up causing himself more harm than good.

A couple of hours prior, Frank had broke down and tried to call James' cell phone. His worries escalated greatly when the connection didn't go through, the machine recording indicating that the number he had called was not in service.

James' cell phone wasn't working, even though he had promised to keep it turned on at all times. Perhaps the hills were preventing reliable reception, but inside Frank feared that something terrible had happened.

"James, please call." Frank said aloud. "It's been over a day. Where are you?"

As if answering his plea, the phone rang, vibrating softly within its cradle.

Frank snatched the receiver up before it had finished its first ring. "James?" He asked, clutching the receiver close to his ear.

A husky chuckle.

"SORRY. JAMES CAN'T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW. HE'S JUST RUNNING ALL OVER THE PLACE."

A thick block of ice melted within the pit of Frank's stomach.

"What did you do to my son?" Frank hissed.

The speaker ignored his demand. "I WAS TRULY SURPRISED. I HAD NO IDEA THAT HIS FLESH WAS SO SMOOTH AND PALE. HIS BLOOD SHONE LIKE RUBIES ACROSS HIS SKIN. AND THE WAY HIS NECK FIT UNDERNEATH MY HAND." A rattling purr of pleasure echoed across the line. "A TRUE MASTERPIECE OF ART."

"…You're sick, you are all sick…"

"BUT THAT WASN'T EVEN HALF OF THE EXPERIENCE." He was curtly interrupted. "LAYING HIM DOWN, SPREADING AND ADJUSTING HIS LIMBS ANY WAY THAT PLEASED ME…DID YOU KNOW THAT HE MAKES THIS LITTLE SOUND WHEN HANDS SPLAY ALONG HIS THIGHS? HE ACTUALLY CURLED AGAINST ME WHEN I PRESSED CLOSE TO CHECK THE WOUND ON HIS HEAD, SEEKING OUT THE HEAT OF MY BODY."

"Stop it!"

"IT WAS SO HARD TO KEEP HIM TO MYSELF UNTIL RED PYRAMID'S TIME. SO MANY OTHERS REACHED OUT TO TOUCH HIM. I NEARLY HAD TO BEAT THEM OUT OF THE WAY. THEY RECOGNIZED JAMES' SCENT, AND AMASSED TOGETHER IN HOPES OF REACHING HIM."

That name was familiar. Red Pyramid. The conversation from days' prior came back to him.

"Are you one of them? Are you…the other…Valtiel?"

The voice stopped its detailed story, and filled with satisfaction. "VERY GOOD. YOUR MEMORY SERVES YOU WELL."

"Where's my son?"

"JAMES IS NO LONGER YOUR CONCERN."

"The hell he isn't!" Frank yelled into the mouthpiece.

"WE'VE COME TOO FAR TO TURN BACK NOW. THE GATES BETWEEN WORLDS ARE SEALED. IN TIME, THEY WILL BE OPENED TO US AGAIN. BUT FOR NOW, WE MUST PREPARE FOR THE ARRIVAL OF ANOTHER."

"You mean James."

"IS THERE ANYONE ELSE THAT MATTERS?"

"You can't do this. When the police find out about this --"

"STOP WASTING YOUR TIME. FOLLOW YOUR OWN ADVICE, FRANK SUNDERLAND: LET GO. LET HIM GO. HE'S GONE TO A PLACE YOU CAN NOT FOLLOW."

"Don't be so certain of that."

"I CAN BE VERY CERTAIN."

"Give me one good reason not to hunt you down?"

The speaker rose to the challenge. "ALL RIGHT. IF, BY SOME IMPOSSIBLE CHANCE YOU FOUND YOUR WAY HERE, THEN I WOULD SIMPLY HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU. AND LEAVE YOUR BODY FOR JAMES TO FIND. IS THAT SOMETHING YOU WANT JAMES TO SEE?"

Before Frank could come up with any sort of reply, the other hung up. The dial tone greeted him.

Hanging up the phone, Frank soon snatched it back up. This time, he was firm with resolve as he punched in the digits. The phone rang several times before a receptionist picked up.

"Hello? This is the Ashfield Police Station? I want to file for a missing person..."


***************************************


It felt as if he had been running in circles for hours. James couldn't seem to find any way out of the town.

There were so many streets and alleys, he found himself lost on more than one occasion. The fog had been merciless, blinding him no matter where he went. He ran until his lungs threatened to burst, heart pounding and making his chest ache.

Finally, he had found his way down a chain-linked fenced dirt path, and into a construction site. James sat inside of a large concrete opened barricaded by wood planks, the medium-sized space closed off on the other end by heavy fencing.

His legs were numb, cold seeping through jeans from the cool concrete. The shadows gave him comfort, though, concealing him from prying eyes. He had found an old radio, but quickly discarded it when he found it broken.

Everything in the town seemed useless. James had stopped at several payphones, tried to call his father, and then tried calling 911. But there had been no dial tone, not a single one of the phones were working.

He was completely isolated and hating every second of it.

James wrapped his arms tighter around himself, hunkering down further. 'I don't want to be here. I just want to go home.'

He fiddled distractedly with the black buttons of the jacket, nerves finding some way to release some of his tension. James knew that he couldn't just sit there forever, no matter how safe he felt. Eventually night would fall and he didn't want to be caught out in the open. He needed to find better shelter, some kind of bolt hole that offered protection that was more adequate. Surely, one of the buildings in town was safe?

'I won't be able to figure that out if I wait here.' James released a silent sigh, carefully pushing himself onto his feet. It was time to go. Better now then never.

He surveyed the area outside thoroughly before daring to step through the barricade. James took his time walking down the path from the construction site going into the town, one hand idly running along the fence.

Too soon he was standing on a familiar street. He looked left and right, attempting to see deep into the heavy fog.

Finding no threat that he could see, James quickly ran across the street and onto the sidewalk, ready to duck into the cover of deep doorways.

He moved steadily from store to store, trying each door but finding all locked up tight.

He warily passed a vehicle whose windows were smashed, and thick smears of dried blood splashed along the seats.

A truck up ahead was damaged as well, but this one had a steel pipe shoved through the front window. James stopped, looking at the crude bar. He realized that it could be used as a weapon in case another monster appeared. But how would he get it out without drawing attention to himself? And could he actually pull it out, or was it wedged deep into the truck's seat?

Staring at the pipe offered him no answers. James bit the bullet and pushed his fear as far down as he could. He approached the truck, wrapping hands around the pipe. A short tug and the weapon didn't budge. He applied more effort.

This time the weapon groaned and twisted. James stilled, afraid that the grind of steel against broken glass was heard.

Seeing and hearing nothing, James resumed pulling at the pipe. Curling his hands tight around it, he used all of his strength, yanking as hard as he could backwards.

A low shriek of metal against glass, and the pipe came flying out, nearly smashing into his face.

James hopped back with the weapon almost slipping free from his grasp, stumbling from his own momentum.

Spinning partially around with the pipe in his hands, he turned and felt something smash into his ankle.

The injured limb collapsed slowly underneath him, steel pipe clanging against pavement. James grunted in pain when he fell directly on top of the weapon, the metal digging into his stomach.

A firm weight smacked into his side. James twisted over onto his hip.

He screamed when he saw another armless creature lying almost directly on top of his legs.

The thing was laid on the ground, belly to the pavement. Limbs moved sinuously with the torso, lying like a serpent. It lurched and slithered its body along, moving at blinding speed. James kicked instinctively, managing to buck it off his legs.

One swift kick to the skull and the creature listed to the side, momentarily stunned by the blow. James' hands shook as he managed to slide the pipe out from underneath him. Bringing it up just in time as the creature shot through the air. He held the bar above his inert form as the creature landed on top of him.

'Jesus!' James yelped, the metal hissing and steaming only inches from his face. The creature's acid was already beginning to eat away at the pipe.

The creature weighed more than it looked. A moment of panic filled him as his arms began to buckle underneath its bulk, the creature getting closer and closer, straddling him with its long legs.

If it got any closer, the acid would surely kill him.

'No way.' He grunted, straining to push the thing of him. 'I'm not going to let this thing beat me. I managed to avoid getting killed by the one from earlier, and I'll survive this one as well!'

"Get…off!" James shoved hard, pushing with arms, pipe, as well as both legs.

Again, the thing lurched away, stunned by the stubborn human's resistance.

James's moment of victory was short-lived. He cursed as the pipe almost fell apart within his hands; the acid scorching and melting the iron nearly in half.

He made sure to use the broken weapon as best he could. With formidable strength he didn't know he had, James pulled himself to his feet to stand above the fallen creature and slammed the pipe straight down and through the thing's torso.

A short squeal of surprise signified his success. The armless creature convulsed around the tube of metal shoved through its chest, liquid and viscera pouring out from the corners of the gaping wound.

Out of breath from the short yet difficult ordeal, James stumbled away from the dying form. His left ankle ached, sprained badly from the creature's attack. His caution around the stalled vehicles insured his survival, but he wasn't undamaged. He had not anticipated the things to actually slither so fast along the ground, let alone hide in wait underneath the cars. He was just lucky he wasn’t attacked when he ran down the street earlier.

'Got to find shelter.' James half ran, half hobbled down the side of the street. Over the next few blocks, he had to stop several times as he caught sight of more than one shadow lurching away.

He was heading out of town and into subdivision. The homes were historic in origin, ranging from brick to Victorian. Continuing down the street, he passed several more vehicles, approaching them carefully, going as far as to crouch down and peer cautiously under each car.

Farther down the street, he stumbled across a ravaged corpse. The man's suit and skin was flayed, no section left untouched. Each thick gouging mark appeared to have been made by fingers, too wide and dull to be made by any sort of blade. Arrays of loose-leaf sheets of paper were scattered around the body.

The temptation to lean down and pursue the writing on each piece of paper was there, but James resisted. There was no time for casual reading. He had to keep moving. If…WHEN he got out of the town he would warn the authorities about the body. Whoever the person may be, he didn't deserve to be left on the streets without the dignity of a grave.

James neared the end of the street, making out the sight of a tall wall that barred the rest of his way.

"What the hell is all of this?" He whispered.

The massive wall was fitted with thick sheets of construction metal. It appeared to be welded together along the seams. Stretching from one edge of the street down to the other, impassible, blocking any further progress.

"I'm getting so sick of this place." He kicked the metal barrier, softly though; doing very little to relieve his frustration.

He had no choice. He would have to go back.

Perfect. Utterly perfect.

James retraced his steps, this time though he took another street when he came back to the vehicle where he had been attacked. Walking wasn't an option, no matter how much his ankle throbbed. He ran as long as he could, his body not used to long periods of running but willpower kept him going.

Some time later, probably around two hours, James had found no suitable or accessible shelter. The few buildings that had showed promise were bolted shut, a key needed to get inside. He was close to finding a way into a nearby Apartment Complex, but decided he didn’t want to wander through such a large building. The Hospital joined the Apartment Complex in rank, even larger than the other buildings and with more stairs and corridors than James was willing to contend with.

Darkness was steadily spilling into the streets. The fog was growing gray and flat from the decrease of light. James skirted around lengthening shadows stretching across the sidewalk, hurrying along without daring to look back.

Close to giving up on finding a safe haven, James came across a street that he didn't remember exploring.

Deciding to chance the risk of the unfamiliar territory, instead of backtracking to the construction site, James continued down the branching street. He quickened his pace as it began to grow even darker, almost in a full run.

He nearly passed the building that appeared.

Skidding to a halt at the foot of the stairs, James was torn between tears of joy or laughter.

Yes. This place would do. Perfectly, in fact.

What better place than a police station?

James ran up the flight of stairs, approaching the wall of windows and doors. Hands shakily grasped the handles. Half-fearing that these doors would be locked as well, James slowly turned one of the handles.

It clicked firmly underneath his hand, hinges quiet while the door swung open.

'YES!' He all but shouted.

Quickly he ducked into the building, rapidly scanning for any danger. None was visible, and James closed the door behind him. He hesitated a moment before finding the latch, turning and locking the doors behind him. No way did he want anything following him inside.

The interior was a mess. Desks were covered with thick piles of paper and files, seats pushed all the way back. The reception desk took up almost a quarter of the space, file cabinets filled to the brim with even more folders and loosely bound coversheets.

Treading quietly, James surprised himself by discovering a wide, double-sided staircase that had both descending and ascending pathways, and a handrail along the sides of polished dark oak. Upstairs offered more territory to explore, but the risk of being seen from the glass windows was too great.

Downstairs it was, then.

He took each step at a time, feeling along the rail with his hand. A single light bulb glowed at the bottom of the stairs. James edged along the wall, looking around a sharp corner and down a hallway. Down below the walls were thick gray slabs, the floor a patchwork of white and black linoleum. Cracks and fissures lined almost every square inch, pieces of wall scattered across the floor and cracking into smaller shards underneath his feet.

All of the lights appeared to be working. A stretching line of lit bulbs continued down the long hallway, extinguishing any existing shadows that lurked in the corners. This part of the station must be where prisoners were booked and possibly jailed. That made sense, a possible explanation for the absence of any windows. Not that he was ungrateful. For the first time in a while, he felt safe.

"Son of a bitch!"

James jumped, surprised, smacking into the wall to catch himself in mid-stumble from the abrupt shout down the hall.

A loud smash and then the tinkling of glass.

The voice and noise was close. Just around another bend.

The idea of another person with him brought upon mixed feelings. A part of him was thankful for not being alone, and the other regretful that another person was possibly suffering through the same hell.

James didn't just saunter around the corner to face the person that was there. Instead, he stopped just at the edge of the two perpendicular hallways. The crackling of glass and low muttering filled the underground space.

"Hello?" James dared.

"Huh? What?" He could practically picture the person starting from the sound of his voice. "Who's there?"

James carefully eased himself around the corner, facing the individual. "Um…hey." He greeted awkwardly.

The other man was around James' height, blond hair sticking out of a ball cap. Heavy set, with a striped shirt, knee-length shorts, and tennis shoes. His hands were full of candy bars and several bags of chips. In front of him, the glass face of a vending machine was smashed to pieces, broken by what, James couldn't begin to tell. They both stared at each other in bewilderment clearly shocked by the other's appearance.

"…Hey." The heavy blond greeted cautiously. "Name's Eddie."

"I'm James."

'Eddie' looked James up and down.

James was pretty certain he was cataloguing the way that James was favoring his ankle, and the bruises and bandage on his temple. "I -- I've had a pretty bad day." James offered.

"Yeah?" Eddie didn't appear surprised.

"Yeah. This place…"

"Ah! I get it." Eddie cut him off, gesturing with one hand, a candy bar clutched tight, "You had a run-in with all the ghouls and creeps around here."

"You've seen them too?"

"Ch." Eddie's face twisted in disgust. "Ugly bastards are everywhere. I found my way here only yesterday. The electricity is actually working in this dump! Those uglies don't come here, even with all the light. They can't see it, since I only turn on the lights down here."

"The light? Is that how they track people?"

Eddie shrugged. "Don't know how the hunt, exactly. But I do know that light attracts them."

"Oh."

"…You don't look so good." Eddie noted aloud.

James grinned stiffly, discomfort evident. "Still trying to get over having my head and body bounced around. I was in a car crash?"

"Really?" Eddie's eyes widened in amazement. "Man! You're lucky to be walking, although you look like something a cat dragged in."

"Thanks. I think."

Eddie rustled through the pile of food he had scavenged. Picking up a candy bar, he tossed it to James. "Here. That should make you feel better. You look like a stiff breeze will knock you over."

James barely managed to catch the high toss. He flushed when his stomach growled loudly, clutching the bar of chocolate between his hands.

Either James' stomach or face caused Eddie to laugh under his breath, which caused James' to blush even further. James carefully sat down on the floor near the broken vending machine, opposite of Eddie. He winced as sore muscles stretched uncomfortably.

Tearing open the wrapper, James slowed himself down, taking careful bites. The burst of sugar invigorated him, and his stomach quieted. He watched silently as Eddie wolfed down five candy bars and a bag of chips during the time it took James to finish his one candy bar.

Eddie eventually appeared satiated, burping long and loud. He brushed crumbs of food off the front of his shirt. "So, how did you end up here?" He asked.

"I was actually intending to come here. But partway, something strange happened while I was on the road. I don't remember what, exactly. The next thing I knew, I was heading headfirst into some tall gates. After that, everything went white. And…here I am." James summarized his adventure, leaving out most of the grisly details.

Eddie hummed softly.

"What about you?" James inquired.

To his surprise, Eddie stiffened abruptly. James half-feared that he had angered the man, somehow.

"Same thing happened to me. Sort of. Just driving along, and this huge layer of fog came out of nowhere. My van died several blocks from here."

"Where were you headed?" James asked. "Where you trying to come here as well?"

"NO!" Eddie snapped, and James flattened back against the wall from the outburst. "I just…didn't like it there. I decided to leave. Everyone there picked on me. Called me names. I just got sick of it, that's all. That's all!"

James held his hands up in surrender. "Okay."

"Don't use that tone with me!"

"Eddie! Really, it's okay. If you don't want to talk about it, I won't ask again." James offered, trying to calm the other man down.

At the same time, James's mind was rapidly processing what had occurred. 'He almost went ballistic. What on earth set him off?'

'I'm starting to get the impression that it's not the best idea to be anywhere around Eddie. He's too unpredictable.'

'Terrific. And just when I thought I was safe.' James couldn't help but sigh in defeat.

"Okay. I think I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. Its probably best if I go elsewhere." James conceded. He managed to rise stiffly, wondering if he could manage to climb the stairs up to the second story of the police station. It wasn't the best place in the building, but it was better than going outside.

"Leave?" The idea seemed to confuse Eddie. A flash of restlessness spread across his face. "Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know, really." James immediately began to consider leaving, and fast. His gaze flicked swiftly down the hall, wondering how fast he could get up the stairs.

"Are you going to look for police, or something?" The change of topic caught James off guard. Gaze turned back to Eddie, the man's face damp and luminescent under the harsh white bulbs.

"Hmm? Well, yeah. I mean, why not? It's probably safer if they were here." James answered sincerely. Remembering the corpse lying abandoned in the streets. How many more bodies were scattered throughout the town? There was no telling if or how many. He couldn't leave with a clear conscious without telling someone about the state of the town. But if he told them about the monsters, the police would think he was crazy. James would have to hold his tongue on that topic.

"Don't go to the police." Eddie ordered brusquely, rising to his feet also.

"Eddie, the police can't be left out of this." James tried to reason with him.

"I don't want the police here!" Eddie shot back.

"Eddie --"

"You'll tell them, won't you?" Eddie demanded, practically snarling at James, eyes bright with rage. "You'll tell them that you saw me. They'll hunt me down."

A shiver ran up James' spine. He took a slow step away from Eddie, hands raised in capitulation. "If you don't want me to say anything about you, I won't. I promise." He extended, willing to offer almost anything if it meant him being able to leave in one piece.

"Liar! Liar! You're no different than the rest of them!" Clearly it was impossible to reason with Eddie, the man nearly raving at the idea of the police. "They deserved it! I was defending myself. They kept calling me names and picking on me. They got what they deserved. I won't let you tell the police."

"Eddie! Please stop this --"

Eddie's hand delved into the back of waistband of his shorts, snapping out a metal barrel and handle.

James flinched back at the sound of the gun being cocked, staring down the barrel of the handgun. Hands still raised in the air, his eyes widened in shocked dismay at the sight of the weapon. The gun was level and solid in Eddie's hand, barrel not moving an inch from the direction of James' heart.

An inane thought came to him. 'I guess that's how he broke the front of the vending machine.' The calm and curious voice in his head was polar-opposite to the feelings rattling deep in his chest.

"I won't let you waltz out and tell everybody that you saw me." Eddie promised somberly.


***************************************


Eddie indicated with his gun for James to precede him. The barrel pressed firmly in the small of his back, causing James' breath to hiss. "Move it!" Eddie snapped, shoving hard, pushing the barrel deep into James' flesh.

"I'm going." James didn't offer any resistance. Hands where Eddie could see them at all times. They were shaking visibly.

Eddie forced James to go down another set of short hallways. At the end of the final hallway, they were forced to stop at a closed door. "Open it." Eddie grunted, in silent warning pushing the barrel deeper.

Nodding hastily, James stretched one hand forward and opened the door, letting it swing into the room.

He was shoved hard into the room, completely compliant to the rough handling. James wobbled back, however, at the sight of the prison cells along the wall. No other furniture was present, the entire space bleak, composed of various shades of gray from the walls down to the iron bars.

There was the sound of rustling and clink of metal. In his peripheral vision, James managed to catch sight of Eddie holding something in his free hand. "Over there." Eddie ordered, nudging him in the direction of a open cell.

"Eddie --" James began, trying to find some way to stall.

"MOVE!" The roar made James hasten his steps.

The cell contained only a metal bunk and low toilet. He fell onto the bunk, having been shoved roughly into the barred space. Eddie slammed the cell door behind him, pulling out the object in his hand, a set of keys, and sliding them into the keyhole. With a twist, the door locked from the outside.

James approached the bars, hands clutching at the thick cylinders. This was bad. This was really bad. "Eddie, don't do this. You can't leave me here." If one of those things came down here, then James was a goner. No conceivable method existed in getting out of the cell without those keys!

"Should of thought of that before getting the idea to run to the police." Eddie tsked, walking to the door. He set the ring of keys on a small hook beside the door, where he had previously snatched them up.

"Eddie, I swear. I won't tell the police! Don't leave me here."

"You brought this on yourself." Eddie warned him.

"If you leave me here, I'll die! Don't you get it?" James demanded, palms whitening as he gripped the bars tighter. "You might as well kill me with your own bare hands."

"Not the first time." Eddie's reply laced with foreboding. He tucked the handgun back into its home, stepping back through the threshold and reaching for the door. "Enjoy the quiet, James."

"Eddie! Don't do this --"

Eddie laughed sharply, humorless, and shut the door firmly. Cutting off James as he continued to yell after him.

"EDDIE! EDDIE! Don't leave me here! Eddie!!" James cursed, slamming bodily into the bars. "This isn't fucking right!" His face pressed between the bars, head pounding from the stress and frenzy stuttering inside.

"……this isn't…" James slid back from the bars, near collapsing as he fell to sit on the bunk. He rolled over onto his side, facing the wall and back to the door. The bunk's sheets and pillow lay as flat and stiff as boards, James curling the flaps of the borrowed jacket around him. "…this isn't right. Damn you, Eddie. You bastard." He snarled bitterly, an unfamiliar spark of deep anger igniting inside of him. "You bastard. Just you wait. You'll get what's coming to you."


***************************************


Eddie had a bounce in his step, going down the hallway at a brisk walk. He hummed tunelessly, mind focused on the remaining treats left over from scrounging through the vending machine. James already dismissed from his mind, since being dealt with in an appropriate fashion, now focused on a different kind of satisfaction.

Turning the last corner and into the one where the vending machine rest, Eddie faltered to a complete stop at the sight of a stranger standing in the middle of the hall. Dressed funny, like one of those goths he would see in the big city. Same pale skin and black hair, eyes as gray and flat as glass. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded. He was becoming sick and tired of people constantly invading his space. Why didn't they leave him alone?

Eddie gasped when the man's head rippled and twitched side to side, so fast the motion was a blur. His hips pushed out until he appeared dangerously close to toppling over, but remained in place while he stretched low over the ground before legs snapped straight.

Val's arms stretched casually on each side, scrutinizing Eddie under a heavy cold stare. He took a step towards the man, and Eddie jerked back when Val's neck bobbed in a fashion that would break a normal human's neck. Val sneered acidly at the heavyset blond. "Little pig, little pig. You've wandered far from home. Won't you let me carve deep into every pound of fat?" He queried, ominous threat spreading across the distance between them.

"Don't come near me, you freak." Eddie warned harshly, pulling the gun from its place and aiming it directly at Val.

Val tilted his head in the face of the pointed barrel. The corner of his lips tugged up into a humorless grin. "And what do you plan to do with that, piglet?"

"Don't call me that!" Eddie snapped.

Val smiled. "Dirty little swine. You really do squeal like the animal you are."

"Shut up!" His finger tightened on the trigger. The gunshot roared loudly within the confined gray walls. Val's upper body jerked back from the impact of the fired shot smacking in the center of his chest, legs locked tight while his torso bent backwards almost ninety degrees.

Eddie's ears were ringing from the harsh blast of the weapon, hands stiff under the force of the recoil. He lowered the gun, waiting for Val's body to fall to the floor.

Instead, and to his stupefaction, Val's torso snapped right back up into its proper position with an audible crack. Val rolled his shoulders and rotated his neck until they popped, a grin etched across his face. He looked down at the hole in his shirt, idly running fingers over the gaping tear. Eyes never twitching away from Eddie's, he remained silent as his fingers sank into the open wound. Wet suction, the sloppy slide of flesh, and Val's fingers reappeared from the hole. His hand was soaked with black and red blood, the single bullet glistening silver between gory fingers.

Val dropped the useless bullet, allowing it to ring as it connected with the floor.

"What the fuck…what the fuck…" Eddie muttered, gun vibrating between his hands.

Val smiled, reaching out the damp bloody hand towards the closest wall. Without looking, he slid fingertips along the wall, painting a large circle. Inside the circle he stretched two bars that intersected in the middle.

Once his hand pulled back from the wall, the bloodied surface rippled and slowly began to push out. It became apparent what was forming. The blood shimmered to form a brown-stained valve, appearing rusted in several areas. With the same soiled hand, Val snagged one side of the valve, and began to steadily spin it, while the metal creaked and groaned as if close to breaking under the force of his grip.

The pressure in the entire area dropped, sounding like a scythe falling to cut the air. Eddie's feet momentarily lost traction, the ground rumbling and rattling. Paint and pieces of linoleum began to peel off the floor, twirling up into air like little flames. The vending machine began to collapse inward, food molding and growing sour, metal rusting into broken piles. Wet patches of the wall slid to the floor with wet slaps. In the place of the peeling and melting hallway, slabs of mottled red and brown rose.

It was a living, breathing room of hell.

"Behold, my glory." Arms spread wide to accept the change around him, Val mocked the trembling man.

Gun clattering to the ground, Eddie fell back away from Val.

Sensing the human's waning strength, Val slunk closer. Mouth spread wide in a sinister wolfish grin, eyes fever bright, shining in the failing light as the light bulbs exploded and shattered when he passed underneath each one.

"Unfortunately for you, Eddie Dombrowski, you have become an annoyance. Your actions did not alter things greatly, but your interference has cost me valuable time." Val ate up the distance between them, Eddie not having a chance to escape.

Firm hands slapped over the sides of Eddie's skull, Val locking their gaze. Eddie gasped, clawing at the unmoving hold.

"And I terribly hate interference!" Val's hiss warped into a rumbling snarl, nails drawing beads of blood that trickled from Eddie's torn skin. His hands trembled minutely, and Eddie's eyes bulged slightly under the increasing amount of pressure.

Less than ten seconds later and blood was seeping out of Eddie's ears, tear ducts, and nose. More blood poured out from his mouth, but that was due to him unintentionally biting partway through his tongue.

Eddie's feet were twitching, almost dancing across the floor. The tight hold that Val stressed upon his body was the only force keeping him remotely upright.

Val's hands sank an inch closer together, wet cracks popped and snapped underneath each palm. The blood vessels in Eddie's eyes burst, hair dying partway red from the rise of blood rushing up from under Val's hands.

He drew in a small breath, and pushed both hands all the way together until palms met.

A flood of blood began to pool underneath Eddie's feet. Thick gobs of gray and pink smacked to the floor in slow-falling spatters. Pieces of bone sprinkled down, a dusting across the rich crimson surface.

Val released the body, hands ripping back with a wet sucking motion, casually flicking away gobs of flesh that stuck persistently to his fingers. The walnut-size mass of bone and tissue hardly resembled Eddie's skull.

Val breathed deep, lungs expanding, and then freed a steady stream of air.

"I feel much better now." He noted aloud, momentary stress already slipping away.


***************************************

TBC