Time, as it does, came and went in a blur. Seconds dribbled into minutes. Minutes flowed to hours. Hours stretched to days. And days turned into weeks all in a blur.
It had been two weeks since the ‘First Trumpet’. Two tense weeks of living in the Miller residence. Ceres had been saccharinely vapid, Eris was coldly haughty, Valentine had become rather resigned to the events of the weeks, and the Miller brothers were each a shade of odd.
Tom, or Tommy, the eldest of the three brothers was a rather stern man of forty five. And while his features were not as hard set and his gaze was not as icy as his brother’s- he made up for it with an air of sheer icy enmity. Duke Miller, or as Jamison acknowledged him- ‘Miller’ -was somewhat more inviting, but not much. Miller was cryptic and reclusive… Tom’s daughter, Miller’s niece, Poppy was also an odd little thing. While she lacked the ability to speak she made up for it with rapid signing, constant drawings of her feelings, and random musical sessions… Sessions which Jamison joined in because he felt a little bad for the girl.
Say what you will about Jamison- Hardass, sociopath, blank slate -he wasn’t cruel. Poppy was obviously struggling with being isolated and surrounded by those older than her. So Jamison had taken it upon himself to try to cheer the girl up. Cracking the odd joke and listening to her musical outbreaks. And the two had fallen into an easy friendship.
But that did not stop him from having to set out with Tom to retrieve Paris. Luckily Miller didn’t see them off with no supplies. Jamison was given an old Smith and Wesson revolver, eighteen rounds for it, and a rather larger utility knife. Which totaled his supplies out to a meager amount shoved within his backpack along with his notebook, pencils, and a map of the area.
Tom had his shotgun, a makeshift bandolier sewn by Ceres, several reloads, and a plethora of other utilities at his disposal. All of which were thrown into the trunk of his somewhat rebuilt 1972 Ford Mustang.
‘Come as You Are’ by Nirvana started to play over Jamison’s headset as he ambled up to Tom’s car, whose owner was standing by the hood- Not even sparing the boy a glance as he threw open the car’s door and slid in. Cranking the colossal engine and letting the beast roar to life.
Gas was becoming scarce. The brothers had some in reserve along with food and whatnot. But that could only go so far…
The world outside of the brothers’ house had gone absolutely quiet after a week. Nothing on the radio- phone signal was out- the landlines were dead. It was silent. Which meant that they were in the dark.
Jamison slipped into the car and pressed himself against the cushy seat as he slung his bag to his feet. Its meager contents made no noise as it was jostled back and forth between the boy’s legs.
“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this Jamison? We have no idea what’s out there.” Tom finally spoke in a warning tone.
Jamison shrugged, “Yeah. Let’s get on with it.”
Tom said not a word else as he pulled onto the gravel driveway. Leaving the rest of the ride in silence… Nineteen miles of complete silence. Which left Jamison to tap on his freshly acquired revolver and blast his music. Flipping from track to track as they hopped from back road to back road, all the way to the suburbs of Denton- Where their journey came to an end in the form of a main highway clogged up with cars.
Tom sighed as he pulled the car to a halt some fifty feet away from the backage of abandoned cars, “Well… Shit.” He swore.
“Shit indeed…” Jamison drawled as he popped the door open on his side and threw his lanky legs out, “Come on, we’ve only got so much time until sundown. You know the rest of the way, right?”
With a heavy sigh Tom also exited the car, popping the trunk and locking it behind him. The man retrieved his shotgun and bag, slinging them both over his shoulders with a small grunt of exhaustion. And for a fraction of a minute Tom didn’t radiate his aura of icy enmity- he just looked tired. Something Jamison could resonate with. He was tired too.
Tired of moving, tired of fighting, tired of struggling, tired of seeing his mother come in late at night looking like she had just made a deal with the devil. He was tired of it all.
“I know the way, stay close and stay quiet,” The older man commanded.
The boy and the man got on their merry way. Walking down the deserted highway, dodging suspicious puddles and outcrops of crystals. And Jamison could notice one key thing about the world around him… Everything was gray. Stained by the steadily accumulation of ash over the world. Everything was caked in it. From the grass which had suffocated and turned brown, to the macederm of the road, to the abandoned cars that marked the surrounding area.
Jamison quickly noticed how his boots were turning gray from his steady tromping through the ash of the world… He also noticed how cold it was. The world was devoid of the sun’s light due to heavy ashen gray clouds blanking out the skies. Which in turn cast the earth in a dull glow. Leaving the boy to think of Poppy’s paintings as he pushed through the ash behind Tom. So vivid, so full of life… In a world that had been painted a ghastly gray.
As the duo made their way down the ashen streets a figure came into view- No- Multiple figures came into view. Roving around in a loose group of around a half dozen. And they were steadily getting closer. The shuffling of their footsteps was the only thing audible in the silence of the world- save for the duo’s own labored breathing.
Tom swung his shotgun around and brought it to bear, flicking it off of ‘safe’. Jamison followed suit, drawing his revolver from his waistband and clicking the hammer backwards.
The group got closer and closer until Jamison could make out the details of them all. Right as ‘Hypothermic’ by Goodnight Texas started to play.
They appeared to be human, but their bodies were twisted and horribly stretched. Their long, pallid limbs were elongated in a grotesque way and their clothes were torn… But their faces… Their faces were locked into horrid expressions of pure and undiluted agony- Only interrupted by rocky protrusions jutting out from their eyes and mouths. Appearing to be the same crystals that were growing all over the landscape.
“Tom. I don’t think they’re friendly,” Jamison whispered.
“How very astute, get your gun off of safe.” Tom rasped back.
Click. And the revolver was ready to kill.
The half dozen moved forwards, scraping and shifting like a mass of desiccated-writhing flesh and poorly lumped together bone. And once they were within sprinting distance of the duo they all began to run at them in unison- Right as ‘Sinners Blues’ by the Port Sulfur band began to blast over Jamison’s headset.
Tom, with a deadly calm, brought his shotgun up to bear and squeezed the trigger. Sending a spray of twelve gauge 00 buckshot screeching forwards at close to thirteen hundred feet per second. Tearing right through the leader of the charging pack. Which brought enough time for Jamison to fall to one knee and bring his revolver up in a two handed stance. He too squeezed the stiff trigger and sent a .44 caliber round right between the eyes of one of the charging creatures. The gun roared to life.
The aged revolver’s 8⅜’’ barrel bucked up, but Jamison let it. And in one smooth motion he leveled it between the eyes of another creature. The mechanical clacking of Tom’s shotgun rang out right as Jamison fired another round- Dropping yet another creature. Tom followed up the two shots with another blast, another clack, and a third blast from his shotgun. Giving Jamison enough time to re-level his sights on the final of the group.
“Adios ya’sunovabitch,” He swore before firing one final time. Silencing the world as the final creature fell. Ash continued to fall and a frigid wind whipped the boy’s jacket back and forth.
Fifteen shots remaining
Silence reigned in the world around Jamison as the boy’s music played and his ears rang for a few moments.
“We need to go. We’re about three miles out so get up and move.” Tom wheezed, racking his shotgun a fourth time- chambering a new shell in place.
“Yep. Let’s hit the road, old man.” Jamison said, rising to his feet.
Tom scoffed and began to move out, letting Jamison fall into step behind him. The two walked in silence for the first mile before Tom turned on heel and stared into Jamison’s eyes from beneath his salt and pepper hair.
“What’s your deal, boy? … You’re handy with a gun and appear to be strong. Nor do you share much about yourself… So humor me and tell you about myself.” That was the most Tom had spoken to the boy in one go.
“Mom had lots of boyfriends. In and out, wasn’t always pretty. Some taught me the easy things, some taught me the hard things. Moved around a lot too, and it ain’t always easy being the new kid in small town schools. Got good at fighting, got good at school. I’m nothing special and it’s as simple as that. What about you?” Came Jamison’s verbosely terse reply.
Tom stiffened before he sighed, “Not your business. Keep walking.”
Jamison could feel his cheeks heat up in rabid fury, but he did not act on the dozen cruelties that whizzed through his mind. He instead clenched his jaw and pressed on. If Tom wanted to be an asshole- then he could be an asshole. That was his prerogative.
The two forged on in silence for about thirty five minutes until they reached a small shack of a house with an old beater car parked in front which seemed to be their destination. Mainly because Tom accelerated his pace and rapidly approached the door of the house. Which he quickly got to banging on.
“Paris… Paris… Paris, get your ass out here… You were right about it all…” Tom called out into the nothingness.
A sharp, slightly raspy voice answered, “Okay- okay. I hear you. Quit your banging before that thing hears you.”
“What thing? Those weird crystal growth people? We can take care of those pretty easy Paris.You can shoot them in the head and they die.” Tom said, giving his shotgun a pat.
Must things die when you shoot them in the head but that only works when you have bullets.
“No you moron- Just- Just get your ass in here and tell the kid to come with you too.” Paris growled as the door between the two brothers clicked- Signaling that it was unlocked.
The door opened up revealing a narrow hawkish face and a pair of piercing blue eyes staring out from the blackness within the shack, “In. You too, kid,” And just like that the face faded into black.
Tom sighed and pushed his way inside, nearly slamming the door in Jamison’s face- And he would’ve if the boy hadn’t stuck his foot in the door, sensing the hostility. But regardless Jamison slipped inside and quietly shut the door.
What he found was a low ceilinged and dimly lit living room complete with two doors to the back and a kitchen-living room combo. And the only source of light being an old oil lamp in the center of the room. The place smelled old and the dingy couch and chair didn’t help it. Nor did the seemingly frantically scattered cans of food and miscellaneous mechanical components. Odd machines reminiscent of weapons were scattered about in various shades of completion.
“Just what the hell is going on, Paris… First you move to this shack in the middle of nowhere, stark raving mad. Then you keep talking about the end of the world. Then this shit happens. And how did you know that it was- And on top of that, what the fuck are you hiding from?” Tom rapid fired questions as Paris darted about the place with a roll of duct tape in hand- Taping tarps and blankets up across the windows.
“SHUSH.” Paris growled, silencing his brother and leaving Jamison to stand around awkwardly.
But luckily the eldest brother took mercy on the boy and motioned for him to sit, which Jamison did without a further word. Though a moment later the man skitteed off and retrieved a roll of duct tape from the kitchen table, which was also in the living room.
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Tom continued to stand around looking just angry with the world and everything in it. But that was his standard mood so Jamison didn’t much mind… He was used to it at the end of the day- putting up with crotchety people that is.
“Okay. Listen up,” Paris hissed, “There is a thing in the forest- multiple things actually that are hunting. Ripped my neighbor to shreds and tanked a shot from a handgun.”
Well- shit.
But Paris continued, the look on his face turning grimmer and grimmer, “I’ve managed to create some things to wound them better than a gun. It should work but I’m not necessarily enticed to attempting to fight the damn things. So I’ve been stuck here- like a coward… But that’s enough about me- What about you? And who’s that kid? Better yet- Why the fuck are you even here man?”
Tom ran a hand through his hair and seemingly lost some of his hostility, “I’ve been holed up with Duke and Poppy, the kid is a stray Duke picked up, and we’re here to get you. So get your shit together and get ready to move out. This place is bad news.” He whispered back
Paris deflated as he set his roll of duct tape on a nearby table. And for the briefest of moments he had the same sort of haunted look that Miller had painted across his face… he seemed so defeated and lost. Completely without hope for that single moment before he returned to his previous nervous intensity.
“You’re not going to get lucky twice Tommy.” The words rang out like a bell.
Jamison could feel himself tense as the words just spilled out of his mouth, “I’ll kill them. Just give me the weapon.”
And just like that his fate was sealed.
Paris stopped his pacing and Tom turned around to face the boy. They both wore looks of concern- A look that seemed completely out of place on Tom’s face. It was almost comical to the boy how concerned the priest looked. But from what Jamison could surmise it wasn’t out of concern for his own safety.
After a moment Paris simply shrugged and retreated into one of the rooms that lined the back of the shack. Another moment passed and he came out with a bundle of different mechanical contraptions in hand. All of which he placed on the dining room table before motioning for Jamison to come on over. Which the boy did, ambling over with a droll look put across his face.
“What am I looking at, Paris?” Jamison rasped as he got a better look at the three contraptions.
The first of which appeared to be the frame of a revolver hooked up to a series of metal tubes composing a cylinder with a buttstock made out of pipes. All of which was hooked up to a pump beneath the ‘barrel’ and tubing went from that to an air tank in the stock to the barrels. It was a heavy, powerful looking thing. And the large broad headed bolts that protruded from the six ‘chambers’ of the cylinder gleamed menacing in the low light of the room.
The next was an unholy mesh of a crossbow’s upper body and a rifle lower body. Complete with a magazine of three bolts underneath the thick cableage of the crossbow. It even had a small ghost ring sight screwed on above the crossbow part. There were no gimmicks to it, which was something that Jamison could appreciate. It was just a crossbow with a magazine, not really a very foreign design choice.
And the final was a long, thin rifle-like contraption. It was composed of a large metal pipe screwed into a makeshift PVC pipe stock, a large air canister and gauge were mounted beneath the ‘barrel’ and a janky looking trigger system was set up between the canister and stock. An air-rifle by the looks of it.
“Take your pick. All of them should kill the damn things.” Paris stated proudly.
Jamison, without hesitation picked the first of the trio, “Whatcha call this thing then?”
“The Lullabye. She’s pretty nice, ain’t she?”
Jamison nodded as he hefted the thing up, noticing that it had a rifle strap on it for ease of carrying… How helpful.
“I’ve got twenty four spare bolts too, quiver’s under the table. She shoots a steel bolt at three hundred feet per second by virtue of an airtight pneumatic system. Just remember to pump it a few times and keep the gauge in mind.” Paris informed as Jamison admired the thing.
“She’ll do. Thanks Paris.”
“No problem kid… Don’t die… And try to make it back by dark, worse things like to come alive when the sun sets. I can hear them through the windows and they sound big.”
Jamison shrugged. He could kill whatever was stalking Paris… He had to. It was the price of his refuge at the Miller house.
With a small sigh the boy slipped the sling of the Lullabye over his shoulder before grabbing the quiver which came handy with a carabiner clip. A clip that went to his belt around his right hip. Allowing for a somewhat easier time reloading the hefty contraption. But if Jamison could make one observation- It was that the Lullabye felt right in his hands.
Maybe it was an innate craving of violence but a rather large part of Jamison liked that he was holding a weapon and had another tucked into his waistband. But that was in reserve for a specially dire situation. Because sometimes you just had to shoot a bitch in the face.
“Here, for your face, kid. The ash is bad for your lungs.” Paris interjected, offering up an old and oily black bandana. Which Jamison took and tied around his face.
After that the boy set out, emerging from the dimly lit shack with the Lullabye in hand, scanning the surroundings for anything amiss… Which there wasn’t, leading Jamison to his first idea…
An idea that consisted of the boy walking some three hundred feet down the driveway then shouting expletives at the top of his lungs. Leading to the forest around him to go completely silent… A bad sign if nothing else, because while Jamison knew jack and shit about tracking he did know that things going quiet is bad.So he was left to finally switch off his earbuds and give his surroundings a good listen. When people go quiet something bad has happened, so that probably applied to the forest.
Probably.
What followed was perhaps the most tense sixty seconds of Jamison Magnolia’s life.
Sixty seconds later a twig behind Jamison snapped, causing the boy to whirl around and bring the Lullabye to bear. Giving him enough time to see the creature in full.
It looked to be a dog but it was all wrong. The creature had no fur, instead it had pallid-whitish flesh that showcased its lithe form. Jamison could see every striation of muscle and every contusion of bone in its body… He could also see its maw- a horrid visage reminiscent of an angler fish with its dull eyes, flat nose, and plethora of pearly white-shining sharp teeth protruding from its mouth at odd angles.
“Gotcha- bitch.” Jamison growled as he sent a bolt hurdling at the hound.
The bolt hit, and promptly embedded itself in the beast’s skull, halting its advance.
Though Jamison didn’t see the second creature behind him- Though he could feel a pair of razor sharp talons catching him in the left leg. Causing the boy to drop to one knee and cry out in pain. His leg felt like it was on fire. Blackness tingled at the edge of his rapidly blurring vision. And right as Jamison went to whirl around a torrential force slammed into his back, sending him to the ashen ground…
But the boy did not give in and quickly rolled over, releasing the Lullabye.
As the boy rolled he was able to draw his revolver and shove it into the drooling, toothy maw of the second creature. A moment later he pulled the trigger- exploding the head of the beast, sending a torrent of gore blowing out the back of its skull… A torrent that quickly began to rain back down onto Jamison. Straining bright red splotches all across his now ash covered clothing.
Slowly, and painfully, Jamison arose and tucked his smoking revolver into pocket. Burning his leg in the process… But he couldn’t care less as he limped over to the first corpse. Then, with a rasping sigh he ripped his expended bolt from the creature's head and slotted it into place in the empty tube. Finally he pulled the hammer back, rotating the cylinder and chambering a fresh bolt in place- Just as translucent blue blood dripped from the expended bolt,
“Just- Fuckin’- Damnit- Damn leg- Fuck- Christ-” Jamison swore as he stretched his freshly lacerated calf.
The wound seemed to be superficial, which was good, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like an absolute bitch. Luckily his vision was slowly regaining clarity- the stars that were clouding his line of sight were slowly dissipating. Allowing for a greater degree of perception for the boy. His senses were on fire. His leg burned and his ears rang- He could see almost every leaf on the trees around him and every twig on the dusty old road.
His sudden burst of adrenal clarity also allowed the boy to see a flash of white flesh prowling the tree line. So the boy did the only thing he could do- Which was to heft up the Lullabye and prepare to make a stand against the third beast.
But while Jamison had poured all of his focus into tracking the prowling blur of white flesh something began to walk in the treeline behind him. The sullen gray skies started to turn black- The ground began to shake- ash began to fall in greater gouts, further staining the world… But Jamison did not falter- in that moment.
In a flash the third creature burst from the treeline, allowing Jamison to get a clear shot on it. Skewering it through the shoulder, stopping in its tracks with its own momentum. Giving enough time for the boy to click the Lullabye’s hammer back and send another bolt through the face of the third beast. Causing it to jolt back and eventually skid to a halt, allowing Jamison to retrieve his two bolts and slot them back into place.
Then, and only then, Jamison shakily turned around. But as he did so each and every muscle in his body went taught. He was locked into place as sweat began to pool on his bro as he frantically searched around for the cause of his sudden paralysis… Which came in the form of another creature standing at the edge of the treeline, partially obscured by the assorted brush of the treeline.
Yet from what Jamison could see- The creature was short, childish looking really. With dark, gunmetal colored flesh and limbs that were just too long for its body. But it bore the same wiry-stringily, defined musculature of the one from the cafeteria.. It too seemed to bear a cowl of lichen, but one that extended so that it also obscured vast swathes of its body. But Jamison remembered exactly what such a creature’s face would look like. Its split jaw and doglike muzzle.
Jamison could feel bile well up in his throat from just looking it at.
‘Why are you afraid?’ A small, weak, childlike voice asked from the back of the boy’s mind.
Jamison hissed in retaliation, forcing his clenched jaw opened so words could spill out, “What are you?” He wheezed.
‘I… I do not know… Why- Why did you kill those things?’ The voice questioned back.
Slowly, yet surely, Jamison was able to move his body. Drawing himself up into a straight backed posture.
“It was either my life or their’s.” But there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice… Jamison didn’t like the feeling of killing another being. It made him feel powerful in a dark sort of way.
‘Are… Are you going to kill me too? Is my life that inconsequential to your own?’
Jamison flinched.
“No… I don’t want to… Why don’t you come over here… I’m not going to hurt you- I swear it.”
The creature took a tiny step forwards but stopped itself before it could truly exit the brush.
‘Swear? What- What does that mean?’
“Its a type of promise… Meaning that I’ll see it through no matter what… I won’t hurt you, little one…”
‘Okay…’
Slowly, yet steadily the creature began to plod forwards. Tentatively stepping over fallen branches and around larger rocks until it stood some ten feet from Jamison. Allowing the boy to see it in greater detail. He could trace every visible muscle on its body in great detail. And how its flesh was tightly stretched across his sharply poking out bones. And he could see uncertainty in how it stood- how it shook every so slightly- how it looked up at Jamison from beneath its cowl of lichen.
“Do you… Do you have a name?”
‘What… What is a name? I am unfamiliar with the concept.’
Jamison sighed as he dropped down to one knee, beckoning the creature to come over. Which it did in slow, shaky steps until it stood before Jamison. Leaving the boy to shrug off his jacket and drape it across the creature’s shoulders, bundling it up and protecting it from the ashfall. Jamison then pulled his bandana down and smiled.
“Here you go… And a name- A name is special, it's very important to who exactly you are. It’s what people call you and it's how you’re referred to.”
‘What is… What is your name then?’
There was a moment of pause, “Jamison, Jamison Magnolia- But my friends call me Jams so I guess you can too.”
‘Jamison… Jamison Magnolia… Jams… I like that… What is my name then, Jams?”
“Hmm… I don’t quite know.” For a moment the boy’s smile faltered, “Maybe you can pick one?”
‘Those things’ The creature pointed towards a small patch of flowers that Jamison recognized as false indigo, ‘What are they?’
“Those are flowers, flowers called indigo. Do you like them?” Jamison could feel himself softening as the tiny creature curiosity’s sparked more questions.
‘I like them quite a bit… Can you call me that- Indigo?’
Jamison nodded, “Indigo. I like it. And as much as I’d like to continue to chat with you, we need to go. I’ve got a few friends holed up near here, would you care to come with me? It’ll be safe… And I think we can get you something to eat if you like.”
The creature- Indigo nodded, leading to Jamison rising up and gently grasping its hand.
“Stay close- I’ll protect you.”
Just like that the two set off as the world around them got a little brighter and the shaking subsided. Bit by bit color started to return to the earth despite the ashfall and the crystalline growths. Jamison smiles softly to himself as they walked. Even at the end of the world the trees were green and verdant despite it all. But even he could see that color was fading in the world due to the lack of sunlight.
The two walked on despite that, eventually arriving at Paris’ shack after a short time. Which Jamison approached with Indigo in hand, softly rapping on the door.
“It's done. Got all three of’em… So get your shit and get out here.” Jamison rasped as his rapping on the door grew into banging.
A moment later the door flew open revealing a still pissed off looking Tom, shotgun in hand… Which was then leveled right between Indigo’s eyes- Causing Jamison to immediately draw his revolver. Leveling it parallel to Tom’s heart. The older man’s eyes darted between both Jamison and Indigo, searching for the better target between the two.
“The fuck is that thing boy?” Tom spat, his grip on the shotgun increasing with a groan of old wood.
“Found him when I was doing your dirty work. Now get the gun out of his face Tom.” Jamison said, the fury that he had been holding deep within his chest threatened to leak out and consume everything.
It felt like he had ice in his veins and a fire in his chest. The world started to speed up as dozens of different receptors within the boy’s brain were triggered. Each releasing a different chemical to keep the boy on edge and prepare him for violence which seemed inevitable. But it felt a little silly to Jamison- That both he had Tom had immediately resorted to threats of violence to get their ways.
After a tense moment Tom lowered his shotgun, causing Jamison to tuck his revolver back into his pocket. And with a snarl Tom turned and stalked off back into the shack, grabbing his pack and Paris by the arm.
Paris, who had a rather large bag of what Jamison could only assume were weapons slung across his back looked pensive. But his apprehension to the whole ordeal didn’t stop him from skirting past Jamison in order to begin to skitter down the road. Tom, on the other hand, pushed right on past the boy with a large frown spanning across his face. Leaving Jamison to sigh and usher Indigo along with the two men, but he left a hand on the revolver tucked into his pocket. Not quite trusting the motives of Tom.
What followed was an incredibly tense forty minutes of the quartet walking in silence all the way to the car. Paris seemed like he wanted to ask questions- especially about Indigo by the way he was eyeing it. But Tom’s chilly air stifled any sort of conversation which would have sparked up, even as they finally arrived at the car. Leading to the two men shoving their bags into the trunk and then piling into the car. Leaving both Jamison and Indigo to crawl over the both of them to sit in the rear seat… The boy’s hand still didn’t leave his revolver, it stayed locked in place through the entire ride.
At least Indigo seemed enamored by the car and the entire ride. And he was even more enamored by Jamison’s music, which he was able to listen to thanks to Jamison finding his ‘ear’ and putting an earbud in it. The two listened to different songs by Muse for the entire ride back.