Chapter 9

Running and panting, William stopped on the outskirts of the camp after a while. He felt pain everywhere, breathless, and his sore throat couldn't grasp any air. A large open space was before him, making up the camp’s secondary square. Why had he come here? This was so open, that it was akin to asking for a beating.

He wasn't alone.

Rows of dead bodies were piled beside some walls and buildings leading to bunkers. Everywhere were some notes of battle and Dark Fog was lingering all around this place, looking like devouring mist.

But the square was empty of any battles. Whatever happened long ended with people's loss, and there wasn't one obvious survivor.

Dark Fog was like heavy smoke one would see from burning tires, but it was more alive, flowing like water that had no weight or too much weight. It lingered around some corners and ground like poison and mist. There were bodies with military equipment, weapons, pistols, and even shotguns aside lifeless bodies.

That used to be a military brigade. Important protectors. Nothing here attracted William’s attention, since everything looked the same, even when his sight turned from sharp red to huffed tones of velvety hues. He still wanted to run, but he could no longer do it justice.

He glanced to his feet. His shoes were still there, right where they should be. He panted, glaring at the mesmerizing storm in his right hand next, which left an unfamiliar feeling and sight in his eyes. His fingers were not only broken, but the crimson sight and storming entity around his forearm seemed like a parasite. It was borderline crazy. He barely felt a thing about his body anymore and felt like he had been dreaming about this run for the past few minutes. His skin, muscles, and veins seemed broken, yet that Emblem kept going for as long as it could. It dig deeper, while the soft whip around him came from one little crack in his Emblem.

It... lives. William repeated the lesson from his mother. From where? How much trustworthy this pain and voice was? He couldn't remember. His Emblem was acting up, the buzzing refrained from paining him too much, and whatever was happening to him, it was calming down. That meant his body was beginning to ache, and he no longer continued running because he couldn't keep up. He clutched his chest with his left hand, trying to seep some air into his burning lungs.

Unfortunately, he wasn't given such luxury, for Carnijaw from before never stopped going after its prey. Even if some pestering Walkers and Darks came up to it, it was unhinged and focused.

It kept going, even if it was late and frustrating, ignoring explosive fights around the camp or immense echoes above, hiding in the Dark Fog.

What if something snatched its prey? What was more humiliating than that? Being hurt by such a little thing, or being too late to catch it? Carnijaw followed through scent and its lost tendrils, hunting its prey, and willing to avenge whatever it lost with a prided chase.

Screaming, howling, and smacking the ground with fists of its limbs, its eyes were berserk, and its Madness turned it red. Dark hues were coming from its big open mouth, giving it an enraged picture.

It saw its prey right there once again, so it went Berserk when it realized it was choosing a terrible spot. Its arms convulsed and thickened, and many veins popped all over its skin. It was ready to kill whatever was in its path. Its sharp teeth resembled an utter monster, grinning in tight clutch. It stomped with such vigor that it left cracks around the ground, pieces of concrete walls disintegrated, and corpses exploded around it. Going onward was the only path to its prey.

It was quite clunky, stupid, and easily killed in such a form, only if the group of five experienced Walkers came at it within the same Rank. But considering its size, it could be fast and crazy when it had space for easy maneuvers, and its rampage could go for as long as it could manage it. Carnijaw was powerful in almost every Aspect. From its mouth, and tendrils, to all limbs, it could tear bunkers apart. It was one of the better-balanced Darks within its Rank, and some of its powers were even holding up to Rank 6.

Its limbs ended up looking like nasty tools, capable of holding things or clasping lives into a mash of flesh. Its body was much smaller than the rest, but what was the strength of most Darks? Their mouths? Appetite? Absolute dreadful intent to hunt down for food? They had many ideas and even more instincts. Neither one was great for humans.

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Attacking its head was the easiest way to kill it for good, but getting closer was an issue even when it had a low range of motion. One should also watch out for those tendrils and jaw, so one shouldn't be overconfident.

William wasn't noticing how that nightmare changed, though he heard those thuds. They reverberated to his heart, or was it his Emblem again?

Something started echoing again, itching his hands and easing up the movement of his legs.

Run... Run... Quicker, William.

He turned.

And yelped.

That pouncing Carnijaw was like an unhinged beast, approaching way too closely when it finally could. A mere single street was between them.

William should have not turned his head just now. He regretted it instantly, for his vision of that monster hunted his mind. Those red shadows and loud noises or growls were coming. The nightmare was coming.

Hiding or running. He thought. Like mother says. Choice. The first one no longer seemed that bad, though William knew very little about his surroundings without his mother. The nightmare will follow. Hiding wasn't an option.

“Run... Run!” He guessed another lie, but it was more like he had no other choice. The lack of a hiding spot and this Carnijaw gave it some truth.

His body moved again, giving him strength and pain and...

[Time... down...]

William stumbled on his step when the sharp pain eclipsed from his hand to the rest of his body like a strike of lighting. He pushed his arms against the mud and blood to go back to his feet, ignorant that the redness disappeared because his head fell to a bloody pile.

Strength fled his flesh and even his Emblem stopped convulsing, but William's mind momentarily thought of some idea, as if fleeing in a random direction seemed stupid. He was in an open square. He should've recognized that it was a terrible place.

But he used to come here on some occasion with his mother and the rest of this camp. There were bunkers close, so he quickly glanced around, trying to see the safety of bigger buildings which were intact and safe against most Darks.

Finding them was easy; they were around the edges, close to piles of corpses and who knew what else. They were also far, so could he reach them quicker than those incoming thuds?

At a terrible time, he involuntarily did something that not even his mother taught him. Seeking refuge in need and inability to protect oneself. It was about rare protection that would be away from his parents. It was common sense, yet he didn't know such basic rules of survival.

It came to his mind through helplessness and lacking choices. His running, or what could only be called an instinct of his life, was the source and the smallest reason he was even alive.

Carnijaw was less than a street away, so William went through all his fuel and ideas and moved his legs.

Halfway through the camp's square, feeling breathless once more, he stumbled and fell, hitting his chin on the ground and face bathed in mud. Dizziness and pain filled his mind, followed by drowsiness, and even some blood oozed from his chin and nose, mixing with everything. His Emblem was getting duller and duller, and a little whip surrounded by many lines around it slowly disappeared away, leaving blood flowing down his hand.

He wasn't sure what he was watching anymore. That room, that hand, or the lines or noises. William had enough of everything and clasped his hands in a try to feel his fingers.

He moaned when he couldn’t feel his right arm and went to his knees. Looking around in fear and daze, he noticed a hand quenching his feet. It was a confusing picture.

There was a dying soldier with barely any consciousness left. He mumbled something, one eye hanging from his socket, and half of his jaw was missing. Yet, he was still alive, so he grabbed William in a fleeing moment to save his own life. It could no longer be saved, for the Dark Fog was lingering at his feet, slowly eating it up, while his injuries and shock were fatal.

William didn't understand what this man wanted, or perhaps this too was a monster. Since it stopped him from running from another one, it must be a monster. He didn't know he could end up like this man, but his grip was weak. Slipping away was very easy, and William even kicked the hand away before returning to his ''run''.

That was good for one thing alone; Carnijaw got so much closer.

The gasping man hovered his hand toward running William, seeking help. Then, his head exploded when a tendril went through it, coming out of his forehead. It missed its true prey, so it continued with its pursuit. It was still too far in control and failed.

One moment was all it should take. So Carnijaw stomped and stomped until it had enough distance to flicker a long tendril around, wrapping it around William's feet, who assumed it to be another dying monster.

No. Not this time around.

It was a real monster behind him.

Carnijaw snorted in pleasure, charging with satisfaction on its head. It couldn't rely on its tendrils which flickered in Berserk like unhinged hair. They were extremely hard to control like this, so Carnijaw had to be close to its prey. Thirty feet, to be exact.

William felt nothing in particular when he stumbled to the ground again and faced the blood, or was it mud? He couldn't see the difference even his his eyes no longer glowed red. He stopped in his tracks, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't get this tendril away that nearly shattered his little feet. The lingering light could no longer help.

He felt helpless, as a strange feeling of acceptance appeared in his mind. There was at least no screaming on his side since he hated loud and annoying voices.