Edgar just ran. He didn’t know what had happened in his shop. He didn’t know what would’ve happened if he stayed. He didn’t want to know. All he knew was that he was in danger. The sun had set, and his eyes were having trouble adjusting to the darkness after they’d been exposed to the blinding towers of flame. He wouldn’t be able to tell if anyone approaching him was the Evan boy or someone else who’d pull a scythe out of nowhere. He didn’t even have a phone with him to call the cops, so he just ran.

He’d run out the back and gone in pretty much a straight line, which meant he was running on the fringes of Ironbark, whether he’d been drawn here subconsciously, Edgar didn’t take the time to consider. His legs ached as he sprinted without restraint, frequently coughing as he gasped for air. The smoke hadn’t helped his lungs much, but he kept pushing himself. The farther he could run, the better chance he had to get away. He could feel the ache of his legs shoot all the way up to his ears, but he ran and ran.

The sky spun above him. Dazed, he slammed into the ground.

What had happened? No, he knew. He’d put weight on one of his legs, and it had ultimately given way. Which leg it had been, he couldn’t remember. A creeping sensation of panic came over him as he lay wheezing on the ground – he couldn’t run anymore. In his addled state, it was the only option. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think of alternatives. He coughed after his gasping caught phlegm in his throat. A burning sensation spread from the center of his chest outwards as he hyperventilated. His panicking intensified as he tried to catch his breath. He was drowning in air.

He strained his arms to push himself up, hoping it would help him catch his breath. Balancing himself; his hand came down next to a patch of wildflowers. They’d been growing at the base of a large gravestone, which, Edgar realized with a pang of fear, he’d been only a few inches from hitting his head on when he fell. As the fear faded, Edgar found he could breathe much easier. He sudden realization of his near death unexpectedly helped him calm down. He didn’t know how long he’d been running, but he was sure the flower shop was far away. He may have run in a mostly strait line, but Evan didn’t know that. He would be able to hide here and catch his breath, while considering with a clearer head what to do next.

Edgar shifted himself so he was obscured by the headstone. His next step would be to get somewhere with a phone, one that he could use in the middle of the night. It was that or go directly to the police station, and he didn’t know where it was. Small town as it may be, it was difficult to memorize the location of every important building. Even now, he wasn’t sure where he was. Ironbark Graveyard was large enough to house the deceased from the local population and the nearby towns, so it stretched incredibly far. He might not even be near an exit. He pondered silently amidst the grass.

A minute, an hour, several hours – Edgar didn’t know how long he’d been there, crouched behind the marker of someone’s final resting place. The numbness had made way for a throbbing ache in his legs and an invisible weight on his chest that kept him wheezing. Periodically, he tried to slow his breath, only for his body to scream for more air. He would go soon, but he didn’t know how far he’d be able to make it before his legs gave out again.

Wait, was that… he thought he’d heard something. He quieted his breathing as much as he could and listened. A faint sound repeated, a crunch of dirt – footsteps. Was it a gravedigger? A security guard? He shifted slowly and glanced around the gravestone. No one yet, they were just over the hill. He watched in silence, heart thumping in his chest. The sound was louder now. Whoever it was; they were approaching. A figure took form over the hill, a figure holding a heavy tome.

Edgar’s breath caught in his throat. It was Evan. It was the worst person it could’ve been. He was still too tired to run. He ran so far, but Evan found him somehow. It had to be that book he was holding. Whenever Evan opened that book and spoke aloud, ridiculous things happened. He’d seen it happen twice – no – three times. The first was before his computer started fritzing. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

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He’d opened and closed the book, then started muttering something. Edgar thought frantically. Maybe he could use this. Maybe there was some way out of this, please god let there be a way out of this.

Every moment that passed, Evan stepped closer – directly, without deviation or deliberation. Edgar tensed. He looked away and ducked further behind the gravestone. The boy was too close to watch without Edgar being seen. By now, Evan was surely only a few meters away. Every crunch of dirt sounded as though he was inches behind Edgar’s ear, but he waited. If he mistimed this, he didn’t know what would happen; He hoped he’d never find out.

Three… Time slowed to a halt. Edgar could feel his heartbeat in his ears. The sounds of the world faded into nothing. Two… His hands clenched around the dirt at his feet, clinging on to the still-moist soil. One… He took a deep breath and ripped up some of the soil. It was now or never …zero.

Edgar leaped out from behind the grave – Evan before him. He was less than a meter away, but reacted instantly, stepping back and beginning to chant. Edgar flung a handful of soil at Evan’s face. Reflexively, Evan raised his hands, and with them: the book.

Edgar ran with every ounce of strength his legs had left and grabbed the book in his hands. Edgar had seen his weird voodoo fizzle out last time he’d dropped it. He yanked as hard as he could to wrest it from his grip, but Evan knew his goal and hung on for dear life. Edgar pulled again. His arms screamed for him to stop, and his eyes met Evan’s – filled with fury and frustration.

Evan opened his mouth and began to speak, but what came out were the same inhuman words he’d heard before the fire. Panicking, Edgar stopped pulling and pushed. The book slammed into him, interrupting whatever spell he was using. Edgar circled and pulled in a different direction. Stubbornly, Evan held on, now bleeding from the lip.

Edgar felt burning, cutting pains in his arms as he strained. He had to finish this soon or his body would give out. His grip faltered, and his left hand slipped off the book. With ennewed fear, he searched his mind for anything he could do – any baseless, reckless idea he could think of.

It came to him. He remembered in the shop – he could never forget – the wretched-sounding words that had come of Evan’s mouth before he was tied up with vines and his shop had burst into flames. Edgar opened his mouth and spoke.

Evan’s eyes widened as he realized what Edgar was doing. Edgar saw the same shock and fear he had felt. Evan strained to pull the book away, but too slowly.

As the last word left Edgar’s lips, an intense pain pushed through him, as if his stomach were pulled out and his life was pouring through the hole. He felt his grip over the book slip.

Before his hand left the tome, wildflowers surrounding Evan convulsed and stretched into spiked tendrils and wrapped around his arms and chest. The coils tightened, wrenching Evan’s hands from the book.

Evan’s eyes widened in panic as the vines whipped him back, slamming him into the ground. Edgar couldn’t feel triumphant. His body felt empty, his strength sapped. Even without Evan pulling the book away, he couldn’t hold on. The book fell to the ground.

Almost immediately, the vines withered away. Only the flowers remained. Edgar collapsed on his knees. His body didn’t ache, it didn’t feel numb, it felt as though it wasn’t there at all. It felt as though he was far, far away from the man on his knees in the graveyard. He didn’t move at all, even as he watched Evan push himself off the ground.

Clearly dazed, Evan swayed heavily as he got to his feet. He put his hand over his face and grimaced painedly as he balanced himself. Edgar knew he had to act, had to get up, but his body moved as if in slow motion.

Evan’s eyes locked onto the book – an intense, burning gaze, as if nothing else existed. His entire body was shivering after the blow to his head, his breathing belabored. He took a step towards the book and collapsed to his knees, but he was within arm’s reach.

Edgar too, started towards the book. His weakly shifting body began moving faster. His limbs felt loose. They dangled uselessly by his side. He knew he wouldn’t be able to grab the book, but he continued forward.

Evan reached, grasping the edge of the book, just as Edgar’s body slammed into him. Evan toppled. Edgar had no strength left in his body to move, but Evan was the same. As Evan fruitlessly reached for a book out of his grasp, Edgar lost consciousness.