Chapter Text
|-An Encapsulating Woodland-|
Aww, c'mon... Where's the jagoff? Better question: Where the hell am I at? I feel like I've been running for hours but not getting anywhere. I'm starting to think that this is all a dream. That I'm actually asleep, passed out in one of those two big logs the second the sun went down. I just need to wake up, and this all over. I didn't see the little golden jagoff. And it definitely didn't buzz me. I'm gonna wake up in a log, go back to Maddy's apartment, and forget that any of this happened. It was only a dream. A bad dream. But still a dream. So I should just... stop running... Turn back and head home.
But that's not what happens.
I don't stop.
I don't stop running at all. And it's for one simple reason:
I gotta whack dis fuckin' murderbird.
So I keep runnin'. I gotta catch up. Gotta choke it out like it's a chicken. Then, I can have my peace of mind back. But for as much as I run and run and run... I don't get any closer. I need to stop. Take a breather. I keep running like this and I'll drop from exhaustion. And that'd be the real tragedy. So I slow my pace to a crawl, resting my arm on a nearby tree. I slump, head between my knees, breaths deep and low so I can get enough oxygen. Then I just... stay there for a bit. I know the general direction the crow is going. North. At least I think it's north. I pull out my phone to check the compass, only to remember that the battery died a while ago. So that's going to be no use. I'd check the sky, but the canopy above is so thick with leaves and branches that I can barely see anything past the treetops. I need to get moving. If anything, than to just get a better grasp of where I am. I know for a fact that I'm not in the preserve anymore. No fuckin' way I could be. But I still need to know where I am. That should give me better context, being able to see potential landmarks and points of interest. But every direction I look, it's the same: A long stretching forest with no clear end in sight. I don't want to admit it, mostly so I don't start panicking, but I may actually be lost out here. A dead phone. No idea of where I am. If something happened, Maddy wouldn't find out. All she'd know is that I went out one evening, and never came back. So maybe... I should just give up. Leave this damn bird alone and head back. But where do I even start?
Against my better judgement, I start heading south. At least I think where south is. But something in my gut is telling me that this is a mistake. That I'm walking right into an early grave. I can already see the headlines when some poor schmuck eventually and inevitably finds my dead body on a hike of their own:
'Lost hiker found after three week search. Identified as Cameron Albridge, twenty-three years old. Born August 9th, 2000 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.'
Now I'm left imagining what Maddy would be going through if... when that happens. Losing someone she viewed as a brother in what has got to be the dumbest way possible. God dammit, Cam... How couldja be such a dufus? I shoulda knew better than ta do dis. Shoulda listened ta my feels. Listened ta what Bo said a cupla days ago:
Not every bird sings a sweet song.
I been walkin' fer hours, and these woods ain't got no fuckin' end in sight. I'm gettin' real bent outta shape, I am. Maybe just a couple hundred more feet... Oh. Ah, jawn. Guess it's my lucky night. Looks like this damn forest is finally starting to thin out. Ahead I think I see the tree line getting more sparse, giving way to shrubs and grass. But as I inch closer and closer, it's... Not what I thought it was. These woods are thinning. That much I know. But I'm not liking what I'm looking at beyond the trees. But for whatever reason, I can't stop walking. With every step, the dread increases. I need to turn around and run, but I can't. It's like my legs are moving on their own.
Closer... and closer... and closer to the edge of the forest...
I walk past the treeline, and a pit forms in my stomach as I process what I see: An impossibly large, massive and gargantuan field of wheat. Larger than what a farm should normally be. How the heck did this jawn even get here? Some bozo WOULD'VE said somethin' 'bout this. And yet... here it stands. Hidden by this likewise impossibly large and expansive forest that stretches for miles into the horizon behind me. I don't like the way dis looks. I don't like how familiar dis feels. Feels like I been here before. But when? An' how? I don't remember being in a place like this ever. In my life. Unless, of course... No. No. Absolutely not. That's stupid. Incredibly stupid and illogical.
There's no possible way I... that I have been here before in a dream. Just... No. That's so stupid. It's just a coincidence. But the crows that start cawing behind me are saying something else.
"Run, Cameron! Run, Cameron!" I hear rumbling from the forest behind me, followed by a demonic bellow that sounds like a horse. I don't want to be out here when that things gets to me, so I start running again. Towards the field. Into the wheat. I sprint down the hill overlooking the farm, trying not to trip and fall all the way down. I can't risk injury. Not now. Not when whatever made that sound is getting closer. I reach the bottom without a scratch and keep going, the stalks towering above the horizon like a field of lignin and fiber. But as I reach the edge, I stupidly turn back, to look at whatever was behind me. At the top of the hill is this... thing. Looks like a giant horse skeleton that's been fused with a cart. And then it sees me. Somehow. And that bellowing roar comes out, followed by the thing rushing down the hill and towards me with murderous intent. The kind I absolutely fuckin' hate. Ain't but one t'ing I can do now. One single move that'll either save my ass or get it capped: Run into the stalks. So I turn around... and don't look back.
|-The Ceramic Grove of Wheat-|
I don't know how long I've been running, but I need to stop again. I'm spent. Completely out of energy. I need to rest. Sit. Lay down. Anything. I just hope whatever that horse-lookin' jawn was ain't followin' me. It looked massive and I don't have anything to kill it with. Not that I'd ever run that risk. Sometimes, flight is the better option. And I'm making sure that I make it out of here alive. So here I am, surrounded by wheat stalks that would dwarf Shaq. What kinda whick did I get on to deserve this jawn?
When I've caught my breath, I start walking. A random direction that I think will get me somewhere. But my gut is saying something different. It's saying a lot of things, actually:
'We need to get out of here.'
'Find shelter and hide.'
'This is just a weird dream.'
But most concerning of all...
'We've been here before.'
And I won't deny, this place feels too familiar. But why? Why is it like that? I need to know. So I keep walking. I have to find out. And if that information can help me get rid of this damn crow, than it'll be even better. I just need to keep moving forward. Forward to what I hope is the center of this field. Where a farmhouse has to be. Maybe there's a weapon there. A knife or a shotgun. Hell, I'll even take a rubber mallet. I'm strong enough to do some damage with that. Just keep moving. Keep. Moving. Forward.
It feels like hours have passed again and I'm no closer to any kind of structure. Nothing that will provide shelter and safety. But despite this, the moon hasn't changed position once. It's staying in place, full and undaunted. It's givin' me the jimmies, somethin' awful. I don't dig it. And the sky... it's dis weird golden brown color. Ain't natural, not even a liddle bit. No clouds in sight. No stars blinking up above. Nothing except for the full moon looming in the sky and this weird haze surrounding it. Like a fog that just won't dissipate. And it smells disgusting. Like moldy bread mixed with piss. It's nauseating. But still, I press on, not knowing where exactly I'm going. But it feels like I'm making progress, even if it's negligible.
What feels like ten minutes later, I find a small clearing in the wheat. I can't quite tell. Again, phone is dead. Can't check the time. But this is a good sign. At least, I think it is. I can get a better look at the sky and it's just the moon, still in the same spot that it was in when I first got here. That's.. Ominous. I take stock of what else is here in this crop circle, but I'm quickly realizing that is a dumb idea because I see nothing of note. No points of interest. No landmarks. Just bare ground surrounded by eight-foot tall stalks of wheat in every direction. But I know my answers are within this field, despite how much I hate the idea of exploring this place. So, against my better judgment once again, I head back into the stalks, moving forward with the vain hope that I find something that can help. Whatever help it may be.
Anudda "hour" goes by an' I'm still surrounded by all dis fuckin' wheat. No end in sight, just them duhls of grain as far as ya can see. I ain't a goner. Just buggin' and ready to fight. If this 'crah' is behind dis, and it was tryna get me dreadin' everythin' here, da plan backfired. Da bum just ragebaited me. And, HUMPH, when I get my paws on it...
thud
I trip over something. Something hard. Hard and sturdy enough to catch my foot and make me tumble. Never thought I'd be happy to be in a position like that, but here we are. I quickly get back on my feet and look for whatever I tripped on, and it doesn't take long to see. And that hope I was feeling is now replaced by dread and disgust: I stare down at the ground, looking at what seems to be a corpse. Jawn's been layin' 'ere for a bit, but not long enough to be all rotted. Still got a lotta meat, skin, and stuff on 'em. Maybe two months? I ain't good at tellin' how old somethin' is when it's decayin'. Ain't no pathologist or nothin'. But still, I feel bad for the fucker. Maybe I can get out of here. Do what they couldn't. Maybe that can give them some peace. I then kneel down, trying to see if there's anything on the body that might help identify who they were before they ended up here. I go through those rotten and torn clothes, what's left of them at least, and feel something in a pocket. I pull it out and it's a wallet. A wallet means that an ID is in there. So I open it up and start checking until I find something that can be used as identification: Their state ID.
"Name: Lang, Robert Johnston... Date of birth: August 15th, 1951... Home address: 215 5th Street North-East, Valley City, North Dakota... Sex: male... Height: six feet, five inches... Eyes: blue... Hair: dirty blonde..." I take a deep breath before I slip the ID back into the wallet, put the wallet into my own pocket and look back at the corpse on the ground. "Yer wicked far from yer house, Rob. I'll make sure this goes to someone yuh cared 'bout. Gives 'em some closure." I then turn around and start walking off when I hear something from behind me.
"Th...thank...y.you..."
I spin around, looking back down at Robert's corpse. Did... Did dat jawn just talk? No. No fuckin' way. I'm... I'm trippin' balls. Dat was just the wind. It... It HADDA be. Ain't no way Rob's dead body just... yapped at me... But den I hear it again.
"Y.ou...N.n..neeeeed.to...rrruuuuuuun..." It's def comin' from his stiff. Sounds real hoarse, like he got somethin' in his throat. No doubt 'cause his chords done rotted out. I gotta listen too. If a dead guy's tellin' yous to book it: Yous better fuckin' run. So I do. But before I can turn around, I catch in my peripheral vision something drag Rob's corpse into the wheat. With lightning speed. One second it's there, the next, just a skid mark from his body being dragged. Then I hear bellows and hoarse grunts, followed by the sound of flesh and bone being torn apart. And that's when I start running.
All around me, I hear things rustling in the wheat. Getting closer and closer, except I'm faster than them. But I don't know for how much longer. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm getting exhausted. My legs are on fire from all this sprinting. I need to rest but I know if I do I'm a dead motherfucker. I just need to find somewhere safe. So I keep running, pushing my body to it's limits. Until either I can't run any longer... or until I run into something. And this field... It just put something in my way. I slam into whatever it was and fall back hard onto my ass. I don't have time to look when I feel something grab at me. Clawing like it's trying to tear me apart. I finally get a good look and it's like somethin' ripped right outta The Walkin' Dead. This rotted-out shambler tryin' to bust my head open and eat my brains. I gotta think quick. Find somethin' to get this jag off me. I get one hand on its head, tryna keep them teef outta my neck while my other hand's feelin' around, tryna find somethin'. I'm searchin' for a couple seconds 'fore I bump into somethin' cold and hard. I grab it. A god damn rock. And a heavy one, too. Just what I need to get this deadhead off me. So I'm chuckin' the rock right inta the dead guy's dome, the bone in its skull caving right on in, then I'm shovin' the deadhead off me. In seconds, I'm back on my feet, but I hear all this moanin' behind me and to my sides. There's more of 'em. I gotta book it. Now.
I think I've put enough distance between me and those shamblers. I don't hear their groaning any more. The thing making the wheat rustle is the wind. So I'm safe. For now, at least. I'm exhausted. Legs feel like they're gonna give out at any moment. So I give into my body's demands. I sit. And I rest. Deep breaths, Cam. Deep breaths. Let that oxygen do it's magic. I spend a few minutes like this, laying down on my back and breathing. I need it. But I know that I'm not truly safe here. Those zombies are on my trail. Only a matter of time before they find me again. I can't risk that. So I get up and start moving again. And for once, it seems like luck is on my side. I can barely see it, but the stalks ahead seem to be thinning out. Just a few more steps and I might be able to get out of here. But that hope is smothered in it's crib when I get past the wheat. I'm greeted by an ominous and dubiously familiar sight: A desiccated forest marked by dead trees, barren bushes, wheat stalks and what remains of civilization. Aqueducts and old stone roads time forgot about. But in spite of any reservations I might have, I press on. Better to die fighting for answers than become one of those shamblers.
I walk into the dead forest, sticking mostly to the old stone paths. I'm not risking walking through the woods. I want to try and kill the crow and then get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. So I keep walking on the stones, mindful of whatever goes on around me. I need to take stock of what goes on here. The wind is low, but cold. Whenever it does pick up, it's a chill that would make Hell freeze over. And it carries this odd music. Nonsensical and disjointed. The kind of thing you'd expect from a horror movie. It's not pleasant. I don't like it. Then there's the trees themselves. The trunks are gnarled wood that look like they have people in them. I swear, I see a bone sticking out of one as I pass them by. It's fucking horrifying. Eventually, the trees start thinning out, and I come to another clearing. But I don't feel safe in this one. It's actively the opposite. I feel more vulnerable than I have been since getting here. But I need to keep moving. No telling what could be waiting for me here. I move through the clearing, sticking to the old stone path, boots clicking against them with a resonant sound. If that doesn't give away where I am, nothing will. This continues until trees close in on me again, but the claustrophobia isn't helping to ease my nerves. I feel even more vulnerable. Like I'm walking right into a trap. And as if on cue...
"Ah, so the fool has arrived."
I turn to face the source. I know what said that. I just gotta find the little gold jagoff. "You've weathered so much, Cameron. But this is where it ends."
I finally find where it's coming from. But I don't see the bird. No, instead I see something that looks like a person, but it's got bird claws on it's feet and wings for arms. Pointed ears and shaggy hair covering it's face to the point where I can't see any eyes. I hear rustling in some of the stray stalks, and then crows fly out from behind them. The birds gather behind the thing like a gang, ready to jump me when it says so.
"Where it ends! Where it ends!" The crows scream out in unison, voices hoarse. Exactly what I expected from those damn things.
"Da fuck youse want from me?" I shout, not knowing what else to do as I scan the ground for something I can use as a weapon. But I don't see anything. Nothing immediately.
"To break you, Cameron. To break you and bend you to His will." The thing responds. His will.? His... Him... Oh no... This isn't... Fuck... This ain't lookin' too go-
rustle
rustle
groooaoooaooaaaaaooaan
That snaps me out of whatever haze got a hold of me. I look around and see zombies starting to flank me. I dunno if dis crow got any clue what's gonna happen, but zombies usually eat dumb motherfuckers like me. I gotta jet, and quick. So I turn the hell around and start hoofin' it. Down the old cobblestone jawn. No clue if I'm headin' towards somethin' safe. But goddammit, it's gotta be better than this. But as I'm runnin', I hear it again.
"Run all you want, Cameron. But you cannot escape the inevitable. You bear my mark. Soon, you will bear His hex. The mark... of my Master."
My stems are burnin' up again. I ain't built for this kinda thing. Runnin' for this long. But when you gotta deal wit' all kinda demon and undead jawn, ya don't get much of a choice. But I'm startin' to slow down. My body makin' me decide. Save my energy or die from bein' tired. Probably what happened to poor Rob, before whatever grabbed him and dragged what was left of his body into the wheat. I'm catchin' my breath, my head hangin' between my knees, that stale air goin' into my lungs. But it's better than nothin'. So I'm chillin' here for a couple minutes 'til I feel steady. Alright, breath in... Deep and low... Okay. Straighten up, Cam. You'll be okay. I can get out of this.
I start back on the stone path, eyes and ears open to anything that might be sneaking up on me. I know that thing is following, but I can't place where it is. I just hope I managed to put a good amount of distance between me and it. As I ruminate on my thoughts, the wind picks back up, carrying that same twisted melody as before. In an odd way, it's comforting. Because I know when I hear it I'm relatively safe. It's when the music stops that danger is near. With this in mind, I keep moving. Staying steady on the old stone path. It stays this way for a good... twenty minutes or so until the music fades and I hear rustling in the wheat stalks. I look up and see the dead forest split. I'm on one end and I can see it continue on the other. The stone path, however, goes through a huge section of wheat, the tall stalks swaying in the wind. Jus' what I fuckin' needed... I know I need to keep moving, but with how dense the wheat is, it's a massive risk. But it's also a risk to stay here. Right where I am. If I don't move, those shamblers and crows are gonna catch up to me. Worse yet, that thing. Can't have that happen. So I start walking again, albeit at a faster pace so I can keep this distance.
The way the wheat is swaying around me is just all kinds of wrong. It's not because of the wind. The wind would start at the top of the stalk and work it's way down. This is starting in the middle of the stalk. As if something is interacting with the plant itself. Luckily, it's not too close, so I don't really have to worry. I pay it no attention. But my gut is screaming. Telling me about something here. And I get the feeling that it's right...
I'm halfway there. It's a straight shot. But anything could be waiting for me. And whatever is in the wheat is getting closer. It is... too close. I stop when I see some of the stalks move just ahead of me. Gut's telling me if I go by them right now, it'll end poorly. And I'm gonna listen for once. I search the ground around me, looking for something that I can throw. I eventually find a small rock. This should work. I pick it up and toss it in the direction of the rustling wheat. As soon as it hits the ground something bursts from out the stalks. I don't even know where to begin. It looks like some disgusting mashup of a horse and a crow, but it's got no skin or muscle. Just bone. Pale and rotten bone. Jeez...How jawned up is this? I gotta watch myself if I wanna make it across this field in one piece.
My pace slows. Not good, but I want to be thorough. Every time I see the wheat rustle near the path ahead of me, I immediately start looking for a stone. Once I find one, I chuck it. And one of those disgusting horse-crow hybrids pops out to snatch it up before running off. And yeah, there's more than one of those things. I don't know how many there are in this field, and frankly, I don't want to know. They creep me out. So I repeat this process every time I see the wheat move in a way that I don't like. Soon enough, I'm on the other side without a scratch. Thank fuck. I take a deep breath, and get back to walking, finding more structures as I go. The aqueducts I saw when I got to the dead forest seem a helluva lot closer now. At most, maybe a mile and a half away from me? I can definitely use those to get out of here if I'm able to reach them. The problem is: I gotta get to 'em.
I'm getting closer to the aqueducts. Maybe a couple hundred more yards. But as I get closer, something starts to become apparent: Those aqueducts and old ruined walls aren't the only building here. There's what looks like an old cottage just ahead, and in my way. As much as my gut is screaming in protest, I'm going in the place. Pull the white-person move in the horror movie: Mess with things that should just be left alone. As if I haven't already done that enough as things stand. How else would I have ended up here? I think I see light in one of the windows as I get closer. There's... There's someone in the cottage. Someone who isn't dead. I immediately start running, risks be damned. If there is someone there, they can help me. And that... That is not an opportunity I'm gonna let pass by me.
I make it inside the cottage without any problem... But I don't see anybody. Whoever was here must've heard me coming and booked it, thinking I was one of those shamblers or horse-crows. Fuck. Good lookin' out, Cam. Yoused yer chance like a jagoff. But there has to be some kind of silver lining. Maybe there's something here I can use that'll help me escape. Better yet: Take out that damn murderbird. So I start searching, not finding anything at first, and then I notice that there's still light in here. Maybe it was the fireplace? But as I turn toward it... it's empty. No wood. No fire. Not even any charcoal or ash. Just an empty fireplace. But it's still the source of the light, just... not in a way I was expecting: Fireflies. A lot of them. I've never seen so many piled up like this. I'm no entomologist, but that can't be natural, can it? So I move to investigate, and as I do, the bugs seems to react to my presence. They start to coalesce into... something. Something that takes the form... of a woman? What the fuck...
"Oh... You don't seem familiar. You must be a new desiree." She says. I dunno how she's even yappin'. The jawn don't got no face, like no mouth er nothin', plus she look like she's made outta light er somethin'. But it's whateva', I guess. Might as well rap wit' a ghost. Save my brains, or what's left of 'em.
"Uh... No.? I don't think any of this feels familiar for either of us." I respond, trying to inject some humor into my fucked up situation. This ghost girl doesn't seem to register it, though.
"You must be here to gather His testaments. But you have nothing to collect them with." I hear her say in an ominous tone. How... How do I respond to that?
"Gather... His testaments? W...What? Nah, I'm tryna get outta here. This weird lookin' crow jawn's on my ass. I gotta jet from 'im." The girl's light seems to have a reaction to my words. I can't tell if it's positive or negative. Neutral, maybe? No, definitely negative. The light's dimming. That can't be a good sign.
"You can't run from Murim." She says. Murim... I guess that's the crow's name. Might as well ask more about him while we're both here.
"Murim? Is that... Is that the crow? The little gold bastard with red eyes?" Her light reacts again, dimming even more.
"Yes. Murim is the master of this place. His Ceramic Grove of Wheat. He can change his form at will to bring those who wish to curry His favor here to gather their testaments." She's mentioning Him again. Aright, awright. Just peachy. Dat's exactly what I needed to hear.
"Who's Him?" I ask, not entirely wanting to know the answer. I expect the light to dim again, but it gets brighter instead. Too bright, honestly.
"He can grant your heart's deepest desire. All you need to do is bring Him the three testaments and He will grant you an audience." Jawn's just as mum as that damn museum display. I then hear a twig snap outside, taking my attention briefly. That's followed by groaning. Looks like Murim's horde of zombies has finally caught up to me. If I ask one more thing, it has to be pretty damn specific and straight to the point.
"How do I get out of this grove? Do I climb up those aqueducts? Or is there another way out?" The girl's light somehow manages to get even brighter, damn near blinding me.
"Anyway you deem fit. But Murim won't let you leave easily. Not when you have his mark in your eye." The light starts fading as I hear the shamblers begin to beat on the front door, trying to break it down. I look out a window and see the aqueducts. Not that far away. All I gotta do is book it. So I move to that window, bust it open and move.
Legs are burning. Lungs are working overtime. But I gotta get to those aqueducts. That's my way out of here. 'Anyway way you deem fit.' That's what the ghost said. And god dammit, I'm making this my exit. I finally reach the base of one, and without hesitation, start climbing despite my exhausted state. It's slow going, but the hope is that once I reach the top, I'll be safe, at least from the zombies below. They ain't gonna be able to get up dere. Dis ain't no Left 4 Dead campaign. Dey ain't dat scaries. I keep climbing,slowly making my way up and up and up, body screaming and aching in pain from all the effort I'm putting in. But eventually, I reach the top. This aqueduct is going through a hill. I can see that tunnel. So I start running again. Especially since I hear those damn crows coming at me now. Murim clearly doesn't want me to leave. But you know what? Fuck dat birdie jagoff. He ain't got nuttin' on me. The tunnel gets closer and closer, all while the crows are screaming at me.
"Stop him for the master! Stop him for the master!"
But I pay them no heed. Not when freedom is so close. I reach the tunnel, and keep running. I don't care if it's dark. I just need to keep going down it, an I'll be back in the preserve. But I can hear Murim behind me. Far away behind me.
"Run all you want, Cameron. You'll be back here eventually."
|-Thursday morning, March 21st, 2024. Brunswick Nature Park, 2575 River Road South-East, Winnabow, North Carolina-|
The tunnel gives way to woodland. I'm out. No weird haze. No wheat. No dead trees. Just oak and pine with full foliage on them. I'm back in the preserve. And from what I can tell, I'm not too far from where I parked my car. Maybe a few hundreds yards? I definitely recognize this little dirt road. I look to my left, I can see an open space of dirt, and what looks like a bank. That way is Town Creek and that little swamp just past it. Which means I need to head right. That'll get me to where I parked. So I take a deep breath, and start walking. As I do so, I pat myself down. No injuries. No cuts or bruises. Not any I can feel. Clothes are dirty but not really damaged. But I feel something in my back pocket. I pull it out. A wallet. And it's not mine. I open it and see a state ID from North Dakota. An ID for one Robert Johnston Lang. If I have this... then whatever it was I experienced last night wasn't a dream. It was real. And that terrifies me.
I eventually reach my car. I unlock it, and slide into the driver's seat. I turn on the overhead light and pop down the mirror. Checking for any more injuries. I got a few bruises, but nothing I can really worry about. I can absolutely pass this off as me being an idiot again. But there's something that catches my attention. My left eye. There's something... there. I don't know what. And I don't like it. I get closer to the mirror and turn my head, and what I see sends a chill down my spine:
That golden ghost girl in the cottage wasn't kidding. My left pupil... It looks like a crow. Murim's mark. This is far from over.