Chapter 3: Harbinger.
Hadge gasped for air, as if death were knocking at his door. He sat bolt upright in his room beneath Grendlocke Cemetery, trying to focus out of the melee of darkness. Still he felt trapped somewhere between realities, between the light and the dark worlds. All throughout his waking ordeal haunting words rang over and over in his head, the murmurs of a dead man, “The book…. The book… The book….”
At last the murky trappings evaporated into the corners of his unkempt room. In that same instance he envisioned seeing the frozen face of a reaver staring back at him, from just beyond the connecting passageway. He gasped out of surprise, however not a sound had passed his lips. Then the dark figure glided silently passed his chamber door. Its filthy robes rippling as it stirred, descending into the depths of the caverns, and it was gone.
“No…” He excitedly exhaled. His head fell into his hands, still disoriented by the soama. Replaying the recent nightmares in his head, almost positive he’d somehow transferred the dream-like image of the reaver from Old Harrier Road, and replicated it into the doorway. Reminding himself of the fact, “Reavers don’t come to the Cemetery.”
Slow and painfully he arose, ambling warily to the entrance. Attempting to put this subject to rest once and for all. As he took that heart-stopping step into the murky walkway, feeling the unusual powdery dirt beneath his feet, just as something touched his face. He grabbed his small dagger from his belt, defensively extending it out in front of him. At once his eyes rested on the stray tree roots dangling through the cracks in the rocks, like black gossamer threads, every single one eerily moving from an unknown source. Soundly berating his foolishness, “You idiot.” Feeling relatively stupid, “I’m the reason the roots are moving.”
Quickly he scanned the devious walkway, discovering absolutely nothing. Bitterly thinking, “Imagine that.” As those irritated words resounded throughout the cavity of his skull, tormenting and twisting into something so unexpectedly familiar. “The book…” The lasting sound still ringing from his haunted memory, “The book…” Uttered the poor guy from the Old Harrier Road. He recalled the girl thinking the book was important, and he too had now come to believe the book was the answer to everything that has happened. Hearing the warring voices argue in his head, “That is.” He questioned, “If its real.” The last place the book was known to have been was in the city, and the city happened to be a very dangerous place. He hated to take a trip for something that may not even exist.
Hadge stepped back into his homely room. Everything remained in its place, clothes and books left where they’d landed. Uwee still asleep on his handmade bed, which he’d made from all sorts of scavenged items. Remembering how terrifyingly it was that they had barely escaped the deadly spiders. All thanks to the girl that spread those mushrooms across the ridge, or they wouldn’t be alive right now. It was curious how she’d even known to scatter the mushrooms in the first place. Finally clarity dawned upon his set mind, “Its all true.” As his demeanor turned stony and complacent, and his emphatic words were no more than air, “I need that book!” Deciding on the spot, “I have to go to Harbinger now. While Uwee is still out cold.”
Without a second thought he grabbed his small Novena military rucksack. It had already been packed for the previous expedition to Mount Ennead, and had everything he would need for this latest danger filled trip. Starting to feel intensely worried, knowing that Harbinger is full of monstrous creatures, and the dangers on this jaunt far outweighed what occurred on the mountain. He eyed Uwee the entire way out of the room, since he couldn’t risk having that grubb following him this time.
Hadge climbed up and out of the deep dank vault. Keeping in mind how easy the climb had been for the dead man from his nightmare, he had been at least two feet taller. Nonetheless size didn’t impede his tiny form, anticipating that first step out into the mausoleum. However it was not bright and beautiful like he had remembered, instead settled into a murky darkness, left scarred over the many years. He carefully slid the lid of the vault back into place. Immediately glancing at the hole where the stained glass had once been, seeing that the ghostly images of sunlight wafted through his mind, drawing him eagerly out into the open cemetery. At first feeling a bit disappointed, recalling how wonderfully warm the sun had felt on his skin, but the bleak cold had taken its place. Letting his eyes miserably fall to the bizarre headstone with his name etched in stone. Uttering softly, “Poor old woman.”
Abruptly the face of a reaver eerily rolled up out of the darkness. He half ran, half stumbled onto his backside, and the face hovered an inch from his own. The shadows jarringly played over the flesh, like the silken wings of an insect, confusingly shifting in the sallow light. At last recognizing the dried deformed husk of a creeper, its shape similar to a human. Angrily he struck out at the snake like skin, stomping it into the ground. While the unspeakable memories of the bodies forced its way back, the dismembered and sick. Instantly he jerked away sensing his weakened stomach lurch.
The subtle sounds of movement slithered through the freeze-dried grass. Quickly he turned to see what it could be, making out two marble sized gray elliptical eyes, which seemed to watch his every motion from its dark vantage point. Right away he knew it was a creeper, very rarely seen in any light, and generally harmless, except to small fingers and toes. He protectively folded his arms close, taking a wide path around the creature. Then walked in the direction of Harbinger.
Hadge glanced back from whence he came, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. A black figure was milling around the Mausoleum, lumbering unlike any other creature, except for the evil reavers. Precisely as he cocked his head solidly in that direction, finding nothing out of the ordinary, except for the empty cemetery. As he began to think, “The soama must still be creating hallucinations.” Counting the visions of reavers since his awakening, “Three times in all.” Fearing the effects may hamper this journey, if it didn’t wear off soon. Nothing in this entire world was as important than that book.
Harbinger a dark menacing foe, awaiting his reckless arrival. He walked through the once beautiful field of flowers, which were devastated by death, when the blood of innocence had tainted this ground, permanently staining the flora scarlet. His mind rewinding the nightmares back to that moment in the field, with tiny discarded bodies left helpless and dieing, “Mama.” A phantom voice called out, emotionally immersing him deep into a well of sadness, as the moment had grown so intense, and he nearly believed he was there. As his nervous steps began to falter, half worried about all the things that could hide unseen by the naked eye, until it would be far too late.
Suddenly he realized the plants gently leaning to follow his path. He weighed the threat of the undergrowth in his mind, “Should I be afraid? Or not?” He questioned, “Could it be a reaver?” Yet somehow the tiny voice in his ear convinced him there was nothing to fear. Even as loose petals oddly drifted around him, like moths to a flame. Duly noting the lack of any real breeze, swatting the little annoyances away. Hearing the onslaught of teeny tiny noises all about him, rather like the muffled voices of children deep in the heart of the caverns. Goose bumps raised across his body, feeling quite spooked, forcing his knocking knees to keep moving. Still swatting at the strange cumbersome things about his face, seeing that walking had become a chore. Without warning tripping backside first over a concealed rock, motionlessly moaning in pain.
Hadge opened his eyes, just as a scarlet petal landed on the tip of his nose. It was not a petal nor an insect, but a plump microscopic cherub, an angelic winged fairy-like child. The fairy child laughed at his folly, even as laughter carried along the air, and the sounds began to make sense. He now understood what had happened to the children so long ago, “They are still here in this field.” And he wondered, “How did I not see them before now?” As a soft melodic whisper played in his ear, “They’re here.”
Without warning the fairies flocked his body, covering every inch. Terror ripped
through his mind, “They’re going to kill me!” He flapped his arms at the tiny creatures until an invading noise hushed his actions, and the fairies into silence. Sounds of rustling grass in close proximity. He dared to take a peek above the vegetation. The outlines of five reavers lumbered passed, unusually in the direction of the Cemetery. And he realized, “The fairies had saved him.” As he was amused to think, “A lot of things can hide in these fields, including me.”
At a snail's pace he crawled in the opposite direction, much like a snake in the grass, slithering his way to Harbinger. His tiny new found friends tagging along. Although he was quite interested in why the reavers were so close to Grendlocke Cemetery, because normally they never come to the Cemetery. He realized he may never know the answer to that particular question, and continued on his arduous creeping journey.
The edge of Harbinger, remnants of another time, left charred, and broken. This world crawling with innumerable sorts of creatures, all hell bent on survival, and killing whatever may come their way. Eerily outlines crept back and forth among the ruins, moreover he was positive some had to be reavers, harbingers of death. Without a doubt he realized the only chance to reach the book safely would be the sewers, nevertheless he didn’t cherish the idea. He had heard stories from the Elders of humans in the under city, which had devolved into monstrous creatures. They killed their own kind to survive, until that fierce hunger for flesh became their way of life. Hadge scoffed at the thought, knowing the rumors to be unfounded, as he himself had entered the sewers many times for rare molds, and never encountered any so called man-eaters.
Precisely where he stood at this moment had once upon a time been a street, which was now leveled, and blended into the field. Everywhere scattered pieces of humanity were strewn in the silt, a piece of a yard bench peeking from the flora, a wheel from what they called a bicycle, and a child’s doll stuck in the filth, with half its face distorted from the fires. Hadge had stumbled upon this place many years ago, while searching for rations. It had literally been buried over time; he’d been the first human to walk its streets in decades, with no one else aware of its existence.
He kneeled down, sweeping his hand through the soot, until he found the manhole. Not long after he could sense the fairies nervously dart around him, certain they had no reason to be worried. Hadge cautiously removed the manhole cover, and climbed down into the depths of inky blackness, fortunate to have nocturnal eyesight. His kind were born of the night, nevertheless the blackness down here was close to impenetrable. Immediately he began to scan the foul smelling passageway that lain beneath a dead end street. The walls and floors of the sewer were coated with layer upon layer of black sludge, which had all drained from the destruction above. He carefully traversed through the straightway of sewers, towards the first junction, half a block away.
Unexpectedly one of the fairies landed on his ear, as its soft melodic voice whispered, “They will hear you.” Hadge instinctively brushed his ear, relatively confused, “What?” Hearing the same thing, but now in his other ear, “They will hear you.” He rumbled, “Go away!” Swatting the stale air around his head, watching the fairies flitter away. He started to wonder what the fairies had truly meant, because if he made enough noise he could be heard by any number of creatures, and he hadn’t planned to make any noise at all.
The inconsequential matter caused him to misstep, stumbling into the murky waters flowing down the center of the sewers. The substance within reminiscent of the thick slime from a slug, sticking to the skin just like glue. Each ensuing step he would slide crazily for a toehold, and his feet would seem to gravitate back to the water. He rather feared those rogue splashes sounded just like an injured animal, chastising himself “Way to go grubb.” Feebly scraping the pads of his feet on a broken chunk of concrete. Suddenly starting to think everything seemed much darker than before, but feared a light may not go unnoticed, and slowly trudged through the sewers, until he reached the first junction.
Oddly he began hearing indescribable sounds, precisely as the fairies nervously darted around him once more, trying to whisper in his ear. He swatted the little buggers away, suspecting they were making the odd noises, irritably growling, “Would you leave me alone?”
Then followed the left hand path, realizing the indescribable sounds now faintly resembled something being dragged. Quickly he dismissed this as well, reminding himself, “All things constantly settle.” Next he took a right, in the direction of the Victorian homes from his vision, which he had committed to memory. The dark side of the memory trailed close behind, seeing the unceremonious death of the reaver play over and over in his head like a broken record. At that very moment the reaver had fallen in two pieces from the trauma of the shovel, empty of any real life, apart from ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
He mindlessly swatted at the air around him. Oddly aware that he hadn’t seen or heard any rats, it was as if the rodents had vanished off the face of the planet. He laughed at the notion, “Nah.” He thought, “Something else is happening here.” Then he recalled all the dead insects on Mount Ennead, as visions of spiders danced in his head. Quite certain there had to be some other reasonable explanation, because neither stories nor wild ideas would keep him from his task of obtaining that book.
Suddenly the bizarre noises had grown louder, to the point that he could no longer disregard it. He was positive of one thing, it couldn’t be the fairies, as they fretfully zipped around him. Hadge tried to adjust his vision towards the originating sound, yet black only lead to more black, with the distant sound migrating closer with each and every step he took. He nervously felt trapped, trying to catch his bearings, almost sure he must be close to the corner with all the flyers by now, however a discouraging thought trailed close behind, “Where is the exit?” Knowing even if he made it out of here, he is still blocks from his destination, and had no doubts that many monstrous things stood between here and there.
“Shhhhhhh. They will hear you.” A tiny voice whispered in his ear, it was a warning, he knew, like all the other warnings, “But from what?” He speculated it was much too dark to tell, uneasily on his guard.
He stood mere steps away from the next junction, remarking that the noises had now moved ahead of him. Subsequently there was rustling, followed by a scrape, then something being dragged, and the sounds of rocks toppling across the concrete floor. Eerily the blackness rippled before his eyes, something was there. What and how many were unclear.
Hadge silently stood stock still less than four feet from the exit. The tiny fairies had grown quite agitated, darting at the obscured creatures. They were trying to protect him once more, yet the malignant creatures never seemed to notice, as if they might be blind, or the dark impeded their eyesight much more than his own. He now understood the words of warning he was given, “They will hear you.” These things hunted with a dominant sense of sound. Warily his eyes were drawn to the icy metal ladder, dangerously hanging in the midst of the creatures. Being this close to the exit he had no intentions of going back now, but was uncertain how he could escape without making a sound.
The scuffling noises randomly moved around him, they couldn’t hear him, but knew he was there. The tall dark ominous human-like figures all aimlessly swept the space, stopping only for immoveable objects. While still others of its kind fought amongst themselves viscously biting, and clawing. The deadly figures meandered in circles around him, as even more arrived with each passing second, ensnaring him within a sketchy dilemma. He envisioned the dire outcome, “ If I stay much longer I will most likely die. If I run they will attack like a pack of wolves, and I would die.” There seemed to be no real solution.
Jarringly he felt something brush against his hair, like the wisp of a spider web. He knew something was nearby, as a foul sweltering breath assaulted his nose, smelling of rotting flesh. Promptly focusing on the rippling blackness in front of him, a sinister figure was close enough for him to see. It was a scraggily pale old man, with thinning gray hai
r, one blackened lifeless eye barely open in his gaunt face, and a mouth full of decayed teeth. Those features alarmingly reminded him of the haggard old man from the corner, seeing that he was mentally bewildered, “How could it be him?” It didn’t add up, “He should be dead by now.” The man’s final words eerily replayed like a death march in his head, “They say monsters live in the sewers boy!” Knowing the old man was right; monsters do live in the sewer.
Hadge discerned the fact that the next pass they would find him, he only had seconds to live or die. Instantaneously the fairies united, taking on the shape of a human, while their tiny echoes of laughter filled the sickening sewers, and the monsters were drawn to the childlike sounds. Then the fairies led the zombie inhabitants in the opposite direction, as he heard a tiny voice in his ear, “Run..” He wasted no time sprinting for the ladder, thankful once more for their help.
Hadge stopped for a split second on the ladder, glancing in the direction the fairies had gone. He could no longer see them, or hear them, and hoped they were okay. Then a mysterious white light took their place, eerily drifting in his direction. It was redolent of the moment before the poor guy on Ennead Mountain’s death. In that moment he oddly felt a familiarity, although in an intimidating kind of way, and he had no desire to find out how familiar. His pace was virtually an all out run through the manhole.
Breathlessly he stood in the middle of the ravaged, and torn street of Harbinger. It had been left fractured by the many earthquakes so long ago. The familiar street corner from his nightmare, even as flyers still loosely clung to the twisted pole, which had fallen from a great crack in the concrete. Everywhere ominous shadowy vehicles were positioned alarmingly around him, like abandoned chess pieces. He imagined any second he would be checked by something in the dark, and the game would be over.
The immeasurable crisp silence tormented his exceptional hearing, clinging to the only audible thing he could find, the frantic vibrating of his own beating heart. His thoughts were warningly predisposed; “Silence isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
Instantly he noticed an airy disturbance, rather similar to breathing. Unerringly he spotted one stray fairy zipping fretfully from side to side; sure it was the source of the disturbance, as its radical motions were hardly understandable. He edgily asked the tiny cherub, “What?” Until he comprehended the fairy wasn’t manufacturing the unusual short blustery sounds, and the fact remained the bursts steadily were getting louder, and louder, and louder.
At that instance his full attention moved to the macabre of shadowy vehicle. He spotted two massive huffing black figures heading his way, at top velocity. Fearfully he stumbled backwards, just as a white ghostly hand seized his ankle from the sewer, causing his unbalanced body to plunge hard into the remains of a nearby car. Abruptly a dark hissing beast was flushed from the vehicles inky odorous depths, it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Hadge was frozen with fear among the metal frame of a seat, the twisted wires trapping him inside, and could no more than watch the sinister events unfold before his eyes.
Time and space moved at the speed of lightning, erratically the hissing beast ran like a bat out of hell through the mish-mash of vehicles as well as debris, running ill-fated, and headlong towards the two large fast shifting shapes. Then the pair of massive black figures took chase after the smaller hissing beast.
All at once the air began to rumble again and again, with short ferocious bursts of deep down grisly tones. He’d never heard the likes of these frightening sounds so closely before. The sounds resonated at an increased rhythmic frequency inside the metal shell of the vehicle, painfully ringing inside his delicate eardrums, as he winced from each hard-hitting sound, promptly covering his tender ears. Uneasily he crawled from the vehicle, to a safe dark place between the broken post, and warped fencerow, which was meshed with a canopy of dried dead vines. That is where he remained until the excruciating sounds weakly released their grip on his senses.
Spontaneously the washed out flyers on the warped pole fluttered from his intense breathing, noting one faded flyer in particular. It was the flyer from his dream, with the image of a large muscular black dog. Without delay he recalled the photo had been taken at the very house on this corner, as he chanced to take a look at the ramshackle dwelling. The greater part of the house was gone now; sadly all that remained was the dark dank basement, with boards and siding collapsed on top. Restlessly imagining the dark dank inky depths as just another place for creatures to hide. Suddenly a chill crept up his spine, as if something eerily watched him from that mysterious darkness, and the dread was so intense he had to get away.
The crushing dread drove him in route to the obscurity of a nearby car, and then he fled to another car, each not seeming far enough away from that inky dwelling. He apprehensively continued sifting through the vehicles, moving further through the streets, realizing he was close to the last place he remembered seeing the book. Strangely he couldn’t shake the sense of being watched, as if it were pursuing him. That’s when he heard the light sounds of footsteps terrifyingly shadowing his own, his three steps echoed three from the unknown, when he walked, it walked, when he ran, it ran, like a game of cat and mouse. Whatever was out there its motives were as uncertain as the dark world they lived in, and he knew only one thing for sure, he was much too close to that book to stop now.
Suddenly the shimmering red fairy darted before his eyes, and an idea sprouted in his mind, whispering to the little flying gem, “Come here Ruby.” He believed the name sounded befitting, and the fairy flew close, whilst he whispered his proposal, “Distract that creature.” Ruby gladly did as he asked, swiftly vanishing into the darkness behind him.
Hadge could see his final destination, Scheel’s bookstore. The building in need of more repairs than he had hoped, it was nothing more than a pile of rock and wood. Adamantly thinking, “Discovering a way through the dense rubble would without doubt be a trick.” He listened for the shadowed steps behind him and amazingly they were gone. Ruby had done her job well. He had to laugh that he’d outsmarted the thing.
Carefully he made his way to the dilapidated structure, squeezing through the precarious debris, inching his way deeper inside. Everywhere things fell around him, large, and small, even as strained nails groaned loudly from his shifting weight. Even worse sharp objects tore at his exposed skin, the besieged flesh leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Finally he reached the inner sanctum of the basement, thankful he had made it almost in one piece.
The basement was inundated with a ghostly blue light, shelves broken and toppled in all directions, and wires dangling everywhere. Eerily the wires dangled in such a way they were reminiscent of a giant spider’s legs, all hanging from its monstrous inner core. The faux spider gave the creepy impression that it could squash you at any given moment, if it so wished. Hadges eyes scanned the contents of the room, his sight focusing solely on the mysterious book. It surprisingly rested peacefully in the center of this space, as its tempting blue glow generated outwards, like the fingers of evil, expressing words it could not say, “Look what I can do.”
Immediately he was horrifyingly aware of hundreds of dead creatures lain amongst the debris, with layers of dust dating how long each had been there, some more recent than others. Each had mysteriously dropped dead, and he had to wonder, “Why?” Shockingly realizing for the first time he now stood within a tomb.
Without warning he heard a deathly low growl from the far corner, something was still alive in the room. He had no plans leaving without that book. Hadge skimmed the debris for a weapon, anything would do. He picked up a busted two by four, determinedly inching his way to that book, sure it was the answer to everything. The growls turned to hissing, similar to the beast from the car. He tilted his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of this foe, a scabby feral cat, left hairless, emaciated, scarred, and strange flesh–like growths allover its body. Then a much louder growl came from the opposite side of the room, a hairless mutated dog, with s
imilar growths. It too was nearly scarred to the point of being unrecognizable, other than it was big, and black. He now stood between a rock and a hard place, because both starving animals wanted a piece of him.
Suddenly the animals leapt forth, as he dove for the book. He expected to feel pain, but there was none. Anxiously he spun to see the animals brutally rip at each other, as the fierce sounds echoed throughout Harbinger, in all probability drawing every creature to this place. Hadge recognized this could be his only chance to flee, he was no longer an equation in this fight, but he had to leave now, before the fight changes hands.
Hadge grabbed the book and scurried through the cracks, discovering getting out was more difficult than getting in. He had barely noticed Ruby had joined him once more, until he reached street level, nodding to acknowledge her presence. The darkness of the street seemed more intense somehow, as he anxiously searched for movements. He could hear animals allover Harbinger in an uproar, not sure how he could escape all the harbingers of death awaiting for him just to make a move.
Hadge coveted the book close to his chest. A sigh escaped his lips, as if building a moment of courage, and cautiously stepped out into the open. Swiftly he retraced his footsteps through all the abandoned vehicles, and made his way towards the corner where he started. He was oddly surprised he hadn’t run into anymore-feral animals, but thought they may have been drawn to the sounds from bookstore. Oddly as a matter of fact he hadn’t even seen any reavers on this trip, curious to where they may have all gone. Nevertheless he had to keep his mind on the treacherous location, because he still hasn’t left the city, and any numbers of beasts could appear around the next dark corner. Sadly he feared if one of the feral house pets would appear he most likely couldn’t outrun it.
Quickly the house came into sight, and his eyes intently searched the inky depths of the dilapidated remains; a place that felt like home, if it weren’t so dark and dangerous. Right away he noticed he wasn’t being watched, so whatever was watching him earlier from the house was now gone. The corner was nearly a step away, and the edge of the city was not too far from there. He felt somewhat relieved that he would soon be out of this place, allowing his tense muscles to relax, and gave the book in his hand a satisfactorily look. “Easier than I thought.” He contentedly told himself, and stepped onto the curb.
Suddenly the decayed curb crumbled beneath his feet, as he was thrown off balance, and propelled downward towards the metal storm grate. His first thoughts were of the book, he couldn’t let anything happen to it, as he protectively held it closer to his chest.
Almost immediately he heard moans from beneath him, as he turned just enough to see the sewer below the storm grate was packed with walking corpse’s. The hideous beasts disregarded life and limb, as they reached through the damaged grate, and held his feet in place. He pounded on their steely grip, but nothing seemed to affect the inhuman creatures. It was as if they had a dire need for his flesh, so much so they burst the grate from out of the concrete, and he was slammed onto his backside, with the heavy grate on top of him.
The undead spilled out of the opening, one crawling on top of the other, all in an effort to reach the fresh meat. Hadge desperately tried to push the heavy grate off, but its weight plus the zombies weight was too much for him to move, all that was left for him to do was scream, “Aaaaaaaaaassssaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” Ruby fretfully fluttered around him, as her insignificant attacks upon the monsters face did nothing to help.
Unpredictably the warring animals from the tomb had stirred to the streets, which in turn temporarily engaged the zombie’s attention. Soon they were chasing the animals, as some pursued the hissing cat in one direction, and the others pursued the big black dog.
Hadge had fleetingly seen the ordeal out of the corner of his eye, however it still did not relieve him of his own dodgy predicament. Several of the undead clung to the opposite side of the grate, reaching over the edge at his face, but he jerked his head from side to side to avoid the contact. He didn’t know how long he could keep this up before the things actually reached him, or if he developed a severe case of whiplash.
To Hadge’s dismay he recognized the disgusting old man staring back at him through the grate, evilly smiling down at him, as chunks of rotten flesh and teeth rained down upon his trapped body. The horrifying words rang over and over in his head, “Monsters live in the sewer boy!” Inch by inch the dirty old man moved over the grate, as he extended his reach further and further, and at last his long dirty fingers yanked a patch of hairs from Hadges head. Hadge howled, “Yeeoooooooooooow!” And winced from the deadly touch. Ruby was still trying to help, as she kicked the zombie in the eye, and still it reached for Hadge, not even noticing the fairy at all.
All at once the large emaciated dog from the tomb inexplicably returned, surely bringing dozens more zombies with it. Hadge could see that his deadly situation had just gotten worse, because that dog wanted a piece of him as well. The big black dog ran headlong in his direction, and he braced for this new attack.
Oddly the dog assailed the zombies that were crawling over the grate instead, knocking the handful of undead to the pavement
Ruby anxiously coaxed him to move in her teeny tiny voice, “Hurry!” Hadge at last summoned enough strength to move the grate, but all he could think of was the book. “Where is it?” He hastened to roll over searching for the book as he went, and hobbled to his feet. Ruby still wheedling in his ear, pulling at his lobe in an effort to get him to move, “Run!”
Hadge started to run, but the big black dog had blocked his way, assured that the attack would ensue rather quickly. However a strange image randomly raided his mind, a hand thumbing the tag on a dog’s spiked collar. It was his hand. Hadge was rather befuddled to ask, “My hand?” As an otherworldly voice simply said the name on the tag, a voice he acknowledged from the dream, “Reybe.” At once knowing the dog had belonged to the poor guy on Ennead Mountain. He was quite bewildered, feeling a strong emotional attachment to the dead man, rather forgetful to his current situation. Distracted even to the fact that Ruby pushed against his ear, huffing, “What are you doing?”
The marred dog quickly nudged him into motion, and he swiftly fell into step behind the familiar big black dog, his best friend Reybe, and they ran, and ran. Running over debris of a civilization lost, at the hands of the devil himself.
Hadge detected the relics of a white picket fence, which was mostly buried beneath soot, and he knew exactly where they were. Reybe cut through the yard, where flowerbeds had once grown, and the foundation of a house still rested. It was a familiar path, a path he remembered so well, as he and Carrissa had ran into the backyard, trying to escape a reaver.
Hadge searched for any signs of the dead reaver, as if he were walking in a dream, fearing if he found one more piece of evidence it would make it all real. Astoundingly enough the reavers body still laid where it had fallen so long ago, as the head had rolled several feet from the body, its frozen face staring up at him, with a large mass on its nose. He shockingly knew who the reaver had been. He remembered the horrible old woman with the mole on her nose that lived in another life, another time, realizing for the first time that some people must have been turned into reavers. A throbbing pain ached in his heart, and mind, bearing the forceful knowledge of the fact, “I may know some of those reavers.” Given that people went missing all the time.
The undead persistently followed them into the yard, over the leaning fence, and through the dead foliage. Hadge could see the field of flowers ahead, thanking Yahveh for its safety, “Thank you, oh thank you…” Then he terrifyingly heard the moans from behind them, distressed to hear the sounds of the zombies, saying, “Don’t they ever give up?” The assiduous moans resounded again and again, and he was certain the man-eaters would never ever stop, not until they have blood.
Hadge began to question the trip into Harbinger, all for a foolish nightmare; nonetheless it was much too late to change his mind now.
Ruby flittered nervously about Hadge, as her tiny voice went on and on, but the words were unclear. Soon it was a plethora of tiny voices, as fairies rose up from the field of flowers, and the tiny voices kept growing louder. Hadge come to realize the voices were a gentle melodic song, as the lull of the tune seemed to slow his progress through the field, until he felt vulnerably too tired to run anymore. Nothing seemed to matter, as he watched the big black dog vanish into the flowers, as the petal-like fairies rose upwards into the thousands, all agitatedly flittering around him. It felt like a warm cloud had wrapped around him, as the tiny hands gently pulled his weary figure down into the shelter of the field, and he hadn’t a care in the world.
Hadge was nestled in the safe arms of the field, as his dog Reybe was close at hand, and he coveted the strange book soundly against his chest. He could see the ominous black clouds swirl above, a sure sign the black snow was returning, and it would cover everything in a layer of ash. But nothing seemed to matter, not the zombies, not the book, or the black clouds. Only the sounds of the fairies sweet hypnotic song, as he fell fast asleep, and carefree of everything except for the lovely innocent songs.
At once a silhouette of a man and a dog lifted up from the field of flowers, drifting like feathers across the meadow, as thousands of teeny tiny giggling voices could be heard all together, all leading the unsightly man-eaters far from the field.