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The field behind Bowhill High School was utterly unremarkable in every way; Tall dry grass brushed people’s shins, crickets and grasshoppers jumped up from piles of composting plant matter, and the lack of trees gave everyone a view of the wild blue sky. The students used to play games out there, tag in the daytime and manhunt after sundown. The frequency of the night time games decreased, however, after the student council (called the Stewards, for some godforsaken reason) advised parents to keep their children away from the wilderness after dark. “There are bears and coyotes out there,” they said, “and it’s not safe to be hiding in the grass after dark.”
James St. Clair didn’t give a shit about what the stewards said. As soon as he’d been taken in by Sinclair he was told that they were all self-righteous nepo babies, which was more than slightly ridiculous coming from Simon. He learned the hard way never to tease Simon about daddy’s money- he would not find it funny. When push came to shove, James preferred speaking to Phillip. Even if the Sinclair household was hell through and through, he would always be grateful for Phillip taking an eleven-year-old James by the hand, using a tissue to wipe the tears and snot from his face (with a very obnoxious grimace) and making sure that the guest room would be comfortable for him.
Simon took an interest in James when he was very young- although anything under eighteen years was too young when the person in question was 21 when they met. Either way, he was short-tempered and thought himself far more intelligent than he was, and James did not feel bad about taking his truck and parking it a block away from Cyprian’s house. He hopped up the step in front and knocked on the door, praying that his father wouldn’t answer. Instead, Marcus showed his face in a last-ditch attempt to ruin James’ evening.
He smiled, the picture of innocence. “Hello, James. Come to return my medal?”
That bitch. Cyprian must have told him. “Nope. I’m here to kidnap your brother, actually. If I had known that you’d be here, I would have brought my taser with me.”
Marcus’ smile didn’t falter. “I’ll make it easy for you and get him.”
Instead of moving from the door, he turned around and shouted, “CYPRIAN! BARBIE’S HERE FOR YOU!”
James heard the recognizable thump of footsteps upstairs. “Which Barbie am I?”
Marcus started to respond, then shrugged. “I don’t watch that stuff.”
“Nice try. You know, you’re not the only one that Cyprian talks shit to. I know all about your Barbie marathon with your friend… oh, who was it? Justice?”
Marcus’ ears turned pink. James would have teased him for it, if not for the pit in his stomach. “Oh,” He said softly. “He’s not just a friend, is he?”
Marcus leaned in. “Don’t tell dad.”
James let out a surprised laugh. “I don’t hate you that much. You weren’t meant for my kind of downfall, Marcus. You’re too good for that.”
Marcus flinched. “Don’t say that. You’re good. I believe that you’re good.”
James felt something in his mood sour. “Do not.”
They stood there staring at each other. Marcus backed down first, predictably. “Not all of us share the same opinion. Just… remember that. And please, don’t tell him about Justice. I can’t… I won’t be able to…”
James was almost disgusted for a moment. He’d been disgraced, thrown out unwanted, for nothing more than loving the little boy who lived a few blocks away. He’d had his father’s hand on one shoulder and God’s on the other, and without that weight he was horribly unbalanced. Only Will held him up then. But he had been a child, only eleven, with more than enough time to mold himself into something becoming of his new life.
Marcus was eighteen. He was going to graduate this year and go to college, undoubtedly supported by Jannick in a fundamental way. He couldn’t change this far in. If James spilled this little secret, he could ruin Marcus’ life. Make him pay. Walk on the ashes of what had been taken from him.
James wasn’t that kind of monster.
“There’s nothing in it for me,” He drawled, “Although I wonder if I ever met him?”
The relief on Marcus’ face was like the sun breaking over the horizon. “Probably not. You’re not exactly athletic.”
James gasped, pressing the back of his hand to the pale skin of his face. “How dare you.”
Marcus shrugged. Then he turned around again. “CYPRIAN! I MEAN IT! I THINK HE’S GOING TO ATTACK ME, OR LIKE, CORRUPT MY SOUL. HURRY UP.”
James raised an eyebrow. Marcus tilted his head to the side like a dog, listening. Then Cyprian came shuffling down the stairs, a tent bag under one arm and a backpack on the other. “I’m moving as fast as I can!”
James held out a hand for something and staggered as the entire tent bag was handed to him. Cyprian got his backpack on properly and then briefly dipped into the kitchen for the second tent. “I called Violet. She’s going to need a ride since her brother's using the car to go on a date. Sorry.”
James closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, asking his other absentee father for strength. “Alright. I’ll call Will to see if he can get her, but if he’s not home we’re going to have to go in the opposite direction from the campsite.”
Cyprian shrugged, unperturbed. “Okay. Hurry up or she might just run there.”
As he was taking out his phone Marcus asked, “Where are you planning to camp?”
Cyprian sent him a warning look, but James responded, “The field behind the school. We brought citronella candles and those super tall torches, so no wild animals should bother us.”
Marcus put a hand out and grabbed the strap of Cyprian’s backpack. “Absolutely not. I’m literally on the student council. It’s dangerous out there.”
Cyprian made a face. “We’re being safe. We got all sorts of stuff to protect from wild animals, plus a ridiculous amount of knives because Will is paranoid like that.”
James snorted. It was the most indelicate sound he’s ever made, the kind only Will Kempen could get out of him. “You don’t know that half of it. You should see him run.”
Marcus still had a tight grip on the strap of Cyprian’s backpack, keeping his brother from walking too far from him. “Don’t camp anywhere where the grass is dead. There’s, like… plant diseases and stuff. And if you see anything out of the ordinary come straight home. Leave the stuff, get back into the neighborhood and then call me.”
He pointed a chastising finger at James. “Don’t laugh at me. I mean it. And that has a hole in it.”
He took the tent bag from James, letting go of Cyprian to walk into the house. James raised an eyebrow, and Cyprian shrugged. When Marcus came back (with the exact same tent bag, James would swear on his life) he handed it back to James, who said, “This feels heavier.”
“You’re pretty wimpy. I don’t think you’re qualified to complain.”
They loaded everything into the car while Marcus watched. When they were done he gave Cyprian an obnoxious kiss on the top of his head, and then tried and failed to hug James. “I’m glad you’re spending time with each other. Just… why can’t you follow the rules for once in your life?”
James had been a bit lenient with Marcus today. He said, “I tried for the better part of a decade, and it got me nowhere.”
Marcuse didn’t flinch this time. “I’m sorry. Maybe one day the world will be better.”
“It’s never soon enough, though, is it?” James said bitterly.
Marcus sighed. “Evidently not.”
They stood there for a moment, and then Marcus said, “You’re the Princess and the Popstar Barbie.”
“I fucking knew it! Did you have fun watching them? Do you have them ranked?” Then, quieter, “Did the two of you make out during the scary parts?”
Marcus blushed up to his ears. “No! No. Don’t tell-“
“Oh, so you did.” James’ smile was all teeth. Cyprian beeped the horn at them impatiently. “Good to know. I’ll see you around, Marcus.”
He got into the car, turned up the music, and drove away.
. . .
Will was waiting for them. James’ heart did the little leap that it did every time he saw him. It said, Hello. It’s you. I'm here, and you’re there.
Will smiled at him, and suddenly nothing mattered. “Hello, James. Got everything?”
“Of course. Did you get Violet?“
She crawled out from the backseat of his car. “Heya!”
They set up while the sun was still high in the sky; torches were put in a circle and lit, tents were pitched, and a fire was started in the ring that James brought. They set the grate over it and got food started as it started to get darker. Violet dug through the car for the beer that she had asked James to bring (behind Cyprian’s back) and then made a confused sound. “Who brought the swords?”
The other three ran over. In one of the tent bags there were two swords, both ancient and noble-looking, adorned with a six-pointed star on both the hilt and pommel. Will picked one up and tested the weight. “These are real.”
“Yeah, no shit.” James took it. “Where the hell…”
Cyprian said, “Do you think Marcus left them?“
“Weird. Cyprian, convince him to go to therapy.” James said.
“You need therapy,” Cyprian muttered, ever the petulant little brother.
They stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Then Will said. “Leave them. The food’s burning.”
They returned to their fire with their drinks, except for Cyprian, who had soda because his father would kill him if he ever drank alcohol while under his roof. They ate and talked and shared things about the rest of the school like the kings and queens that they were.
“There are some kids placing bets on when the two of you are going to start dating,” Will said mildly.
Cyprian spluttered while Violet’s dark eyebrows reached her hairline. Will waved off any concerns. “They’re all underclassmen, I think.”
“I’m an underclassman,” Cyprian muttered.
“Not for long, baby!” Violet declared. “Only a few more months of school and you’ll be joining our miserable lot!”
James scoffed. “Anyone can make up shit anyways. There’s no point in generalizing who’s doing it.”
“Yeah, didn’t some senior girl say you had sex with her last week after her Tuesday band practice or something?”
James made a sound of disgust. “Not only am I as gay as the day is long, I spent Tuesday night asleep on Will’s bedroom floor after a four hour study cram. And a little bit of wine,” he added cheekily.
Will sighed. “Mother is not happy about that, by the way.”
“Meaning…”
“Meaning we’ll have to be more careful next time.” He said.
James grinned, slightly drunk and oh-so-smitten. No worries. He’d gotten quite good at acting normal around Will even while intoxicated. He wondered how much of a mess they’d be in the morning after all the drinking, and then belatedly wondered how their sleeping arrangements were going to work out. “Hey guys, who’s sleeping with who?”
“Why, James,” Violet said in her most scandalized voice. “I’ll have you know that we are not that kind of friend group.”
Will laughed, and James thought that he could listen to it forever. That’s right. Focus on me.
“You know what I meant,” He said.
“Cyprian and I were already cabin buddies last summer when we were camp counselors, so we just figured we’d share a tent and so would you two. I mean, haven’t you and Will had sleepovers or something?”
“They weren’t sleepovers.” James scoffed. And Violet didn’t need to know that every time he slept over at Will’s house he ended up on the sofa (or on the floor next to his bed, wishing for an invitation to be up there).
Will glanced over at James. “Are you fine with sharing?”
James shrugged. “As long as you are.”
But inside he was thinking yes, yes, always yes.
Once it was truly dark the cold began to seep in. They all shifted into something resembling a great beast; Will pressed against Violet’s side, Cyprian sitting on the ground resting against her knees with her arms around him, James close enough to put his nose against the side of Will’s neck and his legs against Cyprian’s shoulder. They wrapped a blanket around their shoulders and tried to tell the fire’s embers from the stars. The orange light made Will’s eyes look like flames. Violet’s dark hair looked crowned. James seemed unnaturally beautiful, the kind of person that everyone wanted but was too afraid to have. It was sharp and otherworldly and lovely. Cyprian’s regal features were only exaggerated by the wilderness, by the distance between them and the rest of humanity.
It felt good to be ancient and not-quite of this world.
That is, until the other world caught up to them.
“What is that?” Violet asked suddenly, interrupting Cyprian’s tirade about how all the good singers were graduating at the end of the year, and how next year's freshmen were going to drag down the whole chorus.
“What’s what?” Will said, suddenly alert. The other two boys looked out in the direction that Violet was pointing. Out in the field, past their ring of torches, they could see the silhouette of a man. He was walking toward them with wide, lurching steps. The grass that he passed through looked like it was shriveling and crumbling as it touched him. He stumbled frequently, as though he didn’t have good control over his body (anymore).
Don’t camp anywhere where the grass is dead.”
Cyprian was the first to say, “Get up.”
They all scrambled to their feet. Violet cupped her hands around her mouth. “Who are you?”
Will hissed and pulled her arms down, but it was too late. The man’s head snapped up, and he was without a doubt now moving toward them. James took a deep breath in. “What should we do?”
Will, ever the boy savior, spoke calmly, “James, get a torch. We’re going to need some light. Violet, Cyprian, get the swords. I don’t know who he is, but I don’t think…”
I don’t think he’s human went unsaid but not unheard.
Everyone scattered to comply. Will got the keys to his car, a nightmare of a half-broken Jeep he had salvaged a year before, and met up with everyone in the middle of their circle. Violet was nearing hysterics. “Do you see what he’s doing to the grass? Do you see-”
“I see.” Will said. “Try not to touch him.”
He was closer now. They could see his blank eyes in the firelight under the helmet that he wore. His armor was misplaced and colored an unsettling, unpolished black. His skin was pale, his veins almost visible under his skin.
Will raised his voice slightly. “What do you want?”
The man- if he could even be called that- didn’t answer. He hefted his broadsword. The blade was shattered, but he wielded it as if it did not matter.
Will turned to Violet and Cyprian and said, “Do you think you could kill him?”
Surprisingly, it was Cyprian who nodded first. Violet steeled her resolve, gripped the hilt of the sword, and said, “I don’t think I have a choice.”
Will shook his head. “You can back out. I won’t hold it against you.”
Violet’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m not giving myself a choice.”
“Alright.” He stepped back. “Don’t go up to him. We’ll try to scare him off first, and if that doesn’t work we fight.” He jangled the keys in the air. “I’ll get ready to hit him with my car. James, they’ll need light.”
James set to moving the torches, creating a path of fire for the warriors among them. Violet and Cyprian settled into their stance. Will prepared to commit vehicular manslaughter. The strange pale man stopped only a few feet away from the circle, and then hefted his weapon and charged.
Violet and Cyprian were a dream team. The swords weighed much more than the rapiers they were used to, but it looked as though it hardly mattered. They seemed to be communicating without speaking, one striking low and the other striking high. If the man swung at Violet, Cyprian was there to block it. If Cyprian faltered, Violet was at his back, ready to protect him if needed. Meanwhile, James climbed into the passenger seat of Will’s Jeep and buckled his seat belt. Will turned the key in the ignition and the headlights came on. The man with the helmet did not turn, but Violet did. While Cyprian deflected another blow she darted out of the way. “Cyprian, MOVE!”
His eyes widened and he sprinted toward her as Will put his foot down on the clutch.
“Why aren’t you going?” James asked.
“The car needs to warm up,” Will muttered.
“THEY’RE GOING TO DIE!”
“THE CAR WAS WARMING UP!” Will shouted, and then put his foot down on the gas.
They lurched forward, James pushing one foot forward against the dash to keep himself in his seat. Will’s knuckles turned white against the wheel. The car hit the man’s body with a sickening crunch. He flailed for a moment, bones crushed underneath the weight of the car.
And then the engine went dead.
“No, no, no, NO!” Will shook the keys back and forth, but nothing happened. “He killed it. Like the grass.”
“The engine isn’t alive.” James argued hysterically. Will’s calm calculated demeanor was beginning to crack. “I understand that, but my car’s dead and he’s-”
The man attempted to stand up. His legs were badly mangled and his skull was partially cracked open. Through it they could both see gray brain matter. Blackish, viscous blood dripped out of the wound and over his face. He raised a fist, except that James realized that it only looked like a fist because most of his fingers were missing. The man smashed his fist against the window and the glass cracked a bit. He did it again. The spider web of fractures grew between James’ eyes. The man paused and took off his helmet, preparing to smash the metal directly into the window.
Beside James, Will took in a deep breath. A quick look toward him showed his pale face, almost sickly in the cold light. His eyes were deep and dark pools. James wanted to ask what are you doing? He wanted to say I didn’t think we’d go like this, but I’m glad it was with you.
The strange, horrible man outside the car brought the helmet back.
He was very preoccupied, and for that reason did not see Violet behind him until it was too late. She ran up behind him, the dead grass crunching under her feet, and he turned his head directly into the edge of her blade. His body fell to the left, in front of her shoes. His head went to the right, streaking blood like oil against the window on James’ side of the car.
There was silence for a moment, but only a moment. Then Violet was running over to the other side of the car and Cyprian was wrenching open James’ door and reaching for him, and James had to adjust his perspective. This was Cyprian, the warrior. This was Cyprian, his scared sixteen year old little brother. They never called themselves “brothers.” That was for Cyprian and Marcus only. But at that moment James knew that Cyprian was scared. That he had been scared for James.
He hugged Cyprian back, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Violet and Will doing the same thing.
They all climbed out of the car, wiping tears from their eyes and holding each other close. Just as Cyprian began to say, “I should call Marcus-” They heard another sound. A whisper on the wind, as though the undead were calling. There was a crunching sound, like someone stepping on dead grass.
Violet shook. “Oh, no. No, I can’t- we can’t fight another one. We’re not going to-”
“Get into the car,” Will commanded. “I’ll take care of it.”
His voice sounded strange. It sounded like more than it usually did.
“I’m not leaving you here to die,” Violet said.
“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Cyprian seconded.
“Don’t leave then,” Will conceded. “Just close the doors and put up the windows. Duck down and don’t let it see you. I promise I’ll do my best to get out of this. I’ll get us all out.”
Violet’s lower lip trembled. “I can’t-”
“Go.” Will said. “I’ll be alright, probably.”
“Probably, he says,” Cyprian said. “You are a strange, brave man, Will Kempen. I’m glad to have met you.”
“And I you,” He said. “Now go.”
They went. Except for James who turned back at the last second.
“What are you doing?” Violet shouted as he ran back.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t particularly know himself. Will stared at him in disbelief as he took his place by Will’s side. “Go back.”
“No.” James said. “I’m staying here with you.”
Will spared a glance at the approaching creature. From far away it had seemed like there was only one, but James could now see a second walking alongside the first. “How are you planning on killing these things?”
Will pursed his lips. “I’m not. I- please go back.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Then I’ll leave you. I’d like to see what your brilliant mind thinks of then.”
“I’d like to see you try,” James said casually, as though his heart wasn’t pounding against his ribs. Then, more seriously, “Try to run.”
Will turned fully to look at him, shock evident on his face. “What did you say?”
His voice sounded different. “I don't- Will, what’s happening?”
Will’s eyes looked darker now, the way they had in the car. The blackness of his irises was taking up everything else. “I’m saving us all.”
As the first warrior approached them, Will held his head high and said, “Turn back.”
The words sounded odd and foreign, yet familiar in Will’s voice. Belatedly, James realized that he was not speaking english.
Nothing happened.
Will sighed as his shoulders sank. His eyes were all black in the firelight. “Ah, well. Worth a try.”
The thing’s arm shot out and grabbed him by the throat.
James screamed, waiting for Will to die like the grass, like the now-silent crickets, like the engine of Will’s old car. Instead, Will flailed his hand outward, reached into his pocket, and pulled out one of his many stupid camping knives. He plunged it into the thing’s chest.
There was a dull thunk, accompanied by a faint ripping sound as Will ripped the blade out. The man (creature thing) dropped Will in surprise, and immediately received a knife in the throat. It fell to the ground in a pool of viscous black liquid. The second didn’t slow his approach, only pausing when Will pushed his knife so deep into the thing’s neck that it looked like he had dipped his hand in a bucket full of ink. It also fell to the ground.
Will turned back to look at James. He seemed slightly out of it, but his eyes were back to normal. James attempted to take the knife from him, but Will jerked it out of the way. “Don’t touch anything that came from it.”
“How can you?” James asked.
Will looked around at their mess of a campsite. “I don’t know. James,” He seemed to contemplate for a moment. “Don’t tell the others?”
He only spared a second for hesitation. “Of course. Go wash your hands. I’ll get the others.”
. . .
They did not continue to camp in the field, for personal reasons.w Instead they took all of their stuff to the first row of trees in Violet’s backyard, put the seats of James’ truck down, and slept in the car. Will could not stop shaking, so James zipped their sleeping bags together and burrowed himself in Will’s arms. Violet and Cyprian had accepted that Will had simply had the element of surprise, and that James was able to take advantage of how preoccupied they were with Will. They did not tell them about the strange language Will spoke. They did not tell of the way his eyes turned black as night. They didn’t tell how Will could survive the touch of the creatures.
They also didn’t tell Marcus. Cyprian wanted to, of course. “Don’t you want answers?”
“I don’t trust him to tell us the whole truth just because we asked,” James said. “The truth will come with a price. I say we figure it out on our own.”
“They weren’t human, were they?” Violet said.
No one risked answering.
In the meantime they bundled up together in the car and slept, Will’s arms around James. Violet and Cyprian left their sleeping bags in Will’s car, so Violet climbed through the window of her bedroom and came back with pillows and blankets. When they had fallen asleep there was enough room between them for Jesus, but after an hour or so of fitful sleep Violet had hooked her foot around Cyprian’s calf. His arm reached out to her, only catching the ends of her short hair in his fingers. James waited until Will had shaken himself to sleep, and then he let darkness take him too.
There would be more answers in the morning, even if the wondrous only showed itself in the night.