Chapter Text
“Bill.”
“Hrmm.”
“Bill!”
“What?”
“Can’t you hear that humming?”
The war veteran listened. Even through the wooden walls of the shack they were in, the humming was unmistakable.
“Darn. Already. I thought we’d have more time than that to search her hut for weapons… All I found is this loose hatchet blade.”
He threw the cupboard he was searching through shut with a bang.
“Okay, let’s leave. We can find something elsewhere.”
Outside the hut, the lullaby was even more clearly audible. And it sounded like the origin of the sounds was coming in her direction. Of course she was.
The girl by his side looked up to her companion. “What do we do? I really don’t want to face her…”
Bill's mind started racing. They were still in the forest, but a few hundred meters ahead it seemed to clear. Probably the crossover to another realm. But… on the right the undergrowth grew thicker, and featured many hollow trees and holes in the ground.
“Okay Claud. Here’s what we can do. Either we run for the forest’s edge ahead, and risk running into another killer, or we try our luck at hiding. The woods grow real thick in this direction.”
Claudettes eyes followed his finger pointing at the undergrowth, but she quickly made her decision. “I’d rather face any killer than her. Let’s hope for the best and run.” she declared, trying to sound determined. He nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”
They two set off, running at a steady pace that still allowed them to stay alert of their surroundings. But no degree of alert could have warned Bill from bumping into Claudette when she suddenly froze mid-step, as a scream echoed through the forest, roughly from the same direction the humming came from. “That’s… I think that was Nea! Can’t we go and help her?”
The older survivor grumbled disapprovingly. “And how do you propose we do that? We don’t have weapons, and we certainly can’t hope to beat her in hand-to-hand combat.”
Her shoulders sank as she realised he was right. Attempting to help now was a death wish. “But can’t we do anything?” Bill shook his head slowly. “The only thing we can do is keep ourselves safe. Maybe we can help later.”
But not even that quite worked out. When they could already see the outlines of the mountains of scrap metal bordering the forest, Bill overlooked a high-reaching root and tripped.
“Ow! Fuck, couldn’t that have waited until we have medical supplies?” Claudette rushed to his side, anxious to gather unwanted attention.
“Shhh, something will hear us! Let me have a look.”
A quick diagnosis later, she determined that he had twisted his ankle. Nothing lethal, but enough to keep him from running.
“Can you still walk? It’s not far to the next realm now.” The botanist’s eyes darted around nervously, scanning the surrounding greenery for any movements promising hostility.
The older survivor cautiously took a few steps.
“I’ll manage. It hurts, but a grenade frag to the knee is much worse. Let’s get going.”
They reached the scrapyard without any more incidents. Claudette left to search the car wrecks for anything useful, while Bill granted his ankle a break. It had not gotten any better, unsurprisingly, and his bad knee was acting up again too. He quietly cursed to himself. There was a time and a place to be injured, and this was neither of them.
Philip had never been short-tempered, neither as a person nor as a killer. He usually resorted to strategizing and planning, then getting the task done with high precision and low effort. But the recent incident had enraged him. Despite them being virtually defenseless, the two survivors he had chased down, on his own realm nonetheless, had inflicted some serious burn wounds on him. Both his cloak and his body had been singed, and even with the superhuman resilience and strength The Entity bestowed upon its killers, the areas where he had been hit by the fireblast still felt like they were burning when he touched them. The guy who he afterwards caught and murdered was unlikely to be the brains of this idea, he did not have the guts for that. No, that must have been the crafty street artist that somehow successfully evaded him, and even though Evan had brought him notice that she had fallen to his cleaver, Philips anger was not quenched in the slightest. So when he spotted another lone survivor, seemingly fiddling with his leg, he only saw an opportunity to spill more blood. Cloaked by the spirit world, he snuck up on the unsuspecting survivor.
The sound of metal hitting bone got Bill's attention. A medkit that must have been thrown by Claudette, had hit what looked like thin air. Slowly, the air started to shimmer, revealing the silhouette of the wraith, currently stunned by the impact. Shocked, the veteran got up and shuffled around the corner as quick as he could, but with his twisted ankle, there was no way he’d outrun the killer, even while uncloaked. There had to be another way to get rid of him… the smell of gasoline caught his attention.
—
Bill took one last big puff from his cigar. This was a dangerous plan, but it was all he had. The wraith was on his heels, and he couldn’t run with a twisted ankle. But if he’d go down, he’d take one of them bastards with him, he swore to himself. When his pursuer rounded the corner and readied his club, Bill faked calmness, although he was nervous like never before. But the timing was important here, triggering the trap too early could have fatal consequences.
“What, out of breath?” He taunted, the cigar leisurely held in one hand, as if he was having a friendly afternoon chat. Then, when the Wraith lunged at him furiously, the survivor dropped his still-lit cigar into the open gas tank of the wrecked car he leaned against.
The car's remains burst into flames. A huge fireball emerged from the opening, briefly enveloping the pair before the explosion’s shockwave sent them flying into different directions. Even from her hiding spot, Claudette could feel the heat from the explosion. Scrambling to her feet, she ran to her friend. She found him resting against the wooden planks of the gas station walls, coughing and spitting blood, but barely alive. A sly smile crept onto his face when Claudette knelt down beside him. “Look… look, I got that bastard good.”
She looked in the direction of his quivering finger. Harmlessly leaned against a stack of wrecked cars was the Wraith, his gruesome club resting beside him. Blood was flowing from several wounds, his skin and tattered cloak were burnt in several spots, and his snarled breathing had dissipated. The killer was not moving anymore, and after several seconds, his body shimmered and dissolved into dust, along with his weapon, blown away by the wind.
Claudette attempted to get Bill to stand, but he resisted all efforts. “Leave me, Claud. This is the end for me. Even if you had the best medkit there is, there’s nothing you could do against internal injuries. I’ve been around enough explosions, believe me.” Tears started to well up in her eyes, but he grabbed her hand tightly, handing her the hatchet blade. “Listen. Promise me you’ll do anything to escape this hellhole and live a good life. Promise. Then all of this will have had a purpose.”
The botanist could not speak. She only pressed his hand and nodded vigorously several times, before rushing off into the dark towards another part of the forest.
Over the crashing thunder preceding The Entity’s announcement, she failed to hear the soft woosh nearby, caused by rapid movement through the spiritworld.
PHILIP “THE WRAITH” OJOMO HAS BEEN ELIMINATED. THREE KILLERS ON THE HUNT.