My little brother

You can put a lot in perspective 
When one of the closest persons to you
Can't see
Can't talk
Can't handle how he feels
So when he first came into the world
And I was only eight years old
I would shut my eyes
Shut my mouth
And make myself cry
To see what life was like for my little brother

He's walking now
He can say a few things
And he drags a laugh
Out of my weary body
Every now and again

I'm his savior
His best friend
And he runs to me when our parents are screaming at each other
And asks me to sing to him
And I do
And I always will
Because he's my baby
Even if I'm not his mother 

Saying hello to myself

I found who I was
While I watched ghosts walk through our new apartments
And when I learned to suck in the cigarette smoke 
Instead of holding my breath when it swirled around my face
And made my eyes water
When I realized my father wasn't coming back
And discovered I didn't care for him much anyways

I found myself
While forced onto my back on the floor of a tent
And when I walked through the woods
And saw my soul sitting on the petals of a daisy

I found who I was
While I jumped from school to school
And tweaked my personality
When I was forced to take a beating
And when I discovered how to climb into the pages of a book

I found myself
In the ink of a pen
And when I drank myself to sleep 
And dreamed of what a family would be like

I found who I was
When I first kissed your lips
And let myself be loved

I found myself
In your eyes

Father's Day

Father's Day 

Dear father
On this day I would like to thank you
For showing me I can be independent
By never being there for me when I needed you. 
Because of this
I don't need you at all. 
Thank you
For making me question whether or not
I could actually call you a "father".
Thank you
For showing me everything
That a father shouldn't be. 
Thank you
For leaving me scarred 
And damaged
With trust issues and anxiety disorders.  
Thank you
For making chaos the norm. 
Thank you
For never forming a relationship with me
Because I sure am fucking glad
I never got to know who you really were
When I was a little girl. 
Thank you
For making promises
So I grew up knowing
That everyone lies. 
Thank you
For leaving a hole in me
That I've filled with hatred
Because now
I can dump it right back on you. 
Thank you. 

The perfect shade

You're my favorite shade of nighttime 
When the stars light up the shadows under your eyes
And the moon plays games with your hair
And your eyes are as bright and reflective as the crescent in the sky

When the darkness catches your voice 
And whispers it in my ear from behind me
And your skin feels as soft
As moonbeams in a puddle of rainwater 

When your embrace could be mistaken for a blanket
And your chest for a pillow
And your steady breathing for a comforting bedtime story
As I drift off to dreams of you

My favorite things to wake up to

My favorite things to wake up to
Are sunshine peeking through my blinds
Memories of last nights dream 
And absolute silence

Or if I wake in the dead of night
The stars knocking at my window
Asking me to play
And the shouts of those who live when the world sleeps

But lately I've been dreaming
And hoping and begging
That one morning when I open my eyes
I'll see yours looking right back at me

Kiss me

Kiss me goodnight

And then kiss me good morning

When my eyes are still sleepy

And I just finished snoring

Kiss me hello 

And then kiss me goodbye

When my lips try to hold

You here as I cry 

Kiss me to cheer me up

And then kiss me to slow me down

When my words are a mess

And they've turned up your frown

Kiss me in the dark

And then kiss me in the light

When my skin is too pale

And the sun's in my eyes

Kiss me

Cigarettes at midnight

You can get me higher
Than any buzz I've ever felt
You can knock me off my feet
Like I've had one too many glasses of wine
You can make me more dizzy
Than spinning in circles with my eyes closed
A thousand times
You can make me feel more unstable
Than overdosing
You get my heart beating harder 
Than sneaking out at three A.M. 
And you can clear my mind faster
With your palm on my cheek
Than a cigarette at midnight

Kissing your lips

Kissing your lips 
Is like closing your eyes
On a roller coaster 
Or not holding on
Or looking
On a swing
Or like skydiving 
With your eyes closed
Like falling in a dream
And then waking up
With a start

untitled

I tell the birds 
To quiet their song
So that I can listen to your voice

I shove my artwork 
Out of the way
So that I can see you more clearly

I roll the blankets
Off of us
So that I can feel your skin

I wave away
The perfume
So that I can smell your scent

I am alive

Silence is my loudest cry
Disappearing is my standing out 
Dying is how I live my life
And being honest is how I tell my lies

I am alive 
Not because my heart is beating
Or my blood is pumping
Or my lungs are breathing

I am alive
Not because my organs are working
Or my cuts or bleeding
Or my brain is thinking

I am alive
Because of you
I love you

I measure love in dasies

I measure love in daisies
So I'm about ten daisies tall
And two daisies wide
And you're fifty daisies high 
And ten to the side

Like me

I have to make up new worlds for you
Because you're far too good for this one
It doesn't even come close to your beauty
So I create worlds where you are still the most beautiful thing
But there are other beautiful things around you
Like me 

I have a hard time understanding 
What it means to love
But you don't seem to
So I follow you with my blind trust
And sometimes ask you how you could ever love someone
Like me

You like to create works of art
And restore things to their proper state
You make them as beautiful as you are
So you spend your time going through the trash
And mending hopeless pieces of junk
Like me 

Parabola

If I was in a tree then you would be a ladder
If I was drowning you would be my air
If I was a daisy you would be my sunshine
If I was a fire you would be my flare

If you were in a tree then I would be a ladder
If you were drowning I would be your air
If you were a daisy I would be your sunshine
If you were a fire I would be your flare

I like to fly

I like to fly
And when I do
Seldom do I come down
I sit in my chair
And swing up high
My feet above the ground

I dance in the breeze
And my hair dances too
Rippling in the wind
Just more proof
That I need wings
And not two feet of sin

Everything is blue

You are your own nature
Where up is down
Down is up
And all the way around is a little to the left
Green is yellow
And pink is green
But everything is blue
And it snows in the summer
And the winter brings the harsh sun
Flying takes practice
And you sing to birds
You can taste the color orange
And smell the color purple
But everything is blue
You laugh when you're sad
And cry when you're happy
And get the hiccups when you just don't know what to do
You're awake when you sleep
And alive when you're dead
The color red fills your thoughts
And yellow daisies mix with white snowflakes
But everything is blue

Sing me a song

Sing me a song about riding off into the sunset
Or a song about playing in the sand
Maybe sing me a song about living in a treehouse
But definitely sing me a song

Sing me a song about love lasting forever
Or a song about love not existing at all
Maybe sing me a song about death being the only way to love
But definitely sing me a song

Sing me a song about how much you love my eyes
Or a song about how daisies are my favorite flowers
Maybe sing me a song about dancing in the moonlight
But definitely sing me a song

My favorite stories

My favorite stories that you tell me always begin with sad times and end with me in your arms
But I don't much like stories that I haven't written myself
So I ask you to play me a song on your guitar
And maybe sing for me as you do
Because I don't much like stories that I haven't written myself
And I love to hear you sing

Your eyes

your eyes are a fire pit of fallen autumn leaves in the middle of the night with ashes dancing in the air and landing on my tongue like snowflakes.

your eyes are the sunset with shadows on the ground in front of it, brushing their fingers through the wildflowers.

your eyes are drops of blood in a mound of snow that makes steam rise into the crispy air and spreads its color throughout the ice.

your eyes are my savior that pulled me back to my beating heart when i used to slit my wrists and watch the blood pool on my paper-white skin.

Best friend

youre my best friend and you dont even know it.

you think nothing of it when i tell you that your message saying good morning made me smile.

you dont even blink when i tell you that your grin has risen me from the dead.

but when you hold my hand, my secrets fly out of me and land gently in your other palm where you take care of them and hold them close.

you dont seem to notice how i jump at every opportunity to be with you for even just one moment.

but i love you.

and because youre my best friend, i know that you love me too.

What your eyes do

your eyes can hand me a bouquet of daisies and lightly kiss me on the lips when we say goodbye.

your eyes can whisper things to me across the room without anyone else hearing.

your eyes can tell me jokes and stories that make me smile and cry.

your eyes can show me the future and make me fall in love with what i see.

your eyes can serenade me with songs that cause my lids to flutter shut and my lips to part.

your eyes can tell me that you love me even when i already know that you do. 

What I love about you

I love how water bounces off your skin and makes your eyes smile.

I love how your voice can say two things at once.

I love how your arms are attracted to my skin and how my chin fits perfectly on your shoulder.

I love how your eyes are the color of burning roses at nighttime.

I love how your words paint pictures in the air and dance within them.

I love how your music makes me want to hold you.

I love how your breath makes me feel dizzy and drawn to your lips.

I love how your smile always greets me when our eyes find each other.

I love how my legs fit between yours when we sit side by side.

I love how the thought of you makes my pens dance on paper for hours at a time.

I love how your smile pulls me to your skin.

I love how your promises are never broken and i don't expect them to be.

I love how much faith I have in you.

Each little kiss

Rainy days
Pull me to
The window and the door
Looking out
Getting dressed 
And joining the downpour 

Rain drops kiss
My cold skin
And clings to my frame 
The water
Sinks into
My melancholy haze 

Hourglass

I've turned into an hourglass
That's afraid of time
The sand inside me sifts and churns
While I watch with terrified eyes

I'm constantly counting
And keeping track
I'm tired of numbers
Holding me back

Daisy chains

Daisy chains
Wrap around
My ankles to set me free
The blossoms put
My soul at ease
And cease my troubling 

My graceful flowers
Of yellow and white
Make me feel at home
No matter how
Far I've run
Or the distance I have roamed

Their petals do
What pills are for
To my gentle mind
They've been my friend
Since I was small
And they're the only ones who were kind

Untitled

i feel now what solitary means

its far down in my soul

ive dirtied so what another cleans

but find myself alone

theres nothing i can do so why

do i keep dwelling?

there has to be something i can try

to make solitude compelling

how desperate am i

to hear a song

to keep me company

i swear id rather die

than trudge along

in a life not worth living!

the veil is gone; my vision's cleared!

all that i loved has dissapeared!

so why do i keep pulling threads

when i could blissfully be dead?

Untitled

even my punishment has gone

and left me to myself

so whats the point of holding on

and keeping my good health?

i find myself missing

what should have been my pain

instead of dissmissing

it, like anyone would, sane

but here i am, mimicking

what cannot be redone

although its almost sickening

i cant deny, its fun

i understand its purpose now

although its come and gone

so should i pursue what had me down

and prefect this rightful wrong?

Release

ive grown tired of holding back

and being careful of what i do

i knew thered come a day id crack

i just didnt know how long itd been due

Untitled

is this what it feels like to be dead?

just an eternity of nothing?

then i do not want to die

but i dont want to live like im not alive

How on earth could I ever forget a thing like that?

i admit

there are very rare lengths of time

when in my mind

you dont exist

and then

you appear

and i wonder

"how on earth could i ever forget a thing like that?"

sometimes

i go weeks without smiling

i die inside

but live in your arms

and then

i smile

and i wonder

"how on earth could i ever forget a thing like that?"

we go days

without contact

i forget your scent

now you're at arm's length

and then we kiss

and i wonder

"how on earth could i ever forget a thing like that?"

Waste

waste

all i do is waste

my time with you

by wishing for more

my life in youth

by urging the clocks to go faster

my days of rest

by working my fingers to the bone

waste

all i do is waste

my opportunities

by being cautious

my midnight starlight

by sleeping, sound

my breath

by holding it in high hopes

Revolution

  I shuffle awkwardly down the hall, struggling to maintain the grace and elegance expected of me. My steps are carefully placed onto the grey tile in a feeble attempt to avoid tripping over my skirt that drops below my ankles or revealing any skin in the process. What would the people think? What would they say? I pull on my gloves, worn to conceal, an anxious habit. 
  I nervously cast my gaze around the space, careful not to make eye contact with any of the men. What if I distracted them? Got in their way? Heat crawls up my neck, my unbearably tight collar tickling the bottom of my chin and trapping uncomfortable humidity under my clothing. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. 
  Catching my breath is it's own difficulty. The buttons of my shirt run all the way up to the base of my neck, restricting my chest and leaving me prey to rising claustrophobia. My hair wraps itself around my throat, damp with perspiration. I'm prohibited from tying it back. It has to be placed exactly where it is in order to hide any trace of my chest. It does it's job well. 
  A man in a greasy orange polo shoves me as he passes, mumbling obscenities under his breath. I blush, calling a squeaky apology over my shoulder, my hair tightening around my neck as I turn. I restrain myself from gasping for air and I keep my head down. 
  Women around me flash glares my way and wrinkle their noses, publicly shaming me for my foolish mistake. They pull their shawls tighter around themselves. They could easily be mistaken for piles of clothing with a sweaty face balanced atop, painted with a scowl. 
  I tug on my gloves again. When did the words "woman" and "human" become antonyms? When did our main concern become pleasing the society? When did all of this happen, because I would have liked to have been there to make damn sure it didn't end like this. 

Happenstance Narrator: Amalia

Amalia's point of view

   Chapter one: The Drop Off
   You stand, perched on one of the many passenger seats, peering out the round window, now perfectly level with your wide eyes. You let out a breath of utter infatuation with the scene, your small, dark lips forming a plump, pink 'o' as you watch the rays of light sparkle on the surface of the swaying ocean from the dying, orange sun. The beams reach down from the sky and tickle the water, a back and forth teasing of the bodies of endless energy. And to you, that's all that there is: The resigning sun, sinking under the horizon and the vast expanse of shimmering water, surrounding your little boat for as far as you pale blue eyes can see.
   Suddenly, the boat careens to the left, throwing you from the chair and onto the ground. You manage to stifle a cry of shock and slowly crawl into a sitting position, swiping at the strands of your white hair that form a curtain over your eyes. You hear the distant sound of glass shattering on the main deck and you listen to raised voices filled with venom, emptily as you massage your shoulder. You crawl to the back of the dark room, moving in the shadows and you lean your back against one of the cold, grey walls. You drag your knees up to your chest and bury your face into your folded arms. The shouts wipe your mind clear of all thoughts and rendering your body incapable of movement.
   You close your eyes and hold your breath with your cheeks puffed out with air.
   When you open them, you find yourself sitting in a field of wildflowers, and wrinkle your nose as some of the petals reach up and tickle your face. You manage a giggle, wiping tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Now, you stand up to get a better view of your new surroundings. The meadow stretches in all directions and you spin through the daisies, taking it all in. A warm smile slowly takes over your features.
   You run as fast as you can in your bare feet through the flowers, spreading your out like a bird and letting a shrill squeal escape through your lips. When your legs are too tired to carry you any farther, you collapse into the cushions of blossoms, sprawling out on your back and looking up at the blue, cloudless sky.
   Then a very, very real scream snaps you back to the dimly lit room, rocking on the waves. You lift your head, registering the cry as one coming from your mother. You sit in the thick silence, stirring each time you hear a burst of sobs or the loud thudding of your father"s feet, advancing. Something roughly smacks up against a wall and your mother cries out again.
   Your frightened, filled with the desire to flee, to finally escape this hell on water. You've been prepared for a while now.

   Your heart protests in your chest, pounding, desperately trying to dissuade you from your task. You ignore it. You fly to the closet and snatch up your ratty backpack thats been eagerly awaiting this moment for as long as it can remember. 

Happenstance Narrator: David

David's point of view
Chapter one: Free Fall

   The world was a spinning metal box of smoke and sirens.
   The endless tremors shook the plane and coursed through your body, making the ability to stand a remarkable feat. The wailing of grinding metal and shrill alarms pierce your ears until the only thing you can hear is an internal ringing. You've been rendered deaf in a dire situation. 

Summer Camp

Summer Camp

Written by Alonna Kilpatrick

   Maura lifted her heavy bag off the ground and slung it's handle onto her shoulder, the weight of the bag almost knocking her over. She irritatedly pushed her flat brown hair out of her eyes, and readjusted her glasses. She could hear the other cabin girls' giggles as they watched her struggle. Maura shoved the laughter out of her thoughts and started towards the cabin door.

   As Maura reached for the handle, Madison, one of the cabin girls who lead the taunts, stepped between Maura and the door. Madison put her hands on her hips and swung her bright blonde curls out of her face with the whip of her head.

   "Poor Maura. Do you need any help with your bags, Dear?" Madison cooed, an evil smile spreading ear to ear.

   "Get out of my way, Madison." Maura grumbled. She tried to go around Madison, but she still couldn't get to the door.

   "Well that's not a very nice thing to say to someone who's trying to help you with your bags." Madison wore a fake expression of shock.

   Maura could feel her knees bending under the weight of the bag. She knew she wouldn't be able to support the bundle much longer. If only the camp director didn't have them carry around so many supplies when they played capture the flag.

   Maura had had enough, so she shot out an arm and forced madison out of her way. While madison was checking to see if her hair had gotten messed up, Maura yanked open the door and stormed out.

   "Hey! Where do you think you're going, freak?" Maura could hear Madison's taunts from over her shoulder, but she knew that if she could just make it in sight of the camp director, Madison would pretend to be an innocent angel again.

   Maura forced her legs to pump as she plowed her way down the opening. "Just a few more feet," Maura thought.

   Finally, she could see the camp director. As soon as the director came into view, she could hear the shushing of her other cabin girls to Madison, signalling that they were now in hearing range of the director.

   Maura plopped down her bag and took a seat right in front of the camp diretor, in front of all the other girls that attended the camp, awaiting instructions. Soon after her arrival, Madison and her gang appeared around the corner, and took their seats in the back of the crowd.

   "Alright, let's go ahead and take roll really quick." The camp director pulled out her clipboard with a pen attached to it. "Madison Bail?"

   "I'm here!" Madison chirruped, as if everyone would be relieved to know that she was.

Maura couldn't concentrate on the roll. She was too busy thinking about all of the horrible things Madison and her clique would do and say to her once they went out into the woods where no one would see them.

   "Where no one would see them." Maura repeated the thought to herself. She could finally escape from all of the tortures that summer camp forced her to go through!

   "Candace Smith?" One of Madison's followers.

   "Right here, Mrs. Collins!" Candace waved her hand in the air as if her announcement didn't make it clear enough that she was, indeed, here.

   If Maura ran fast enough, she might be able to make it to the highway before any one even noticed that she was gone, not that they would care. She already had all of her equiptment with her, and it would be enough to survive on for weeks. She wouldn't even be out in the woods that lon-

   "MIss Hill? Are you paying attention?" Maura was snapped away from her fantasies of escape by the director's, well, direct question.

   "Alright, now that the roll's complete, let's get the game started. Is anyone unclear of the rules? When no one responded, the director dismissed everyone to their places.

   Maura immediantly pushed towards the woods. Apparently, her 'lack of shoe style' was indeed helpful, her tennis shoes providing easy access for her over tree roots and pebbles. Shew winced as she thought of what might happen to her if she had worn high heels.

   As Maura broke through the tree line, she cleared all rational and irrational thoughts out of her head. All she focused on was her feet carrying her and her backpack out of range of Madison and the other cabin girls.

***

   Right as Maura started to think clearly again, she realized that the sky was turning darker. Panic and adreniline started to pump through her veins as she thought of all the dangers the night time would bring her in the forest.

   It had been hours of tireless trekking and there were still no signs of the highway in which her plans were based around. A coyote howled in the distance as she sat down, back against a tree.

   Eaten by a coyote, mauled by a bear, or attacked by something much more dangerous and a bit more mythical. Maura mentally listed all of the horrible things that could happen to her.

   As her first tear of regret fell onto the forest floor, maura had an epiphany. What is the first thing you would do in a video game to survive the night from monsters? Maura picked herself up and started to plan out in her mind how to make a decent shelter.

   Maura walked around the still darkening forest and collected sticks and tree sap. When she had all that her tiny arms could carry, she went back to the tree she had been sitting in front of. She stuck the larger sticks into the ground anround the tree to make a fence, and then she pulled a tent out of her bag.

***

   Once she was all settled into her tent, Maura leaned her bag against the plastic wall, and pulled out some food. She greedily shoved the small slices of cheese and crackers into her mouth. All the hard work that she had done that day made her absolutely starving.

   By the time she had had her fill on food, she heard a twig crack a few yards away from the enterance of her tent. Maura's heart stopped. Then it violently restarted. Something had smelled her food, and now it was coming to get some.

   Maura shakily opened her tent door a crack and peeped out. the forest was pitch black, and she could barely see anything. She stuck her head back into the tent and closed the opening. Then, she reached over and turned off her lantern, as to not turn anything's attention to her tent.

   She knew it could very well be her imagination acting up on her from all the fear, but she thought she could hear a set of padding feet outside of her tent. Maura held her breath out shakily let it back out. Another coyote howl sounded in the distance.

   She never should have run away from camp. She should be in her bed, secretly reading after curfew, while trying to block out the sound of Madison snoring in the bunk abouve her. She should have stayed.

   Now she knew it wasn't her imagination. From behind teary eyes, Maura could see the silhouette of a wolf on the wall of her tent. She said a silent player.

   She knew that she shouldn't, but she reached out and grabbed that opening of the tent and slightly pulled it back. As soon as she did, she let out a scream as a hairy face poked through the tent door and flashed it's teeth.

***

   Maura knew she had returned to conciousness because a harsh light was making red spots on the back of her eyelids, much too unpleasant for a dream. When she inhaled, she got the distinct scent of a dentist office.

   She felt unfamiliar clothing rub against her skin as she tried to prop herself up. When she immediantly fell back onto the hospital bed, she opened her eyes.

   Maura was being wheeled down a white hallway, and loud but blurry voices were saying something about an operation. Then one of the doctors noticed she was awake.

   "Oh thank goodness you're awake." Said a worried female voice. "You should be getting pretty sleepy about now even though you've just woken up. We game you some medicine to help you sleep while we fix you up."

   Maura wasn't a clueless child. She knew that they had drugged her so she wouldn't feel any pain during the surgery she was on her way to.

   She winced as a bolt of pain shot across her face. She put a hand to her cheek to feel a bumpy line going across your face.

   The next thing she knew, she was slipping into unconciousness again. All she could think about was how happy she was that someone had found her, and how relieved she was that she was going to be okay.

   Then, blackness.

The tug

souls go where souls go

and persuading them is useless

and if you manage to commit such crime

you'll find your efforts fruitless

no matter irrationality

or capabilites or state

your soul will take you where its called

and will torture you as it waits

it will plant a poison in your mind

of distress and misery

until its wishes are fulfilled

and only then will it set you free

Excerpt from "The Unfortunates" Narrator: Iris #3

Iris

As you found work growing less and less important, you had a lot more free time to go and tend to your garden. It had been through much pampering and its borders had expanded to about the square footage of your flat.  You grew strawberries that were just tart enough to balance out the sweetness, lemons that made your thick lips pucker, and all sorts of wildflowers. These breathtaking blossoms had a larger variety in color than all of the different strings in Mordecai's shed, than all the paint in your alleyway. It was beautiful. It was home.

The more time you spent with your flowers, the less you needed money. Eventually, upon your daily wanderings in search of more wildflowers, you came across some sort of metal box on wheels. The inside of it had the same sorts of furniture as your flat did back in the village and was about the same size. No one seemed to be occupying it, and if they were, it didn't show. There was almost nothing in the box that wasn't nailed to it.

You sold your flat. You packed a bag full of your meager belongings and took it to the box near your garden. It didn't take long at all for it to begin to feel like home.

And then, the paint consumed you. You were a maniac. Your hands were always coated in paint of all colors--crusted and dry or dripping wet--and your eyes were constantly bloodshot; a curious combination of sleep deprivation and the effects of the rolled chemicals  the other painters offered you after the stars had been out for a while. Your voice remained enticing and melodic despite all of the blunts you'd inhaled, one right after the last. Your eloquent latin had blended deliciously with the sharp, precise speech patterns of the locals. 

You'd been stealing, too. It kept you up at night and when it granted you sleep, it planted seeds of guilt into your once pure soul, but you stole, stole, stole. You've collected jars and cans of the frothy paint that transforms your thoughts into extravagant dictations, and you stash the containers wherever you can. You wear three jackets, worn down and abundant in pockets and buttons that hold your brushes, chalk, and spare pieces of ripped cloth. It stains the fabric, but you don't care much. You could always steal more jackets.  

Excerpt from "The Unfortunates" Narrator: Tom

part one:

Jacob: Tom

Tom: Shh!

Jacob: Tom!

Tom: Shut up, Jacob, they can hear us for God's sakes!

Jacob: Tom, I'm frightened!

Tom: Jacob, I honestly couldn't care less at the moment. Are you trying to get us killed? Is that what you're doing? Because you're doing a pretty damn good job at it!

Jacob: I'm sorry, Tom, but he's holding my arms too tight and it done hurts!

Being: Silence! Both of you!

Tom: See! Now, shut your trap!

Jacob: It scratched me, Tom!

Tom: If my hands weren't tied behind my back, I'd claw you up myself! Kudos, Mister! If only I could be more like you! 

Jacob: That's not very kind, Tom. You done hurt my feelings. 

Tom: Where are you taking us anyways? 

Being: Ignorant human! I command silence at once!

Tom: Well, that's not very helpful, Mister! Downright uninformative, if you ask me.

Jacob: Don't you upset that thing, Tom.

Tom: See, I'm okay with you telling Jacob to be quiet, that's not a problem!

Jacob: Where are we going, Tom? 

Tom: Weren't you just listening, you blubbering idiot? I don't have a damn clue!

Jacob: I'm sorry, Tom, I'm just frightened.

Tom: Yes, Jacob, We've already been through this!

Jacob: I'm sorry, Tom, I'm just frightened!

Tom: You're on some kind of ignorant loop, aren't you?

Being: We're here. Just go down this hallway and knock on the door at the end. Signal that your puny minds can follow through with this simple task.

Tom: Yes, your majesty. 

Jacob: You didn't have to slam the door that hard, Mister!

Tom: He can't hear you Jacob, the door's already shut.

Jacob: How are we gunna get out of here now that we're free, Tom?

Tom: We're not free, you idiot. We're trapped in this hallway. both the door we came through and the one down yonder are probably both heavily guarded with more simple minded beings.

Jacob: So what do we do?

Tom: We go knock on the door down there as instructed. We might just be able to talk our way out of this one. And by "we" I mean "me". You just stand there with your mouth shut, and don't say anything stupid to mess us up.

Jacob: Why you gotta be so mean, Tom?

Tom: Shut up.

Jacob: I don't want to knock on that door, Tom.

Tom: Then move out of the way and let me do it!

Sir Andrew: Ah! Hello, Visitors! How are you enjoying your stay?

Tom: Not entirely well, sorry to say. We weren't exactly jumping to get here.

Sir Andrew: Yes, well that is irrelevant. Allow me to introduce myself. I am known and addressed as Sir Andrew, governor of this establishment.

Tom: Yeah, great to meet you, blah blah blah. Can we leave now?

Jacob: Don't you think that's a little straight forward, Tom?

Sir Andrew: So, You're name is Tom? How delightful! 

Tom: I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut, Jacob!

Sir Andrew: Ah! Jacob and Tom! What an amusing duo! Well, I presume you are aware of the purpose of your presence?

Tom: No, Sir, and that happens to be one of the main reasons we"re so keen on leaving. So, We'll just be on our way, if you'd be so kind-

Sir Andrew: I am most certainly NOT so kind! Your presence is absolutely imperative! We are in desperate need of your undamaged vocal chords! 

Tom: excuse me?

Sir Andrew: Well, how do you think I am able to talk, my good fellow? Plague Rats don't normally speak, do they? This common inconvenience is due to the infection of a mudo bite being inserted directly into the vocal chords at first injection with the teeth of an infected. Why do you think we bite at the neck? If we aren't blessed with the privilege to speak, then no one will be!

Tom: I sincerely apologize, Mister, but I still don't understand one thing.

Sir Andrew: Do tell!

Tom: What in the HELL makes you think we're going to let you take our talking strings?

Jacob: Where'd you get that knife, Tom?

Tom: Jacob, I'd greatly appreciate your silence!

Sir Andrew: Please hand over your weapon, Tom. I wouldn't want to have to call in my guards.

Tom: Alright, that sounds reasonable enough. Here, I'll just bring this right over to you-

Jacob: Tom! You just slit his throat! 

Tom: Good observation, Jacob.

Jacob: What are we gunna do now, Tom?

Tom: We're going to get out of here.

Jacob: I thought you said we were gunna talk our way out.

Tom: There's no use trying to talk this Plague Rats out of anything they put their moldy brains to! Now is the time for action!

Jacob: How are we gunna get past all those guards he was talking about?

Tom: Most likely with those swords hanging on the wall over there.

Jacob: That's brilliant!

Tom: Thank you.

Jacob: You're done welcome, Buddy.

Tom: Here, take this nice sword.

Jacob: Alright.

Tom: You ready?

Jacob: Not in the slightest, Tom.

Tom: Swell! Let's get going!

part two:

You and Jacob burst through the front door, panting. As usual, no one takes interest in your arrival. 

"Everyone!" You scream, and your voice cracks. All eyes turn to you and Jacob. "Where's Eliza?" You demand, looking around the room, searching faces for answers. 

"Uh, I'm pretty sure she just got back to her office." Some one says through the silence.

"Excellent." You take off, dragging Jacob behind you by the arm. The two of you bound up the stairs, rocketing to the second floor.

You pound on Eliza's door with your fist, taking in ragged breaths.

"Enter." A muffled voice says.

You and Jacob shove your way through the door at the same time. You push yourself past Jacob irritably. 

"They can talk! It's sick, and cruel what they do to get this way! They rip them right out of innocent men's throats and shove them in their own!" You prop yourself up on Eliza's desk, gulping down air. Her face remains perfectly composed. She turns to Jacob.

"Explain your partner's rushed words, if you don't mind." She says. Jacob blushes. You know that he's never been one for speaking in front of anyone with the exception of you.

"Uh- What he's trying to say is, uh, the mudo. They're a-taking people's talking strings and using them like their own. They can talk now, honest. Me and Tome done talked to some! They ain't too friendly, neither."

"They're killing off more people?" She confirms, taking out a notepad.

"Yes." You gasp, slowly regaining the ability to speak. "The people that they've taken; they don't eat all of them! They take out their vocal chords! Those vile beasts are torturing people just to be able to voice their moldy thoughts!"

"Interesting..." Eliza remarks, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Perhaps now that they're able to speak, we can make some kind of truce with them; get then to relent in their efforts to kill off the living population."

"It's too late for reason, Eliza, I've killed off their leader and half of their defensive forces. There is no turning back!" You stare back at the commander, huffing.

"I sincerely with you hadn't done that, Tom. How is their speech anyways? Is it primitive or just as advanced as ours?"

"Well, their leader seemed the most capable of having complete conversations until Tom cut his head off... The rest of them could only say a few phrases..." Jacob recovers.

"Perhaps the more decomposed their brain is, the less able they are to regain their old speech habits. Their leader, by extension, must have just been recently infected."

"Right.."

The room is silent except for your heavy breathing. It's ridiculous that it is taking you this long to catch your breath and you can tell that everyone else has noticed. The more effort you put into quieting your breaths, the more ragged they become.

"Sergeant, maybe you and your partner could use a few laps around the practicing arena? You seem like you could be in better condition."

You blush, but still force yourself to hold your head up high, refusing to let your utter humiliation be seen.

"yes, commander. Let us know when you get more information on the talkers?"

"Of coarse." Eliza looks to her paper work, purposely closing off conversation.

"Right." You and Jacob turn from the room, exchanging looks of exhaustion.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I really wish that you weren't so out of breath back there, Tom.'" Jacob huffs. This is your twelfth time around the arena. Your muscles are cramping and you long for nothing more than a glass of water.

"We should be getting into shape none the less, Jacob! We've got to kill of those talkers  before the spread the idea too far. If they're able to communicate, they become more powerful. They've already wiped out half of the population, Jacob. Imagine the damage they could do if they actually start coordinating plans to take us down!" You're gasping for air once again. You're starting to learn that talking and running don't mix well.

"What do we do?" Jacob asks after a while.

"Why, we gather our militia, my good man!" You slap Jacob on the back encouragingly, making him jolt in surprise. He smiles at you sheepishly. "We've got at least two hundred men at the base and that should-"

"What about the women?"

"What about them?"

"Well, you would think that if we were planning on taking down a new race, we would use ALL of our soldiers."

"Right- like I said, two hundred men."

Jacob stops running to look at you. "We would have a force of five hundred soldiers if we put all of our fighter in play." He states.

"What position do women have in war?" You're incredulous. Women aren't meant to be soldiers!

"Every position! Women are in all kinds of battles! Hell, Eliza took down an entire horde of mudo singlehandedly!"

"I suppose..."

"We're using our potential of five hundred, Tom. We can't afford to lose two hundred men because I know damn well that you won't retreat until every last one of us is dead."

The two of you resume jogging in silence. You've never seen Jacob so defensive before. You wonder what's gotten into him.

"Something bothering you, Jacob?"

"Only your sexism, Tom."

You're taken aback. You decide not to pester Jacob for a while.

part 3:

"Alright, I assume that you are all well informed about the new mudo, and am I also correct in saying that you are here to demolish this abomination of a race?"

The crowd roars in approval. You grin, violent thoughts dancing through your head. 

"Yes! I have an enthused militia!" You pace in front of the rows of people, raising your arms in encouragement. You are receiving an appealing response, the gathering cheering, practically screaming their approval.

"My firing squads, rise!" There is a shuffle as a group of people get to their feet, clutching various types of guns. "Take to the fields! You will be the first to storm the building! Prepare yourself for hell, ladies and gentlemen, we'll see you on the other side!" The standing cluster salute, then file out the door.

"Assemble yourselves, those who prefer hand to hand combat! You will be behind the firing squad! God be with you, brave souls." You dismiss the team with the dramatic wave of your arm. They march to catch up with the firing squad.

"The rest of you will join Jacob and myself, we who fight best with stationary weapons! Come, take your preferred tool; we've got plenty of varieties, I can assure you, sir! It's your pick; swords, shovels, axes, spears galore!" You draw your sword from your belt and raise it in the air as the rest of the crowd surges forward to get their hands on a weapon. The feeling of soon to come battle races through your veins, spreading farther with each beat of your heart. It's absolutely invigorating! 

You lead the army of people from the weapons room, side by side with Jacob. He looks nervous. You jab him in the side with your elbow, reassuringly. He gives you a sheepish grin in return.

You crash into the building, taking in the violent scene: Your men against theirs, battle cries and wounded moans ring through your ears along with the sound of metal on metal and guns firing off. You embrace the chaos, breathing in the stench of blood, sweat, and flesh. You run into the mess, swinging your sword in the air, severing the head off of a being. You grin viciously, satisfied with the feel of your first kill of the battle. You are sure it won't be your last.

You lose track of time in this environment. You slay mudo from left to right, not noticing any time pass. Blood stains your skin and clothing and your reek of perspiration. Energy and testosterone pump through you, rocketing you from place to place, kill to kill.

Eventually the action dissipates and no one is left standing but you and a handful of your men. You see that they are all staring at your torso. You look down, seeing a slash in your abdomen. Blood oozes from the gash, seeping through your shirt. You look back up at your men. You register no pain, just a spinning sensation. Your legs disappear from beneath you, and you crash to the floor, you sword clattering loudly in the silence as it falls from your limp hand. You close your eyes, your eyelids suddenly weighing ten pounds. Darkness envelops you, coaxing you to sleep, and you eagerly comply.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You awaken in a white room, your mind groggy and your motions slurred. You raise your head to get a better baring of your surroundings. You see a sink and plat form by your bed and a stack of books by your feet. You see Jacob, staring intently at his hands in his lap, sitting by the door. He has bandages wrapped around his head and one of his legs is strapped to a plank. He appears to be in deep thought.

You wince, your torso suddenly catching fire, and poorly stifle a yelp of pain. Jacob's head jerks up.

"You're awake!" He exclaims, jumping to his feet and grinning broadly.

"Mm." You grunt, wrapping your arms around your abdomen. Your eyebrows come together in concentrated agony.

"I was starting to get worried that you wasn't ever gunna come to! Tom, you plum scared he half to death!"

"My sincerest apologies, comrade." You mumble, dragging yourself into a sitting position. Jacob rushes to your side, trying to assist you in anyways possible. You swat him from you, trying to convince him that you don't need any help.

"We won, Tom! We killed off all the Talkers!" He beams.

"How many soldiers?" You grunt.

"What?"

"How many soldiers did we lose?"

"Oh.." Jacob looks at the floor. "Four hundred, sir."

Your jaw drops. You've never lost that many people in a fight before. You try to respond, opening and closing your mouth, but nothing comes out but garbled sounds. 

"How many fallen mudo?" You finally sputter.

"Two thousand."

You're ecstatic! That's the biggest dent in the undead population to which you have ever contributed! Automatically, outside seems safer, as if the forest isn't teeming with downed plague rats.

"No survivors?"

"None."

"Splendid!"

"But, Tom, we lost four hundred people. There's only two hundred people actually occupying Substratum property right now."

Excerpt from "The Unfortunates" Narrators: Tom and Raven

Raven   
  It has been a mere 10 minutes since you entered the calm cluster of trees, and yet, you still feel the overwhelming need to flee the site. Every few seconds, you imagine a snapping twig behind you, or a rustle of leaves to your side. Paranoia incases you, damaging the reliability of your senses. A few attempted-casual glances at your sister and her new admirer inform you that you are the only one on the alert. For God's sakes! They don't even have their weapons loaded! You quicken your pace, striding yards ahead of them to limit the amount of stimulation your senses receive, although you're still not quite relaxed enough to stop pausing every few seconds to listen for the return of footsteps that you were so sure that you had heard.
   Every sound that escapes a creature's mouth pierces your concentration, announcing itself as an approaching mudo, but fleeting and giving no indication of repetition, leaving you unsure of what exactly it was. Eventually, it crosses your mind that it might be helpful to just ignore these false alarms that bombard your thoughts; but every time you hear or suspect you see something, your promise to yourself is meaningless, and you fret over your untrustworthy senses, nonetheless. 
   You decide that this would most likely be the best time to analyze the information that was recently unloaded on you by your golden retriever friend; that and it would probably be distracting enough to be qualified as calming.  
   You start with the information that interested you the most: not only was your long-lost sister one of the heads of the rebellion--which is shockingly unsurprising; you've noticed in these past short weeks that she has a habit of being stubborn and refuses to comply with any suggestion that you might have to offer--but she was also one of the first to actually join the rebuttal, maybe even one of the people who started it in the first place. You wonder if there were a lot of people back then, or if it was just a big empty building, housing a few wandering kids. Or maybe the building that the Substratum occupies wasn't the original building? You can't be sure. However, you have a lingering feeling that the beginning life wasn't as luxurious as what you consider a rough-and-tumble lifestyle that you live today. You think that, maybe, Kinsey didn't have that much of an easier life as you did growing up. She most likely raised herself, being one of the few members. You feel a brief pang of pity, but it only lasts a moment, and you continue your one-track-minded brooding.
   You imagine your sister as the face of the rebellion; young, strong, and stubborn as ever. You wonder how big of a part she actually played in the demise of the Rebuttal. Perhaps, she was the one who initially started it. If she was that thoroughly involved, you can't be exactly sure how much violence actually took place, if any. Could there have been casualties in a war created by children? Surely not. You some how can't put your sister in that kind of position--in your head, of course; in actuality, you have no problem accepting her brutality-- as a child. You've always pictured her as being an innocent kid; always staying out of trouble when it comes to the big stuff. Perhaps, she was actually quite the trouble-maker. You have no difficulty seeing her with an early developed snarky attitude.
   You have absolutely no idea what your sister was like, never having once asked her for that kind of information. Maybe she was resourceful; making bowls out of scraps and clothing with feather-stitch. Was she respected or outcasted? Disliked or charismatic? You realize that you have absolutely no idea who your sister is under the mask that she wears for those she does not trust.  You have lots of questions, and you make a mental note to take them to Sadie later, if she's still open to talk. Right now, she could be anywhere in the surrounding woods. You might have even crossed right by her path a few times, unknowingly. 
   You get to a brightly lit clearing; a meadow of sorts; with the grey sky spitting snow that powders the wildflowers--severely out of season, but flourishing nonetheless--that decorate the serene area. The strange hexaploid flowers capture your attention, keeping you frozen at the opening of the meadow. Soon, the rest of your 'squad' catches up with you.
   "What is this place?" You wonder aloud, your voice an awed whisper. However rhetorical your question may be, it is ignorantly answered, startling you out of your amazed stupor. 
   "I dunno." Michael says stupidly. You scowl at him, however, he doesn't look at you in time to catch it. You instead give him a smug look while he's still paying attention. He looks puzzled, but you don't continue the unwelcome conversation. Your focus returns to the fascinating haven you have just stumbled upon, without much difficulty. Your feeling of security shatters as angry conversation finds its way to your ears. 
   You hush your sister and Michael, cutting off their stupidly unimportant conversation. They don't hear you though, and chatter on. You turn to face them, a brisk "SH!" hissing from between your teeth. They stare at you, obviously caught off guard, a bit of shock and disbelief dabbled onto the palette of their faces. You ignore them, turning back towards the meadow to try and catch another whiff of the conversation you heard coming from between the branches. But to no avail. It seems as though the window of opportunity has shut right in your face, just as you were about to jump through to the promising other side. 
   You sigh, aggravated and frustrated. However, you cannot remain hostile for long. You make your way to the center of the little haven, brushing off the previous stress. You lie down on your back in the plush grass, folding your hands on your stomach and letting the tiny flakes of snow land on your face, as you stare up at the cloudy sky. 
   Your thoughts seem to take a more peaceful turn as well. 'I shouldn't stand in the way of Kinsey and Michael, really.' you think, 'I shouldn't hold any grudges against them, either. I mean, really, It isn't their fault at all that they had the lives that they had. After all, it might be easier to just give up and be friends with them. I'm way too uptight about all of this. I should be happy that I've finally found my sister! Not angry at her for leaving me behind when she was just a kid." You close your eyes, finally come to terms with how things have turned out around you. 
   You hear the thudding of a body settling next to you on the ground and you dreamily open your eyes. You're face-to-face with a grinning Kinsey, and you smile back at her blissfully. Beside her, you can see Michael on the grass as well, smiling and holding your sister's hand. 'They make a cute couple.' you think, turning your face back up to the sky, a wide grin blooming across your features at the idea. You feel the calmness that envelopes you, and are unaware at how unnatural it feels until more angry banter breaks the eery silence; although you just previously considered the quiet quite relaxing.
   You sit up--a bit reluctantly, if you're being completely honest with yourself--and take a look at your surroundings. Nothing seems to stand out of place, as far as you can tell, even though your judgement is poor at this point. You feel that you are slipping from reality; submerging in the false stress-relief that the meadow seems to be smothering you with. The thought crosses your mind then to resist. But how harmful could it really be? After all, you haven't felt this at-peace since... okay, well, you've never been this at peace in your life. So, what could really be the catch? There doesn't seem to be anything dangerous lurking nearby, other than those two, fighting, off somewhere.
   Curiosity flickers across your consciousness and you prepare to actually get up, something in the back of your mind wanting to get some answers. You finally pull yourself to your feet and go to take a peek through some of the walls of vegetation. One glance behind you lets you know that neither one of your comrades is going to assist you in your search. You roll your eyes, but let a small smile taint your angry expression. 
   The arguing is growing louder, so you decide to go back to Michael and Kinsey, needing to tell them to get their weapons and prepare for the possibility of a fight. Who ever is tromping around the forest couldn't possibly be wanting to find anything good. Probably a thief or a run-away. Perhaps a recently infected. You lower yourself to your sister's shoulder and shake it, making strange groaning noises; you cant seem to actually form words and your lips feel heavy. It takes a lot of effort to force yourself to move, and your sister doesn't seem too intent on moving either. But urgency shoots through your garble, and Kinsey finally complies. Michael is also unwillingly aroused and soon all three of you stand, weapons at the ready. You can feel whatever was tainting your system slowly drain out of you as you force yourself to complete simple tasks; load your weapon, keep standing, open your eyes. After a few moments, you feel as though your senses are almost back to normal, alert and sensitive. Your colleagues seem to be waking from their stupor as well.  The smoke in your mind clears and you can tell who ever you heard arguing earlier is almost here.
   First a frail looking man steps into the clearing looking frustrated and frazzled.  "I'm not going anywhere until I catch that mudo!" He shouts behind him as he bursts through the dense plants. He stops dead in his tracks as his gaze lands on your dazed little squad. His expression sours, but his companion follows suit and stands at the first man's side as soon as he enters the clearing. He seems more relaxed, an air of resolution about him, as if he's made up his mind about complying with everything that will ever happen to him in his entire life, gladly. Through this personal fog, you can sense a cloud of ignorance. 
   "What are you kids doing out here?" He asks casually, as if he's known each one of you since before you were born, and simply happened to stumble upon you in some kind of happy coincidence. You look over at your sister and Michael, who look back at you with raised eyebrows and questions on their tongues. You shift your gaze back on the duo of strangely opposite-but-similar companions. 
   "We're patrolling." You say simply, confused and unsure how to explain any further.
   "We could ask you the same thing." You look up at your sister. You see that she's taken her confusion to her usual level of annoyance. She glares at the two men, obviously not planning on tolerating them for much longer than necessary.
   "You're not going to find anything out in these parts. We've been scouring the area for hours." The calm one says cooly. He takes a close examination of his fingers as he speaks, nonchalantly.  This display of condescension seems to set off your sister, who looks fully fed up at this point. The fog of the meadow has completely left her system; you can tell.
   "Who do you work for, old man?"
       "Depends," The man says. "Who do YOU work for."
       "Substratum, second in command of the head firing squad, sir." Michael says, although no one was talking to him. He comes to a salute as he states his title. 
      "Aren't you a little young to be second in command of such a big team?" The angry-looking man questions, a bit too surprised for your taste. You despise condescension just as much as your sister.   
     "Aren't you a little old to be this far away from the hospital tent?" You bark back, more confidently than you can manage to retain for long. The angry man senses your weakness in this and immediately pounces on you. 
     "I'll have you know, I'm a young and healthy 57." He says, as if this helps his case. First impressions aren't going very well for anyone. You and the rest of your squad unsuccessfully suppress laughter. 
     "What's your name, son?" He barks at Michael, singling him out. 
     "Michael Andrews, sir." Michael composes himself quickly and takes a serious posture. 
     "Humph." He says, dissatisfied with something. You are uncomfortable with these people here, obviously judging your squad, based on youth, personality, anything that doesn't fit their expectations. They have no right, but you aren't brave enough to say so. 
     "And you!" He screams, pointing a wrinkled finger right at your face. "Whats your name!"
     You blush at the unwanted attention, but you keep your face composed. "Raven Malone." You try to avoid his gaze, afraid he will recognize the name. Who knows what kind of reputation your parents have set for you and your sister. 
  "Look me in the eye when you speak, Malone!" He shouts. 
  "Alright, Tom, I think that's quite enough." The calm one says, stepping in front of his companion and putting a hand on his chest. The red faced man takes the hint and backs off.  
 "Like I was saying."  The other one redirects. "There isn't anything around here for miles, so you kids better just go on home."
  "We're not going anywhere, thanks." The Kinsey says, and the calm one raises an eyebrow at her. "Kinsey Malone," She answers the unspoken question.  
  "No relation?" 
  "Actually, we're sisters." 
  "Family business?" Asks the angry one, a cool air about him. 
  "Oh, no relation whatsoever." Michael pipes up, a little embarrassed. 
  "I see." The two men exchange glances, smirking, but you don't fail to pick up the hidden meaning in the conversation. You blush, embarrassed. 
  "Alright, lover boy. We'll just be on our way then. Have fun." Says the first man, winking at Micahael and turning to leave. You look at Kinsey, disgusted. She looks enraged when she meets your eyes. 
  That's when you hear it. 
  "What was that?" Whispers the angry-one. 
  "Oh, not this again." The other man rolls his eyes. 
  "No, no. I heard it too." You confirm, reluctant to take the angry man's side. The group stops to listen, and you hear it again.
 "I heard it that time." Kinsey reports. The whole group now stands frozen, listening for any more signs of an oncoming horde. "I'll go take a look." She says, turning and disappearing into the woods in the direction where the noises were heard. The awkward group stands there while your sister is absent, stealing glances at each other. Then, moments later, Kinsey bursts back through the shrubbery, wide eyed and out of breath. One word escapes her mouth before all hell breaks loose: "Horde,"
   Chaos explodes from that moment forth, and the horde bursts through the wall of vegetation, moaning and gurgling at each other, eager to get ahold of the living. Rounds of rifle shots fire at the mass of decomposing bodies, and you pick up your weapon to join in the battle. Half of the horde is shot down when you notice that the two men are missing. You wonder if you should be concerned, but you focus on the most demanding threat first. 
   You hear the shouts even as you mow down the rotting mass. 
       "Jacob!" Screams the angry one. You can see genuine fear blooming across his features as he calls out in desperation. "Jacob!"
      At that moment, sympathy wins over and you abandon your position to go help in his search. You hear a few protesting calls from your squad as you turn to leave, but they make no moves to stop you as you run for the woods.
  As soon as you step out of the clearing, you are smacked in the face with what seems like cold, hard air. You are immediately uncomfortable and wish to return to the meadow, but you  reluctantly persevere. 
  "Hello?" You scream as you fight your way through the vegetation. Right as the word leaves your lips, you smack right into the sweaty back of the man. Despite the snow, his skin is sticky and hot and you instantly long to bathe. 
  "What are you doing?" He barks, spinning to face you. You've obviously caught him off guard; he could not wipe his face clear of his worries soon enough, and you catch the human expression before anger rushes to take its place. 
  "I'm helping you find him." You say, trying to work a comforting tone into your voice.
  "Oh." He says. He seems a little surprised, but you ignore him.
  "Jacob!" You scream, turning away from the man. 
  He looks at you, an expression you cant place;gratitude? Concern?
  "Whats your name again?" He asks, his face considerably softer. 
  "Raven. Yours?" 
  "Tom." He reaches out to shake your hand. You shake it, his grip firm, and you take the gesture as a sign of respect. 
  "Right." You say, awkwardly. You wipe the palm of your hand on the back of your pants. His hand was a bit too sweaty for your taste. You both resume calling Jacob's name until your throat is sore. 




Tom
  Your level of irritation is building rapidly, and every now and then you shoot angry glances at Jacob's noisy boots. You're eager to get ahold of some mudo, but you're afraid that Jacob's foot fall will announce your arrival before you have any chance of ambush, and tip off any lurking beings. What you would do to get your hands on one of those filthy things. 
  "Jacob, will you STOP that! You'll wake up people who are sleeping ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD with those damned boots!" You suddenly burst, swiveling on your heel to confront Jacob. He instantly looks shocked, and then his innocent expression smolders into guilt. You always regret snapping at him. He's got the mind of a puppy and you cant help but treating him like one; scolding him but then wanting to comfort him right afterwards. 
  "I'm sorry, Tom." He says, guiltily. He makes no attempt of standing up for himself. 
  "No, you're fine. I'm just being too sensitive." You instantly take the blame. This seems to cheer him up a bit, although his footsteps continue to ring through the vegetation. You set your jaw a trudge forth. 
  The two of you walk (relatively) silently for the next few minutes. You keep a special ear-out for anything else stirring in the woods. You've been tromping the grounds for hours without a single trace of life anywhere in sight; well, death included. The slightest twitch of a forest creature or quiver of a branch sends you into a hyper-aware state, pausing to listen for any further activity. However, there is none that captures your attention. 
  And you should have expected as much. You and Jacob have been in retirement for years, Eliza wouldn't assign you to an active area if you were the last troupers in the organization. She thinks the two of you aren't young enough to be able to do any harm even if a horde of mudo walked right up to you. This rustles your feathers a bit, and you scowl at the ground, hugging your jacket to your middle, against the cold. 
  "Should we go ahead and head back, then?" Jacob suggests after a while, picking up on your frustration. He's always been good at reading the air around you; if you didn't know better you would assume he was psychic. You can tell he's tired, too. He hasn't aged as well as you have; the cold sending aches deep into his joints. He cant walk much further, you're sure of it. Sympathy and pity smothers your need to prove yourself to the substratum, and you decide to give Jacob a well-deserved break. 
  You open your mouth to comply, but just as you do, you hear the crunch of a twig under a stiff, heavy foot. You freeze, and Jacob looks at you in confusion. After remaining in your position for a while, Jacob mutters something under his breath, but you don't quite catch it. 
  "What was that?" You challenge, sure it was an insult regarding your sanity. 
  "I said, 'old coot can't hear worth anything.'" He replies, oblivious to the social norm of pretending to have not said anything. You would feel pity for him if he had not insulted your old age. 
  "How did you not hear that?" You demand.
  "Admit it, Tom, the only reason you thought you heard something is because you want a fight. You haven't been outside substratum territory for years, I don't blame you for being so wistful." He shakes his head, as if somehow you are his inferior. This irritates you a bit, considering you've been practically looking after him for 15 years now. 
  "No, I really did hear something, I swear! Listen!" Jacob pauses to take in the noises around you, but after a few moments he just shakes his head, turning around to walk in the opposite direction. You think you hear him scoff at you. 
  "You're off your game, Tom. Let's go." He calls over his shoulder, making his way back to substratum territory. But now that you've picked up a live trail, you're determined to prove your worth. You will not go back to Eliza empty handed. She has to see that you aren't too old for patrolling, in pristine condition, even. You're eyes sure have seen better days, but otherwise, you're as fit as a fiddle. Jacob's joints will have to wait, because this is your chance of the day. 
  "I'm not going anywhere until I catch that mudo!" You shout as you burst through a nearby wall of shrubbery, out into a meadow inhabited by three youngsters. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, disappointed at your find. Surely, you heard some sort of undead noise, not those of which emanate from children. You remain where you stand, though. A moment later, Jacob steps through the hole you've made in the vegetation, and walks to your side, taking a look at the kids. They're all armed to the teeth, and have their weapons pointed at both your's and Jacob's hearts. However, Jacob makes no move in defense. He attempts to take a different approach, but he doesn't quite nail the nonchalance as is required of the situation. Instead, he gives off an cool, ignorant air, not that of authority. 
   "What are you kids doing out here?" He asks, a little too comfortably. They look around at each other, and then back at the two of you, obviously confused by Jacob's reaction. 
  "We're patrolling." Says the smaller girl, in a bit too of a protective stance. Her shoulders are square, and her long blonde stringy hair curls down to her elbows. Her eyebrows are set, as if trying not to convert any emotion, but coming off as aggressive. 
  "We could ask you the same question." The strong, in charge voice traces back to the taller girl. She has broad shoulders as well and means business, from the look of her. Her dirty blonde hair is more straight, and cascades down to her waste. It looks as though it hasn't been brushed in days, and a few tight braids can be found among the locks. Her stance is more aggressive than the other girl. The two other kids stand there uselessly.
  "You're not going to find anything out in these parts. We've been scouring the area for hours." Jacob says cooly, examining his fingernails. He acts as though he's making small talk on a walking trail. 
   "Who do you work for, old man?" The bigger girl says. She readjusts her weapon, but does not lower it from her target; which happens to be your head. You wonder whats gotten her so riled up. 
  "Depends," Jacob says. "Who do YOU work for."
  "Substratum, second in command of the head firing squad, sir." Says the boy, coming to a salute. You can tell that both of the girls would have preferred that he had kept his mouth shut. 
  "Aren't you a little young to be second in command of such a big team?" You ask, taking advantage of the lose teamwork in intimidation. 
  "Aren't you a little old to be this far away from the hospital tent?" The smaller girl retorts. She cocks her head at you, challengingly. 
  You give her a look and correct your posture, trying to seem superior in any way to gain control of the situation. 
  "I'll have you know, I'm a young and healthy 57." You huff, puffing out your chest a little in an attempt at regaining respect. You're answered by a couple of giggles, one coming from the boy. 
  "What's your name, son?" You ask, furious at his feminine behavior. 
  "Michael Andrews, sir." He answers, trying to compose himself. 
  "Humph." You notice the shorter girl trying to redirect her gaze anywhere but on your face. You sense weakness in this and make an immediate move to call her out on it.
  "And you!" You say, pointing a wrinkled finger right at her face. "Whats your name!"
  "Raven Malone." She mumbles. You catch her blush and she looks away. There's something that she obviously thinks you know about her that links to her name. You find this extremely disrespectful. 
  "Look me in the eye when you speak, Malone!" You shout. You don't connect the name with anything, although you feel like you should. This frustrates you, feeling inferior to her knowledge on the situation. 
  "Alright, Tom, I think that's quite enough." Jacob says, stepping in front of you and putting a hand on your chest. You take the hint, and back off the girl. No matter how angry you are, Jacob's touch seems to leach any hostility from your consciousness. 
  "Like I was saying." Jacob redirects. "There isn't anything around here for miles, so you kids better just go on home." The kids take immediate offense, obviously trying to convey that they can do perfectly well without Jacob's 'helpful suggestions'. 
  "We're not going anywhere, thanks." The bigger girl says. Jacob raises an eyebrow at her. She doesn't back off.  
  "Kinsey Malone," She introduces herself without any invitation, trying to infer that she has the control of the situation, reminding you that she has a loaded gun in her arms. 
  "No relation?" Jacob asks, catching the similar last names. 
  "Actually, we're sisters." She answers. 
  "Family business?" You guess.
  "Oh, no relation whatsoever between the rest of us." Michael pipes up, a little embarrassed. You see a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks, and the embarrassment of the other girls is extremely prominent. 
  "I see." Jacob raises a suggestive eyebrow at you. 
  You catch the hidden meaning at this gesture, and sneer a bit. Now you've got the dirt you need to rain this party back in. 
  "Alright, lover boy. We'll just be on our way then. Have fun." You wink at him, and both of the girls shoots you disgusted looks. This satisfies you for some reason, and you turn to leave with Jacob.
  That's when you hear it. 
  The low moan reaches your ears and you turn back to the group, on the alert. 
  "What was that?" You whisper urgently, as if whispering will help in your hiding from anything that has the sense of smell of three of you combined. 
  "Oh, not this again." You catch Jacob rolling his eyes. He rakes a shaky hand through whats left of his hair, a familiar gesture. 
  "No, no. I heard it too." Says the small girl, Raven, you think she was called. You are reassured that you weren't the only one who picked up on the small noises. The group stops to listen, and you hear it again. 
  "I heard it that time." Kinsey reports. The whole group now stands frozen, listening for any more signs of an oncoming horde. "I'll go take a look." She suggests, turning and disappearing into the woods in the direction where the noises were heard. The awkward group stands there while the girl is absent, stealing glances at each other, trying to get a read on one another. Then, moments later, Kinsey bursts back through the shrubbery, wide eyed and out of breath. One word escapes her mouth before all hell breaks loose: 
  "Horde,"
   Chaos explodes from that moment forth, and the horde bursts through the wall of vegetation, moaning and gurgling at each other, eager to get ahold of the living. Rounds of rifle shots fire at the mass of decomposing bodies, the violence originating from the kids.  Your jaw goes slack, your feeble expectations for their capabilities in the field of combat exceeded beyond your expectation.  
   Half of the horde has already been cut down by the time that you feel the need to join the fight. You keep no track of Jacob during this period of time, immediately regretting it. As soon as you pick up your preferred tool, you take a look around you, seeing that Jacob is nowhere in sight. Panic and adrenaline pulses through you, and you race from the meadow, dropping your weapon in your haste. Urgency claws at the back of your throat, and you feel childish for automatically assuming the worst. You instantly push away the regret and focus on the task at hand. 
  "Jacob!" You are almost certain your voice breaks as you scream the name of your only friend. You cant bare the thought of loosing him for good. Something taints the strong and in-charge tone you were aiming for; could it be pain? Panic, it must be some sort of weakness that you are not accustomed to feeling. "Jacob!"
   You're startled as something small smacks into the small of your back, and you almost yelp in surprise, just previously being in such an intense state of mind. 
  "What are you doing here?" You bark defensively, turning to find the girl from the meadow. You compose your face, unsure of how successful you are at masking your thoughts; they tend to show themselves a little more clearly than you prefer at times like these, when your guard is down.  It doesn't matter much to you at the moment anyway. 
  "I'm helping you find him."She says, looking up at you. Her expression is determined, but you can tell that your attitude isn't giving her anymore reason to stay. You decide her help is better than no help at all. 
  "Oh." You can find no appropriate way to show her your appreciation. 
  "Jacob!" She turns away and belts, after the two of you had concluded you uncomfortable silence. You've never heard something so big come out of someone so small. You look at her in surprise, if not a little bit impressed. 
  "Whats your name again?" You ask.  
  "Raven. Yours?" 
  "Tom." You reach out to shake her hand, which is surprisingly soft, considering the way she was handling that gun. 
  "Right." She says. After that, you don't speak to one another for a while. The two of you call out Jacob's name until it doesn't even seem like it belongs to anyone anymore. 



  It is only when you feel the slap on your shoulder when you see the trail of blood. 

   Something similar to pain makes your blood run cold and brings a sullen expression to your wrinkled features. Raven points to the smudge of sticky crimson with a grim look on her face; lips pulled thin and jaw set. Your eyes follow the stains until the path is obscured by a patch of bushes. You push your way through the shrubbery, a little too roughly, and collect many scrapes from antagonizing thorns. 
  You knew you would find it before the scene greets you, but, somehow, you are still surprised--or something or another; you aren't very good at identifying emotions, even if they are your own. You barely have the sense to catch a strangled moan of desperation escape your lips. You already red eyes land on Jacob--poor, poor Jacob-- and a gruesome scene is registered. Half of his torso is missing and several chunks have been taken out of his left leg. There are scratches covering his right arm. You clasp a hand tightly over your mouth to keep from anymore unwelcome signs of weakness. 
  You fall to Jacob's side on your knees, and take his hand in yours. You are hardly unsettled by the vacant, but somehow urgent, look that haunts his eyes as his stare bores into you. For a few moments, you just sit in silence and watch small little snowflakes land on Jacob's dangerously pale skin. You give Jacob a small, reassuring smile. You cannot let you last few minutes with him be wasted. No, you will make sure Jacob leaves this world with a happy heart, if it kills you. 
  You whisper small and hardly plausible reassurances in his ear as you try to figure out a way to make his passing any less painful than you're afraid it's going to be. To no avail. Every time your skin grazes Jacob's he lets out a howl of pain; a yell that sends empathy to a whole new level. Not only do you feel for him, you feel pain for him. Both physical and emotional. You wince every time he takes in a shaky breath. 
  You feel totally and utterly helpless. Your gaze lingers on Jacob, but you eventually pull your eyes away from him to send a look to Raven. You aren't sure what emotion exactly displays itself on your features, but from Raven's reaction, you can infer that you look absolutely pitiful. She opens her mouth and lifts an arm, as if about to speak some word of encouragement or to try and aid in Jacob's comforting, but she falls speechless and she lets her limp limb fall back to her side.
   You take a seat beside Jacob's head and take his hands in yours, rubbing distracting little patterns onto his cold skin; but distracting for whom exactly, you do not know. You let comforting words spill from your lips as you lean towards Jacob's face. You want to be absolutely sure that your friend leaves this world knowing how important he is in every single aspect of your life. You let words tumble into the space between you, not caring whether or not anyone else present can hear your heart put into sentences. Jacob's mouth is slightly parted, as if to respond, but he doesn't speak, whether it is because you give him no chance to say a word, or because he just simply can't. 
  Then, suddenly and surprisingly uneventfully, Jacob's eyelids fall closed. You fall silent, more words getting stuck in your throat. You stand, and leave the scene, unaware of anything that happens after that moment.