"It's one baaaaaaaad mo-" "Shut yo mouth!" "I'm only talking about NaNoWriMo."
It had felt like they’d been walking for hours. They likely had. When they’d stumbled across a barricade manned by soldiers, Jack wasn’t sure he was okay with it. Happy with it or not, it did mean they wouldn’t freeze in the snow and that was always good. It was also good because his legs had given out on him after that and Sarah couldn’t move him on her own.
Now he was sprawled out on a cot in a large tent, covered with a blanket and with a fresh bandage on his arm. It made him want to laugh every time he noticed it. If he didn’t, he might start screaming again. Sarah was somewhere in the tent with him as well, though she wasn’t on her cot. She couldn’t have left since they’d posted guards at the door. Like they were criminals.
He’d been in no condition to explain what had happened, let alone talk at all, and Sarah hadn’t been much better, being so relieved she could barely spit out anything coherent. That was when they’d been moved to their own little tent and given heat and beds and MREs and water. He hadn’t eaten yet, but he was beginning to feel up to it.
After several minutes had past, Jack slowly tried to lever himself upright and nearly fell off the cot when he tried to use his right arm. He cursed under his breath even as a bitter laugh tickled his throat. And then Sarah was there.
“Jack, are you alright?” She put a hand on his back and eased him into an upright position, concern painted on her face.
“Just missing my arm, that’s all. Just a flesh wound.” The laugh still hung there at the back of his throat and Sarah looked horrified.
“Here, you should eat something...” She moved off out of his field of view and started rummaging around with something that crinkled occasionally.
Jack sat slouched on his cot, head down and shoulders slumped forward as she went abut her activities. Idly he figured she was probably trying to figure out how to heat an MRE, then his mind skidded away to more immediate concerns. The hummer he’d been following had driven right into the anomaly. He wasn’t even entirely sure where they’d been taking them, but it was clear the thing had expanded in an unanticipated fashion. The best he could figure was that it probably had produced something like a limb, and thus it was able to grow out over a much longer distance in a much shorter amount of time, though it likely didn’t cover the same vast amount of land as the main body. And if it had done it once, then it could do it other places, and likely was. People could be becoming trapped by it even as they fled to what were supposed to be safe areas.
Sarah interrupted his thoughts by pushing a steaming packet at him with one hand and a plastic spoon with the other. He stared at it as he tried to pull his mind back to immediate concerns, like stopping himself from knocking the hot food out of her hands with the stub of his arm.
“Oh, Jack, I didn’t even realize...”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not hungry anyways.” He was starving, of course, but the level of help he was going to need... he wasn’t ready for Sarah to do anything like that for him.
She got an expression on her face and Jack could immediately imagine her cajoling a recalcitrant child to do something it should be doing anyways. Just to forestall the mothering he took the spoon with his left hand and poked at the contents of the pouch.
“Is it supposed to look like this?”
“I don’t know... but it’s hot and it smells like food.”
Jack shrugged and spooned himself a bite, just to keep her happy. He couldn’t taste it, and if the stories were to be believed, that was probably for the best.
“What do you think is going to happen?”
He looked up at her when she asked, meeting her eyes for the first time since... since he’d lost his arm. She gasped then recoiled, almost dropping the food in his lap.
“God, Jack, your eyes...”
He blinked at her, then looked around for anything he could use as a mirror.
“What about my eyes? There’s nothing wrong with them.”
She shook her head mutely at him, still staring, then set the pouch aside and scrambled over to her purse. Of course she still had that. Why wouldn’t she? Disaster was oozing across the state and she remembered her purse. She came back to him and presented him with an open compact, angling the mirror so he could regard his own features.
“What the hell...”
As he gazed into eyes that now looked like shadows, like holes cut in a photograph with nothing behind it, he saw a flash of a shining light at the top of a pinnacle. He needed to be there. It was required of him. Beyond need, he knew he would be there with a certainty he’d never felt about anything in his life before.
The vision lasted for a split second, but its effect on him was lasting. His focus slipped away from the mirror as he realized he knew where to go. It would be a long journey but he would make it. There was no doubt. It was fate.
“Jack, are you okay?”
Slowly he nodded and reached out with his spoon to capture another bite of food. He’d need his strength for this, after all, so he’d make himself eat.
“You’re sure? It could be shock, you know... it’s a big thing to lose your arm and all.”
“I’m fine, Sarah. I’ll manage.
She watched him for a long moment without speaking, but Jack didn’t pay attention to her. Eventually she picked up the food again and held it for him until he’d finished it. He ate deliberately and without relish. It was bland, tasteless. In all honesty it could have been intolerably terrible and he wouldn’t have noticed. It was simply food and he needed to eat.
He would also have to talk to whoever was in charge here as well. Already what he needed to say was forming in his mind. His words would see them escorted back to some form of civilization. They would get them a description of the current situation as well as a means to leave the area. And Jack knew where he had to go and what he had to do as he traveled.
Randolph
There was more traffic leaving Endwood than entering it. While that wasn’t difficult to accomplish with him being the only person traveling east towards it, there was a small crush of humanity leaving it. It had never been an incredibly large city, but with the displaced populations of Washeban, Copper Ridge and Pillorsec taking shelter there, it was bursting at the seems. It was only a matter of course that humanity would trickle out and away from the swelling shadow. Despite the lack of traffic in his direction, he still couldn’t drive quickly since there were so many people walking out as well as driving. Cars going in the opposite direction honked at him, passengers and drivers gesturing for him to turn around. Pedestrians yelled indecipherable things at him through his closed windows, but they got out of his way.
Endwood was a community that sprung up around the logging boom. Two major lumber mills still operated on one side of town and a paper mill dominated a huge space downstream on the Bittertongue River. Its economy had flagged in recent years so many of the shop fronts down the main drag were boarded up, as were a lot of the houses in the old section of town. So many traditional family homes were simply too big or too old and thus too expensive to maintain. Most of them were up for sale, but no one was buying except for the occasional attempt to preserve them by the local historical society. Under normal circumstances, there would have been plenty of space for shelters for the displaced, but with four communities trying to live in the space meant for one, that exceeded capacity.
Randy managed to make it nearly to the downtown before it was impossible to move forward on the road. He managed to pull the truck over, parked it, then locked it as he climbed down. People eyed him as they flowed past him, but unlike those outside, the city, none of them spoke to him, none tried to convey any sort of message at all.
He wasn’t sure where to go now, so he let his feet carry him further into town, closer to downtown. Strangely, there were fewer people there than on the outskirts. He didn’t consider why this was, simply continued on, looking for some sign to go by. Eventually there was a diner down a side street that had an open sign illuminated in the front window, so he made towards that.
The walk in front of the building was shoveled and salted, which was a welcome break from the icy streets and sidewalks. They’d been trodden into slush, weren’t sanded or salted, and had refrozen overnight. He kicked his boots on the wall beside the door to dislodge snow then stepped inside.
The place, whatever it was called, wasn’t brightly lit, but it was cozy with a counter running down the left hand side and booths down the right. There looked to be a room off the rear with additional seating, and at the end of the counter a hallway opened up, likely leading to the bathrooms, or maybe even more tables. Several people were scattered around the room, a few at the counter, a pair in a booth, and a few solo individuals at tables in the back. They all looked up when the bell over the door chimed his arrival, and a server stepped out of the kitchen to greet him.
Randy pulled his hat off slowly and stuffed his gloves inside it before shoving it in his coat pocket. Something about the people watching him made him uneasy, and he couldn’t place just why. A short man with a day’s worth of red stubble on his face came out of the kitchen and regarded him over the counter for a moment before pulling a tablet out of his apron pocket.
“We’re not serving much, but you’re welcome to what we’ve got.”
Randy regarded the man for the span of a breath then crossed to take a seat at the counter.
“You have any eggs?” It was something simple and he was fairly certain he could smell some cooking in the kitchen.
“Sure, we’ve got some left. How do you want em?”
The server lifted the pad and jotted a note, and beneath his rolled back sleeves Randy glimpsed one end of a large black mark on his upper arm. He lifted his eyes to his face and met the man’s flat black gaze. His stomach twisted and he had to swallow before he could answer.
“However’s easiest. Some coffee too, please”
The server shrugged then nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Belatedly Randy realized he must be the cook as well. His disease grew and he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the room. A few people were still staring at him, specifically a blond-haired man in a dirty white coat sitting further down the counter. He still had his gloves on and was cradling a mug in both hands. Sipping it didn’t keep him from staring at him with eyes equally as empty and black as the cook’s.
Randy could feel his heart rate increasing as he looked around the room again. He caught looks from others, many of them with the same eyes his sister had ended up with. His mouth went dry and he stared at his hands, trying to ignore the crawling sensation of eyes on him. That was when a mug of steaming coffee was plunked down on the counter in front of him. It smelled scorched but strong, and that was just what he needed. As he reached for it, his hand bumped that of the cook’s who was still holding the mug. Randy looked up and met his flat gaze.
“You’re not going to find her.”
He stared at the man as he pulled his hand back. In turn, the cook released the mug and wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his apron strings.
“Do what she asked you to. It’s what you have to do.”
Before Randy could ask him what he meant, the man turned away and went back into the kitchen with heavy, plodding steps. He watched him go, only lifting his coffee after the swinging door stopped moving. When he lowered the mug, the blond man who’d been staring at him was sitting on the stool beside him.
“You’re going to the pinnacle.”
The man’s voice was rough, strained, and instantly brought old Dirty Harry movies to mind. There were bags under his eyes and his face was covered in such a fine growth of whiskers he looked more dirty than bearded.
“I... that’s what my sister told me to do.” It made his skin crawl that this man used the same name for the place that Camie had.
“She touched it too?” His black gaze was intent, which almost made it worse than the hollow expressions everyone else carried. The more Randy watched him, the more he thought the man was feverish. He wasn’t sweating, though, and he wasn’t shaking. He just had that kind of... power in his look.
Randy nodded slowly then glanced once more around the room. Most of the people looked away as he did so, but some kept watching.
“Camie was the first, I’m sure. When it was small.”
Funny, he hadn’t thought it was small at the time. But compared to what it was now... Yeah, small was the only word for it.
“The First?” The man put an emphasis on the phrase, like it carried some sort of significance, and then he pulled back from Randy and leaned his back on the counter.
A brunette further down the bar was now staring at them with her mouth hanging open. The couple in the booth--the man dark-haired and the woman blonde--were both twisted around to watch him, whispering softly to each other.
“It started on my family’s property... unless someone snuck out there and saw it before she did, yeah, she was the first.”
The blond man hung his head, either stunned or perhaps startled by Randy’s information. He had no idea what it could mean to him, and he also had no reason not to share it. So what if it had started at his home? Sure, there would be people who’d blame him and his family, but he knew they had nothing to do with it. Maybe Camie did in some bizarre way, but he wasn’t about to even consider her at fault. It was too late for that sort of thing.
“You need to listen to George, then,” the man finally said, lifting his face to regard him again. “The First knows her fate and cannot avoid it. The more she does, the more pain she will bring herself and to those around her.”
“You expect me to leave her, just like that? She’s my sister!”
“And so she continues to bring you pain.”
What the hell was it with people telling him what to do? It was bad enough when it was family and friends, but now perfect strangers were doing it, too. He was bristling now, unconsciously hunching his shoulders and squaring with the man like he was ready to start throwing punches.
“How the hell can you know something like that?”
It hit him, then, that this was very much an argument he’d had with Camilla. She claimed things constantly and offered no reason for how she knew. It was beyond aggravating. It was infuriating.
In response to Randy’s demand, the man tugged off his gloves and displayed a blackened palm, the same glossy black that Camie’s fingers had.
“Tanya down there, ever since it took her arm, she’s been given to bouts of prophecy. George can tell you what you need to do, but he doesn’t know why. Back there, Jack,” and the man jerked his head towards the booth with the couple in it, “He’ll be at the Pinnacle with us with one other person.”
Randy stared at him, then shook his head, resisting even trying to understand what he was saying. “What does that have to do with anything? I’m just trying to find Camie so we can stay together.” He stared at him for another moment then dragged his fingers through his hair. “Who the hell are you, anyways?”
“I’m Lucien.” He offered his hand, but continued speaking instead of waiting for the proper response to his introduction. “Even if you find your sister, she won’t make it to the Pinnacle. The First cannot exist in the Light.”
The last phrase had the sound of a quote and it turned Randy’s stomach to ice.
“And you believe this?”
Lucien simply nodded once, his dark eyes locked on Randy’s.
“That’s a load of bullshit! You lot get to live so it’s all happiness and sunshine in your visions.”
This was yelled by an old woman leaning in the entryway to the rear dining room. Wispy grey hair clung to her scalp and her face was twisted into a scowl. At least, the portion of her face that wasn’t blackened was twisted. Her right cheek and temple seemed like they were clipped away, as was her ear on that side. The right sleeve of her blue down coat hung empty as well and the deformities only added to the ugliness of her expression.
“Oh sure, try to convince him he gets to live so he’ll help you out... he’s going to get it like the rest of us. It’ll be darkness and cold forever, just running through nothing, not even knowing if you’re moving.”
She swatted the air with a dismissive hand and turned back into the room, quickly moving out of sight. Randy heard Lucien sigh softly and watched him rub his face.
“That’s not true. Alice has it wrong.” Tanya, the brunette, offered into the silence in the wake of the woman’s anger. “Not everyone’s going to live. But the Darkness isn’t like how she thinks. It’s peaceful and beautiful, like the perfect summer day.”
She trailed off and looked around the room. No one met her eyes, everyone studiously examining cups and plates and hands. Finally she turned on Randy, leaning forward with the intensity of her words.
“Can you believe me?”
It was only then that Randy noticed she was missing nearly all of her fingers, having only half of her hands left, index fingers and thumbs. He shook his head numbly and looked away, lifting his coffee to occupy his hands. That was when George came out with a plate of rubbery scrambled eggs and a pair of slices of buttered white toast. There were even a few singed strips of bacon balanced on the edge of the plate. Silently he pulled the plate towards himself and mechanically started eating. The others seemed to take that as a sign to leave him in peace and they turned back to their own business.
Now he was sprawled out on a cot in a large tent, covered with a blanket and with a fresh bandage on his arm. It made him want to laugh every time he noticed it. If he didn’t, he might start screaming again. Sarah was somewhere in the tent with him as well, though she wasn’t on her cot. She couldn’t have left since they’d posted guards at the door. Like they were criminals.
He’d been in no condition to explain what had happened, let alone talk at all, and Sarah hadn’t been much better, being so relieved she could barely spit out anything coherent. That was when they’d been moved to their own little tent and given heat and beds and MREs and water. He hadn’t eaten yet, but he was beginning to feel up to it.
After several minutes had past, Jack slowly tried to lever himself upright and nearly fell off the cot when he tried to use his right arm. He cursed under his breath even as a bitter laugh tickled his throat. And then Sarah was there.
“Jack, are you alright?” She put a hand on his back and eased him into an upright position, concern painted on her face.
“Just missing my arm, that’s all. Just a flesh wound.” The laugh still hung there at the back of his throat and Sarah looked horrified.
“Here, you should eat something...” She moved off out of his field of view and started rummaging around with something that crinkled occasionally.
Jack sat slouched on his cot, head down and shoulders slumped forward as she went abut her activities. Idly he figured she was probably trying to figure out how to heat an MRE, then his mind skidded away to more immediate concerns. The hummer he’d been following had driven right into the anomaly. He wasn’t even entirely sure where they’d been taking them, but it was clear the thing had expanded in an unanticipated fashion. The best he could figure was that it probably had produced something like a limb, and thus it was able to grow out over a much longer distance in a much shorter amount of time, though it likely didn’t cover the same vast amount of land as the main body. And if it had done it once, then it could do it other places, and likely was. People could be becoming trapped by it even as they fled to what were supposed to be safe areas.
Sarah interrupted his thoughts by pushing a steaming packet at him with one hand and a plastic spoon with the other. He stared at it as he tried to pull his mind back to immediate concerns, like stopping himself from knocking the hot food out of her hands with the stub of his arm.
“Oh, Jack, I didn’t even realize...”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not hungry anyways.” He was starving, of course, but the level of help he was going to need... he wasn’t ready for Sarah to do anything like that for him.
She got an expression on her face and Jack could immediately imagine her cajoling a recalcitrant child to do something it should be doing anyways. Just to forestall the mothering he took the spoon with his left hand and poked at the contents of the pouch.
“Is it supposed to look like this?”
“I don’t know... but it’s hot and it smells like food.”
Jack shrugged and spooned himself a bite, just to keep her happy. He couldn’t taste it, and if the stories were to be believed, that was probably for the best.
“What do you think is going to happen?”
He looked up at her when she asked, meeting her eyes for the first time since... since he’d lost his arm. She gasped then recoiled, almost dropping the food in his lap.
“God, Jack, your eyes...”
He blinked at her, then looked around for anything he could use as a mirror.
“What about my eyes? There’s nothing wrong with them.”
She shook her head mutely at him, still staring, then set the pouch aside and scrambled over to her purse. Of course she still had that. Why wouldn’t she? Disaster was oozing across the state and she remembered her purse. She came back to him and presented him with an open compact, angling the mirror so he could regard his own features.
“What the hell...”
As he gazed into eyes that now looked like shadows, like holes cut in a photograph with nothing behind it, he saw a flash of a shining light at the top of a pinnacle. He needed to be there. It was required of him. Beyond need, he knew he would be there with a certainty he’d never felt about anything in his life before.
The vision lasted for a split second, but its effect on him was lasting. His focus slipped away from the mirror as he realized he knew where to go. It would be a long journey but he would make it. There was no doubt. It was fate.
“Jack, are you okay?”
Slowly he nodded and reached out with his spoon to capture another bite of food. He’d need his strength for this, after all, so he’d make himself eat.
“You’re sure? It could be shock, you know... it’s a big thing to lose your arm and all.”
“I’m fine, Sarah. I’ll manage.
She watched him for a long moment without speaking, but Jack didn’t pay attention to her. Eventually she picked up the food again and held it for him until he’d finished it. He ate deliberately and without relish. It was bland, tasteless. In all honesty it could have been intolerably terrible and he wouldn’t have noticed. It was simply food and he needed to eat.
He would also have to talk to whoever was in charge here as well. Already what he needed to say was forming in his mind. His words would see them escorted back to some form of civilization. They would get them a description of the current situation as well as a means to leave the area. And Jack knew where he had to go and what he had to do as he traveled.
Randolph
There was more traffic leaving Endwood than entering it. While that wasn’t difficult to accomplish with him being the only person traveling east towards it, there was a small crush of humanity leaving it. It had never been an incredibly large city, but with the displaced populations of Washeban, Copper Ridge and Pillorsec taking shelter there, it was bursting at the seems. It was only a matter of course that humanity would trickle out and away from the swelling shadow. Despite the lack of traffic in his direction, he still couldn’t drive quickly since there were so many people walking out as well as driving. Cars going in the opposite direction honked at him, passengers and drivers gesturing for him to turn around. Pedestrians yelled indecipherable things at him through his closed windows, but they got out of his way.
Endwood was a community that sprung up around the logging boom. Two major lumber mills still operated on one side of town and a paper mill dominated a huge space downstream on the Bittertongue River. Its economy had flagged in recent years so many of the shop fronts down the main drag were boarded up, as were a lot of the houses in the old section of town. So many traditional family homes were simply too big or too old and thus too expensive to maintain. Most of them were up for sale, but no one was buying except for the occasional attempt to preserve them by the local historical society. Under normal circumstances, there would have been plenty of space for shelters for the displaced, but with four communities trying to live in the space meant for one, that exceeded capacity.
Randy managed to make it nearly to the downtown before it was impossible to move forward on the road. He managed to pull the truck over, parked it, then locked it as he climbed down. People eyed him as they flowed past him, but unlike those outside, the city, none of them spoke to him, none tried to convey any sort of message at all.
He wasn’t sure where to go now, so he let his feet carry him further into town, closer to downtown. Strangely, there were fewer people there than on the outskirts. He didn’t consider why this was, simply continued on, looking for some sign to go by. Eventually there was a diner down a side street that had an open sign illuminated in the front window, so he made towards that.
The walk in front of the building was shoveled and salted, which was a welcome break from the icy streets and sidewalks. They’d been trodden into slush, weren’t sanded or salted, and had refrozen overnight. He kicked his boots on the wall beside the door to dislodge snow then stepped inside.
The place, whatever it was called, wasn’t brightly lit, but it was cozy with a counter running down the left hand side and booths down the right. There looked to be a room off the rear with additional seating, and at the end of the counter a hallway opened up, likely leading to the bathrooms, or maybe even more tables. Several people were scattered around the room, a few at the counter, a pair in a booth, and a few solo individuals at tables in the back. They all looked up when the bell over the door chimed his arrival, and a server stepped out of the kitchen to greet him.
Randy pulled his hat off slowly and stuffed his gloves inside it before shoving it in his coat pocket. Something about the people watching him made him uneasy, and he couldn’t place just why. A short man with a day’s worth of red stubble on his face came out of the kitchen and regarded him over the counter for a moment before pulling a tablet out of his apron pocket.
“We’re not serving much, but you’re welcome to what we’ve got.”
Randy regarded the man for the span of a breath then crossed to take a seat at the counter.
“You have any eggs?” It was something simple and he was fairly certain he could smell some cooking in the kitchen.
“Sure, we’ve got some left. How do you want em?”
The server lifted the pad and jotted a note, and beneath his rolled back sleeves Randy glimpsed one end of a large black mark on his upper arm. He lifted his eyes to his face and met the man’s flat black gaze. His stomach twisted and he had to swallow before he could answer.
“However’s easiest. Some coffee too, please”
The server shrugged then nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Belatedly Randy realized he must be the cook as well. His disease grew and he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the room. A few people were still staring at him, specifically a blond-haired man in a dirty white coat sitting further down the counter. He still had his gloves on and was cradling a mug in both hands. Sipping it didn’t keep him from staring at him with eyes equally as empty and black as the cook’s.
Randy could feel his heart rate increasing as he looked around the room again. He caught looks from others, many of them with the same eyes his sister had ended up with. His mouth went dry and he stared at his hands, trying to ignore the crawling sensation of eyes on him. That was when a mug of steaming coffee was plunked down on the counter in front of him. It smelled scorched but strong, and that was just what he needed. As he reached for it, his hand bumped that of the cook’s who was still holding the mug. Randy looked up and met his flat gaze.
“You’re not going to find her.”
He stared at the man as he pulled his hand back. In turn, the cook released the mug and wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his apron strings.
“Do what she asked you to. It’s what you have to do.”
Before Randy could ask him what he meant, the man turned away and went back into the kitchen with heavy, plodding steps. He watched him go, only lifting his coffee after the swinging door stopped moving. When he lowered the mug, the blond man who’d been staring at him was sitting on the stool beside him.
“You’re going to the pinnacle.”
The man’s voice was rough, strained, and instantly brought old Dirty Harry movies to mind. There were bags under his eyes and his face was covered in such a fine growth of whiskers he looked more dirty than bearded.
“I... that’s what my sister told me to do.” It made his skin crawl that this man used the same name for the place that Camie had.
“She touched it too?” His black gaze was intent, which almost made it worse than the hollow expressions everyone else carried. The more Randy watched him, the more he thought the man was feverish. He wasn’t sweating, though, and he wasn’t shaking. He just had that kind of... power in his look.
Randy nodded slowly then glanced once more around the room. Most of the people looked away as he did so, but some kept watching.
“Camie was the first, I’m sure. When it was small.”
Funny, he hadn’t thought it was small at the time. But compared to what it was now... Yeah, small was the only word for it.
“The First?” The man put an emphasis on the phrase, like it carried some sort of significance, and then he pulled back from Randy and leaned his back on the counter.
A brunette further down the bar was now staring at them with her mouth hanging open. The couple in the booth--the man dark-haired and the woman blonde--were both twisted around to watch him, whispering softly to each other.
“It started on my family’s property... unless someone snuck out there and saw it before she did, yeah, she was the first.”
The blond man hung his head, either stunned or perhaps startled by Randy’s information. He had no idea what it could mean to him, and he also had no reason not to share it. So what if it had started at his home? Sure, there would be people who’d blame him and his family, but he knew they had nothing to do with it. Maybe Camie did in some bizarre way, but he wasn’t about to even consider her at fault. It was too late for that sort of thing.
“You need to listen to George, then,” the man finally said, lifting his face to regard him again. “The First knows her fate and cannot avoid it. The more she does, the more pain she will bring herself and to those around her.”
“You expect me to leave her, just like that? She’s my sister!”
“And so she continues to bring you pain.”
What the hell was it with people telling him what to do? It was bad enough when it was family and friends, but now perfect strangers were doing it, too. He was bristling now, unconsciously hunching his shoulders and squaring with the man like he was ready to start throwing punches.
“How the hell can you know something like that?”
It hit him, then, that this was very much an argument he’d had with Camilla. She claimed things constantly and offered no reason for how she knew. It was beyond aggravating. It was infuriating.
In response to Randy’s demand, the man tugged off his gloves and displayed a blackened palm, the same glossy black that Camie’s fingers had.
“Tanya down there, ever since it took her arm, she’s been given to bouts of prophecy. George can tell you what you need to do, but he doesn’t know why. Back there, Jack,” and the man jerked his head towards the booth with the couple in it, “He’ll be at the Pinnacle with us with one other person.”
Randy stared at him, then shook his head, resisting even trying to understand what he was saying. “What does that have to do with anything? I’m just trying to find Camie so we can stay together.” He stared at him for another moment then dragged his fingers through his hair. “Who the hell are you, anyways?”
“I’m Lucien.” He offered his hand, but continued speaking instead of waiting for the proper response to his introduction. “Even if you find your sister, she won’t make it to the Pinnacle. The First cannot exist in the Light.”
The last phrase had the sound of a quote and it turned Randy’s stomach to ice.
“And you believe this?”
Lucien simply nodded once, his dark eyes locked on Randy’s.
“That’s a load of bullshit! You lot get to live so it’s all happiness and sunshine in your visions.”
This was yelled by an old woman leaning in the entryway to the rear dining room. Wispy grey hair clung to her scalp and her face was twisted into a scowl. At least, the portion of her face that wasn’t blackened was twisted. Her right cheek and temple seemed like they were clipped away, as was her ear on that side. The right sleeve of her blue down coat hung empty as well and the deformities only added to the ugliness of her expression.
“Oh sure, try to convince him he gets to live so he’ll help you out... he’s going to get it like the rest of us. It’ll be darkness and cold forever, just running through nothing, not even knowing if you’re moving.”
She swatted the air with a dismissive hand and turned back into the room, quickly moving out of sight. Randy heard Lucien sigh softly and watched him rub his face.
“That’s not true. Alice has it wrong.” Tanya, the brunette, offered into the silence in the wake of the woman’s anger. “Not everyone’s going to live. But the Darkness isn’t like how she thinks. It’s peaceful and beautiful, like the perfect summer day.”
She trailed off and looked around the room. No one met her eyes, everyone studiously examining cups and plates and hands. Finally she turned on Randy, leaning forward with the intensity of her words.
“Can you believe me?”
It was only then that Randy noticed she was missing nearly all of her fingers, having only half of her hands left, index fingers and thumbs. He shook his head numbly and looked away, lifting his coffee to occupy his hands. That was when George came out with a plate of rubbery scrambled eggs and a pair of slices of buttered white toast. There were even a few singed strips of bacon balanced on the edge of the plate. Silently he pulled the plate towards himself and mechanically started eating. The others seemed to take that as a sign to leave him in peace and they turned back to their own business.