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 Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:34 pm
WARNING: Graphic imagery and swearwords!  Bath leaned down and shook Verity and Shera awake. The police were gathering around the door. Bath knew agitated cops when he saw them. The signs were plain—they gathered in groups at the door, they spoke on walky-talkies, their hands went to their nightsticks and their tasers. Trouble was coming, and Bath wanted to be prepared for it.
Ever since he’d heard the broadcast he’d known that it would come to this. He’d known that the cannibals would hold their promise and that they’d come here. They were feeling vindictive—they’d been hurt, and they wanted to lash out. Bath could appreciate that, having been in their position before. But just because he understood their actions didn’t mean he condoned them, and he’d made up his mind that if he had to make a choice between the survival and health of himself and the Grey-Crescents and being a good little boy and not hurting the abused ex-children, he wouldn’t hesitate to sink them as soon as they came up like a twisted carnival game. A couple years ago, after the trials, Bath might have hesitated, but nowadays, he knew the score; he knew the difference between being an a** for the esses-and-gees and being an a** for the sake of actual survival. As the other adults groaned into wakefulness, he loosened his boot knife in its sheath. He only had one, so he’d have to make good use of it.
“We need to go, now,” he hissed.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:35 pm
 Verity woke up before Shera, having been sleeping less well. The ground was cold, hard, and uncomfortable, even with a sleeping bag between her and the concrete. Her only comfort had been her lover’s warmth against her back and Shera’s arm under her head. What was worse, her nap had been full of horrible dreams, dreams about bloody-eyed killers devouring her children, horrible screams everywhere. It was like she was living in a horror movie.
Now she was awake, but only nominally. Her eyes felt sandy and she felt sore in about a dozen places. This was much, much worse than camping in a cold tent. This was…well, it was sleeping in a trap.
When Batholith woke them up, Verity pushed herself onto her knees. She threw back the sleeping bag and looked up at Batholith. He’d gone to wake the children. Good. Verity wanted to be over there, comforting the boys as they woke up—if they’d been sleeping anything like she had been, then they would need their mommy there to comfort them. But she had Shera to attend to as well. Shera was only very slowly waking up. That was…understandable, in the current circumstances. Verity pulled Shera out of the sleeping bag and set her down on a nearby chair. She got to work folding up the sleeping bag, fingers clumsy with worry. What did Batholith mean by “needing to go”?
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:36 pm
 Shera hadn’t been sleeping particularly well. It wasn’t that she couldn’t get to sleep—she definitely could. Neither was it nightmares. Surprisingly, she hadn’t had any bad dreams. Instead, her sleep had been filled with a vague sense of unease and terror. She was walking through her home, through the halls at Leviathan, and through the Academy campus, seeing old, familiar sights, but through all of them, and all the interactions with her old teachers and former students, this sense of fear and anxiety had filled the air. No one had said anything out of the ordinary, but she could feel it, thick as tar, in the air around her.
In the middle of this walking fear-dream, she heard a voice whispering in urgent tones, and she felt something pushing her shoulder. She groaned and twitched her shoulder in an attempt to swat the thing away. Surprisingly, it worked—the thing at her shoulder left. Unfortunately, at that moment, Verity pushed their cover back and pulled her to her feet. The Chimera blinked and stared at her surroundings. Right. The stadium. The sleeping bag. The boys—Batholith was waking them up right now. There seemed to be some commotion in the crowd throughout the make-shift shelter. Shera ignored it, instead switching between watching Batholith wake the boys, watching Verity move on to and roll up her own sleeping bag, and checking to make sure that she had both Verity’s purse and her own shoulder bag.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:37 pm
 Fena had been asleep when he felt someone shaking him awake. He didn’t like being shaken awake—it was sort of rude, and a little uncomfortable. Besides, sleeping was good—after all of the excitement tonight, he’d been ready to sleep. He’d been ready to get away from all of the horribleness. Fena had been hoping that if he slept for long enough, he would wake up and the crisis would be over and they could go home with their cats and Frankie’s new rat and Mom’s fennekit.
That was not to be, though. When Bath shook him awake, Fena opened his eyes and looked around him. Even in the dim light, the Bakeneko could see that the crowd was still there, and that they were anxious as ever. Police officers were standing beside the main door, looking worried and really active. Fena helped Bath pull Frankie out of the sleeping bag and started to roll it up. “What do we do now?” he asked Bath. He really hoped that the answer was that they could go home. He really wanted to go home. But there wasn’t going to be any chance of that now, right? They were going to be under siege soon, just like in fantasy novels and history movies. Fena had seen enough of both to know that he didn’t want to get involved in either. Fantasy was much more fun from outside in the real world than from inside within the fantasy.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:38 pm
 Frankie had been running from a monster in his dreams when he was shaken awake. Something horrible had been following him, and he could hear a frenzied drumbeat in the background. When he woke up, he could still hear it, echoing in his ears. Where was it coming from? Why was it so loud?
But he’d been shaken awake. There was no monster, only moving adults. Batholith had grabbed him by the arm and tugged him to his feet. Frankie clutched Lacyboots to him and looked up at his babysitter. For some reason, his first thought was that Bath had washed off the makeup he had been wearing earlier, and taken off the costume. He didn’t know where all of the accessories were, though. Wait, maybe they were in his backpack! Yeah, that was it. Batholith was still wearing his backpack. Which reminded Frankie…
“Have you still got your cats, Batholith?” he asked his babysitter. For some reason, this was terribly important. His parents were rolling up a sleeping bag, and the babysitter was pulling him and Fena closer to his parents. Something important was happening. They were going to be leaving the shelter, that much was obvious. If so, then he didn’t want Bath to be leaving his kittens behind.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:40 pm
Ah, the priorities of a child. Still, he was grateful that Frankie had asked. He’d checked several times throughout the night (and cleaned up after the kittens—they weren’t yet house-trained, after all). The kittens were still there, still curious about him and still affectionate towards him, even if he’d put them in a sack for several hours and brought them into danger. They’d be in less danger if he’d left them outside, he realized. There was nothing he could do about that now, though. He just had to move forward.
“They’re all here,” he said. “All three of them. They’re okay, though probably a little hungry.” He turned to Fenaret next. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think we’re going to be leaving soon, though.” He didn’t mention that he was pretty sure they were about to be attacked. That would be neither tactful nor wise. He didn’t want the kids to panic—if they did, their parents would get distracted comforting them instead of concentrating on what they should be doing, which was preparing to run.
“We can’t carry all of the sleeping bags,” he snapped to Verity. “Our lives are more important. If we have to run, then we shouldn’t have to be bogged down with possessions.”
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:42 pm
Up to this point in the evening, Batholith had been charming. Mysterious, but charming, even professional. But now he was asking way too much. He was doing way too much. A good babysitter should of course be prepared to boss his charges around, but bossing around their parents was just unacceptable. Verity refused to be bossed around by some teenager whose head had gone big with power. Verity fixed him with a powerful glare and finished tying up the second sleeping bag and slung both of them on her back. She held out her hand to Shera and took her purse from her lover.
Without breaking eye-contact with the teenager, she held out her hands to her boys. “Fena, Frankie, come here,” she said. With the boys at her side, she was prepared to address Batholith. “Batholith, you have been a very good babysitter this evening, but do not tell me what to do. You are not a drill sergeant and I am not some doe-eyed private. You do not have the authority to boss me around. Do you understand?”
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:43 pm
Shera knew Batholith much better than Verity did—not that that was hard. She’d met Batholith in school, and there was something about him that made him wiser than his years. She had no idea what it was, but she’d respected it ever since she met him.
That having been said, bossing her girl around was a little much. Outsiders should not be able to barge into a family and tell the heads of the family what to do, especially if they were younger than the heads of family. So far as Shera was concerned, now that she, Verity, and the boys had been reunited, it was Shera and Verity’s job to keep all three of the boys safe, not the other way around. “Bath, I know you mean well,” she said gently, “but I think your imagination is running wild here. Besides,” she added, “we just bought that new sleeping bag. We don’t exactly have a lot of disposable income these days to spare.” She pointed to her old one, the one that Fena was carrying on his back, his stuffed mouse sticking out of the top of it. “We’re even keeping that old one, even if it’s getting so old that we got it replaced.”
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:46 pm
Fena finished rolling up the sleeping bag, careful to stick the stuffed mouse out of the top of it. That way, he could carry the sleeping bag without needing an extra hand to carry his stuffed mouse. So long as he kept his grip on the sleeping bag, he’d be okay. He took Frankie’s free hand and led him over to their mother.
Fena wasn’t deaf. He caught how Batholith spoke to him compared to how Bath spoke to his mother. Anger flared up in his heart. He liked Bath, the teenager was cool, but who was he to speak to his mother like that? And why had he lied to Fena, then turned around and told the truth to his mother? Or was it the other way around? Either way, he seemed to think that Fena was deaf, or too delicate, or…
He really hoped that Bath had told the truth to him and lied to his mother, even if that meant that someone had lied to his mother, which was just not an okay thing for someone to do. He cared a lot about his mom, and he didn’t like it when people messed with his mom or his family like this! “It’s gonna be okay, Batholith,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Mom and Ra will help us out of this.”
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:46 pm
Frankie was glad that Fena had started rolling up the sleeping bag—taking everything down was Frankie’s least favorite part about camping. It was tedious, and he never got it done as neatly as everyone else did. He struggled to put the enormous sleeping bag into the stuff-sack, and yet, Fena, Ra, and Mom made it all look so easy! If Frankie had his way, sleeping bags wouldn’t be put in stuff-sacks, they’d be put in, ionno, something else? Heck, they were supposed to be weatherproof, why put them in bags at all?
But hey, their bags were in bags and the sight of sleeping bags all packed up reminded Frankie of happier times. Sure, those slightly nostalgic memories were clouded by sadness for going home after a long adventure, but right now, the memory of those feelings was making Frankie feel better about the situation.
The argument, however, was not helping. Everyone was ganging up on Batholith, and Frankie didn’t like that. Their babysitter had been nice—he was sure that Bath hadn’t meant anything bad by it. But before he could say anything, a police officer was shouting at the crowd. Frankie turned in time to hear the scream, followed by a misshapen body being thrown at the police from the suddenly opened doors.
Something was wrong with the body. It didn’t look right. It didn’t even look real. It was missing bits, like a manikin covered in fake blood.
Why would someone cover a manikin in fake blood? That was in poor taste, wasn’t it?
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:47 pm
Batholith struggled to express his frustration. The adults thought they knew better than he did! They’d probably grown up in the Academy all their lives. Their lives had never been in danger, they’d never had to run with only the clothes on their backs. They’d never had to worry about any of this sort of thing. They’d never had to worry about survival, and now they were accusing him of being ignorant and inexperienced?! And for what reason?! Because of petty materialism and pride, instead of doing the right thing and saving their children!
Rolling up the sleeping bags took too much time, even if it was quick, and they needed their hands free to pick up their children and make a run for it. They were acting like fools, and ignoring Bath’s advice that would save their lives—
Too late. First came a shout from a police officer to remain calm (bad sign, they never said that when there was actually no reason to be panicking like mad), then came a bloodcurdling scream. Then came a body flung from the suddenly opened doors. Bath whirled around and yanked Shera to her feet. He snatched Frankie’s stuffed animal from the boy’s claws and stuffed it into the strap of one of the sleeping bags on Verity’s back. At least Fena had shown some sense there. With the stuffed animal stowed, he scooped Frankie up and put him into Verity’s arms. Shera wouldn’t be strong enough to carry the boy for long. He grabbed Fena’s hand and put it into Shera’s hand. Fena was too big to carry. Now Bath shoved Verity hard from behind.
It all took less than two seconds. “Go!” Bath shouted. “I’ll catch up!” He ignored the sounds of screaming and the rush of people—there were enough bleachers around here that no one would trample them.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:49 pm
Verity hadn’t been expecting the shouting, or the screaming, or the body. It was in pieces…just like something she’d write about in her novels…
She didn’t even know what was happening. She only saw glimpses. Fena with his sleeping bag on his back; Frankie was in her arms, when had that happened? Someone shoved her from behind and screamed at her to go. All around her, people were screaming, howling, running for the door, even as hooded figures poured out of the doors and fell on the people in the stadium.
The things in the hoods were ripping people apart. Blood flowed down the fronts of their clothes.
Go!
Verity ran. She ran like she had never run before. Even her old PE teachers had never been able to make her run this hard, this fast. She held Frankie tight in her arms, cradling her younger child’s head against her shoulders. There were so many people, such swarming, where were they supposed to go? Into the horde of murderers?
She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Her feet were running even if her brain was gasping for breath.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:52 pm
Batholith hadn’t responded to her admonition except to scowl. She’d sensed that something was about to happen, that he was about to snap at her, but he was interrupted by the commotion at the door. The view of what was happening was blocked by all of the people around her, but Shera could see the people entering the stadium. They wore hoods—that wasn’t good…
When had Fena’s soft hand appeared in hers? No time. It didn’t matter. Someone was yanking her, and she was running as fast as she could, her shoulder bag thumping against her shoulder in a rhythm with the way she ran. They were near stairs—she headed for them, running down the stairs towards the big exit. Even as she did, the crowd got thicker. There were people all around her, crowding her, surrounding her. She almost lost her grip on Fena’s hand as she ran, which made her gasp with panic.
Gasping was a good way to describe what was happening to Shera. She could hardly breathe. Her feet felt like lead. She could hardly move, and she was stumbling everywhere she went.
In front of them, one of the hooded figures was crouched over the bleeding body of a young Baphomet. It looked up at her, and she thought she saw a pair of crimson glows coming from below the hood. Blood dripped from its mouth and it made a low chuckling noise. Shera dodged to the left. It moved with her. She dodged to the right—once again, it followed her.
Shera couldn’t fly. She’d just about rip her wing off if she tried. If she had the strength to fly. If she had the strength to fly and carry her son.
It was rushing her now, following her movements with a sinuous grace. It was laughing and licking its lips, and it stared, hungrily/i] at Fenaret. Shera shoved her son behind her and tried to summon the energy to blast it with fire.
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:53 pm
Fena had no time to react. Screaming. Shouting, thumps, the doors bursting open. The room was full of hysteria in an instant. Fena was being pushed around—he had some vague idea that it was Batholith doing it, but he couldn’t turn to check. Instead, his eyes had locked onto one of the—the cannibals, as it grabbed a Demon and bit their tail off. The Demon screamed and fell to the ground—
Fena’s hand was in his parent’s clawed hand, and he was being yanked forward. At first, Fena followed Ra, but soon he was overtaking her, and it was he dragging her, not the other way around. He’d lost sight of Mom and Frankie in the crowd, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was the way the cannibal had grabbed the Demon’s arm and yanked them to their feet to tear into their neck. There wasn’t a lot of neck after all of that…
Fena closed his eyes and kept yanking Shera forward, praying to the Nine that his paws guided him truly. Someone stepped on his tail, but all he could do was gasp. He barely felt it at all. He wanted to run. He wanted to get out of this place. He needed to get Ra to safety.
Someone yanked his arm and he opened his eyes with a gasp. It was the cannibal, the same one that had—hurt—that Demon. It had to be. It was the same one, and now it was going to kill him.
He’d lead Ra right to it. He’d lead Ra right to it, and now he and Ra were going to get—hurt. Ra shoved him behind her, but Fena wanted to scream, No, Ra, let it take me instead!
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Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 4:54 pm
Now there were people coming out of the doors, people in cloaks and hoods like the bad guy cultists in some action movie or something. Batholith suddenly snatched Lacyboots out of his arms. Frankie shrieked, but Batholith ignored him. How could you! I trusted you, I was gonna defend you to my parents!
But the words weren’t coming out of his mouth. Bath was stuffing the stuffed animal into a sleeping bag on Mom’s back, just like Fena had done with his mouse plushie. Then Bath had picked him up and he was in Mom’s arms. Bath shoved her forward and now Frankie’s mom was carrying him forward in a mad dash. All Frankie could do was cling to her neck and watch Lacyboots’s head bob along as if they were struggling to be free.
Frankie’s eyes focused further back and he watched as Ra and Fena started to move forward. They were clutching each other’s hands, and Batholith was running along behind them, as though he were driving them forward. He wasn’t doing very much, though—they kept getting further away, which meant that Mom was running faster than they were.
Ra was still hurt. She was still sick. The doctors weren’t even sure if they’d gotten all of it out, or if it had metastasized yet. She could still be dying, and now they were leaving her behind.
Frankie sobbed and buried his head against his mother’s neck. He wanted to cry. He wanted to die. But most of all, he didn’t want to watch Ra and Fena die. He didn’t want them to die. He wanted them to live. He wanted them to be okay! But they weren’t going to be okay.
They were going to die.
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