Over in the distance, something can be seen moving—no, slithering —between those trees where the fog is most obscure, its massive size angling every trunk in its path like bollards in a parking lot…
… until it pauses, as if to just sit there in waiting.
“C-Captain…”
“I know, Josh…” mouths Dylan, his lips restricted in motion now, “… I’m seeing it with my own eyes too.” To keep his nerves steeled, the leading officer poises his breathing, then bellows to the rest of his unit, “Eyes this way! We’ve got company!”
The team reacts lightning-fast, their long arms cocking harmoniously while pivoting in that same direction, their fingers hooking tightly around their triggers.
“Where?” asks one of them frantically.
“Right there.” Dylan points ahead with his own rifle. “You shouldn’t miss—”
That same officer gasps, as do the others sequentially.
“Steady, steady…”
Even through the reduced visibility, more of its features can soon be identified. Its elongated body, for all they know, could reach the span of a commuter train as its height measures half of a fully grown elephant…
… but one can only tell from a rough kilometre.
“Boss?” whispers Josh. “What should we do?”
“Just…” he waves a hand, “… just keep your eyes on it, but hold your fire.”
This puzzles the young man as he demands, “Why?”
Shakily, Dylan tunes up his radio. “Carol, do you copy? Carol?”
“Copy that,” answers his partner in no time at all. “What’s your situation?”
Lowering his speaker’s volume, he responds in a stifled voice, “Requesting for backup immediately. Do you copy?” Without a sliver of patience, he awaits another response. “Do you copy?” he repeats a little louder, added with urgency.
“Copy that,” another voice answers from the same channel. “Sending backup to your current location now. Just hang in there, alright?”
Dylan nods with a brisk sigh. “Copy that.”
“Dylan…”
“Yes, Carol?”
There is a definite pause from her end. “What’s happening out there?” Her tone becomes hushed, anxious.
While bringing the radio closer to his lips, he quietly tells her, “It’s here.”
Another pause…
… longer this time.
“W-What’s over there??” Her dwindling composure is made apparent, yet she exercises restraint. “Dylan… what is it?? What do you see?”
Fidgeting with his visor, the team leader proceeds with a vague description. “It’s… it’s massive, unlike any animal I’ve seen in my life.” He takes another subdued breath, this time through his wet nostrils. “I can’t even tell where it begins… or where it ends.”
“C-Can you see where its head is?”
“I just told you, Carol… but even from here, I can tell it’s got scales all over its body.”
“Scales…??”
“Yeah… scales with patterns.” He bows his head rigidly. “But from this distance with the fog, I can’t tell what its exact colours are… maybe red with black stripes?”
“Oh, my God…”
“Carol…?”
“Dylan… you have to get out of there! NOW!” she blasts from the intercom, laced with audible panic. “Dylan!? Do you copy!?”
“I can’t do that just yet,” he retorts.
“Why the fuck not!?”
“We are not leaving Edge behind…” the man states firmly, “… not again.”
Josh whips his head to Dylan, his mouth hanging askew. “Sir…”
“We wait for backup.”
“Dylan!” shouts Carol once more. “You don’t know what that thing’s capable of! You weren’t there on the road when—”
“Carol Marston, have you forgotten about our whole briefing??”
This one question shuts her right up, prompting him to continue.
“You and I both knew the risks… we all did and still do. You would do well to remember that, Sheriff.” Without missing a beat, the man lightens his tune. “We’ve made it this far… haven’t we? And besides…” turning his whole head, he glances back over his shoulder, “… we’ve even found help from some… unexpected places.”
Unfortunately, their current help… ‘Andrew’… appears to be fighting a battle of his own. His hands and knees are pressed into the soil—or in this case, submerged without compression—while his faceless head bobbles like a malfunctioning puppet, his neck and shoulders bunched uncomfortably… as if he is sick or in pain now.
“What’s wrong with… it?” questions another officer…
… whom no one can answer.
Not only is the entity wrangling with himself, but his metaphysical presence can also be seen deteriorating by the minute as layer upon layer of embers stray from his transparent frame to simulate the effigy of a gradually dissolving spirit until he is reduced to a faded, incohesive outline.
Dylan makes one more desperate attempt to draw Andrew’s attention with a brisk wave, which again fails. “Well, whatever it is… it looks like we’ll be on our own for a while.”
Left with no choice but to forego his efforts, the leading officer returns his attention to the front… until a third creature inserts itself into this scenario.
“That damn deer again,” Josh mentions in passing.
His captain, however, is too transfixed to pay the ubiquitous herbivore any mind. “Well, that damn deer had better bugger off if it knows what’s good for itself,” he asserts.
Josh tightens his stance, agreeing with him…
… whereas the deer can’t seem to take a hint. Instead of fleeing like any normal critter would, it decides to approach these armed individuals without an inkling of fear or situational awareness… a real deer in the headlights.
But in his efforts to ignore the supposedly curious mammal, there is something about it that pesters the younger deputy’s intuition…
… the way it’s walking…
… the way it’s carrying itself…
… none of it feels natural anymore, but he can’t yet distinguish why…
… until its head pulls into frame, staring into his soul with its beady red eyes.
In an attempt to scare it off, Josh wiggles the front end of his firearm. “Go away!”
But the deer doesn’t budge. Rather, it doubles down , advancing towards him until he can feel the breath of its snout against his neck, much to his swelling uneasiness.
“It likes you.”
“This isn’t the time for that!” Dylan reminds the crew haphazardly.
Josh tries as kindly as he can to brush this animal away, only to be met with more resistance. “Come on, scram!” he barks while jerking his shoulders. “Get out of here!”
Instead of complying, it snarls at him, baring its flat teeth while flicking its tongue…
… before it bucks forward and bites down on his fingers.
The assailed lawman yelps in pain, balling that hand into a fist as he wrestles for freedom, all while trying his absolute hardest not to hurt this ‘innocent’ creature… so long as he can avoid it. “Let… go!” he grunts—this thing has its jaws clamped like a wild dog.
But soon enough, Dylan jumps in to free his subordinate.
“Beat it!” he shouts, waving his own rifle…
… but again, the deer seems unable to grasp this concept.
It is here that Dylan gets a glimpse of those crimson eyes for himself—such colours, as well as those slitted pupils, shouldn’t belong on a creature like this.
He stares it down. “Don’t make me—”
The deer cuts him off with a tangential hiss, shocking the captain further as its eyes flare up with carnivorous intent—it sounds almost exactly like a snake.
But when the animal charges at him, Dylan reacts faster, whacking it across the face with the hilt of his gun until it backpedals from the group, shaking in terror before its eyes revert to their natural brown roundness, coercing its retreat for the final time.
Without a second to spare, the leading deputy sheriff reels his focus back to the larger threat… only to find it absent now. “Where the fuck did it go!?” He scans frantically, as does everyone else from all angles. “We can’t have lost it!”
“Dylan, what’s happening now?”
“A fucking deer, that’s what!” he complains to Carol. “That stupid fucking animal had to stick its fucking nose into our fucking business! And now, the big guy’s gone!”
“Gone?”
“Yes, GONE! KAPOOF!”
Carol delays her response, as if to ponder for a moment before she sternly asks him, “What did the deer’s eyes look like? Were they…?”
“Red? Yes, they—” a gruesome realization sinks into his skin like a cold knife—that was no incidental distraction. “It could still be here,” he warns his unit, gripping his weapon firmly. “Whatever you do, don’t drop your guard! Form a perimeter!”
“Yes, Captain!”
With haste, the team encircles their body bag, their guns drawn outwards in every possible direction, all locked and loaded for a possible ambush.
“Make EVERY shot count!” Dylan adds.
“Yes, Captain!” they repeat louder in unison.
“Captain?”
He turns to Josh. “What?”
“What if it’s just another red-eyed animal?”
“Just use your own judgement,” he answers rashly.
“Okay…”
“Dylan?”
“Yes, Carol?”
She can faintly be heard smacking her lips. “How is our… ‘guest’ doing?”
“He’s, uh…” Dylan takes another quick gander at Andrew, who is almost completely invisible now, “… not doing so well, by the looks.”
“He?” Carol questions incredulously. “How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”
“I’ll… look, I’ll explain everything later, alright?” he almost whispers.
Another tremor surges through the ground, catching everyone off guard and nearly off balance. Dylan plants his feet while keeping his knees buckled to absorb the vibration, as do his followers. Unlike the last one that demolished the shed, this one persists.
“Where is it!?” cries Josh.
They can hear the monster shifting, its hulking mass bulldozing everything in its path… but for whatever reason, no one can visually detect its position. Until…
“THERE!!” shrieks another officer, a woman in their group.
Dylan, Josh, and the whole rest of their squad veer towards the disturbance, their front sights following where she is facing. Within a matter of seconds, they behold the unremitting horror for themselves…
… a lamellar tail emerging upright from behind the trees, coiling like a kraken’s tentacle breaching the sea, its breadth eclipsing the beclouded daylight. There also appears to be a tapering rattle attached to its tip, resembling a wasp nest with the amount of beads nestled deeply in its gaping holes.
“OPEN FIRE!!” howls Dylan at the top of his lungs.
One after another, bullets erupt from their muzzles like firecrackers, puncturing its reptilian hide enough to draw pints of blood, which are no more than mere scrapes. They keep firing regardless, their gunshots echoing through the wilderness…
… until the serpent shakes its rattle, unleashing an invasive sound of its own—it sounds like a deafening radio noise hissing through the airwaves all around.
Suddenly, the group’s first-person screens begin to glitch uncontrollably, forcing an erratic ceasefire as they scramble to regain control of their vision. Their other electronics fare no better, especially their communicators as they screech at a hysterically high frequency, forcing them all to be shut off.
“THE HELL’S GOING ON!?” squeals Josh, who is hunched over while hitting his own headset, his voice barely heard. “I CAN’T… SEE!!”
“You, too!?”
“S-Same… here!”
“DON’T TAKE THEM OFF!!” barks the leading officer, despite having his own troubles with his protective headgear. “REMEMBER… WHAT I S-SAID!?”
But no one can seem to process his words, because next, they hear a symphony of wings—maybe hundreds— beating towards them at a hostile pace, their beaks and talons ripping into their exposed skin without delay while squawking into their eardrums. Despite their current inability to see, it is no guess to the team what these birds are.
“KEEP… THEM… ON!!”
With their hands and sleeves, the officers do whatever they can to protect their most vital areas from getting slashed open, especially their jugulars. At the very least, their headpieces do well to protect their eyes from this onslaught…
… until one of them, the woman, seals her own fate by removing hers.
Dylan hears the bloodcurdling shriek. Blindly, he veers to the woman, desperate to try and help her amidst the confusion while crying out her name, “Susan!”
Too late…
Through fragmented flashes, he helplessly bears witness to this woman, Susan, convulsing like a possessed victim, her limbs rupturing as they contort in the worst possible angles… all while she is in conscious agony… until her whole body moulds into something that he wishes he didn’t recognize.
Turning his rifle upwards, the leading officer fires a shot into the sky. All at once, the owls disperse, ceasing their attack as they flee above the trees, their echoing cries fading back into uneasy silence…
… except for one that falls directly onto the man’s head, dropping next to his feet with its wings sprawled evenly, a hole in its chest blooming like a fresh rose.
There is nothing left of Susan anymore. In her place stands a ‘tree’ that is identically grotesque to the one Edge was found in, its branches greased with blood.
“SUSAN!!” screams Josh as he bumbles past Dylan in a desperate scramble to free his comrade from her fatal predicament. “SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!!”
Dylan stands back, his face full of marks as he lingers defeatedly, barely registering that their visors are functioning normally again— too little, too late.
“Susan, hang on!” Josh hammers the tree with the hilt of his rifle, grunting breathlessly. “I’ll get you out!” But unlike the other tree, the bark on this trunk is impenetrable—even its branches are harder to break off. “Does anyone have an axe!?” He peers behind his shoulder, gritting his teeth. “Come on, don’t just stand there!”
“Josh…” Dylan reaches a hand forward, “… she’s gone.”
“NO!”
With a heavy heart, the captain marches over to wrestle him away. “There’s NOTHING we can do for her now!” Josh fights him for about a minute before relenting. “She was warned not to remove her goggles,” Dylan stresses, afterwards caressing the younger man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Josh… I really am.”
But their time to mourn is cut short…
… when a throaty hiss rumbles through their bones, stiffening the hairs on their damp skin—it sounds close… impossibly close. “It’s still here,” he realizes.
Officer Dylan scans their surroundings ferociously, swivelling the business end of his longarm like a baton… until he pauses to crane up, his jaw clenched.
Its tail hovers above them, swaying like a makeshift chandelier, before something sharp extrudes from the tip of its rattle… a stinger, about the length of a spear.
“ABOVE US!!”
He fires first, instigating their next round of defence as he aims for the queen-sized ‘nest’, hoping to God that their live rounds will shatter it somehow. Everyone follows suit, spraying their bullets without restriction, some while roaring to the heavens.
Just like before, it seems as though their bullets are doing barely enough damage to its flesh, its red-black colouration camouflaging its entry wounds.
That is… until the serpent, much like a scorpion, thrusts its tail, skewering not one, but two armed officials like a satay stick… one through the hand and chest… and another straight through the mouth… before dragging them away to their latent demise.
“FALL BACK!!” bellows Dylan to the remaining survivors, seizing Josh by the collar. His voice hangs by a thread, caused by the strain in his vocal chords. “F-FALL… BACK!!”
No one hesitates this time…
… taking what little is left of their morale, the officers tear into their retreat, daring to look back no further as it dawns on everybody how criminally overmatched they are.
Miles away from the unravelling calamity, Alice Brook has her head pressed against the steering wheel, having locked herself in her car to muffle her anguished screams. Tears trickle down her doleful face onto the prim leather, her breaths shallow, chest hitching for God-knows how long—it has to be a lie.
Her brain lurches, unable to accept her boyfriend, a man who gave her butterflies, made her smile, laugh, and cry all at once being reduced to such a desecrating exhibit. None of it makes any sense. Just what kind of world would do this?
In her side window, Andrew’s house sits in full view indifferently. For maybe a second, the idea of going scorched earth flashes through her mind… starting with that hellish Black Forest—with a quick shudder, she banishes the thought.
She slumps back in her seat, exhausted beyond comprehension. Maybe if she passes out, this will all just be a nightmare… right? It’s either that, or she can take off and leave all this ‘supernatural bullshit’ behind… pretend it never existed.
What’s stopping you, Alice?
Just start your car and floor it.
During this contemplation, something light, almost imperceptible, drifts in front of her windscreen… to which she regretfully catches wind of. “GO AWAY!!” she screeches at the inanimate blue speck, stoking her rage.
Her hand races for the ignition, wrenching the key until her engine hums. She next reaches for the handbrake as her foot rests on the pedal… yet she lingers for a while. Something is holding her back, but her head is too cluttered to determine what.
“Fucking hell…” she sighs.
Shutting off her engine, the girl stomps out of her car, her eyes gleaming with a multitude of emotions as she marches around this homestead to the lakeside jetty behind, slowing her pace when a bellowing, frantic voice reaches her ears.
“Andrew! Come on, snap out of it!” It belongs to her friend’s father.
“Mr. Coffey!?” cries Alice, hurrying with concern now.
She spots him on the platform with Andrew, shaking him by the shoulders.
As soon as the man detects her approaching, he motions to her with evident panic. “Alice, come here! I need your help! I can’t… I can’t wake my son!”
With a bit of hesitation, she joins them over the water, her arms floating cautiously as she observes the situation—Andrew appears to still be in lotus… and unresponsive.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” James explains, shy of breath. “I’m afraid if I call for help… I don’t know what’ll happen. Please, Alice, if you know anything that’s going on—”
“I’ll see what I can do…” she answers sternly, “… but I can’t promise anything—what’s happening to his body!? There’s… smoke coming out of him!”
James opens his mouth in an attempt to respond, only to shake his head mutely.
Judging by the smell, or lack thereof, nothing seems to have caught alight… so where is this steam emitting from? It looks clean too, and there’s more than enough of it hazing the air around them. It can’t all be seeping from his skin… can it?
Then again…
… anything is possible after what happened on the highway.
“J-Just… I’m going to try something, okay?”
James steps away, allowing Alice to kneel beside his son, close enough that she can whisper into his ear. She makes sure not to position herself in front of him as to avoid that ‘thing’ he did in her car last time… should that ever occur again.
Down here, she gets a clear view of Andrew’s disturbing expression. It looks like he is in pain, his eyes clenched shut, his forehead crinkled with veins. There are also visible tear marks streaming down his face, the sight of which disheartens the young woman, despite her conflicting disposition. “Andrew…?” she mutters softly.
Right now, she has no clue what her plan is as she treads purely on instinct. It feels foolish, but for this young man’s sake, and for the old man watching her with a mix confusion and anticipation… as well as that ‘dream’ from last night… she has to try.
Carefully, she lays a hand on his shoulder. “Andrew, it’s me… I’m here.”
Nothing changes as of yet, as expected…
… but with his father’s encouragement, she pushes on. “I… don’t know if I can reach you. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.” Alice grants herself a moment to breathe in and out. “Just, um… wherever you are right now… you’re not alone.” Tears begin to spill down her own cheeks again. “I can’t…” her chest tightens, “… I can’t m-make… any s-sense of this.” Her voice cracks, fragmenting her words. “I w-wish… none of this ever happened.” For the second time today, she breaks down.
James Coffey, who is still in the dark, considers reaching over to comfort this girl, only to pull back with his tongue bit tentatively.
“Just… please, just come back if you can…”
When Alice squints her eyes back open, a discernible change seizes her attention. His face appears to have softened back into its more restful demeanour. The tense features have all but disappeared.
“Andrew?” she utters again with a glimmer of hope.
Her friend doesn’t respond…
… but at the very least, he remains tranquil in his meditation as the steam persists, leaving her success in question—a soft improvement, perhaps.
Now, all they can do is wait…
For however long this period had lasted, everything was radio noise for Andrew, a spasmodic battle to regain control of his projected mentality. It felt like his soul had been stretched thin between two distant places without rest, threatening to split his head open… or maybe that last part already happened in tally with his migraine…
… until he heard her voice again… Alice’s… croaking into his ear like a broken instrument. He doesn’t know how… he doesn’t know why… but her voice, even in that state, had somehow managed to help restore his fortitude.
“Come back, A-Andrew…” he hears her say, “… I need b-both of you back!”
Both of us…
… yes!
With this newfound clarity, the spectral entity stirs back to life, his ghostly body visible to his own point of view once more, even without the embers…
… only to be greeted by a ghastly crime scene with another visceral stench.
In this very same spot where he almost came undone, there are now trails of blood with fresh bodies strewn about in a morbid, disorderly fashion… all in uniforms, some even in pieces, leading off in a single, continuous direction.
Averting his gaze, he shifts his focus to the body bag, the one containing his best friend. Ignoring the revulsion, Andrew sits down next to the corpse with his phantom legs crossed, gathering whatever thoughts he can muster.
Voicelessly, he starts off. ‘Chord… I am so sorry…’ He trails off, expecting to ‘say’ more, only to breathe silence. There is too much left to process but so little to extract.
It is also here that he soon discovers the source of that other stench. Glancing up to his right, he discerns the crimson-coated tree. This one, while similar in appearance, differs in its condition, especially its iron-like scent… a fresh kill.
There is only one thing that could have done this…
… it was here.
This realization causes his skin to crawl, even in his disembodied form.
Now, what…?
Without the recovery team, who is going to take Edge out of this forest? He would if he could right now, but without any personnel to guide, his presence is made redundant. This leaves him with two options: give up now… or follow the wake of carnage.
One choice is far easier…
… while another shows potential.
Maybe… just maybe… there is a chance that some officers could still be alive…
… but how then could he possibly help them against that monstrous serpent?
His best guess… would remain to be seen.
Rising back to his feet, Andrew stands firm with renewed determination.
’I won’t leave you here… not again.’
With this declaration, Andrew soars away with remarkable ease, somehow freed from his previous constraints, while silently promising— hoping, at least—to return.
Much like a hawk, the emberical entity skims over this trail, his arms spread like a glider as he again uses his audial recollection to stay on track through this dense mist. Since he wasn’t physically present to witness whatever happened to Officer Dylan and his crew, he instead relies on the memory of when he and Officer Carol rescued him from these woods, carrying him all the way out on their stretcher.
He hopes that this way, their exit paths would align—then again, assumptions can only get a person so far… that and a pot of luck.
In the meantime, Andrew uses this interim to reflect on all that’s transpired. Despite the urgency, his mind can’t help but wander back to that obelisk. Why did it land here of all places? Why was it him who found it? And was it all really a coincidence?
More importantly, what was that weight that slowed him down earlier? Where did it even come from? Could it perhaps have just been a symptom? If so, what caused it?
Before his sentiments could shift next to Alice, he strikes gold…
… as four uniformed figures fade into view, two of them leading at the front, all pedalling their feet against the ground for dear life from an unseen threat, their guns flailing. All of them still have their head contraptions on while covered in dirt, clothing tears, and scratches—it looks as though they’ve been through a war.
Remembering his goal, Andrew swoops in front of this group to get their attention… but they pass straight through him each time— of course, without his embers, he may as well be an actual ghost to these people. Without much else he can do, he follows alongside them, keeping up with no effort whatsoever.
Dylan, keeping his pace with Josh, whips over his shoulder, finding no sign of the Gazer anymore… supposedly. Everywhere he looks, vertically and horizontally, he sees nothing but an endless vegetative background…
… with some glowing airborne particles tottering here and there like fireflies.
“D-Dylan…” wheezes Josh, “… s-slow the f-fuck down! I can’t…”
Their squad captain, who is equally exhausted himself, accedes as he stops to gather his own breath, clutching his knees while heaving like an asthmatic.
“You okay, s-sir?”
“Yeah,” he exhales. “My… age… isn’t being kind to me.”
“Same here,” says the much younger officer. “Do you… think we’re safe?”
Dylan shakes. “Far from it.”
“Then we should keep—”
“I know, I know, just…” his voice returns soon enough, “… I need a minute.”
“But it could still be chasing us!” Josh protests.
“Didn’t you just ask me to stop?”
“No, I asked you to slow down!” he clarifies before correcting his tone. “There’s a difference… sir.” He too checks behind while bouncing anxiously. “Could we have—?”
Dylan hushes him with a hard finger. “DON’T.”
Josh understands immediately. “Right, sorry.”
“I’m thinking the same thing, Josh… I just don’t want it to be said out loud, alright?”
He nods. “Alright.”
In all honesty, Dylan wonders if they really could have lost the creature this easily. Their bullets did seem to hurt it, after all. Or perhaps, it could simply be biding its time… a privilege that he knows they can’t afford.
What now…?
“I’m going to let backup know where we are,” he states, switching his radio back on… only to receive a broken signal. “Backup, can you read me?”
Nothing…
“Backup! Can you read me!?”
Nothing whatsoever… so he switches to a different channel.
“Backup! Carol! Can you hear me or not!?”
Nothing but radio silence out here.
“Shit.” Giving up, he advises the rest of his team, “Keep your radios turned on in case we get a signal back. And keep switching channels if you have to.”
They comply with a jumbled but unanimous, “Yes, Captain.”
Next, Dylan decides to do something risky…
“Hey… what are you doing!?”
… bowing his head, he removes his visor, blinking several times while squinting straight down. “You can use this time to give your eyes a break from the screen,” he tells them. “But whatever you do, don’t look anywhere but down. Got me?”
Everyone nods…
… but nobody dares to take any chances.
Andrew, who had been discreetly observing over the captain’s shoulder, diverts his attention outwards to the cinders floating sparsely around them, the same blue ones like always, as they gather steadily towards them… or more particularly, towards himself.
They take their time to close in, as if they’re pushing through water. This convergence is soon made obvious to the armed unit as well, especially Dylan, who throws his visor back on and fastens its strap. All heads gyrate excitedly, all except for the latter, who faces directly where Andrew is positioned, his countenance all too knowing…
… until eventually…
… one by one…
… those glowing cinders reattach themselves to the avatar, carefully reintegrating his frame like black sand to an invisible magnet, nearly restoring his appearance to how it was in that crater due to their vividly fewer numbers— no matter, Andrew hopes.
Once this is done, the first thing Dylan does is pitch him an OK sign…
… which he humbly returns with a thumbs up.
Josh storms up to the faceless entity, grimacing. “Where the hell were you!?”
“Enough!” The boss puts his arm out, restraining him. “This won’t help us.”
Andrew observes this younger lawman, wishing he didn’t have to guess what has him so angry due to his conditional hearing deficiency. But because of his slovenly appearance, putting two and two together isn’t much of a chore.
The group’s demeanour changes in an instant, their postures stiffening and faces paling at the sight of something behind him, causing panic to inflame amongst the authorities. Everyone raises their firearms at once, their hands trembling profusely.
Andrew, already knowing…
… steers himself around, taking his absolute time to do so.
An unbridled terror courses through his soul as he beholds the eldritch monstrosity for himself, its carmine scales clashing with its black stripes as it lissomly uncoils, revealing its white underside… as well as its ‘head’ for the very first time.
A greasy black mane shrouds that area, its tangles resembling hairs that are found in the pubic region. A circular maw sits in place of where its face is meant to be, which one could compare to a fold of fleshy interwoven fingers instead of teeth. All of these features combined trigger a visceral, nauseating wrongness in its onlookers…
… but where is its eye?
Dylan ignites their final assault, taking no more chances. “SHOOT IT!!”
Metallic shells pass through Andrew, leaving his vessel unscathed as they whisk towards the Gazer, syphoning blood from its underbelly, albeit scarcely.
A horde of undead voices reverberate from the Gazer, as if they’re the ones taking or sharing the damage. In response, the Gazer raises its tail to shield its head, then uses its rattle to blind and confuse the group’s aim once more.
“NO, NO, NOT AGAIN!!”
Next, this ginormous serpent begins its charge towards them in an erratic sidewinding motion, its speed kicking up plumes of dirt while shaking the earth, stones bouncing and trees dancing as it goes in for the kill.
Andrew, terribly aware but helpless to warn anybody, launches himself upwards in a knee-jerk bid for survival… and ends up hovering above the ground like an astronaut on the moon…. while below, he watches the massacre unfold inaudibly.
The first two sheriffs, Dylan and Josh, somehow manage to dive out of harm’s way as they lie low, face down with their necks protected…
… whereas the other two behind them aren’t so fortunate.
Like an oncoming vehicle, the serpent bustles beneath the entity’s feet, its red and black stripes almost blending into one colour, its maximum width covering the span of a single lane… as those two unfortunate men get caught underneath its mass for an extended period, up until its tail passes over…
… leaving nothing behind but a smeary trail of blood, their bodies obliterated.
With the gentleness of a feather, Andrew touches down next to the surviving officers, his physical stomach twisting painfully—he almost wants to hurl again.
Dylan, having not only shielded himself but his subordinate as well, groggily peels himself up from the ground, his uniform covered in brown stains. While coughing, he plants one foot to support his knee, his head buzzing as his stamina wears thin, realizing shortly that he can no longer see through his first-person camera…
… instead, getting a fractured black screen.
Fearing the worst, the team leader hurriedly sheds his headgear to inspect its damage—to his great dismay, the small camera on its front panel has completely been destroyed, hanging uselessly by a wire.
“Shit…” he curses mutely. Dropping the device, he squints up to Andrew, the latter’s expression unreadable. “Do something… please,” he begs the spirit…
… but as predicted, his words fall on deaf ears.
Suddenly, his communicator crackles. “Dyl—Dylan…” He hears Carol’s voice, broken and distorted. “What’s—hap—pening!? Are you… there!?”
Far off, the monster circles back towards them.
“I’m here, Carol…” drawls the deputy sheriff, a lone tear streaming down his smirched face, much to Andrew’s shock. “… and I’m sorry.”
At first, there is silence. During this, the man picks up his gun as he limps forward, a fair distance away from his younger peer, his head still down as he effectively reloads its chamber, his face ghostly serene.
“S-Sir…?” Josh lifts his head, barely able to move while gawping at his captain, his own display still functioning. When he sees the discarded contraption and realizes what is about to happen, he jolts in horror. “What are you doing!?”
The seasoned deputy cocks his rifle. “Buying us time,” he answers calmly.
“NO!” screams Carol, her voice teary and sharp. “JUST… GET OUT—OF… THERE!!”
But there is no running this time. Without his protective eyewear, Dylan may as well be shooting in the dark… a chance he will nonetheless have to take. Shutting his eyes now, he faces down the imminent threat as it closes in, rumbling the plane.
Andrew wishes he could scream…
… to do anything other than observe powerlessly.
Dylan clenches his teeth, tensing every muscle in his jawline as he aims his weapon, all while expecting to be flattened as well—he may as well go out fighting. “When I say run… you run!” he orders Josh with funereal authority.
“N-NO!” he protests fiercely while struggling to his feet.
“I WON’T TELL YOU AGAIN!!”
He grabs his own gun. “We’ll take it on… together!”
“NO, YOU DICKHEAD!!” Dylan’s throat becomes hoarse. “THIS THING WILL KILL US BOTH!! I STAY, YOU RUN!! YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WITH THE EVIDENCE!! IT’S OVER!!”
The rumbling escalates, reaching its peak…
… then ceases altogether, the creature stopping short just to hiss in his face.
“NOW!!” he wails.
Snapping his eyes open, the spearhead of this operation pumps all his live rounds into its fortified maw, his swift hands channelling decades of experience as he screams bloody murder, using this adrenaline to block out his terror.
Andrew and Josh, both of whom are equally helpless from their respective positions, bear witness as the Gazer—this aberration from the Black Forest—unrolls its maw like a blossoming flower… revealing its true abomination.
Therein its mouth lies a funnel of faces scrunched in agony, all disembodied and liquefied together. Their mouths animate independently as they vocalize what one could describe as an echoing chorus from the pits of hell. These faces all look human, stretched and distorted beyond their natural proportions like caricatures…
… including the faces of Susan…
… Sarah Wood…
… her missing daughter, Savannah…
… and finally…
… Chord ‘Edge’ Castor.
These are its victims…
… all displayed in an obscene menagerie tunnelling inwards—there is no world that comes to mind where an image like this should ever exist.
In its dead centre, hidden in shadow, a greasy singular eye cracks open, bearing resemblance to a marble carved from ruby as its black slit rolls into view…
… making direct contact with the offending officer.
Right then, a venomous pain ripples through Dylan, coursing through his veins like acid. It not only spreads, but tears through his anatomy like a stream of tendrils cascading from his eye ducts, blinding him permanently…
… but even through this impossible torment, he continues firing in defiance.
Arming his own rifle, Josh too prepares for a stand…
… when out of nowhere, a volley of bullets thrashes this serpent, its weak points targeted in organized succession. Ducking out of instinct, he whips his head around to see several armed units, all wearing the same uniform and contraption, charging out of the fog like a battalion— backup had arrived at long last.
The serpent, overwhelmed by these greater numbers, lets out a final shriek before it turns tail, retreating into the recesses of the Black Forest.
Even with the Gazer gone…
… the horror has yet to reach its climax.
Deputy Sheriff Dylan, the partner of Carol Marston and one of the PRSD’s most valued members, shambles like a fiend as roots grow out of his eye sockets like parasitic earthworms, as well as his mouth, nostrils, ear canals… and every other orifice imaginable. His bones snap as they deform his skeletal structure into something worse than morbid… as if he is made of clay… all of it happening slowly.
Layer upon layer of branches, all dripping red, engulf the man entirely…
… completing the abominable masterpiece in front of a traumatized audience.
Andrew Coffey, returning to his body as a changed man, is overcome with nausea as he vomits into the lake, expelling the contents of his own trauma while his father holds him steady—he had seen his demise up close, point blank.
“Andrew, it’s okay…” his old man tries to assure, patting his back gently.
Alice joins in, reaching for her friend as well…
… when the steam in his body discharges like a confetti of smoke, obscuring the air around them. She staggers back, frightened beyond comprehension while James maintains his embrace, refusing to let his son go for however long until he stops weeping.
“It’s okay, son… it’s going to be okay.”
“N-No…” whimpers Andrew hysterically, “… no, it won’t.”
