singillatim | closed | an empty crisis lonely and last

Entry tags:

closed | an empty crisis lonely and last

Who: Kieren Walker & Eddie Munson, Holland March, Cornelius Hickey.
What: Kieren finds himself a victim of Guilty Party along with Eddie Munson. Later, there's discussions, more confessions to both Holland and Hickey over Kieren's situation.
When: Over the month of October.
Where: Various, Milton.

Content Warnings: forced imprisonment; forced honesty; supernatural beings; confessional themes; threat of death; possible themes of suicide; themes of zombie-related horror; possible discussion of zombie-related cannibalism

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[ Oh, thank Christ. He's actually awake and not dead. It's something at least, although not a whole lot to make him feel much better about... whatever the fuck this is. Kieren swallows, still nauseously dizzy and starts to fidget against the chains that hold him. He might not feel them, but with how little he can actually move, they're pretty tight, he thinks. ]

Uhh— [ He doesn't know how to answer that. ] I'm— I'm okay? Are you hurt? I can... god, that's blood isn't it?

[ It feels like too much to be just a regular injury. How the hell is there so much? ]

Jesus fucking Christ— [ He lets out a shaky whine of a breath, his head flopping forwards. ] the fuck actually is this? I don't even know what happened.

[ The smell of blood is strong, dizzying, but Eddie thinks he would know if he were hurt enough to spill that much blood. He closes his eyes, takes a hard swallow before trying to speak again. ]

It’s blood, but it’s not my blood, man…I think I’m alright.

[ He doesn’t feel any worse for wear, chains aside. ]

Same shit that always happens, right?

[ He can’t even bring himself to laugh. Instead, he peers down at the chains, wondering if there’s any way for him to pick the locks or to pull a Houdini and escape. He’s scared and shaking and his brain isn’t working particularly well, but all the same, he assures the other young man: ]

I think I can get us out of here. Somehow.

Okay, okay— that's... that's good.

[ It should be comforting to know that it's not Eddie's blood. And it is, in a way. The fact he's not hurt or that maybe his injuries are all messed up again that he's in a bad way again. But it doesn't comfort him much, everything in his body telling him to run, to get away from the smell — knowing if he wasn't himself, he'd be desperate to get at the blood, driven by hunger and nothing else.

He can't laugh, either. There's just a small whimper of a sound. Kieren swallows thickly, he needs to calm down. He needs to stop panicking. He gulps down air his body doesn't need, nodding furiously as the other boy mentions some kind of escape. ]

Yeah? Quick, before whoever did this— [ He looks around and is cut off with a strangled cry at the sight of a figure in the gloom. They aren't alone.

The figure steps forwards, a hideous mask of a jackal staring down at them, glowing green. Kieren shouts, eyes wide, nothing but a garbled mess of curses, and noise. What the fuck is that?! ]

[ Eddie doesn’t ask questions. He simply sets to work, squinting through the darkness to search the floor around his chair for something, anything he can use to pick the locks. All he can do is try, and it certainly doesn’t help that his arms are locked in a position that doesn’t help the lingering stiffness and pain in his torso. He knows he isn’t healing quite right, but there’s only so much doctoring you can get in a frozen wasteland.

But then Kieren shouts, and Eddie’s head snaps back up, breath hitching in his throat as he catches sight of something, or rather someone illuminating the darkness with a sickening green glow. ]

Jesus Christ—

[ Pain be damned, he starts to yank at the chains, pulling, trying to push back from the figure as it creeps closer. But then comes a voice, soft but somehow deafening over the frantic jingle of chains and Kieren’s swearing.

Wickedness lies within you.

Eddie considers this briefly. He’s sure it does, knows it does, but he’s never really bothered to hide it. He’s never tried to be anyone but himself, and that includes the less savory parts. He's not an innocent lamb, but he doesn't feel like anything he's done is terribly wicked to the point of being chained up in a blood-soaked shack.

Confess, the voice continues. Unburden your heart and be free. Be silent and carry it to the grave. ]

I don’t know what—

[ Then, in the gloomy green glow, he sees the sickle, blood still dripping from its blade. He shrieks and just pushes back harder, doing nothing but pulling the chains taut. ]

Shit! Shit! I don’t know, alright? I don’t know what you want me to say! I mean, I did stink bomb the principal's office in sophomore year, but that's all water under the bridge, right? Jesus Christ--Kieren! Kieren! You—you got anything to share with our visitor?

[ Wickedness lies within you.

It is, in one moment, the most seen he has felt in all his life. As if under some scrutinizing gaze and he can only wilt beneath it. He feels sick to his stomach, and the world's spinning around him. It knows, it knows. It knows all the fucked up things he's done, all the people he's hurt— killed and ate. The people who's brains he ate.

Kieren's quiet for a long time, staring in some frozen horror — eyes wide and mouth open, shrinking back in his chair. He barely registers Eddie's words, only flinching at the mention of his name being called. ]

No. [ He shudders violently, the sound ragged. He shakes his head. ] I can't. I— I can't.

[ He utters a strange sound, he's rocking slightly. His head still shaking. He can't say it, not in front of Eddie. He can't let him know, he can't let anyone know — and he's quickly dissolving into some horrible panic of a meltdown, his voice rising. ]

No, no, no— I can't, I— I can't—! [ He stares up at the figure, horror and pleading all at once. ] I can't say it. You... you already know, I can't say it. Don't make me, please.

[ All Eddie can do is chuckle. Nothing is funny, not in the slightest, but anxiety is building up, and the only way he can relieve some of it is with a little bit of unhinged behavior as the figure and its sickle draw slowly closer.

Dude, don’t be a saint, just say you cheated on a test or something, he wants to snap, but one glance at Kieren panicking in his chair tells him more than enough. Whatever he’s hiding, whatever this figure sees in his heart, it’s a deeper secret than any of the petty crimes Eddie could possibly share.

He’s always assumed that he and Kieren are vaguely the same age, but he feels some sort of responsibility of protection over him. It’s the same way he feels about the kids in Hellfire: a shepherd watching over a flock of especially bizarre sheep, and he’d do just about anything to keep them safe. If Kieren won’t say it, maybe Eddie can rattle off just enough to get the creepy green glow away from him. ]

Alright, alright! I’ve got something. I, uh, I’ve sold illegal substances to minors. A lot of them. In ’84, I helped my dad with this whole…grand theft auto slash marijuana theft thing. Boy, that one’s a story. And I’m, uh…supposed to be dead. Pretty sure I did die. I don’t know how I’m the one who got lucky enough to be dropped in this winter wonderland, but, uh…yeah. Wicked as hell, man.

[ There's a dim awareness of Eddie speaking through that panic. The words aren't quite sinking in but Kieren's hearing them, some quiet part of him deep inside recognising it for what it is: he's trying to just... say enough, confess enough so they can get out of there. And god, he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve any one else taking the fall for him like this.

The figure looks to Eddie, listening intently for a moment before its attention shifts to Kieren — still in the midst of cowering and sheer panic.

He can't do it, he can't say it. He can't say it out loud, what he is, what's he's done. Eddie can't know, either. What's he going to think? Is he even going to look at him the same every again? What if he tells everyone, too? If they get out of this and Eddie tells everyone that he's a zombie and— fuck, they'll come for him and kill him and no one'll be able to stop it.

The figure turns towards Kieren fully, stepping closer. The sickle in hand raising and Kieren's eyes are wide. Oh, christ— he's going to die again. Well, worse— that sickle isn't even going to kill him, it's... it won't actually kill him and he'll just be still alive but with his throat slashed out or something. ]

No, no— [ He's kicking wildly, with as much good that'll do him, leaning back in the chair in some desperate attempt to get away from the figure. He can see blood on the sickle, and he knows his blood isn't red anymore and he doesn't know what'll happen— there's another movement, the beginning of a strike. ]

I'm dead—! [ He screams it, a strangled cry of a sound, his face all screwed up in horror and panic and disgust. The figure freezes mid-movement, the sickle so close to him. Kieren's shaking, and the words come spilling out of him before he can stop them. ]

I killed myself and I died and I came back and I'm a zombie and I killed people—! [ He sounds like a dying animal, his head slumping — dry heaving his way through sobs.

The figure steps back. ]

I just wanted to hide— I just— I didn't want this...

Hey.

[ His voice is soft over the sound of Kieren’s sobs, like he’s trying to soothe a wounded animal, and his tone is totally free of judgment. He watches, wide-eyed as the figure begins to back off. ]

Hey, Kieren. It’s—

[ What are you gonna say?, he asks himself, that it’s okay? But it isn’t okay, he knows it isn’t, and he doesn’t think he has the words to make it okay. He knows that people don’t kill themselves for attention; people kill themselves because sometimes, that’s the only way out, and that’s just one layer to Kieren’s statement. I’m a zombie and I killed people.

Well—Eddie’s always had a soft spot for the freaks. The weirdos who feel adrift and alone because they don’t conform to what society wants them to be. He was appointed to wolf duty three years ago, and he hasn’t stopped watching over all those little lost sheep since. Kieren isn’t all that far off from one of his Hellfire kids.

The sound of metal clattering to the floor makes him jump, and he realizes the chains have fallen away. No one has bent to unlock them; they just coil to the floor like iron snakes. The figure is retreating, melting back into the shadows, seemingly satisfied with what’s been spilled, and Eddie takes the opportunity to jump from his seat and to place a hand on Kieren’s arm. ]

Can you get up? We can talk about this in a minute, but maybe, uh...maybe not here.

[ His eyes keep darting towards the shadows as he tries to urge Kieren to his feet, terrified that it’s all a trick and the now-unseen figure is about to lunge towards them again. ]

[ He didn't want it like this. He didn't want it to come out at all. But it doesn't matter what he wants. This is how it is. The chains fall away and he barely notices, his body sagging forwards, his faces moving to cover his face. He's gulping down air like his life depends on it, even though he's never needed a single breath since he came back. Like his brain remembers the need for it, how to soothe with breathing. And it slowly starts to quieten him down.

But there's only dim awareness of Eddie approaching him, and it's the closeness of his voice that he notes rather than the hand at his arm.

Can you get up? We can talk about this in a minute, but maybe, uh...maybe not here.

There's a nod of his head, a little numbly. He lifts his head and slowly, silently moves to stand. Around his eyes, the cover up mousse is wetted away — the darkened brown-grey of his natural skin visible. He doesn't cry, he doesn't think he does, but his eyes are glossy.

Kieren concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. He walks like his body doesn't fit him right anymore, and he moves to push open the huge, wooden door. They're in some kind of farm outbuilding. Kieren can't look at the other boy. ]

... You can't tell anyone. [ It's the first thing he says after a long pause, quiet desperation in his voice. ] Back home... they— some people kill ones like me. People are scared enough as it is.

[ For the moment, Eddie is more concerned with getting them both the hell out of there than he is with anything else. Any secrets Kieren spilled can wait until they’re out in the open again and away from whatever that figure is. He helps Kieren push open the heavy doors, and stumbles gracelessly out into the snow, glancing behind him just long enough to see the sort of building where they’d just been held.

What just happened? Literally what as any of that?

He drinks in the frigid air until his lungs hurt, and only then does he turn to take a good look at his companion. Something is running around Kieren’s eyes—sort of like if a member of Kiss started swearing away some of their makeup on stage and looked particularly grey and pallid underneath.

This is clearly something he can’t fully understand, but he can try. ]

Hey, I don’t get my kicks out of spreading rumors around. I’m not gonna tell anyone anything.

[ There’s no judgment there, though. Not an ounce of it, and his tone is soft and understanding. ]

But, uh…it doesn’t make a difference to me, you know. And I wasn’t lying. I really should be dead. Not to make this all about me, but…narrowly avoiding the cold hands of death without really avoiding them at all? Yeah, I’ve got some idea what that feels like.

[ He does believe Eddie when he says he won't tell anything, and it helps his frayed, raw nerves a little. But he can't help the rise in him at the next thing he says — far too highly strung. ]

Yeah— [ He scoffs. ] well, at least you're alive. Breathing, heart-beating, living— not a literal walking corpse.

[ Kieren regrets the words as soon as he's said them. A scathing bite, like a frightened shelter dog biting the friendly hand of a hopeful adopter. It's insensitive, and he visibly cowers back a little, ashamed. He's quiet for a long moment. ]

... Sorry, that was shit of me.

[ He groans softly, running his hands through his hair and then standing for a long moment, fingers slowly lacing behind his head. Eddie's trying to help, he's trying to show empathy. Kieren knows what he's talking about — the absolute mess of wounds across his torso that he'd seen when they first met. Eddie technically shouldn't be here, either.

There's just...... too much to unpack, here. Kieren doesn't even know where to start, still reeling from the outburst back inside. God, he'd said... everything. What he is, what he did, how he died. Fucking shit. ]

I'm sorry it's so... shit.

Hey, don’t worry about it.

[ He gets it. At the end of the day, he’s still alive. A bit mauled, a bit traumatized, finds it a little harder to play guitar, but he somehow got away with his life. H shouldn’t be here, but he is, and Kieren doesn’t have that. Kieren is, in the kindest way, something out of a Night of the Living Dead film.

But Eddie finds that despite the truth tumbling out in there, nothing’s changed. He isn’t suddenly frightened of Kieren. He’s been around the guy for months without a problem. They’ve bonded, become friends. Eddie can’t see him as anything different from that, even now. ]

It sounds like shit.

[ An understatement. He has a vague idea, but he can’t say he fully understands what Kieren is going through either. ]

You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, but uh…how did it happen? I mean, is this—is it a common thing where you’re from? Like...you’re not the only one it happened to?

[ It's honestly a relief Eddie hasn't gone running for the hills about now. Kieren wouldn't blame him if he had. There's a weak smile, appreciative. ]

No, I'm not the only one. There's others. [ Thousands, just like Kieren. All over the world. Some still out there, unmedicated. ] It was, um— it was a one-off? About four years ago. It was called The Rising, apparently everyone that came back had all died in the same year — it was all over the world.

[ 'Spot of bother', his dad calls it. It makes Kieren want to scream sometimes. ]

I'd been dead for... I don't know, a little less than three weeks, I think. ... They even have a name for it now. [ He inhales, clicking his tongue with a raise of his eyebrows. ] Partially Deceased Syndrome. We're medicated. That's how I'm like this and not— well, y'know. Like in the movies.

[ Shambling around, looking for brains. Kieren winces. ]

Jesus.

[ Eddie likes Kieren and clearly has no ill judgment towards his situation, but even he thinks that sounds godawful for everyone involved. Family members who have done their mourning, and the victims who have this new thing to deal with.

But medicated—medication isn’t infinite. You run out eventually. That sparks a touch of anxiety in Eddie’s chest, but it’s more so that he really doesn’t want to see Kieren become like the movies, and if he’s this worried about people merely finding out, Eddie can only imagine what his anxiety over the medication situation might be. ]

And what, uh…what do you take for it? I mean, if one were to be keeping his eyes peeled?

Neurotriptyline. It... helps— [ He pauses, considers. He decides to simplify it. Eddie doesn't need a science lesson. ] Basically I can't generate shit on my own. Helps my brain function.

[ And... here's where it gets awkward. Kieren's gaze lowers, his stomach lurches painfully. God, he fucking hates all of this. And worse yet: ]

I-I'm supposed to have it daily. I didn't come here with any, and— and I haven't found any here. [ That's... nearly two months. ] I don't know how, but— I haven't gone back to being rabid. I don't know if I'm just— waiting to go off, like some kind of zombie-bomb.

[ What a visual. Kieren's aware of how it sounds. ]

[ Eddie probably does need a science lesson considering he failed chemistry twice, but he appreciates the simplification! And he gets it. There are plenty of similar things in his world.

As Kieren speaks, Eddie tilts his head thoughtfully. He’s not really thinking of the fact that Kieren hasn’t taken his medication for months, or the fact that something like that could easily become a huge problem. Instead, he thinks of the alternate dimension Hawkins, how it was somehow suspended in time, stuck three years in the past while everyone else moved on. ]

Alright. So you’re supposed to be rabid but you’re not. I’m supposed to be bleeding out in an alternate dimension but I’m not. Maybe this place put us on pause or something. Like—a really freaky Atari game or something.

[ He doesn't... quite get the reference about a 'freaky Atari game', mostly due to the time difference between them. And it shows as he frowns a great deal at it. ]

What, like... we're just... stuck in time, or something? [ It's.. well, he doesn't know. He doesn't even know how to take it. And his anxiousness about the whole thing sure doesn't want to believe it. ] I dunno. Maybe?

[ It's an oddly hopeful thought, though. And Kieren exhales as shaky laugh, his shoulders easing a little. Maybe. Maybe Eddie's still alive and maybe Kieren's still not rabid because someone hit the pause button on them, after all. ]

C'mon. [ He says finally, motioning with his head. ] I don't feel the cold, but you do. You need to get somewhere warm. Let's... try and get back to town.

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closed | an empty crisis lonely and last

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cw: mention of zombie-related cannibalism

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cw: mention of throat injuries, suicide mention

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