Followers of the Light

Chapter 5 - Eight Hours Past the End (2 AM)

The night was getting late. The fog was getting thicker. It smelled something burning in the air. And I was still following Grote headed to the God-knows-where. He was as silent as a rock ever since we turned away from that tunnel. All those walks and the tense really wore me down, though at the same time I was unsure if it would be a good time to stop and rest. I called Grote a few times and yet he just kept on walking. You see him mocking you, and in the next minute, he is silent. Though I could understand that hearing the cries could be... traumatizing. But still, I just could not see how that would happen to a deadbeat heartless asshole like him.

His silence was tiring, I called him one more time, "Hey, can we just stop for a bit? I'm tired following you around going nowhere!". He then stopped and looked back at me. I walked closer to him, but he did not move and instead kept staring at me. I asked what he was doing. He said he stopped because I wanted to stop. Then I told him that maybe we could crash somewhere.

"It's dark. We can barely see anything. Do you really want to crash somewhere right now?" he said.

Without having me answering, he then continued the walk again. But soon after, we saw someone carrying an oil lantern.

"Hey...! Hey...!" a frail voice whispering from behind the flickering light.

We carefully approached that beardy old man. He said he heard our footsteps and chatter just now. Seeing that we were youngsters, he then invited us to come along to his house through the backyard from the alley behind him, the front side of his house was wrecked, he said. Would you believe that man? I definitely would not. Grote did not.

"My son and wife are staying there," said the old man. "I think we can help each other!"

Grote kept his distance away from the old man. "I can't see anything there! How should I know you're telling the truth about your son and wife?"

"Believe me, I wouldn't lie on my son's name, young man!"

"Aahhh-yeaaa, doubtful! You could be working for those Tumblewead hounds to sniff for survivors," Grote told him. "They'll keep you alive for that!"

The man sighed. He gave up on us and told us that he needs to get back to his family. We were left in the dark as he walked away with his lantern.

"I think he's telling the truth. I think!" I whispered to Grote.

"That's dark alley right there. You're dead if there's an ambush."

"But if he wanted to ambush, he could have done it right now, no?"

The man was getting afar from us, meanwhile Grote's torch was dim and flickering. I told Grote since we just hit a bad luck, we should just catch up with him and stay in his backyard or whatever he was offering. Grote agreed and he walked ahead of me.

Following the light from his lantern, we entered in to the dark alley to catch up with the old man. We tried to be as silent as possible meanwhile Grote himself snuck, pulled out his knife, and grabbed the man with sharp blade on his neck.

"Shuush! Keep walking! Lead me to your place!"

That man was shaken in surprise. It was a bit uncalled for, but then again, who can we trust, really? Considering even this old man could very much be one of them.

After a walking for a short distance through the alley, that old man, as he faltered, said that his house is on our left. He told us to climb over the concrete wall into his backyard. Grote then told me to do it to check if everything was alright. I carefully put my gloved hands over the ledge and my guess was right. Apparently he installed some glass shards on the top side of the concrete wall. It was a common thing to do for low-end house owners for protection. I found a blank spot for me to grab and peek and... How the hell was I supposed to find anything there? It was dark! I guess I could say I did not sense any sort of threat, if my sixth sense was anywhere worth using. That was exactly what I told Grote.