Failure of Glory

Chapter 3

These are the accounts of John Sawyer Graham's interactions and observations of the surface. Today marks five years and three months since the explosion of the Phytohive Plant. I've run low on food and don't have any choice other than to take my chances out on the surface. I have constructed a few items that will hopefully aid me in my attempt.

Jolie couldn't believe it, a man who had been living on the surface for five years. Then a thought creeped into her head, if he's still alive. She shook the negativity and scooped the journal into her bag before going back to examining the pictures.

She scrutinized one photo of a Howler, who's eyes were circled in the same red ink its name was written in. Written underneath was a sentence that caused everything to fall into place. 'They are blind, if you make noise they will find you'. Then another picture with its wide opened mouth circled. 'In order to kill it you must destroy the noise receptor. Destroy the rod, you destroy the Howler.'

She decided that taking a few of the pictures wouldn't hurt. Jolie knew that it would take a lot more than a journal filled with scraggly handwriting to convince her family to leave the bunker.

She dug through a few more papers that were each marked with 'Fog?'. Paper after paper each with the same thing until she came upon the last paper in the stack. 'The fog comes during the day, but why?'

This made Jolie stop, how could fog control itself to only be present during the day. A part of her was glad that the fog was still around, she could still test out the mask, prove herself to her parents.

She takes her time scavenging the rest of the house, trying to gather enough courage to leave it. After three more rooms and finding a few things she deemed useful she had finally hyped herself up enough to leave the house.

She set out towards the bunker with her newfound knowledge of the Howlers, with every intent of silence. She kept her steps quiet and her flashlight low. She heard a few clicks in the distance that made her pick up the pace.

When Jolie was down the street from the bunker footsteps thudded behind her. It wasn't like the dragging she had heard before and this made her spin around quickly.

A masked figure stood unmoving, one handed clenched at their side and the other holding a toy car. They slowly pressed their pointer finger to their lips as if to tell her to be quiet. Jolie took an apprehensive step back but found herself nodding. The figure slowly bent down, placing the car on the ground and clicking one of the three red buttons on top, pushing the car towards her.

As the car rolled towards Jolie a high pitched police siren cut through the silence. Red and blue lights flashed all around and the siren echoed through the empty street.

Jolie's eyes widened. "No," she whispered. She looked at the figure, they made no movement to grab the car. Their head was slightly tilted and their eyes bore into her own. Her head snapped down the street at the sound of a distant howl. First one, then two, until finally the noise of the siren had been drowned out by the howls.

Jolie panicked and dove for the police car, she landed roughly and small dots of blood began to form on her stomach and elbows. She began fiddling with the buttons, clicking each one until finally the siren stopped. She waited with baited breath as she watched the Howlers' shadows retreat.

She looked at the person once again. "Are you crazy," she mouthed.

They pulled down their bandana to reveal the crooked smile of a man. Now that Jolie noticed it all of his features were very manly. Big, broad shoulders and taut muscles bulging through the fabric of his shirt.

The man shook his head while smiling menacingly. He pushed his pointer finger to his lips just as he had done before. His hand retreated into a brown satchel, pulling out another toy car; his smile growing larger.

Jolie pushed herself off the ground and whipped in the direction of the bunker. She took off running, feet pounding the ground rhythmically. She no longer cared about the noise of her footsteps, only the big man's behind her.

The man didn't follow her, he just stood there smiling and putting the cars back into his bags. He turned around to return back to his camp, knowing that this would not be the last he saw of the young, elusive girl.

Jolie sprinted all the way down the street, not stopping until she had reached her discarded clothes. She bent over with her hands on her knees, panting like a dog, so sure that the man would appear around the corner at any moment. After a few minutes of waiting and catching her breath she decided that he hadn't followed her.

She began stuffing her clothes into her bag, careful not to crush the pictures she had found. Once that was done she slung the bag on her shoulders and began turning the handle to get back inside.

She stopped for a moment, letting her muscles relax. It was much harder getting in than it was getting out. The explosion had melted some of the handle, leaving part of it jagged and too dangerous to touch.

She tried again, this time her hand slipped causing it to fly over a piece of jagged metal. Jolie inhaled sharply, trying to keep pain filled noise from escaping her mouth. She gripped her wrist and faced her palm towards herself, a diagonal cut ran across the skin of her left hand.

She held her left arm to her chest and bent down to try again, groaning as she twisted. The handle gave away and the circular motion began. Jolie sighed in relief and fell back on her butt.

She examined her hand, wincing at the sight of dripping blood. It painted a trail down to her wrist before she wiped it away.

She stepped into the hole, careful to hold her hand close to herself so she wouldn't get anything inside the cut that might cause an infection. She closed the door above her and began her descent down the ladder. This proved rather difficult with one hand.

As her foot left the last rung she turned around to find her father with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. She gasped in surprise and knew that she would have a long night of screaming ahead of her.