The Confluence

The Confluence VIII

VIII

Adrian was running. The woods surrounded him on all sides, trees drifting past him like ancient monoliths from a forgotten age. As he ran, he cast his eyes about him in an effort to try and understand where he was. The trees stretched as far as he could see, but in the distance ahead of Adrian, the mountain rose. He knew it was Mt. Wesker, and as soon as he gazed at the mountain a great sound came from the same direction. The sound was like nothing Adrian had ever heard. It was in a way like a peal of thunder, but there was a dull ringing; like an old bell. The sound went on and on, and Adrian clamped his hands over his ears, and he was screaming, but he couldn't hear it. He only heard the cacophony of pure noise coming from the direction of the mountain. The sun shone beautiful and uncaring, dappling the underbrush that Adrian knelt in, screaming. Blood began to seep out of his ears, his eyes, his nose, and his mouth as his teeth were practically rattled out of his jaw. Suddenly, the sound was gone, with not even an echo to confirm its existence. As Adrian took his hands away from his ears, the sun dimmed rapidly. He gazed up, and saw a huge bank of storm clouds moving across the sky, obliterating the sun and blue sky. There seemed to be great fire within the clouds, and as Adrian stared in awe there was a shape outlined by the red glow within the clouds. But they were too high up to get a good look at the shape. As he was looking up, the earth beneath him shuddered. Adrian looked down, and he realized he wasn't himself. He was dressed in what appeared to be dried skins and furs. I am not me, Adrian thought to himself. But I am me. I'm always me. He started shaking his head, muttering strange words to himself. The earth shuddered again, harder and longer this time. I gotta get out of here. The wind was picking up and the titanic clouds clashed and rushed above him with their strange fire, and as Adrian and yet not Adrian stood up, the forest floor split open beneath his feet. As he plummeted down, he saw thousands of these greyish veiny thin arms waving out of the dirt, each with three long, knobby fingers with long black nails, all reaching for him as he fell. I'm dreaming. I'll be fine. It's all just a dream, he muttered to himself. He felt his descent slow down, get slower and slower, until it felt like he was drifting down into a black ocean. He opened his eyes, and he saw nothing but blackness as he floated. For an eternity he floated in that void. Will I ever wake up? He asked himself. As he thought that, he felt something cold and slippery wriggle around his legs and tighten with inhuman strength. He looked down but couldn't sense anything, except this feeling of being pulled at tremendous speeds through the silent dark. As he was pulled, he noticed a dim light beneath him, as if the ocean floor was glowing a phosphorescent grey. The light grew brighter, and brighter until he felt his feet burst out of the water and out into empty whiteness. He looked up, and saw an infinite black ocean fall away from him.

Suddenly things went dark again, but this time it was different. Out of the darkness, a country road lit by headlights materialized before him. Gregory Lyell, that sick fuck... Adrian thought. The truck was faster than Adrian had expected, the red eyes of the truck's tail lights were flying ahead. The road twisted and turned, the headlights of both vehicles barely illuminating the grasping tendrils of the tree's branches that groped towards the road, as if to pluck cars off the asphalt and carry them into their darkness. Their engines tore through the quiet forested night, unseen things ripping apart the underbrush to run from the cacophony of engines and screeching tires as they made their crooked way through the woods. The two cars were hurling themselves deeper and deeper into the woods. The massive truck made a quick left turn, and Adrian's car almost flipped as he pulled the emergency brake and made a hard left, and once the car was shifting into the turn, he tugged the steering wheel to the right, turning into the spin. He slammed the emergency brake off and gunned the gas pedal, foot stamping against the bottom of the car as the car aligned itself towards the gravel road. His engine screamed in its fury at the quickly receding brake lights of the truck as it barreled its way down the gravel road. There were plumes of dust in its wake, muting the red lights. Adrian's head was pulled back by the sudden acceleration of his own car, and soon he was closing in again on the truck. Adrian was focusing on keeping up with the truck, so he didn't notice the subtle differences to the woods lining the road. No longer were the pine boughs surrounding the road, instead it was just the tall bone like trunks of birch trees, their high reaching canopy of leaves soaring above the plumes of dust kicked up by the vehicles. Their leaves whispers were drowned by the engines, but once they passed, the wind made the leaves sound like a sea of voices heard only by the sky. Adrian had sweat soaking his brow as he leaned forward on the steering wheel, peering through the dusty darkness trying to keep track of the small flitting red lights of the truck. He had been chasing Gregory for so long he had lost track of just where exactly he was. As his mind wandered, trying to figure out where exactly he was chasing Gregory to, the red lights of the truck turned right and then faded out into the dark. Gritting his teeth, Adrian made another hairpin turn, but this time his car couldn't handle the force of the turn. There was a loud metallic clang, and suddenly the gas pedal and wheel felt terrifyingly loose in his hands. "Goddammit!" Adrian yelled, slamming his fist into the wheel, which only made his hand hurt. His car's tires ground themselves into the gravel, hundreds of tiny rocks flying into the night as massive clouds of dust launched themselves from the force. The car leaned dangerously on its two left side wheels, the right side lifting higher, before crashing back down into the underbrush lining the sides of the road. Shaking his head, Adrian unstrapped his seat belt, and grabbed a flashlight out of his glove box, and threw the door open. He could still hear the engine not far ahead, and when he opened his mouth to breathe, dust covered his tongue immediately with it's dry, sandpapery taste. Pulling out his gun and pointing the flashlight ahead, he started running down the gravel road. His foot falls crunched loudly, he knew he'd have to be more quiet once he caught up. If he did. There was no light among the birches save for Adrian's flashlight. Even the stars and moon were covered by the overhanging branches. As he ran he cursed every cigarette he ever smoked for making his lungs burn. Every breath he took in felt like it carried no oxygen, and his ragged breathing and the angrily crunching gravel was all he could hear except for the faintly growling engine of the truck. With every pump of his arms it felt someone was pouring acid all over his shoulders, and his legs were starting to feel like wet noodles. Then, almost imperceptibly, the sound of the truck grew. Adrian slowed his pace down, head hanging low to the ground. He kept his flashlight pointed at the ground near his feet, trying to provide him only with enough light to not trip over something. He scanned the darkness around him, and then he saw in the distance, a small orange glow between the thin white trunks. He began making his way there, being sure to turn the flashlight off as he got closer. He also left the gravel road, deciding he should probably flank around a bit and see where Gregory ran to. Adrian weaved his way between the trees towards the light. He was close enough now that the light made the birches glow an eerie blue. Finally, he reached the trees, his breathing returning to normal, but his legs were terribly sore. Adrian crouched down behind two trees that were almost growing out of each other. His eyebrows were dripping with sweat despite the cold air, making his whole face feel clammy. He wiped his head with his forearm, taking his glasses off for a second to rub and clear his eyes. He put his glasses back on, shoving them squarely onto his face. Holding the gun up in both hands, Adrian gazed beyond the treeline. Ahead of him was a gravel lined clearing. At the center of the clearing was a cabin. It's wooden walls were covered in green grey lichen, and there were huge caps of fungus growing out between the black logs that made up the place's walls. It looked as if all the wood was damp and rotted, and in the dim orange glare of it's porch light, Adrian could make out Gregory holding the struggling bound woman. He was carrying her towards the door of the evil looking cabin. Adrian thumbed the safety off his pistol. Adrian began to move quickly through the twenty feet of forest and then began to step more carefully once he was on the gravel. He got three steps onto the gravel when it's crunching betrayed his position to Lyell. He turned slightly, and then when he saw Adrian, their eyes locked a second time. Gregory bared his teeth, and still fighting to hold onto the woman, he kicked open the door of the cabin. Adrian started to sprint, his legs protesting with pain as he made them move again. From within, there was the soft orange haze of candles, and right as Adrian got to the doorway he felt a sensation of being watched. It seemed to come from all different directions at once, and he did a quick turn, looking back the way he had come. The birch trees surrounding the property were covered with eye shaped furrows in their bark. All of them, somehow against all reason, were facing him. Shaking his sweat lined head, he turned back around and stepped into the cabin. The place was alive with candles. They stood on every surface, half melted wax leaking off the sides of shelves. It was incredibly cramped, with the walls closing tight, giving Adrian barely room to move. The front door opened into a hallway, reeking of wet wood and decay. The hallway was lined with shelves all set about shoulder height to Adrian, with candles of varying height everywhere. Ahead of him, the hallway split into a T, with the left hand side barely illuminated by one candle, which was set up on a tiled counter, with the bare hint of a sink. The right hand path was bathed in shadows. Adrian walked in slowly, gun raised. He occasionally moved the barrel of the gun between the two hallways ahead, expecting Lyell to jump out with a knife. His shoes clumped against the damp floorboards, but there was a kind of reverberation in the sound that bothered Adrian. Sweat continued to trickle down his brow as he moved towards the split at the end of the hall. At the end of the hallway he put his back against the left hand side of the wall, keeping the barrel of his gun aimed at the deep shadows in the room across from him. His ears strained desperately for any sound, trying to shut out the sound of the wind blowing against the cabin and the rustling leaves. His ears were almost ringing with effort, and his skin was prickling all over. This place, this cabin, it made him feel like he was being watched. The thought of Lyell jumping out from somewhere never left his mind, occupying everything. His eyes rolled everywhere, even up at the low moldy ceiling, with one part of it sagging with water damage. Adrian inhaled deeply through his nose, and closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves. He let the air out of his lungs through his mouth, and already his heart rate was slowing. He repeated this process three times before opening his eyes. He felt calm, or as calm as he could let himself be, but still something nagged him. This feeling at the base of his spine that he was being watched. Steeling himself, he rounded the wall he was leaning against, and found himself in a dingy and decrepit kitchen. There rusted plates and kitchenware sitting in a stainless steel sink, without porcelain framing. Bits of food were mouldering on the plates, and he couldn't even begin to guess what the food once was. The scent of wet decay was overpowering, cloying his nose. The tiled counter only had a broken microwave which might've at one point been white. Sitting next to the broken ruin of the microwave was the candle he had seen from the hallway. It was lit like all the rest, and wax had been running everywhere, making it look like some sort of partially sentient goo. Next to the sink was a half open oven, and adjacent to the oven was a back door. It's knob was broken off, and there used to be a window but it looked like it had been shattered. There weren't any glass shards around, so Adrian assumed it had been broken for a long while. A slight cold breeze blew through it, and with the breeze there was this coppery, meat-like smell. It seemed to be wafting from the oven. Adrian slowly reached for the edge of the oven door, fingers shaking slightly. He threw open the oven with a hideous screech of rusted hinges, and gagged immediately. Sitting inside the oven was a half cooked head, every inch covered with exploded blisters and burnt skin. The oven, now fully open, smelled of burnt hair and meat. The eyes were gone, just pus-filled holes, and all the teeth had been torn from the charred red hole of the head's mouth. It's nose was burnt off, charred flesh alternating with red meat. Choking back vomit, Adrian reeled away from horror in the oven, keeping a hand over his mouth. Stumbling out of the kitchen, Adrian began to make his way over to the darkened room across from the kitchen. Fumbling, he brought out his flashlight and turned it on. The brightness cut through the shadows, revealing more black moldy walls, and there were chairs all shoved up against the walls, stacked in an insane fashion. There was an ancient floral printed couch leaning vertically against a wall. There were rusted bear traps and a dusty deer head hanging above a fireplace. Adrian moved the flashlight down to ashes in the fireplace, and then realized where the body that belonged to the head ended up. There were chunks of bone sticking out of the ashes, and most of a rib cage on top of burnt logs. Adrian swept the light over the rest of the room, and then he saw an open cellar door. It was in the far corner of the room, which was definitely the largest room in the cabin. There was a rumpled carpet cast to the side next to it. He raised his pistol, and began to move more quietly. He approached the cellar door, turning off his flashlight. Now the only illumination were the candles in the hall behind him, and a slight red glow coming from the cellar door. Adrian now understood the slight echo to his footsteps. He leaned over the opening, and saw a rickety wooden staircase leading down. He carefully made his way down, wincing at every creak the eroded stairs made. His shoes finally quietly set themselves down onto the dirt of the unfinished floor. The walls around him were wetly glistening cobblestone, and the moldy smell increased tenfold now that Adrian was in the basement. There was also the light. Adrian for a second lost all thoughts of Lyell as his wide eyes drank in the anomaly he saw before him. Despite not having a single lightbulb, there was a red light everywhere. There were no candles. Nothing except the damp freezing air that seemed to radiate an angry red light. It was almost as if the light itself drifted around the basement like vapor. "What the fuck is happening?" Adrian muttered to himself, spinning in a slow circle. His eyes made their way up, and he saw teeth, human teeth hanging from strings looped around hooks drilled into the rafters. The basement itself was roomy compared to the cabin above it, and it was clear of any rubbish. The red sourceless light painted every wall the color of blood, and as Adrian scanned the walls, he noticed something. There was a crumbled hole in the stone. It pulsed with the deep red light. Adrian began to take slow, unsteady steps toward the hole in the wall, his mind gibbering nononononono I don't want what's in there I don't I don't. As he drew near, his shoes scuffing against the dirt, he noticed that the walls beyond were water drenched rock. There must've been some sort of cave beneath the cabin. Adrian was still stagger-stepping toward the hole in the wall when the bald head of Gregory Lyell began to move towards him out of the glowing red tunnel. He advanced quickly down the rocky tunnel, and Adrian's eyes bulged in his skull. Gregory was holding a long glinting buck knife, and his footsteps echoed down the tunnel. Adrian raised his gun, and started shooting. His first three shots slammed into Gregory's chest, barely slowing him down. Adrian aimed a little higher, and fired into his Lyell's skull. The impact of the shot put a dent into his forehead, and blood the same color of the light splashed out behind his skull and began pouring out of the hole in the center of his forehead. But still he moved forward, his mouth grinning toothily. Adrian got another shot off but the bullet ricocheted off the rocky walls with an insane buzzing sound, and then Gregory was upon him. He swung the knife in a horizontal slash, and Adrian leapt back, the knife barely missing his midsection. Gregory was ready for that, and flipped the blade so it was facing down and rushed forward, the tip of the knife aimed for Adrian's chest. Adrian sidestepped the rush, almost losing his balance trying to get out of the way of the knife. Seeing his opponent off balance, Gregory shifted his weight and slammed into Adrian with his shoulder. Adrian's already loose footing was lost, and fell flat on his back. Gregory turned to pounce on him and leapt toward where Adrian lay sprawled. As he was flying towards him, Adrian managed to get a foot into Gregory's gut and using his momentum, flung Gregory above and behind him. Gregory soared through the red air, and landed face first into the dirt floor. Adrian got back up and gripped his pistol tightly, strode toward the dazed Gregory. He was beginning to get back up, and Adrian shoved the barrel of his gun into the base of Gregory's skull. The force of that motion smacked Gregory's head into the ground with a satisfying crunch of teeth, and the more nauseating sound of what must've been his brains sloshing out of the dented hole in his forehead. Adrian pulled the trigger. The explosive force of the gun going off popped the back of his neck open, and Adrian fired again, a small shower of blood and bone shards flew upward. Adrian turned his face away and fired for a third time, and dirt was flying through the wide hole in the base of Gregory's skull. His body twitched for a few seconds, booted feet scraping erratically against the ground. Adrian was sucking in breaths like a bellows as he stared at the now motionless corpse of Gregory Lyell. The red light began to dim. As it did, the basement of horror began to dim as well, and fade back into the past as Adrian's vision went dark for the second time. The feelings of fear and adrenaline he remembered feeling faded as well, and what was left in their place was a world weariness and a soreness that went deep into his bones. The darkness was different this time, and he felt real, felt himself again. He tried opening his eyes, and was greeted with the harsh whiteness of a fluorescent light bulb. Adrian groaned, his mouth dry, his head spinning. He squinted against the harshness of the light, and turned his head to the left and the right, and he had a sudden flash of fear as he noticed the dark lumpy shape next to him. His sharp intake of breath was heard by the shape, and then with a slight snort, the shape revealed itself to be Sheriff Anderson, who woke up as well. "Oh thank god you're awake, detective!" He smiled, but just as the smile formed, a slight frown took its place.

"What...happened?" Muttered Adrian. The sheriff sniffed, leaned back, and crossed his arms. "Well, you're quite a trooper, Stein. A knife in your stomach and bullet to the thigh, and you're still kickin. And you took out that crazy son of a bitch." As the Sheriff said this, there was a funny doubling back feeling that came over Adrian, and for a split second he thought Anderson was talking about Lyell. But he had already had a severe talking to about how he handled that case from his superiors back in Portland. "The librarian called us over when she heard the screaming and the shots, and we rolled over with ambulances and squad cars, but we were too late for young Tyler. Stabbed in the neck twice, poor bastard. We found you... huh?" Adrian was staring at him with bug eyes. He couldn't believe it. He had seen what had happened, and that was definitely not the true story. "What are you talking about? I saw the man fucking melt!" Adrian croaked in fury. Anderson's eyes widened. "The doctors found you unconscious. Tyler and that homeless madman were dead upon arrival. And Tyler wasn't... melted. Are you feeling alright?" Adrian was seeing red. "It wasn't some dream, man. I saw that 'madman' kill Tyler in a way I still don't understand. Why would I make this shit up?!" Adrian went for the sheriff's coat collar, to try and make him understand, but he was far too slow, and the sheriff leaned back aways. "I'm sorry detective, but that sorta stuff just doesn't happen. I wish I could help you more, but appreciate what you have. You're a hero! Shot down the bad guy and lived to tell the tale." As the sheriff stood up to leave, Adrian muttered something under his breath. "Pardon?" Asked Anderson. "Fuck you. You piece of shit. You can't bury this." Adrian's eyes burned into the sheriff's. His eyes gazed coolly back. "You're heading back to Portland tomorrow. You can finish your hospital stay there, and then I can give you the number of a therapist, used to work on the force, very good at what he does..." but Adrian had stopped listening. The sheriff sighed, stood up, and left the quiet hospital room, leaving Adrian confused and angry.