Molly - Part 4

Chapter 37

He stepped out into the street. There: the bodies of monsiuers. Three of them. One was impaled by a pole, the others lying with their rags turning in the wind.

He set off down the border and through cracked buildings. Sometimes Clement thought he recognized a particular place, a particular skyline. Memories he couldn't place.

Twilight. Clement was preparing to find a place to sleep when he heard someone wheezing. He stopped, then went forth. No gun, no anything. He would have to run if it was particularly bad this time.

Another monsieur, keeled over. Dark balconies going up and to the top of a tower. Clement hesitated, then approached. He didn't think the monsieur would try anything; it sounded as if the crow was in incredible pain.

The monsieur's eyes went wide when he saw Clement, and yes the monsieur did manage to get his gun but he fell into another coughing fit before he could try anything, heaving the smoke.

"Get the fuck away from me you fucking vagrant."

"You're dying."

"No. F-fuck you. I...no, please--"

"Do you want water?"

The monsieur laughed--wheezed as he managed to rise then sink against the nearest black wall. Despite his black garb and the tubes that ran in and out of the strange studded material the monsiuers wore Clement could see that the monsieur was young, with longish hair. One of his eyes was completely white. The smoke, probably.

"Here."

It was like approaching a wild animal. Clement set the water bottle down then took a step back.

"You really need to drink."

"I--"

The monsiuers voice caught in his throat. Scrambling forward, he snatched up the water bottle and began to drink greedily, little rivers running down his white neck.

He tossed it away when he was done, still breathing heavily but the cough seemed to be gone for the moment.

Clement blinked, then made his way out of the alcove.

"Wait."

His voice was hoarse. Clement could see he was shaking.

"Why did you do that?"

Clement smiled, then wandered away.

***

He came up to the edge of the forest, the trees and their chorus of leaves soothing his aching mind.

Inside, the ground was covered in life, vines and rivers and animals darting through the ferns, strange leaves with red scars covering them. A small boar passed Clement before sprinting into the nearest bush, birds flooding what little sky Clement could see.

Further and further in. Clement realized the animals were gone. When his boots crunched a leaf or split a twig Clement cringed, checking the shadows.

A hole leading into the ground. Surrounded by vines. Clement coughed into his arm then went and sat on a nearby rock.

This place was tinged in the ethereal; Clement was sure of it. Pagan architecture. The way the trees were moving with the wind.

He got closer to the hole. Picked up a rock and tossed it in. Only darkness, a hollow echo.

He looked behind, then delved into the hole. Large enough that he could walk through.

"One, two, three, four, five, six..."

He was also hunched over, his eyes digging into Clement as he dropped another rock onto the flat ground. His raven-feathered garb dancing in an unknown wind.

"Where are you going? Why are you here?"

Clement blinked.

The room tilted on its axis, the entire place spinning but Clement didn't fall.

Darkness. Clement took a couple steps.

"I am not afraid of you."

The darkness swayed, and out of it formed the raven, watching him carefully with one dead eye.

"The disease is taking hold. Soon, we will die, and return to the earth."

"I don't care."

The raven tilted his head.

"You are strange."

"I am the last good man on earth."

He went over and sat cross-legged in front of the raven. The raven's robe of feathers glowing from some unknown light.

"You are barely even a man. Hiding. Doing nothing. You do not exist because you do not add worth. You are nothing."

"I am the world," Clement replied.

The raven stepped down, and suddenly they were back in the cave, the black dissipating like smoke up and through a hole in the earth.

"You haven't crossed. None but the original five."

"So much has changed," Clement said. "So quickly. You do not have the same sway as you did before."

"Liar," the raven hissed. "Patterns within patterns within patterns. Existence splintered, formed."

"I am not afraid of you."

"Thirteen, forty-six, eleven, eight--"

"It's gibberish. The numbers mean nothing."

"You are nothing!"

"I am the last good man. Move aside."

The raven slunk back.

"What are you?"

"Did you really think no one would follow you in? You put on that mask but I know what's behind it."

Clement smiled.

"Dust."

"Fool. There weren't supposed to be any others. Do you know what this means, the gate--"

The raven looked up.

"No."

"Your entire existence is predicated on ours. We had to keep it interesting. So we come, we sow. We will fan out into this existence and make it our own. I wonder what will happen to you, when the transfer happens?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Evolution," Clement said, approaching the raven. "The next step."

He took the raven by the neck and as he drew back the knife hidden in his shirt-collar snapped out, the metal on Clement's wrist tightening as the mechanism charged and split the raven's throat.

He tried to laugh but there was too much blood.

***

Clement came outside and clapped his hands.

From the shade of the trees appeared a blotch in existence itself, and from that blotch appeared twin curved eyes, white with mirth.

"You make a lot of noise."

It followed Clement as he left, Clement waving the man in shadows away.

"You are as worthless as the master you serve. We are here now; we'll take care of everything. Leave me alone."

The shadows screamed, a great wind pushing back the trees and yes the sky became black as tar as the man in shadows expanded, contracted. Became one.

"I am of the mainframe, and the mainframe is me!"

Clement raised his hand, then frowned. No power flowed through him. The essence of which he had been born from.

"How did you do it?"

The man in shadows laughed, then surged forth and took him. Thrown against the rocks.