Not Alone

A Light in the Dark

The monster was crawling closer. There was nowhere to go.

Keep a level head. You're a soldier. A veteran. Don't give in to panic.

The Strider was massive, taller even than Titan Cameraman. His head alone was more than twice the height of Brown's body. His mouth, full of long, uneven yellow teeth, could probably swallow him without chewing. The worst thing were those wide eyes, which seemed to glow in the dark as they fixed on him with simple-minded predatory intensity.

It was like watching death itself approach.

At a torturously slow pace.

The Strider was badly hurt. He was crawling and dragging himself, and had to keep stopping to cough up blood. His neck was held at an ugly angle.

He looked like he might die any moment.

Brown prayed he would.

The Strider dragged himself closer, his breathing wet and ragged.

And then Brown could not only hear but feel the monster's hot breath upon him.

The massive head was right over him, blocking out what little light there was left, and it was leaning closer.

Even if the Strider died now, he would still crush Brown.

He waited. If only he had a paralyser gun he could go out fighting.

The Strider took a long laborious breath.

"I know you're not dead."

His voice was deep and hoarse, and when he spoke blood fell from his open mouth, splattering on the ground and barely missing Brown's lens.

"I said I know you're not dead. I saw your head move."

What does it matter? I will be soon.

He shoved the beam out of the way. Brown was free.

The crushing pain was gone, replaced by a sharper one in the tops of his thighs.

"Your don't have any legs, little Cameraman."

Brown didn't want to look. He could feel their absence.

Brown gave up pretending to be dead and made a painful attempt to crawl away. Maybe he could find a gun...

The Strider was slow, but Brown was slower and before he could get very far he was pinned between two (now swordless) arms like a piece of sushi.

The Strider lifted him to his face, crushing the Cameraman's arms to his sides with a strength disturbingly effortless in one so badly injured. He stared at Brown thoughtfully. It seemed he hadn't decided what to do with him.

"Can you understand me?"

He did indeed understand the strange Skibidi language. In the early stages of the war, the Cameramen had tried taking Toilets prisoner, an effort that had resulted in a building full of agents burned to the ground thanks to intervention from G-Man. Brown had always thought that the weeks he had spent learning how to interpret the subtleties of the song-language were a waste of time, but now it looked like they might extend his life.

By a few minutes, maybe.

The Strider was propped up on two of his four arms, his three long spidery legs stretched over the battlefield behind him like the tendrils of a poisonous jellyfish.

"I said, can you understand me?"

He paused, blood running from his mouth. His pupils were dilated.

"Oh. I forgot... you things can't speak, can you?"