Children of the Tilts (ON HOLD)

II

I wake up in my neighborhood, the air is absolute silence, the usual buzz of insects and barks of dogs absent.

I was in the edge of my driveway, facing the road. The road was going the usual right-left route, but a yeard away, it v'd off. You could either stay in the horizontal route, or you could go off into a path, lined with trees and wild grass. The hum of cascades and scampering of squirrels, both were absent, of course.

I started on the vertical route, I took this way when walking Barbie and Ken. Before I knew it, I was in a run, cold and hot air tingling together in my lungs.  My feet were blurring beneath me, and all I could think about was running. Faster, faster, faster. I didn't notice until I had reached a pond that I was running from something.

I whipped my head back and saw a harmless car, that I had never seen in my life. It was rectangular in shape, the same shade brown of my house. I recognized the pond as the one I had fallen into after the first tilt, and probably would've drowned in if it weren't for Dalton.

The car pulled up beside me, making the fear spike in my gut. My family glared back at me, all smiling. I felt a relieved smile tug at my stiff mouth. I felt like my stomach was on fire, but someone had poured refreshing cold water on it as soon as I saw they're faces. I reached for the handle of the car, but it was out of reach, even though I was inches away from it. Every time I reached out more or ran to it, the handle rejected my hand.

I looked at Mom, who was closest to the window, helplessly. She put on a pitying look and rolled down the window. As soon as the glass was unveiled, blood curdling screams poured out of it, even though their smiles never faltered.

Suddenly, blood splattered on all of their faces, but they didn't so much as flinch. A blinding flash, and the cold metal feel on my back, shook my and I was flying through the air, and into the icy pond.

Vortex-black was filmed on my eyes, the only thing I could catch in the light was a hand violently searching for me. I screamed out Dalton's name, but my lung were frozen. The hand paled and blackened. falling out of it's socket.

As the arm hit my face and continued its sinking to the bottom of the endless pond, a giggle interrupted the silence.

It was a child's giggle. "Hehe, come find us, Cadeeennn!" The voice trailed off into some more high pitched, yet ghastly, giggles as I recognized the giggle as Candace's, when she was only a child. My family was alive, and it was my job to find them.

____

I woke up with a breathless shriek, still in Dalton's arms. I arched my back, gulping in breaths.

Dalton jumps into consciousness beside me, "What happened? Are you okay?"

I'm still in a sitting up position for a while before melting back into him. "Just a nightmare." I sighed, wriggling around, and standing up.

"What are you doing?" Dalton whispers, grabbing my hand.

"Just talking a walk," I whisper back, yanking back my hand. It was clear Dalton had some feelings for me, but any dream of having emotion was long gone. The nightmare cleared some things for me, and one of them was that if I wanted to survive, I had to be completely numb.

Dalton tries to place his hand on my shoulder, but recoils faster than light, wincing in pain, and shaking out his hand. "You shocked me..." He trailed off for a moment before shaking his head back into focus. "Ramona won't be happy about it."

"I don't care what Ramona thinks!" I wrinkled up my nose, "I'm not apart of this refugee cult camp, I'm better on my own."

I started to walk out the door, but his voice stopped me once more, "You'd be zombie chow if we didn't find you."

I froze, "Like I said, I'm better on my own."

Dalton hesitated after I said the cryptic sentence, giving me enough time to run out of the infirmary.

When I was out of the stuffy cabin, I had time to examine my outfit. Neve or Ramona had changed me, my leather vest still carried Bowtie, but now I wore a short-sleeved thin denim button-up under it, so thin and light it felt like it wasn't even there, beige cargo shorts, and long raven finger-less gloves, running up to my elbows.

As I head for what I think is the entrance/exit for the camp, a blubbery man with a pinguid beard and a trucker hat stops me. I gasp, reaching for my ax, Bowtie.

"Hey, that won't be necessary," the big man says, "My name is Southwell, Southwell Holbrook, I run The Uncles."

I did a double take, this man had a surprisingly sophisticated name. I raised an eyebrow, to which he replied with a chuckle, "Friends call me South."

I hesitate, but let my hand drop back to my side. "Caden. Caden Bellroy."

South chuckled something hearty, shaking my hand so hard my shoulder popped, something told me Mr. Holbrook forgot I was dead not too long ago, "I know who you are, Bellroy. Dalton's brought you up once or twice, especially when you were dead."

I winced at how casual he said it, but swallowed it back down. "I'm just going to take a walk, South."

He creased up his forehead, "Now, Bellroy, I don't know you yet. It'll be Mr. Holbrook 'til I do."

I didn't respond at first. Showing submission was the last thing to do, it would suggest that I was agreeing to fall under his rule, which was not even in consideration, I was all on my lonesome, these lunatics needed to get it through their skulls that I'm not going to be a pawn in their cult anytime soon. But I also didn't want to come off as a threat, these people raised me from the dead, I'm positive a few had their doubts that I wasn't a zombie in disguise.

"Sure."

South--Mr. Holbrook-- sized me up, I was pretty sure he was going to lecture me about respect, but he just stepped out of my way. "I assume you have places to be, considering everyone you loved wither abandoned you or died."

Something snapped. At first I was heading the hell out of here, and then I was hovering over South, who was on the floor with a bloody nose. I wasn't sure if I had punched, kicked, or used magic zombie telepathy on him (kidding), but he was sprawled out on the dusty ground because of me.

"You don't know shit about me, Mr. Holbrook."

Before anymore unwelcome faces greeted me, I was running out of the camp.

I couldn't hear any thing besides the blood pounding in my ears, my lungs already giving away from exhaustion.

My knees suddenly buckled beneath me and I landed in a patch of soft grass. Despite the smooth grass, pain ricocheted up my forearms when I pushed them out to protect my face. I gulped in breaths, sweat spreading around my hair and down my forehead. Despite how many times I inhaled, my lungs felt like crushed tin cans. I sprawled out on my back, shuttering.

After a while, I found the strength to pull my weight and stood, still wobbly.

I stumbled over to a ginormous tree, towering with brownish green, twisted, sprawling limbs. I grabbed the one closest to my head, and tested it's durability. This was my way of not letting my situation get to me. I would remain strong and continue on my own. I hoisted my self onto a branch, swinging my legs over and leaping to another branch.

My muscles screamed at me to take a break, but as the floor disappeared beneath me their resistance was in the back of my mind.

Suddenly, a gun shot exploded near my head and sunk into the tree, exploding the bark above my head. The tree shuttered, I wrapped my legs around it, which didn't help. My ears were ringing, and the ground was coming up too quick. I leaped away from the tree, arms and legs flailing, as I thought hard on how I could possibly survive this.

Before I could call for help, a static energy crackled around my ears, rolling into my hands and dancing through my fingers. My head was a foot away from certain impact when the static released and white, hot lighting surrounded my body and lifted me back up.