Fear the Nobodies: Part Twenty

>You, Mike Sapone, wander around the neighborhoods to brood

>The barren, wind-swept asphalt, the picturesque, silly-decorated houses…

>…it’s… like you’re in a depopulated video game server

>Nothing feels real, the dream-like fog of a misty weekday morning now giving way to grayish light

>And there’s not a single person on your neighborhood walk…

>…except that one rabbit

>A very sickly, greasy looking rabbit lumbers up next to you in a beaten truck that looks like it’s more salvage than it is OEM parts by now

>The driver side window slowly rolls down, teasing a painfully loud squeal out of the old rubber gaskets

>A rabbit with stained, chestnut brown fur glares at you

>As if studying you

>You study him back as a show of dominance

>Damn, either you’re speciest as fuck, or this rabbit looks intimately familiar

>He’s almost a tiny bit like Sam? Maybe it’s just the species and the fur color,

>All the aforementioned parts are the same, but the face is where the look begins to fade – no button nose, a jaw set in a hard, focused line

>Narrow eyes – yellow as coin – glare back at you

>Unsatisfied, he scowls and peels off down the street and exits the neighborhood

>He looked like he was hunting for something

>Or someone

>You shrug

>Probably a weirdo

>You wander the town a bit, some lost youth trying to bide his time

>Until what?

>Until you pass by some little shops you’ve seen for the trillionth time?

>The costume store which you don’t care about (Halloween can fuck off right now)…

>…One of many dentist’s office where you got your cavities filled three years ago…

>…the liquor store — surprisingly you’re not in the mood to drink…

>…a few fast food chains…

>…a boutique/coffee shop combo

>You contemplate going in to steal something but decide against it

>You’ve already stolen from enough small businesses

>You park yourself on a bench in front of the coffee shop

>Maybe it’s time to knock over a bigger store? You’re hungry, and not for blood

>Though you could go for a pint of some type A right now

>The Shop N’ Save is just a short walk away, you know…

>Plus Alex has always encouraged you and Anon to take a ‘proletariat’s discount’ whenever you’re there

>You stand up from the bench and stretch out your stocky body

>Despite your new super nature you still get sore, it seems

>The door to the coffee shop chimes open to the sound of an attached bell, drawing your focus away from the road to the Shop N’ Save

>Lydia Penferth

>That vile cur

>That glittering whore

>With purple hair and jingling with more piercings than a gullible fish, she steps out of the coffee shop with an entourage – five vampiric cheerleaders – at her flanks

>The lioness sucks down on a large black coffee, while the cheerleaders double-fist their frozen, syrupy coffee beverages

>“Just like I was saying, getting your nipples pierced doesn’t actually hurt all that bad. At first it’s painful, and then it’s over,” Lydia says, though her language is obscured by the sheer volume of piercings in her swollen lips

>Her voice sounds like she’s trying to talk with a swollen tongue

>“Mistress… I’m so hungry…” one of the cheerleaders whines

>She’s a human, tan skin and shimmering blue eyes, her russet hair tied back in a tight bun

>“You’ve had enough blood… What do you want? More coffee? I shoulda known you vapid hoes would want frappuccinos and not REAL coffee.”

>“MEAT, souls, ANYTHING!” Another — a gangly horse — cries to her master

>Like starved kittens begging for milk

>“You’ll have your fill once Friday rolls around, bitch. You airheads need to remember: we’re on a mission to-”

>Lydia turns her head forward

>Directly at you, eyes bulging in their sockets

“-Find Mike Sapone,” she smirks

>You don’t return the gesture

>Your muscles tense up to fight

>Lydia spreads her arms as if to hold her horde of succubus/vampire cheerleaders back from bum rushing you

>“Don’t run just yet, Mike. Not that you could get away this time.”

“You don’t think so? Wanna take a bet?” You bark in reply

>“No, there’s no need to wager. I can smell how scared you are – scared of your new power; scared of what could happen. Can you see what my gift has already done to you? Isn’t it beautiful?”

>You hold up your pale arms to them, a token of your transformation

“You have a weird definition of beauty if you think this is beautiful. I look like a cottage cheese Popsicle.”

>The lion chuckles

>“In time you’ll learn to find beauty in negative spaces. Like the hole in your chest where you heart should be.”

>You can’t help but laugh in a sarcastic, nasally whine

“Real fucking poetic, Simba. I always thought you weren’t paying attention in our English class,” you start clapping, “bravo. Well, now that you’ve effectively ruined my life, why don’t you come at me by yourself — no help from your little gang — so I can show you the extent of just how far I’m willing to go to enact my retribution.”

>“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” she flicks her attention to the slavering group of cheerleaders, “Girls, stand down for a moment.”

>She lowers her arms to her side

>The hissing group of cheerleaders drop to a coordinated knee

>“You look good, Mike. Full of anger and hate — and rightfully so. I’ll just cut to the chase since you’re a busy guy: you’re not happy in this little shit hole, are you?” Lydia says

>You can’t help but nod at that

>“Nobody is,” she adds, “you think these fucking people like living here? It’s like living inside a boring sitcom. All we’re missing is the canned laughter.”

>She takes a small step forward, out onto the road

>You tense your muscles

>“There’s no going back to your old and ‘normal’ life. Not that you’d even want to, right? Don’t be shy – I can smell the fresh blood on you. I can see its power burning behind your eyes. There’s no way out now. No way out.”

>The excitement in her tone is palpable

>Lydia does actually have a point. Anon’s cure didn’t work. And though you’re still working through it, your dream of leaving this town behind is as good as dead

>“Join us,” she hisses, “aid us in taking over the school, Mike. No more competition, no more petty brawls and squabbles. I’m talking complete dominion over the new eternity. And It’s a long, LONG afterlife when you’re the one on the cross, and not the one gleefully crucifying.”

>You cross your arms across your chest, coldly turning her offer over in your mind

>It’s tempting

“You don’t think anyone will stop you?”

>Lydia’s glittering lips curl into a faux smirk

>“You’re one of our most important loose threads, you know? It’s why we chose to turn you: because deep down, I can sense the resentment – at this town, at your so-called ‘friends,’ at your family… at me…” Lydia’s words trail in the cold morning air like wisps of steam trailing from her jaw

“And if I say no?”

>The girls laugh in coordinated mockery

>“You don’t have a place without us, can’t you see that? And once Friday rolls around you’re going to want to be on the winning side,” Lydia chuckles, “If only you knew what was going to happen Friday night, you wouldn’t act like such a coward. If you were anyone else, I would make you BEG for an offer this good.”

>You grunt in annoyance

“You’ve got a lot of hot shit to say about Friday night,” you grunt, “maybe if I knew what was going down I could make… I dunno… a more informed decision to hand over my services?”

>Lydia straightens her spine and nods slowly

>“I owe you at least that,” she says

>She summons a deep breath, letting a smirk shine through her face of gleaming silver hooks

>“Me and Vanessa invoked-”

>“It was really just Vanessa,” the horse cheerleader quips

>“SHUTUP!” Lydia screeches

>Composing herself, the lioness carries on

>“It’s called Behemoth. Ya know, like from the bible or something. Anyways, once Hallow’s eve rolls around, the Behemoth will be ready to bring about eternal dreaming.”

>Your brows narrow

“You’re going to put everyone on Earth to sleep?” You say, a cocky laugh booming in your chest, “because if that’s your plan, I gotta say: batshit stupid.”

>“No, no,” Lydia chuckles knowingly, “It’s more like this: Behemoth will bring the nightmares of the people of Earth TO the waking world. No more economies. No more wars. Travel and transport are gone. Just sweet, sweet hell on Earth. Think about it, Mike: a world of hedonism, vampirism, lycanthropy, debauchery — It’ll be like a constant rager in a college town. It’s everything you ever dreamed of, and everything that this town isn’t.”

>Words don’t come to you right away

>You mull the offer over in your mind a bit

>Her offer doesn’t sound… terrible

>You guess if the world has to end with them in control, wouldn’t you want to be on their side?

>There’s a snowball’s chance in hell that Anon and the gang can figure out how to stop Vanessa’s plans

>“At the end of all things, don’t you want something to hold on to? What do you say, Mike? Join us?” Lydia says

>You are Anonymous

>You brace yourself on the altar, because it feels like fate has swept your legs from beneath you

“‘Garlen?’ Isn’t that Sam’s last name?” You mutter to yourself

>Forks of hateful lightning flash behind Vanessa’s eyes

>The doe ignores you and spins through the pages of the Book of Wrath, a snarl curling on her face

“There’s a Sam Garlen in my writing class – brown rabbit. Quiet; smells real bad. I bet his sister has the Book of Rite on her,” the rat goth hisses

“Does Sam have a sister?” You say, weak voice reaching nobody

>“That BITCH!” Vanessa howls, your question hardly even a blip on her radar, “She’s the one who fucked with our ritual last week. There’s no other explanation.”

>The doe carefully scrapes the last of Sam’s blood from the rim of the stone basin and sprinkles it like spice into the Book of Wrath’s open pages

>“Well, we’re going to find out exactly where this ‘Sam’ is… and then…” Vanessa turns to you, a feverish hate in her eyes, “finish what his sister started. Find, find her, find the book.”

>You clear your throat awkwardly, because you’re not sure what to say

>You’re almost never sure what to say

>Especially to maintain a ruse as elaborate as this

>“Samantha. Garlen,” Vanessa says to the altar

>A cloud of ethereal smoke plumes up from the bloody basin, stretching high into the ceiling

>From within the smoke an image begins to take shape – one borne out of light and sound,

>When the image stabilizes in the haze, you nearly squeal

>You all scry on Sam as he waits dutifully outside the gym

>Just like you asked him to

>The diminutive rabbit bends over a sheet of paper

>His pink tongue lops from his mouth; ears hang like heavy socks; a sweep of brown hair covers his dark eyes

>Your heart flutters

>He looks so… peaceful

>So peaceful in fact, that he doesn’t notice the crowds of people cruising past him

>Save for the kid who bounced a wad of paper off Sam’s forehead, these students could care less about a small, hopeless rabbit doodling on floor

>“That can’t be right,” Vanessa says as she backs away from the altar, shock as bright on her face as her eyeliner “I said ‘Samantha’ and the stupid thing is showing me her weirdo brother.”

>Her eyes flick over to the wall where ‘Samantha Garlen’ is still burning with orange flame

>“I don’t understand…” she trails

>Neither do you

>You don’t understand anything

>“Something has to be wrong with the book,” the human goth, Reese, says, “because I have chemistry class with him. That rabbit is a boy.”

>“Pffft, hardly,” the rat goth snickers, “Sam and I are in the same cooking class and I swear he makes even the guys blush. Maybe the humies can’t tell, but he also smells a lot like a girl – maybe there’s something wrong with the book, and its wires are all crossed?”

>You inch towards the entrance

>Their bickering might be your only window of escape

>“SHUT THE HELL UP! There literally can’t be anything wrong with my book. Do you have any idea how old this thing is? It’s because Sam – or his sister – who completely fucked up the ritual last Friday!” Vanessa booms, her face a bright scarlet, lit up with agitation, “Now we need to get to Sam, or we find his sister first. Then…”

>She brushes her hair out of her eyes

>“We can light this candle.”

>Good to note, as you sneak level: 100 out of here

>You can only make it so far before Vanessa clears her throat with a gunshot-like report

>“Don’t think I don’t see you over there, Anon,” she says in a cold voice

>You lock up, as if you’d suddenly been thrust into the spotlight on a very dark and empty stage

>A sadistic smile replaces Vanessa’s enraged features

>FUCK

>“You spend a lot of time around that rabbit, don’t you?”

>You groan inwardly because you know what’s next

“I already brought you Gloria. I’ve done what you asked. What more do you want from me?”

>Vanessa’s smile brightens

>“Isn’t it obvious? We want Sam — he’s part of our little puzzle. He knows where the Book of Rite is located. And you’ve been a good boy for us already, haven’t you?”

>“Yeah,” the rat goth snivels, “If anyone could trick that little idiot, you’re the one to do it. Just like you brought us the goat. Lure in Sam in with some carrots, and then BLAM!”

>“There’s no question of whether or not he will,” Vanessa snaps, silencing the rat

>She turns to you, all roses and sunshine, testament to her manipulative personality, and says, “because he’s going to do it. Right ‘Nonny’?”

>The next words come out of your mouth heavy as stones

>You instantly wish you could pluck them out of the air and stuff them back in your mouth

>Fuck, you’re full of bad ideas today

“No,” you say

>The doe pauses, as if you’re speaking to her in a foreign language

>“No?” She parrots, “What do you mean ‘no’? We can kill two birds – or bunnies – with one stone here! Nab the rabbit, find the book he’s hiding!”

“N-No, he’s not hiding…” your weak stammer is a poor attempt at buying yourself some thinking time

>Hopefully insulting Sam (as easy as breathing) will help you blend in and steer discourse away from the fact that THE BOOK OF RITE IS IN YOUR POCKET

“That faggot hangs around me all day, every day. D-Don’t you think I would have known if he had your- I mean, our book? He can’t keep a secret if his life depended on it,” you say

>The doe’s venomous stare arrests

>“You will do as I say, humie, and bring me that fucking rabbit,” she commands

>Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it, princess?

>Can’t manipulate people so you’re going to act all pissy?

>Well you can be pissy, too

“I said ‘no,’” is your reply

>You compress all of your fear into tiny little balls of cowardice, hate, fear, and pent up aggression, which you mash into tight fists

>Are you a bad enough dude to take on three goth kids at once?

>The Book of Wrath flips open, and you release your grasp on the tension in your palms

>Guess not

>“Now I see… now I see…” Vanessa slits her eyes at you, “you’re trying to protect Sam, aren’t you?”

>Yes, you are. God damnit, you are. You’re not going to play this game anymore!

>You’re not going to be manipulated by this cunt!

“I told you, Vanessa, he doesn’t have it. And there’s no way Sam’s smart enough to know what to do with it if he did have it. He’s not anything special. He’s not who we should be looking for.”

>Vanessa grinds her teeth together like millstones

>You swear you could see dust and smoke coming out of her mouth, like an angry truck sputtering stained black fumes

>“I don’t think you’re listening to me, Anonymous. When I said you will bring him to me… I meant it. You’re going to bring me that rabbit. Or we find him first – and you don’t want that.”

“What do you even need him for? You’ve got the goat — I don’t get it,” you say, straining to look away from Vanessa’s hypnotic gaze

>The doe sighs deeply, a sullied vein bulging through the short shag of her tan fur

>“Because I think you’ll see reason, that’s why. Listen to me: what Sam did, somehow, was complete a vital step of the ritual we were initially trying to complete. He unleashed Behemoth into the school. Now the final ritual is going to take place whether or not we’re in control of it on Friday. If we don’t supply the other book, and some of that rabbit’s blood, we’re all fucked – all of us,” she stresses the last syllables, “unless we have the Book of Wrath and Rite, and some of Sam’s sister’s blood, or Sam himself, we can’t control the Behemoth — or who the ritual effects.”

>Wew that was a word salad

>Are they saying EVERYONE is now fucked because of Sam?

>Unless they complete the ritual, putting THEM in charge?

>So basically, unless they have control of it, a creature from the nightmare dimension will draw all of you into endless madness, evil, and debauchery?

>Do they… actually have a good point?

>The goths ARE the only ones who can stop the end of the world

>You don’t know shit, apparently

>Even if you had a chance at stopping the ritual, Mike is testament to how well you can interpret those instructions

>How can you expect to know how to stop a world-ending ritual built upon ceaseless madness and the actual locus of mankind’s nightmares?

>Christ, you think you’re going to have a panic attack

>Your hand flies to your chest – to the book, that covers your heart

>Vanessa’s eyes seem to light up

>“Something I’ve noticed about you, Anon,” Vanessa says inquisitively, stepping towards you, “is that you’re not great at keeping secrets.”

>What do you do?

>Do you join the goth kids?

>It’s all so fucking hopeless right now

>You remember the way you didn’t roll over and die when that werewolf was about to gore you?

>Yeah, that was some bullshit. You only felt that way because these freaks juiced you up with a curse

>Now you’re back to your old rhythm: cowardice, letting life have its way with you

>Fitting that when you needed to defend yourself from the werewolf, it was Mike who had the balls to run the kid over (with your car, you might add)

>What would Mike do right now?

>God you wish he were here

>Mike would fight for you – with you

>You… you need to fight, like him

>“Grab him,” is Vanessa’s command

>The goths make moves towards you

>Without thinking the red book flies out of your pocket

>You open it and clutch a handful of pages,

“Back the fuck up, or nobody is completing any rituals!”

>You… you’ll tear ‘em up, you fucking swear, and ruin everything for everyone

>You’ll trap everyone in eternal limbo

“BACK UP! NOW!”

>Your voice crackles

>The goths halt in place, brought to a standstill by the fact that you might actually do it

>This was your plan?

>A hostage situation?

>In a heartbeat, Vanessa spins open the Book of Wrath and nips her thumb with her fangs

>Hot blood drips from her furry fingers onto the tea-colored parchment

>Vanessa’s hateful smile grows on her face

“I should have known you the other book. You’re smart to not entrust it to the rabbit.”

>Actually, you’re a huge idiot. All you did was forget it was in your pocket

>“But, I guess this is where our friendship – and you – end.”

>The Book of Wrath glows with otherworldly light

>An intense core of heat swells in the center of your chest

>OH FUCK, THE BOOK

>You start pulling at the pages of the red book in a mad attempt to destroy it-

>You’re shot with canon-speed backwards, into the darkness of the hall, tumbling end-over-end out of the altar room

>The daze knocks the air from you when your trajectory eases you down onto the concrete floor

>If you could see right now in the darkness, you’re sure you’d be seeing stars

>Well, you’re not dead… somehow

>You stagger to your feet

>“God DAMNIT!” The doe shrieks, her voice hoarse and clipping from strain. “I should have known I couldn’t kill him while he has the book! FUCK!”

>Your human ears, even with their blunted capabilities can hear the telltale scrape of gravel kicked up beneath footsteps

>One: The sound of heavy black boots — human

>And the other: the sound of small claws skittering across concrete — a rat

>You lurch upward and bolt off in the opposite direction, journeying deep into the bowels of the school

>Vanessa’s obscenities ring off the walls with decreasing clarity as you delve further into the steaming black

>God, you wish you had night vision right now

>It’s not fair that anthros get night vision, enhanced hearing and smelling, and all this other super hero bullshit

>While all you have is sheer luck and a knack for pussying out at the right times

>The tunnels twist, turn, and dive

>Rusty pipes act like guidelines to the gym, or weeping copper clouds, depending on where you stand

>Christ, you can’t believe that these maintenance tunnels are completely devoid of light

>AND THE SMELL

>It’s like rotting corpse gas invading your senses

>As the sound of your pursuers continues, and tired of stubbing your toe on loose chunks of unseen concrete, you finally get a bright idea

>Emphasis on the bright (heh) part

>You draw the Book of Rite from your pocket, swab some blood from inside of your mouth, and draw… the sun… on any page

>You hope this works

>In a flash, the pages of the red book brighten, throwing your lowly shadow on the walls

>Holy shit! All you did was flip it to a random page!

>You press your nose to the book and try to read the thin scrawl

“And be a light in the darkness, where volumes are thin,” you whisper

>You dog ear that particular page

>Who knows, maybe you’ll get to use it again?

>Now all that’s left is a long, steamy journey through the tunnels

>And evading capture

>When you at last descend the long set of stairs leading into the gym’s equipment room, you’re close to heatstroke

>You pause a moment to catch your breath among the old football helmets and half-deflated dogeballs

>Your head spins and you jerk on your collar, releasing hot air that had accumulated under your clothes

>Hopefully the goths are still lost up there

>You felt guided by a certain… sense, while in those passages

>You turn the red book over in your hands

>It has long since stopped glowing, now in the sterile light of the equipment room

>Maybe the book helped to guide you out?

>Your eyes adjust to the new light

>You can see all the Spooktober stuff right where it was when you first came up here

>No, wait, there’s more

>Fake skeletons, fake cobwebs, plastic pumpkins, strobe lights, industrial fog machines… signs and streamers, and a punch bowl that is most definitely going to have a lot of alcohol in it by the end of the night

>An image of Sam creeping around the Spooktober fest, cleaning up paper plates and spilled punch – more food than he probably has access to in a month – springs to mind

>God, he wanted to go to this with you so badly

>Not as custodial staff working

>But as regular students

>As friends

>And now that you realize this, you feel immense guilt for passively turning him down all those times

>Your heart aches

>Sam…

>Oh, God

>You hope he’s still waiting outside the gym, his smile brightening as you heroically throw open the doors

>You press open the equipment room doors and sprint in the gymnasium or the first time in your life

>He’s still there, you reason with yourself

>There’d be no reason for him to leave

>NONE AT ALL

>Unless he was captured…?

>Your legs burn

>Lungs coated in acid

>You’ve never exercised so hard in your life

>but you know what?

>You WILL protect that dumb fucking bun

Oliver Hart

Author of Foxing, Leaves of Fall, Liquid Courage, Beating the Heat, A Red Winter, Weber’s Gambit, and many other stories. He primarily writes hmofa, but dabbles in most genres. Interests include, writing, reading, technology, and music.

Stories: Foxing, The Leaves of Fall