Chapter Text
The nights around here were getting quieter.
Fewer screams. Less shouting. Gunshots echoing across the fields were becoming a rarity, and it seemed as though even the crickets were hesitant to chirp. Only the bushes rustling in the hot, rolling winds dared make any noise, the brittle leaves crunching underfoot.
He didn’t mind.
Soon, his work here would be done, and he would need to migrate, move to a more densely populated area. He would need to seek out more people, more victims, more visitors in order to continue the cleaning of this new world. But that could wait.
For now, he chased the last few stragglers across long stretches of road, cornered them in their houses, picked through the underbrush of trails now familiar to him. The sickly sweet smell of rot and ashes drifted by, carried on the winds like a scourge, a consolation prize for a job well done.
He found he liked this better; the warm recognition, the familiar faces of the people who used to live here. The deeply primal, animalistic attack patterns he had to utilize were proving to be the most fun of all, tapping into equally primal fear responses, the thrill of the chase quickening his diseased heart like nothing else.
How had he ever hunted any differently? What fun was it if nobody saw you coming? What fun was it if you could not relish in the sweet sight of widened eyes, terrified screams, the last panicked thrashes of rebellion?
He was not fond of human beings, but he found these things absolutely enthralling. How expressive they could be, where the simple pinching of a few muscles or the lowering of a vocal tone could indicate such emotion! With every hunt, he found himself cataloguing new information; how some shivered and shook when cornered, how some screamed for their mothers, how some would try to bargain. How some would get angry and reach for weapons, while others would simply lie down in a puddle of tears. Such diversity! Like opening a present every time, wondering what response would be gifted to him in their final moments.
He remembered these things, faintly, as if looking into another life. His body, cold and clammy, often found itself missing the internal kisses of life, the promise of warmth it brought. The twinges of emotion that he often saw on other people, the fear, the sorrow. Other visitors felt these things; in fact, many lived in complete ignorance of what they really were, thinking they were still human. How stupid, how silly… but often, in the sizzling daylight hours, he would catch himself wondering what those sorts of things would be like, heartbeat thumping traitorously beneath a pallid cage of ribs.
On days like this, he knew just where to go.
It had been his own little secret for a while now, something he kept all for himself. The little white house at the top of the hill, sitting like a pretty pearl, the gravel walkway crunching beneath his every step. The charred remains of his last few presents lay sizzling in the dirt, and contented with the display, he curled up in his usual place beneath the window.
From behind the walls, he could hear voices, faint murmuring from within. He licked his lips, eager to pick out the words, trying to decipher who was speaking to whom. From across the yard, the bleached skull of a man stared back at him, grimacing, its helmet lopsided and burnt. Ah, that had been his finest work, his most prized offering he’d made. The look on the face of his favorite person had made it doubly worth his while, the little grimace of fear and terror flashing across his oh-so-expressive face. Of all the expressions he’d seen, that had been the very best one.
Most of his work was thankless- it was nice to be appreciated every once in a while.
Oh, the voices were getting louder, now. He pressed himself against the glass, listening intently- someone was yelling. He did not recognize the voice.
BANG.
Gunshots did not make him jump anymore, but this one surprised him. He thought back to the previous nights- who had been welcomed in recently?
Ah, yes. He smiled. He remembered now. The one wearing the coats had been invited in a few nights ago. That had been interesting to him; how had someone so careful not seen such glaring signs? The cold, clammy skin, the dirty fingernails, the odd, loping gait? It had all been there, and yet, the coat-wearer had been let in anyways.
But this was what intrigued him about his homeowner. The unpredictability, the sense of duty, the unrelenting moral compass. Just as he himself was unlike the other visitors, his homeowner was unlike other humans. Where others pillaged, stole, raped and murdered, he defended, provided, fought for what he believed was right. A losing fight, yes, but that was interesting in and of itself! How brave one must be to resist the inevitable! This blind faith, this unrelenting hope, only served to make him more endearing.
Over the hills, the oppressive sun began to sink below the horizon, the sky washing itself clean in hues of red. He smiled. It would be nighttime soon, and he would be able to indulge in one of the few pleasures he allowed himself. But he needed to be patient; he liked to be the last one his homeowner spoke to every night, the last one to knock at his door. It pleased him to watch how none others could affect him the same way, could drag out the sweet little tremors in his voice as he desperately tried to mask his fear. Other visitors made him angry. Only he could truly unsettle him.
The hours drifted by like dust on the breeze, stars sparkling in the clear night sky. The homeowner actually opened the blinds to peer out into the garden, missing him by mere seconds. Whether he actually saw him ducking beneath the windowsill to hide, he would never know.
And then… footsteps.
He watched from the shadows, curious as a fully-suited FEMA employee reluctantly trudged up to the house, cautiously looking around for any signs of life. The agent missed him completely, shouldering his pack as he stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door.
He leaned closer. This could get interesting.
“We need more people.”
A muffled curse. Rustling from behind the door.
“Where are the people you took?” The tone was biting, angry. He knew this hadn’t been the first time the agent had been here; already, FEMA had seized subjects from here many times. A few visitors, a few people, too. He wondered when, if ever, they would try to take his homeowner away too.
“Cut the bullshit,” the agent sneered. “The world’s ending, haven’t you noticed? Keep playing games with me, and we’ll take everyone in your house and leave you alone.”
“You ARE leaving me alone,” the homeowner snarled. “I’m not giving you anyone else. You took two last time, I won’t-”
“Mister?”
Ah, a new voice. Young, childish, female. He remembered her. Crying and sniveling.
“...you got a kid in there?” The agent was incredulous, taking a surprised step back.
Silence. Then, a reluctant affirmative.
“Is she yours?”
“...no. My neighbor’s.”
The FEMA agent shifted, tone almost apologetic. “I see. Can I… can I check on her? We were at her house. A few days ago.”
Shockingly, the door opened, the weary figure of the homeowner illuminated by the hallway light. A little girl clung to his leg, chubby hands fisting the fabric of his pants. She stared at the agent with dark, wet eyes.
The agent crouched down to her level. “Hey, there.” He couldn’t see his face, but it had most likely softened, something he rarely saw humans do. “How are you feeling, miss?”
She sniffled, ducking behind the homeowner. “C-can’t s-sleep…”
“You can’t sleep?”
“I-it’s… dark…” The homeowner’s hand protectively patted her on the head, visibly clenching his jaw. The FEMA agent stood back up.
“It must be hard. For the both of you.” All previous frustration was gone, replaced by hollow pity. “It’s dangerous out here. No place for children.”
The homeowner raked his fingers through his hair, fighting a war within himself. “...I know.”
“Listen,” the agent tried. “I don’t have to take her to the quarantine zone. There are shelters I can bring her to, there’s so many kids just like her. She’ll be better off there.”
The homeowner stared at the floor.
“Look, how much food do you even have left? I’m sure you’ve seen how many visitors are around.” The agent was pleading now, re-shouldering his pack. “I’d hate to leave you alone. But there’s better places for her than here. Safer places.”
“D-don’t wanna go.” Her voice was small, and she clung even closer to his homeowner. “M-my daddy will be back soon…”
The homeowner sighed, kneeling down to face her. Despite how close he listened, he couldn’t make out what words were said, only the quiet sobs of the little girl. Eventually, his homeowner stood back up, nodding to the FEMA agent as he took the child’s hand.
“You’re doing the right thing,” the agent nodded gravely. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
The homeowner looked exhausted, nodding one last time. He waved goodbye to the little girl, forcing a smile that twisted his face in a way he’d never seen before. It looked just as fake as when he tried to do it himself- fascinating.
He watched as the FEMA agent and the small child stumbled down the gravel walkway, disappearing into the darkness. How oddly sentimental that had seemed, how domestic, how heart-wrenching. Another intriguing emotion he’d been able to bear witness to. This house was truly the gift that continued to give.
And continue to give it will, he thought, a grin crawling its way over his lips. His patience had paid off. An opportunity had finally presented itself to him.
And he did not intend on letting it go.
…
God-fucking-damnit.
He pressed his forehead against his front door, the cool wood barely helping to ground him. A lump had formed in his throat, and he struggled to swallow it down, even though there was nobody to keep the facade up for. Who cared if he cried? For the first time in a while, the house was empty. Blissfully, hauntingly empty.
Oddly enough, it didn’t comfort him as it used to. The silence was now oppressive, not calming. The stillness felt deathly, not relaxing. The loneliness-
He shook his head. No, no use in thinking like that. Surely, more unfortunate souls would show up at some point, seeking shelter from the sun. He couldn’t despair just yet, there was still rebellion to be had, still people to save. The image of the coat-wearing man flashed behind his eyes.
No. Not everyone was like that, not yet. Not himself, not the agent, not the kid.
There was still hope to be had.
On shaky legs he trudged back to the bedroom, looking forward to a long, fitful sleep. How long had it been since he’d been able to sleep in peace, not interrupted by children’s nightmares or bids for more food? With any luck, he could sleep through the next day, too, with nobody to check on and nothing to worry about.
Tyck-tyck!
Already? He frowned, cautiously approaching the front door. That hadn’t been very long. Was someone seriously already here? His heart leapt, actually relieved to not be spending the night alone. He stepped up to the peephole…
…and felt his heart sink into his stomach.
“Still holed up here, I see…”
He jolted away from the door, chest heaving and eyes wide as dinner plates. Of course. Of fucking course. It was that pale, topless creep again, on tonight of all nights. He was smiling, as always, leaning close to the eyehole as if he could see him staring back.
At that moment, he said the only thing he could think of.
“I-I’m not letting you in.”
Fuck! He grit his teeth at the way fear wore at the edges of his words. So much for being intimidating.
“Tyck, tyck... That is no way to treat a guest, but I will forgive your manners.” That smile, that fucking smile, blinding white and with way, way too many teeth. “What did you think of him? The man in the suit?”
The FEMA agent? Why would he ask about-
Oh.
Oh hell no.
“You better have left them alone!” The fury and volume of his words surprised even him, screaming through the peephole: “Bastard! I swear, if you hurt that kid, I’ll-”
“Relaaax…” The command did nothing to relax him. “I left them alone, for now. They are not of interest to me. You, however…”
His own breath echoed in his ears. It wasn’t too late to run to the kitchen, grab his rifle, maybe even a knife. Had he remembered to reload it? Did he still have ammunition left if he hadn’t?
“W-why me?” he tried. Maybe if he kept him talking, he could stall until- well, until he came up with something better. “C-can’t you go bother someone else?”
“Why would I?” His creepy voice was... almost sultry, the darker tone sending a shiver down his spine. “I like you… so eager to cling onto hope, eager to ward off despair… yet for what? You interest me.”
“Go find someone else. I don’t care about interesting you.”
“So resistant…” The Visitor cooed. “Why should I bother? I like it here… you have a nice home. Nice and spacious… nice and sturdy. Perfect. Just perfect.”
A sick feeling wormed its way through his guts, unsure if the Visitor was talking about his body or the house.
“I h-have a gun.”
Somehow, the smile got even wider. “Do you now?” He seemed almost excited, in a haunting sort of way. “How fun! I was wondering if you would fight back… I have thought about your death many, many times…”
He froze. Instinctively, he knew he should be running, running to the kitchen. Running towards any sliver of hope. But his legs were like jelly, and he was too afraid to move.
“I have seen so much of it,” the Visitor continued. “Would you scream? Cry? Become angry with me? Attempt to plead with me? It is an interesting gamble… I am eager to make it.”
His own heartbeat pounded in his ears. He couldn’t even bring himself to look out of the peephole anymore, cheek pressed against the cold wooden door.
“But first, let me ask…
Are you alone?”
“N-no,” Fuck, he’d answered too quick, but he just couldn’t help it, helplessness clawing at the back of his throat. “No, I’m not alone.”
For a few heartbeats, there was only silence.
And then the laughter started.
Harsh, pealing, mocking laughter, echoing past the porch and down the hallway. Laughter. He was being laughed at.
“Oh, I know you’re alone,” the Visitor purred. “I just wanted to see if you’d lie or not.”
The lock clicked, doorknob twisting.
“I’ll let myself in.”
He didn’t bother trying to fight it, the Visitor was practically already inside. Instead, he spun on his heels, tearing down the hallway like a bat out of hell. Behind him, he could hear footsteps, long limbs matching his gait and then some. He burst into the kitchen, diving for his rifle and hitting the floor beneath the sink.
As he flipped around, the sheer size of the Visitor made him gasp, a pale mess of skin and flesh pulling itself into the kitchen. Its smile- so goddamn wide- glowered down at him, eyes shining with pure, unfiltered malice. He scrambled to get further away, the cabinets digging into his back as he shakily aimed his gun. The Visitor’s eyebrows raised in delight.
Click.
Nothing.
Bile burned the back of his throat, despair making his arms shake. He stared up at the pale man, mouth agape, all previous adrenaline draining from his system. The Visitor loomed over him, chest still shaking with laughter. He shook his head, teeth flashing in the dim light.
“How unfortunate… how unfortunate.”
A bony hand seized his ankle, dragging him closer, closer. His attacker’s jaw unhinged like a snake’s, deranged giggling filling his ears and buzzing in his brain. In a blind panic, he swung the rifle upwards, the stock colliding solidly with the Visitor’s head.
For a moment, the monster stilled.
Triumphantly, he wound it back, preparing to slam the Visitor with it again. But the creature turned back to face him, eyes blown out wide, pupils deep and dark and bottomless. Effortlessly, he seized the rifle, saliva dripping from his teeth, ripping the weapon out of his clammy grip.
This was it.
It was over.
In one last bid for protection, his trembling arms curled around his head, body twisting in on itself. He wasn’t afraid of death per se, rather whatever would come after. Would the Visitor be merciful enough to simply kill him? Or would it turn him into whatever… it had become?
He shuddered, not daring to glance up.
“Tsk tsk…” The Visitor chided, clammy fingers prying his arms away from his face. “No hiding… this is my favorite part.”
His jaw was gripped and forced upward, bared for the cold gaze of the Visitor. Terrified, he squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassing whimpers escaping his lips. If nothing else, at least nobody was here to see it end like this.
“Look at me.”
His fingernails scrabbled at the Visitor’s wrists, to no avail. He tried desperately to turn away, but he wasn’t allowed to, the grip tightening with each passing second.
Tentatively, he opened his eyes.
The Visitor was mere inches away, dark pupils blown out and a disgusting grin stretched wide across his face. He could feel his cold breath, smelling of iron, fanning across his cheeks, and he squirmed uncomfortably.
“...you are disappointing.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He willed himself to take a deep, shuddering breath.
“So much death… so many faces. You are wasted like this. You are acting like all the rest.”
Another panicked gasp. “I-I’m s-sorry…!”
The Visitor pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “You are… sorry?”
“Y-yes!” he spluttered. “P-please, I don’t… I don’t wanna be turned, d-don’t make me-”
The Visitor threw his head back, sharp laughter echoing in the tiny kitchen. The pit in the homeowner’s stomach somehow sank even deeper.
“Is that how you think it works? That we are so simple?” He turned red at that comment. “No,” the Visitor answered for him. “No, we are not. Don’t be silly. It is not a question of turning you… but a question of killing you.”
He went quiet, staring up at him with wide, terrified eyes. The Visitor’s free hand threaded through his hair, almost petting him affectionately. He seemed to be deep in thought, looking over him in the way one would look over an injured animal. His head was turned from side to side, breaths quickening as broken nails scratched over his scalp.
“So expressive…” the Visitor hummed. “You react to everything. Yes, this will be interesting. I will like it here.”
He was dropped like a sack of flour, the Visitor rolling his shoulders and looming to his full height. Instinctively, he moved to cover his head again, shivering in a little ball on the floor.
“Oh, do not be dramatic. I have decided not to hurt you..!”
Was that supposed to comfort him? He gritted his teeth, willing himself to ignore it. Maybe if he stayed still, he would leave.
“The sun is almost up…” the Visitor mused. “You should be sleeping.”
“I-I’m f-fine…”
“No.” The Visitor’s hand fisted the back of his collar, dragging him upright. “I want to see you sleep.”
“Y-you… what?”
With seemingly inhuman strength, the Visitor dragged him out to the hallway, pausing only to let him get back to his feet. He was pressed against a cold, clammy body as the door to his bedroom was opened, once a place of familiarity and calm now reduced to one of confinement.
The Visitor’s next words almost made him throw up.
“Undress.”
His collar was released, and he nearly tripped over himself trying to back away.
“N-no,” he tried, attempting to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. “Y-you can’t ask me to do that. I-it’s n-not right...”
“I don’t care… Humans have such pretty skin and muscles. I would like to see yours.”
He tried to step back, leg pressing against the bedpost. “N-no, I said-”
“I’m not asking.”
Spindly fingers tugged at his sweater, and he yelped in terror. Before he even registered what was happening, he was pinned to the mattress, a disapproving look on the Visitor’s face.
“Don’t be difficult. You understand.”
He did. The Visitor was physically stronger than him, maybe even the strongest person he’d ever seen. He could throw him around like nothing, could take on several people at once. Hadn’t he learned from the others’ mistakes? Even an entire squad of soldiers hadn’t stood a chance. Things would be easier this way.
As he tugged off his blue sweater, he made sure to keep his eyes to the floor, unable to meet the cold, calculating gaze hovering above. He immediately moved to cover himself, wrapping his arms around his shivering frame. The Visitor stepped closer, head dipping down to sniff at his neck. He prayed that would be enough for him.
“Hmm…” A bony hand pressed at his hip, and he had to resist the urge to jerk away. “Yes… very nice. Yours fits so well…”
Cold hands roamed his skin for a few minutes more, leaving goosebumps in their wake, but he didn’t dare move away. He kept his focus solely on the ground, steeling his resolve and simply waiting for it to be over.
“...alright. Lay down.”
It was as if all the fight had left his body, mind numbly dragging himself over to the bedside. With his sweatpants still on, he slid beneath the covers, trying to ignore the oppressive heat beginning to creep in through the widows- because fuck no, he wasn’t sleeping naked with him around. No matter how suffocating it was.
The tall figure slowly slinked its way across the room, and he was careful not to shift from his curled place beneath the sheets. Even when the Visitor crept behind him, weight settling onto the bed beside him, he didn’t dare move. Outside, the sun rose, its rays slipping in between the gaps of his shutters.
How long had it been since he’d shared a bed with someone else? He’d forgotten what it felt like, the Visitor settling into the long-abandoned dips in the mattress. For a split second, a vision of her flashed across his memory, the image fuzzy and half-forgotten with age. It ached as it always did, as it probably always would, but he tried to cling to the familiarity anyways. Anything to rid his mind of the pale man, stretched out beside him, breathing softly in the quiet morning air.
He wished he could say that it was hard to fall asleep; but between his exhaustion, the stresses of the night, and old memories, it was embarrassingly easy.
He hadn’t even needed beer this time.