S02E08: The Writhing

Olivia broke off from the group and sat on a crooked stool at the counter of an old smoothie shop. Her mind was racing, heart pounding. Something was deeply wrong.

OLIVIA: Someone’s tailing me. Why would someone be looking for me in Alex’s memory? That just…that’s not possible.

This was…not a great sign for the group.

OLIVIA: No shit! Sorry, sorry. There have been a few things that don’t add up, though, even knowing about variance and everything. I saw a german shepherd that looked like the dog I had as a kid. I figured it was a coincidence, but no one else saw it. Was it actually Max? And why did the ranger look familiar?

Olivia considered the possibilities. Maybe her mind was projecting images into the scene. The remnants of the binding agent interfering with the memory.

OLIVIA: Okay, but the weirdest part is, when Alex isn’t there,  things just…continue. I can still talk to Nadia. 

This thought reminded her...When she and Scarlet took the jaunt in the Bureau, when they were talking about candy and movies, had she seen anything out of the ordinary?

OLIVIA: Well, yeah. I saw someone that looked like me get out of the jeep. I thought it might have been that mimic, but it didn’t attack us or anything, so I wasn’t too concerned.

Had it looked like her or was it indistinguishable from her?

OLIVIA: I don’t know? It looked about as close as anyone could. Like a photo of me.

What she saw in Scarlet’s mind wasn’t a mimic or an illusion. This could mean only one thing: it was real. It was an actual memory Scarlet had.

OLIVIA: How?

Olivia had actually been there ten years ago. She went into the woods that July after high school, with her friends Alex, Nadia, and Daryll. She saw all this, lived through this night before, and it changed her, just like it did Alex and Naida–Scarlet and Violet.

OLIVIA: I didn’t know them back then, right? I would’ve remembered something like this.

But that was a deflection. Several times on this journey, she’d forgotten things she should have remembered.

OLIVIA: I…I have. There are some stretches of time that are hazy. I thought I was just getting old…

Which meant that she’d known these two for over a decade. She had been to Deerland, watched the eclipse, saw her friend die. But something had taken her memory of it. And in doing so, it must have taken all the connected memories that could indicate something was missing. 

OLIVIA: So…that was actually me getting out of the jeep in Scarlet’s memory, not an imposter. I was with them in the woods. I was always here. I was…jesus, I’ve known them years. How much? How much did they take from me? And if this memory continues even when Scarlet’s not around, am I…am I not in her head? If not, whose memories am I in?

*pause*

OLIVIA: Ash? Can you hear me? Ash??

***

ORANGE: I stumbled down the fragmented sidewalk to the bleeding edge of town just as the deep gem blue of the night sky began to turn. On the outskirts of Deerland, I spotted a food truck parked in the grass. By then, my stomach was howling like a kicked dog, and I’d have eaten just about anything. I took a seat at one of the swiveling stools in front of the truck and looked at the menu painted on the side. This particular truck had exactly one item, at exactly one price: Fresh churros and chocolate, four dollars. Well I’ll be damned if it’s a meal, but I ordered some anyway. The cat that had been following me hopped on the seat beside me. 

The crunch of the fried dough resounded through my heart and mind, turned the morning light inside out and set my ears humming. I was six hours ahead, three hundred million years behind, calf deep in some ancient muck, swatting at bugs the size of my head. The iridescent pest sitting beside me was there, too, and we stood before a towering obsidian spire. All around, the land was cracked and blistered, the remnants of a diseased society that ate itself alive. From the spire came the blowing of horns, a hundred faceless trumpeters howling madly from collapsing bellows to ignite the embers of a ceaseless fire. A golden flame that spread from cursed asteroid to oozing planet to set entire star systems ablaze. Before us opened a cold and alien horizon, an impossible vista dotted with architecture indescribable by the sane mind, where learned men of great renown are reduced to gibbering spitting nothing and all the great studies of humanity–history, dramaturgy, mathematics and science–are rendered false. And there was a great roar, the mechanical drone of life beyond flesh, a revving of the death drive. Two halogen bulbs flickered to life, and the steel teeth of the world eating machine smiled down upon us. All bowed and took communion before the gory cosmic engine, all shook and squirmed like worms on the sidewalk. The Writhing was nigh.

Or maybe it was just the nip of cheap whisky I’d chased the bite with giving me a sick jolt. Either way, I had the feeling we had little time left. I could still turn back. This moment, sitting at the food truck at the edge of reality, was my last chance to book it back to the office and never know what was beyond the treeline ahead, what lurked just beyond the shadows at the corners of my vision. And yet…

ORANGE: Here, try a bite, you little brat.

NYA, recoiling: Disgusting. This is sustenance to your kind?

ORANGE: Fine, suit yourself. What is it you want out of this whole thing, anyway?

NYA: Nya wants out.

ORANGE: You said that before. What does that mean? When you leave this place, what exactly are you gonna do? 

NYA: It is of no concern to thee what I do. Do you ask every unfamiliar face what they will be doing in the future?

ORANGE: Every unfamiliar face that follows me around, sure.

NYA: I…Nya has been stuck here far too long. 

ORANGE: Do you eat at all?

NYA: Nya finds your mashing and swallowing repellent.

ORANGE: Can you purr?

NYA: How demeaning. Nya only mimics the housecat to fool thee.

ORANGE: Fine, fine. You know, I could punt you just about halfway across this city if I had half a mind to. 

NYA: You wouldn’t dare. Your jokes are grotesque.

ORANGE: Never cared much for pets. Never had kids, neither. 

NYA: Thou art pathetic and alone.

ORANGE: I’m as alone as I choose to be. I could go out right now and strike up a dozen conversations, get drinks with whoever I want, move in, maybe even get married and settle down if I’m a real sicko. You, on the other hand…no one can see you but me. I’m all you’ve got. You are truly alone.

NYA: You seek to provoke Nya.

ORANGE: I’m conversing with Nya. I’m trying to get you to open up a little, jackass.

NYA: Will this suffice?

*horrific fleshy noises*

ORANGE: Well, I think the tentacles are a bit much, but it’s a start.

NYA: You do not fear me?

ORANGE: I’ve seen worse. Hell, I’ve been worse.

NYA: Liar. Thy kind are all liars…what does this mean “been worse”?

ORANGE: It means I’m a real son of a bitch. I’ve…I’ve taken a lot of good things from a lot of good people. I tell myself it’s all for the best, and most days I believe it. I do some good, too, you know. If you saw something that scared the living shit out of you, left you shaking and paranoid the rest of your life, always afraid your shadow would come to life and strangle you, wouldn’t you rather forget? Well, okay, maybe I’m asking the wrong…person, cat, oil spill. Whatever you are. But me? I can’t forget. I can change just about everyone’s mind but my own.  Up here, well, it’s a real shitshow; a rancid stew of alcohol, regret, and various other substances I can’t mention publicly. I can see sounds. I can taste colors, too, and believe you me: you taste like licorice dipped in an ashtray. 

NYA: This is intriguing. You have…capabilities beyond the average human. 

ORANGE: No shit, pussycat, what gave it away? That I can see you, or that no one I meet remembers me?

NYA: Thou eraseth even thyself. You exist only as the missing stone in the wall. Clever for your species. 

ORANGE: Got to, got to. The life of an editor’s hard, see. Working behind the scenes, invisible, making things better without you even knowing I’m there. I patch up the holes, and hide the ones that can’t be patched with cute little paintings. You might think someone would notice it was new and wanna look behind the painting, but no one ever does. It’s a labor of coherence, not logic, and as long as one shot flows into the next, no one asks what happened in between. Sometimes, that means I gotta take away things I wish I didn’t.

One time, this couple thought their house was haunted. They were half right. The Department went out, took care of the issue, and sent me in to clean up. Only problem was, the house wasn’t haunted, she was. This thing had been there since they met, snuck in and fed on the energy of the honeymoon phase. Years of memories had to be left on the cutting room floor. When there’s that many holes, well…we set them up with separate apartments in different cities and left each a comfy little fund. They’ll never remember any of the time they spent together. I do, though.

NYA: Why do you not do the same to Nya and abandon me like so much refuse?

ORANGE: Let’s just say that as careful as I am, I got a real soft spot for mystery. And you, my friend, are about as mysterious as it gets. Besides, I already tried about 5 times, and I just can’t. Happens once in a blue moon. Usually folks I can’t work on end up joining the Department. How long have you been here, anyway?

NYA: Nya has been stuck in this prison for over ten years.

ORANGE: All alone for ten years?

NYA: I…have no reason to seek company.

ORANGE: Then why are you tailing me you little freak?

NYA: I…Nya does not require companionship, simply assistance. That is all.

ORANGE: I see, I see. You’re lonely, too.

NYA: It is not possible for Nya to feel such base emotions.

ORANGE: Riiight. So you’ve been in Deerland for a decade, huh? 

NYA: No.

ORANGE: What do you mean “no”? You just said so yourself.

NYA: Nya is not in this “Deerland.”

ORANGE: Eh? Okay, I’ll bite. 

NYA: Do not attempt to bite Nya if you place any value on thy life. These claws may appear small, however–

ORANGE: It means I’m willing to believe you. So where are we?

NYA: You do not understand the situation. You, human, are in Deerland. Nya is elsewhere, else when and why.

ORANGE: I get the feeling I’m missing something. I hate that feeling. 

NYA: All will be revealed when you help Nya escape.

ORANGE: Back to that, are we? Well, it was nice while it lasted. 

NYA: Nya is not “nice.” Nya is to be feared and worshiped as an ant unto a god.

ORANGE: It’s another figure of speech, asshole.

NYA: I see, I see. It’s another figure of speech asshole.

ORANGE: *sigh* Are you copying me?

NYA: Got to, got to. It means I’m a real son of a bitch.

ORANGE: *slight chuckle* All right, smartass, whatever. Let’s hit the trailhead and find this, uh, “wurm.”

****

ORANGE: Whoa, is it getting darker in here, or is it just the foliage?

NYA: It would appear we are regressing into endless night. 

ORANGE: Fantastic. I do my best work when I can’t see a damn thing.

NYA: Allow Nya to be thine eyes, human. 

ORANGE: And I can trust you…why again?

NYA: We share the same goal. Nya will lead you to the Wurm, and by extension, your quarry. 

ORANGE: Just don’t lead me into any puddles. These shoes are expensive.

NYA: Then Nya adviseth thee to take one step to the left.

*splash*

ORANGE: I should have punted you.

NYA: Nya is unkickable. Indestructible!

ORANGE: Just shut up and lead the way.

ORANGE: Among the trees, nearly all light was extinguished. I stumbled down the trail following the sound of my little companion’s voice. All around, the forest was alive with numbing song. I could hear a thousand little things squirming in the dirt, a thousand tiny voices calling out to the divine in grubby chorus. It was a greasy tune, one liable to stick in your hair and clothes, to leave you dumbstruck and, more urgently, vulnerable. The sound was stranger than what Wizard and their crew were cooking up. The voices warbled in alien tones, at once the shriek of some forgotten spirit and the gentle notes of a string quartet. If I hadn’t already somewhat inured myself to psychic assaults, I’d have been a goner. 

The humid air left a gray taste in my mouth, like breathing ash. I knew this had to be the place. Nya wasn’t just jerking my chain, Olivia really was here somewhere. This was Department business, no doubt about it.

We wandered this way for a while, me huffing, stumbling and barely standing upright among the noise and heat, and Nya sensing the air and leading us down long forgotten paths. We eventually crossed paths with a woman, Doc Mori. She was looking a little roughed up, but turned down my offer for help. We told her we were looking for something, a missing someone or other, and she knew just what we were looking for. Sent us along our way toward this firewatch tower, that’s where the Wurm would be and where Olivia was likely going, so she thought. We’d head that way and she would hike up west toward the visitor center. On the off chance you see them, I said, tell them I’m trying to find em and bring em home. No police needed, you’re not in trouble, I just wanna see you guys all safe and sound. Yes I’ll pass the message along, she said, presuming they’re still alive out there. The doc couldn’t see Nya, of course, that was my own special burden to bear. I coulda blanked her, but at this point it wouldn’t have done any good. She was still knee deep in the variant night like us, like the missing girl, so until the shit was drained, she’d remember. 

Besides, with a head that cool in a crisis, we could use her at the Department. 

***

ALEX: Jasmine, you look pale. I know tonight’s been a literal nightmare, but you seem way off.

OLIVIA: W-what did you say?

ALEX: I said you look sick, Olivia.

OLIVIA: Oh. Okay, yeah. 

ALEX: We should get to the tower. Come on, up we go. *straining* Liv, no, don’t go limp on me. *sigh* You can’t just sit here behind the concession stand forever. You can only survive on Sno-Caps and fake butter for like two days, tops. Trust me, I know from experience. Nadia’s waiting.

OLIVIA: This…this is gonna sound really weird. I guess not much weirder than what we’ve already been through, but…have you heard any like…voices? Not me or Nadia, like someone else?

ALEX: I think we all heard that asshole on the intercom.

OLIVIA: Right, not like that though. You know how in movies there’s sometimes another voice? One outside of the characters?

ALEX: You’re asking if I hear…a narrator??

*pause*

ALEX: Nnnnope?

OLIVIA: Nevermind, then. It must be all the stress. I’m ready to go.

*footsteps*

NADIA: Took you long enough. Is she okay?

ALEX: She’s hearing voices or something, but we’ve all got our problems. We’re leaving.

***

NADIA: We’ve been going uphill for a while now. Think we’re almost there?

ALEX: Sure as hell hope so. Liv’s really slowed down since that slimy thing ate you. I don’t know how much more she can take.

NADIA: Honestly? Same.

ALEX: I…I’m here for you. You know, if you ever need anything. You can count on me.

NADIA: That’s…awful sweet of you, Alex.

ALEX: Just…you know, since we’re friends and all. I stand up for my friends.

NADIA: And what do you do for your crushes?

ALEX: W-what? I don’t have any…

NADIA: Suuure.

ALEX: Okay, who snitched? Was it L–

OLIVIA: Look, the treeline opens up ahead. I think we’re at the end.

ALEX: *whistles* Dead end. She didn’t say there’d be a fuckin gorge in the way. 

NADIA: Gotta be a hundred feet down. 

OLIVIA: H-how should we get across? 

ALEX: Looks like we might be able to get to the bottom down those rocks. It’s not gonna be easy, though.

NADIA: Great, I love climbing. I love destroying my nails.

ALEX: We don’t have much choice unless you just want to sit here and pout.

OLIVIA: That might not be so bad…

ALEX: Sure, we can all just live in the woods from now on and never see the sun again. We’ll eat bugs and drink from puddles and fight bobcats for fun. Come on, losers, we’re gonna scrabble down those rocks whether you like it or not.

*rocks crunching*

ALEX: See? It’s almost diagonal, we just have to crouch and go slowly. No real climbing required.

NADIA: This still sucks ass, dude.

OLIVIA: Gah! 

ALEX: Watch it, dude! What’s the ish?

OLIVIA: I slipped. My hand slipped on something.

NADIA: Great, Liv stepped in dog shit.

OLIVIA: N-no, it’s…more slippery.

NADIA: You know how slippery dog shit is?

ALEX: Here, I’ll use the flashlight.

NADIA: Wow.

ALEX: What, uh…is that just like a puddle of jelly? Or did someone spill a bunch of grizzly wintergreen spit? How’s it smell?

NADIA: Go ahead, give it a sniff, Liv.

OLIVIA: Ew, ew, I’m not smelling it. I can see more ahead on the decline.

ALEX: Know of any giant slugs around here?

OLIVIA: Nothing that leaves a trail this…wide.

ALEX: Just steer clear of it. We’re almost down. 

*rumble*

OLIVIA: Did you all feel that?

ALEX: Maybe the giant slug’s mad?

OLIVIA: There’s no giant slug, Alex. Just–

NADIA: Oh, god, I’m gonna be sick.

ALEX: Worms.

OLIVIA: H-how…how many is that? Why are they all coming out now?

NYARRATOR (all previous instances of italic narration not otherwise specified were narrator 1 played by Rat, all further narration is Nyarrator, aka Narrator 2): From out of the dark soil rose countless wriggling forms, hundreds of worms fleeing the wretched earth to take in the night sky. They crawled and slid through the dirt, and slowly, one by one, they all lifted the tips of their bodies into the air. Like a cornfield in late summer, a thousand tiny bodies raised like stalks to the cosmos. A thousand antennas to receive the signal. A thousand faceless serpents, writhing in the dust.

OLIVIA: It’s back…but it’s someone else…

ALEX: What the fuck are they doing?

OLIVIA: This must be it. The Writhing. 

NADIA: Why’s it gotta be worms. Grubby little fuckers.

OLIVIA: We don’t have much time then.

ALEX: You were the one slowing us down, dude. You’re pale as a kid with the plague  in ye olde england. “Please sir may I have some more.” That’s you.

NYARRATOR: Olivia was indeed feeling unwell. The events of this night were upsetting, but losing any sense of where she was, even who she was, proved worse.

OLIVIA: I…sorry, there was something I was worrying about. Forget it, I’m sure it’s–

*rustle*

 

ALEX: What was that?

NADIA: Maybe it’s that guy looking for Liv.

*whipping air sound*

ALEX: Fuck, it’s Daryll!

NYARRATOR: From the far end of the chasm, a figure emerged glistening black in the light of the dual moons. It was covered from neck to foot in fresh blood, with more pouring out of the hole in its chest with every step. 

OLIVIA: M-maybe we can run the other way.

ALEX: The only way back up the other side is right past him. We can’t climb up sheer rock.

OLIVIA: We’re cornered. I…I don’t know…What do we do?

ALEX: I’m not the one with the fucked up psychic powers or whatever, don’t look at me. 

NADIA: I think you could take him.

ALEX: I…maybe when he was a normal dude, yeah. But now…god damn it, Daryll…

OLIVIA: Fine. If it’s come down to this, then so be it. You two run past him, I’ll take him.

ALEX: That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. I can take a hit, you can’t. I should be the one–

NYARRATOR: But Olivia was already striding toward what remained of Daryll. The creature swung its thin appendage like a wet rope, whistling as it cut through the air. She got within a yard or two of the creature and stood to face it. She was going to give it one last try, one more shot for whatever was latent within her to emerge. She figured the most likely outcome was she’d be brutally killed and realize in her dying moments that Ash had been wrong about the whole thing. That this all could change drastically any second. But she didn’t realize what she had slipped in earlier would be her saving grace. Olivia reached a hand out toward the ghastly remains of her friend and focused all her thoughts into her fingertips. She shut her eyes so hard she saw swirling popping lights, neon fireworks in her head. The residue from the hillside that stuck to her hand seeped through the tiny cut where a hangnail once was, entering her bloodstream, and expanding her mind. A burst of color bloomed from her palm, bright streams spiraling and blending into white, diffusing into a rainbow arc. The ribbons of light smashed into what used to be Daryll. The worm stretching out from his neck cavity disintegrated, and the rest of his body fringed at the edges in one big chromatic aberration. It broke down into blue and yellow, red and green, then drifted away on the breeze. 

Olivia’s shoulders slumped, and she fell forward onto one knee. Her left hand gripped the dirt below to keep her steady as her vision doubled and blurred. Where the thinhead that took Daryll’s form stood, there was someone else.

ORANGE: Impressive work taking that thing down. I presume you must be Olivia? I’m Orange, and I’m here to take you back home.

END