CHAPTER 3: CITY OF THE BARBED CHURCH

Headlights spilled onto the black street, illuminating, slightly, the edges of tall, brown grass fields on either side. Rain poured heavily from the dark, cold sky, making the road slick and beating upon the windows of an old, horrid excuse for a jeep as it made it's way along. They drove down the same, long street, all the way into the night; throughout the duration of this ride, the Halibut had drunk eight bottles of water, and stopped several times to water the grass, so to say. Alice lay asleep in the next seat, and had been able to unbuckle her seatbelt without him noticing; her brother, however, was dreadfully tired, but kept driving. Due to the fact that the car had no wipers, blinding him from his seat in the car, Jamie rolled down the window of the Camel. He stuck his head out of the window to see the road, and, as he did so, the car turned sharply to the left, before he quickly turned it back in the right direction, causing Alice to wake up suddenly with the sudden jolt.

Looking dizzily around with her eyes half-open, she looked around the car. "Y'know," she said in a tired, raspy voice, turning to Jamie, who had been just bringing his head in through the window. "it's fun and all, but you really could've rented a better car."

Jamie smiled and gave a slight, silent laugh. His head and shoulders were completely soaked; he brushed the wet hair out of his face, for otherwise it would have covered his eyes and blind him further from the road. "Well, Al, actually I couldn't. I work at the college library, and, in case you haven't guessed, not very high-paying. Unless, of course, you complete eight tasks for the Librarian Elders, and," he shrugged and gave a slightly ridiculous laugh, "Lord knows what those could be!," he continued the ridiculous snicker, before stopping abruptly and acting as if nothing happened. After two moments of silence, Jamie said in a nasal, shaky and raspy voice, the way you'd expect a Russian cat/gypsy to talk, "You have heard nothing, small purple-headed one. Go now, and screw yourself, for-"

"Shut up," Alice demanded sternly, before looking lazily to the window. After moments spent trying to fall back asleep, possibly into a dream about videogames, she gave an angry grunt and pushed herself up. "Agh! There's nothing to do and I can't sleep."

"Nothing to do? Look out the window, nice scenery."

"The scenery is like watching babies explode; it's amazing at first, but then it's just frickin' monotonous. I don't remember this road from our other rides; are we going on a different route or something?"

"Actually, yeah. I plan on passing through Black Angeles."

"Black Angeles? Never heard of it. Are there llamas? Llamas are always a plus. However, goats or alpacas or hamsters would suffice."

"Hamsters? Y'know, in the wild they ride on the backs of eagles and shoot arrows down at their prey. But that's beside the point. I don't know if there're any llamas or whatever there, speaking of which you forgot to mention goats. But, still, it'll be interesting. It's this old city Spike told me about. It's one of those landmark type o' places, I guess? Y'know, the plaques in front of every important building, blah, blah, blah...Anyway, it has a really fucked up, disturbing history, apparently, especially in the asylum. After Spike told me about it, I researched it a bit; it didn't give away the history, some reason, but it did say that they're a lot of ghost sightings, like, figures in the asylum windows. So, I guess that's another good reason I brought my camera."

"Right. Sounds pretty sexy," she looked down at her fingernails, and frowned curiously, mouthing the word 'Veronica,' before saying, "When are you gonna ask the goth out, anyway?"

Jamie shrugged, "Not sure. And, well...to be honest...I'm not really sure if I will."

Alice stared at her brother with owlish eyes for a moment, then drove her fist into his side. "Well, WHY THE HELL NOT?!"

"Whoa," Jamie, surprised by the punch, turned the car way too much to the left, then brought it violently back into a straight line. "We-It's just-I mean, well...I dunno, I just...I'm just not sure, okay?"

"What? Giving up already, James? I thought you were stronger than that. Seriously, what would mom say if she saw her little boy as a guy who just gave up. Alright, now listen; you gotta do whatever it takes to get her, no matter what. Got it? No matter how hard it is, no matter painful or whatever, even if it drives you psycho, just-do-it!"

"Yeah," Jamie said quietly, looking at the road and trying to shake off Alice's stern gaze. As he drove, the subject forced itself into his mind, the thought of losing what little chance he had. She was right, he'd have to toughen up some time. Quietly, almost unintelligibly, he mumbled, "Thanks, Al."

"What did you say?" Alice turned to her brother, smiling. "Did you just say-" Suddenly, the car came to a sudden stop. Well, less of a stop, more of a sliding-slowly-across-the-ground-screeching-horribly-until-finally-coming-to-a-halt. At this halt, Alice was caught off guard, and, seatbelt-less, fell foreword, hitting her face on the dashboard. "Ow!," she cried, "Jamie, why in the Hell did you stop the damn car!"

"To teach you a lesson; where your seatbelt, or you'll get pregnant and die-"

"-you're confusing two things-"

"-and also I really need to pee. Seriously, a fireman could use me right now. Ew, I just disgusted myself. Nonetheless, yeah. Speaking of urination, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she rolled her eyes. (Ah, overprotective-ness. At one point, Jamie had driven away her boyfriend. How? By describing how the teen would painfully become less of a man were he to lay a finger on Alice. At first, of course, Alice was furious with her brother. But, naught but a few days from then, they saw a news report stating how her ex-boyfriend had been arrested for sexual assault on an elderly woman and her eighteen pet cats. And, ever since, Jamie has hated cheese. He did not know why, he just did. Don't look at me, I'm just a narrator; I can see no way how cheese and cat-rape are connected. Anyway...) "Ugh," she said after a second's silence, "boys are disgusting."

"What? I've had, like, ninety billion bottles of water, and only stopped twice!"

"Twice?"

"You were asleep. But, nonetheless, I gotta go..."

"James, in a field? Seriously, have you no respect?"

After stepping out of the car, he shrugged. "Who's gonna see me out here?"

"Good point. But still, it can't be safe. Stay within sight, alright?"

"What? Ew! When I have my penis exposed, I like to have a good distance between me and my sister! Seriously, it's just creepy when a sibling asks to watch you urin-"

"Oh, just go," she made a shooing motion with her hand, and turned to the window with a mix of humor and repulsion on her face.

"Right," he jiggled the handle of the door, and pressed his hand against it, but, wonder of wonders, the horrid thing wouldn't open. Jamie continued pulling at the handle and pressing hard against the door, until in what seemed like a couple ages, the door flew open, and Alice, who had absorbed herself in a book borrowed from Jamie (The novelization of Resident Evil: Extinction, to be exact.), jumped at the sound, and, gasping, involuntarily thrust the novel into her face, hitting herself squarely in the eye. As she hit herself with books, her brother accidentally slamming his cheek into the door on the way out of the car. "Ogh!," Jamie grunted in pain, shutting the door and rushing to the field nearby, moving in quick, jolty movements that implied the severe need to urinate.

Outside, the night was still, and rain poured heavily from the sky, and stars shone above, great diamonds amid the velvet night. The tall, brown grass went up about four inches above Jamie's waist as he stepped into the wide plain. Once in, he was proud to realize that there was short, yet very steep slope that would take him out of sight; he was not so proud, however, to discover said slope by tripping and tumbling like a rag-doll to it's base. Once at the bottom, he pushed himself up, and tore shreds of plant from his -now long enough to be considered shaggy- hair. Looking up, behind him very quickly, he made sure that he was out of eyeshot, though he doubted why Alice would be watching; still, it's always good to be cautious, if not a bit paranoid. Then, he peered about the field; nope, nobody. And so, Jamie unzipped, and did what he had to do.

Whence finished, he zipped up, re-fastened his belt, and began to turn to head back to the Dying Cam- suddenly, he stopped short. Something had been seen in the very corner of his left eye. Now that this thing had caught his eye, he turned to face it yet again: and there, standing in the distance, was a figure, veiled in black shadow, wearing something baggy. Of course, Jamie was automatically slightly creeped out. Then, he realized it; though a good almost-fifty-yards stood between them, he could here it's breathing loud and clear: long, shaking, sharp rasps, likely from a male. A chill draped itself over Jamie in a sheet of shakes and disturbed thoughts as Jamie realized how much it reminded him of the sounds he heard in the barbed wire hand thought. The figure stood still, facing Jamie head-on; it's shoulders lifted and dropped as it breathed, yet not to the tune of the breathing Jamie heard. Suddenly, it raised its arm into the air, and waved as if to an old friend.

"Ew," was all Jamie could think to say. Bearing no wishes of smiling and having a chat with the creepy guy that watched him urinate from afar, Jamie turned and ran to the jeep, after, of course, washing his hand with moist towelletes taken from the motel.

Already, Jamie was soaked and chilled to the bone, his shirt clinging to his shoulders in the cold. Quickly, he opened the door of the car, and rushed in, closing the door immediately and digging his key into the ignition.

"What's the rush, prick?"

"Oh, nothing. Some creepy guy watched me as I- you know."

"Ew!," cried Alice, throwing the paperback book violently into the backseat. "Are you serious? As in, like, super-serial?" (Serial being a term for "serious" taken up from an episode of South Park in which Al Gore was hunting for the horrible Man-bear-pig.)

"Mm-hm. Super-serial indeed. But," he began to speak in his Russian cat/gypsy voice again, "Let us not trouble ourselves with such hamster-fuckery! For we are nigh the city of Black Angeles, where we shall be greeted by-"

"Jamie?"

"Yeah, Alice?," he returned to his normal voice.

"Shut the fuck up and drive before I shove barbed wire down your throat and set you on fire. And rape you."

"Got it."

Rain had fled from the gray skies by morning, yet it's pale fog and wet chill remained hanging in the air. "Finally!," cried Alice as the fields to either side gave way to an empty, rather puny driveway. At the end of this driveway, was a sign reading, "Welcome to Black Angeles, full of spooky history and creepy merchandise!", right next to a dusty old information booth, through the grimy window of which, a man could be seen reading a rather explicit magazine. Once parked and out of the car, Alice turned immediately to the sign, then to Jamie. "'Spooky?' Really? Who in the hell says spooky anymore!...Oh! Also, I meant to say earlier: if this turns out to be like Silent Hill, I will not hesitate to cut off your balls."

"Ah," sighed Jamie, "You already have, Ally, m'dear, you already have. And, one thing's for sure; this place is gonna be full of gimmicks and cheesy Halloween decorations."

"Yup," nodded Alice. Still lightly nodding, she looked around, Jamie's camera tight in her hand. She looked into the window of the information booth. Squinting, she said, "What's that a picture of on the guy's magazine? I can't tell from over here, not to mention the window's dirty. It looks kind of like that skinless thing from Resident Evil-"

Jamie turned to the window, and, recognizing the image on the magazine as something that he had learned of and was disturbed deeply by in health class. Quickly, he gripped her arm and pulled her along with him. "Don't you mind what that is, little girl." Taking Alice with him, he came closer to the booth, but before standing before it, he shouted, "Dude! Put away that book, there're children here!" At this, Alice began to laugh.

The man in the window turned and looked to Jamie, his wrinkled facial expression vacant and most likely high, then simply dropped the magazine and sat up. The siblings approached the booth, where the man, in his raspy voice, asked not, "What can I do for you kids?," or, "How can I help you today?", or even, "Nice day for murder, ain't it, pretty boy?", but rather, "What the hell do you want?"

"Um...to look around the city-place-thing?"

"Oh, right. Have fun. Let me give you a brochure." He reached behind him, where many cheaply made brochures stood next to a calendar depicting a different kind of marmoset each month. This time it was a pygmy marmoset. As he handed the folded, hard paper to Jamie, he said simply, "Now give me ten bucks. Cause, uh...yeah. Ten bucks to look at the city. Give me money now."

"Right," Jamie rolled his eyes and retrieved his wallet, and laid a ten-dollar bill on the flat shelf of the booth.

Once they had paid, they entered the city of Black Angeles; it looked like a knock off of an old city from a western, with small houses and screen doors. A bit taller than these houses, were what used to be small businesses, rectangular buildings with boarded windows. In front of the more important buildings, were golden plaques on wooden stands, with explanations of the place's history carved into them. I'm sorry, did I say golden? I meant plastic colored to look like gold. Most of the places were boarded up and closed, yet one bore a "Come on in" sign. This building was the gift shop.

I. The Church of Angeles (As the city was once called)- This building was immensely tall, crafted perfectly of dark-colored wood and stone. The stain glass windows depicted angels, floating with their arms spread wide; these images had been re-colored. The angels now had eyes and mouths of ink black, the paint slithering down their faces like tears of blood. The angels themselves were red, with wings black as jet. The steeple was tall, gigantic and dark, with what was once a crucifix at the top. Atop the pointed steeple, a statue of Jesus hung from a polished wooden cross, wrapped, entirely covered in barbed wire. This church was one of the buildings that had locked doors and boarded windows.

II. The Angeles Asylum- The asylum was, indeed, the tallest of all. It stood a great height, and was rather wide and rectangular. It's bulky, industrious look made it seem entirely out of place in this old city. It was rusted almost beyond belief, with long black streaks flowing from the tall, narrow windows. The entrance was two, tall double-doors, that, together, made the top half of a circle. The handles were gone completely, replaced by a thick, steel bar laid across both doors. A sign stood behind its plaque, reading "ENTRY IS FORBIDDEN."

The houses and various other run-down, boarded up buildings, were set up in an array of two lines, to either side of a gravel road; and, as James had predicted, various signs stood about, depicting cartoon ghosts; also, various scarecrows in Halloween costumes were laid about. "So," asked Alice, as she raised the camera. "which building do we want to go to first?"

"Hmm...," Jamie looked around, and glanced at his brochure. "Well...how about the, uh, that house." He pointed to a small house, the nearest to them that had a golden (plastic) plaque. "I don't know exactly what that place is...I mean, seriously! What the Hell kind of brochure is this! All it has is pictures of the houses!"

"Seriously?," Alice snatched the paper from her brother's hand, and flipped through it rapidly. "Oh, well screw that!," And so, they walked across the small house, which was painted a dark green, with panes of brown and an open screen door. "Ooh, look!," Alice pointed to the open doorway, across which hung a "Please do not touch or enter" sign. Through the door, a small, wooden room could be seen, with a small, polished white dinner table, it's paint now flaking. To the left, a stairwell could be seen, and, sure enough, a gimmick was here too: A bloody hand could be seen hanging out from the side of the staircase, and next to it, stood what looked like a tall, broad shouldered man in a black cloak, a gas mask over his face.

"Dude, that looks so real!," Said Jamie.

Slapping Jamie's shoulder, Alice replied, "What? No, it's gotta be a mannequin!"

"It looks so real, though! Seriously, that can't be frickin' fake!"

"It is fake, jackass! And, even if it's real, it's just some poor sap who gets paid to stand around in a flippin' costume!"

"Well, yeah, but your not denying it's a real guy!"

"Uh, yeah-I am! That's too tall to be a real guy! And look; it's not even breathing!"

"Who knows, maybe it's a very stolid giant."

Laughing, Alice reached into her pocket, and drew out a bunched-up Taco-Bell wrapper from the other day. "Only one way to find out!"

Jamie laughed a bit, looking from Alice to the giant-mannequin-thing-thing, and back, and then to the gas-mask-thing again. After a few moment's consideration, he gave her permission: "Do it." And so it was that Alice tossed the wrapper like a true baseball pitcher, which she was not, but still. The wrapper hit the mannequin-thing-gas-mask-guy-thing squarely in the black covering of the eye on the mask. It stood still, did nothing. Jamie sighed, "Alright, I guess it's fake. How much do I owe you?" He asked this as if they had pre-established a bet on the subject.

"Eh, I guess a ten is fine."

"Oh, what a coincidence! That's the exact same amount of money I'm not gonna give you!"

"Jackass! Just read the info-thing."

Doing as his frightening younger sibling asked, or demanded, rather, he read the plaque aloud: "This house was once home to Nathaniel Mayberry, who is now known as one of the most terrifying sociopathic killers to have existed. One the night of June 6th, 1806, the entire family of the murderer, consisting of two young boys (Joseph, 10 yrs., Matthew, 8 yrs.), a mother and father (Abigail, 43 yrs. and Jacob, 46 yrs.) and the youngest, a little girl (Betty, 4 yrs.), were found dead. All were found lying on their stomachs, their eyelids, eyes and teeth removed, their hands tied behind their backs." Jamie grimaced, for this sounded painfully familiar-the TV incident in his bedroom. "However, this was not the cause of death. It is said that they all slew themselves, by stabbing themselves in the throat with a broken shard of glass; th same one, too, simply passing it along the line. Nathaniel, who was 19 at the time, said that he did this, he could not deny it. But he said that he did so without touching them; this, of course, has been disproved, and is believed to be a drastic form of Multiple Personality Disorder, in which he believes that he simply sat still while his "other self" murdered his family. Nathaniel says that he is vastly powerful to be able to do such, to be able "to kill with but a look in the eye." After committing several more murders and, somehow, evading authorities, he was finally sent to the Angeles Asylum at age 32...And also, don't forget to check out our merchandise at the gift shop!"

"Ew," scowled Alice, "that's really creepy: I mean, seriously! Go to a frickin' gift shop!"

"Right...I like gift shops, though."

"Yeah, but you're also a donkey-raping uncle-fucker."

"South Park movie. Classic."

"I try."

From where they stood, they looked around a bit, and realized that only three plaques stood: The one they stood at, one in front of the church, and one in front of the asylum. And so, they walked away from the Mayberry House, to the Church of Angeles.

As they left, unbeknownst to them, the gas-masked mannequin stood still, just as it had been the entire time. Suddenly, the head of the cloaked figure jerked upward with a crack, as it's back arched back with a series of hideous clicks, the sound of many cockroaches swarming in darkness. As it finished cracking it's neck and back, it looked silently to the stairwell: And there, at the bottom, lay a young woman. Her nude skin was extremely pale, her red hair wildly strewn about her face. Her eyes stared up, blank white, surrounded by dark rings. Blood poured from her mouth, nose and eyes, her wrist was split open, and blood covered her hand, which hung over the edge of the stairwell. She lay still, no audible breath streaming from her open mouth. The black-cloaked man in the mask bent over, and gripped her hair.

Suddenly, the woman wheezed in air, and began to breathe in sharp, painful, shaking rasps; she'd been alive the entire time, but the very act of breathing pained her to the point where she could not stand it. "Please," she sobbed feebly and quietly, dark crimson liquid from her mouth as she spoke, "kill...me...please...I can't...I...just kill me..."

Still pulling her hair tightly, the man bent over so that his face was but inches from hers. And then, a soft cackle could be heard as he shook his head, left to right. As she tried to scream, he cast a large, gloved hand over her mouth, and dragged her up the stairwell, laughing and smiling to himself as he heard her stifled whimpering.

The church seemed even more terrifying from up front, more looming and ominous, foreboding of dark happenings. What distracted from the actual horror of the church itself, was a scarecrow wearing a Halloween mask. The plaque read as follows: The Angeles Church was once a calm and peaceful place of worship, where people could even stay, were they unable to pay for homes, or were passing through the city with no place to go. It was a typical Methodist Church, with few variations from other churches. And then, one night, Nathaniel Mayberry had broken into the church, re-painted the stained-glass windows, and covered the crucifix atop the steeple in barbed wire. Barbed wire was used, not only on the cross, but also on all 12 people inside the church: In the morning, when people entered the church for service, they saw something awful. Eleven of the guests and others who inhabited the church were tied to the pews, sitting upon them. All of them had barbed wire coming out from inside the eyes, as well as their mouths. And, at the front of the church, the cross hung upside-down, and the pastor hung from it, tied with barbed wire, and pierced with three stakes: Two in the eyes, one in the mouth. Though most of the city was shocked & appalled by this, some were, oddly, fans of Nathaniel. They began to gather with him in the church, and venerate him, as well as continuously bring in human sacrifices, who would often be raped before they were murdered in some brutal, strange way. This dark cult became known as the church of Black Angeles...And don't forget to buy some of our clever tee shirts or other merchandise at the gift shop!

"That's seriously fucked up!," cried Alice.

"What, the gift shops again?"

"No, the whole thing about what happened! Seriously, the gift shop? What the Hell is wrong with you!...And who the Hell hates gift shops?"

As Jamie shook his head and sighed, Alice took pictures of the church.

And now, the asylum was just disappointing. No scary story was carved into the plaque: it was just as Spike had said, completely blank. And the building was tall and silent, and, though creepy looking, it just wasn't interesting. "Well," said James, "this places supposedly has lots of ghost sightings, and so," he signaled to the camera in her hands, "click away, my fowl-mouthed little friend, click away!"

So, Alice did as told and clicked away with the small digital camera, taking from various angles and zooming in and out randomly. Until, eventually, she said, "What the Hell?,"

"What?"

"Look," she pointed to what they first though was part of the city, but now noticed otherwise. At the end of Black Angeles (including gift shop), was about ten feet of blank space, before it came to a black, paved road, with, not modern, but more modern than that of Angeles's, buildings. Old cars were parked, especially near the diner. A sign stood before this neighborhood, reading, "Welcome to the town of Believe!"

They both stared at the city for a bit, and, as their eyes met the diner, their hungry minds directed their attention to the same thing, and said in unison, "Breakfast?" So, completely disregarding the town's unorthodox name and location, they wandered like semi-retarded hobbits into Farmer Maggot's crop. Yes, that was, indeed, another Lord of the Rings reference. Shut up.

A bell rang loudly as the siblings pushed the diner door open. Jamie walked in first, carrying the bags of tee shirts and books and various trinkets bought at the strangely inexpensive gift shop. After him came Alice, her purple hair hanging a bit below her shoulders, her black tank top and army-camouflaged, baggy pants covered slightly by a long black jacket. Jamie, as he typically did, wore a striped shirt (This time white and green) underneath his Gryffindor jacket, and a pair of jeans. The diner was a fairly small place, its walls were a pale yellow, it's floor stained white tiles. It seemed to be a typical restaurant...save for the people in it. Nobody seemed to be eating their food: at the most, some played with theirs. They were twitching, seeming extremely paranoid. They'd continuously look behind themselves, and look variously around. Not only this...but they seemed repulsed. Sometimes, they seemed to gag, and many looked as if they'd been holding in vomit.

Slowly, Jamie and Alice walked to an empty table by a large window. With the sound of whimpering, they looked to the seat behind Jamie: a grown man, of a broad stature had actually begun to cry. After staring for a bit, Jamie turned back to Alice. "Something in the food?," she asked as she leaned in to his ear.

"No...no, if there was something in the food doing that, they'd have left by now."

Alice looked around for a bit, and was silent. Then, after a short while, she broke the silence by whispering, "So they're just all psychos?"

Jamie tried to think of another explanation, such as, "Maybe someone important to them died?", but, had that happened, why would they seem paranoid and disgusted rather than depressed? And so, he said simply, "It seems the psycho route's about right."

"Got it...," Alice nodded, looking at the peppershaker. "Well, Sir James, I think we should leave right after we eat. Like, immediately."

"Yeah," Agreed he.

"Here are y-your menus," came a voice. And, sure enough, standing next to them, was a woman in a pink diner-uniform-dress-thing, holding out two menus.

"Oh, thanks!," Jamie took one of the menus, as did Alice.

"I-I'll come back later, to see if you know what you want," the woman, whose nametag was blank, forced a smile on her repulsed face. And, when typically in a horror film, one would ask, "So you're not from here, are ya?", she simply covered her mouth, with tears running down her eyes.

As she turned around, Jamie stopped her by asking, "Um...excuse me, miss? Are you okay?"

Still forcing a smile and crying, she said, "Yeah, I'm fine...I, um...I'll go now." She turned and rushed back behind the diner counter, where she sat in a chair and held her face in her hands. "Well," whispered Alice, "somebody's got her period!"

Laughing slightly, Jamie said, "That's just mean Alice...Do you think the guy behind us has his period?" And, at this, the two laughed, then began to look at their menu.

Almost an hour had passed when the waitress returned, still repulsed and still trying to hold back tears. "What can I get you?"

Alice, still looking out the window, said simply, "Bacon cheeseburger."

The pink-clad waitress turned to Jamie, who mumbled quickly, "The same," but then moved on to, "Listen, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, and then gagged, before saying, "and thanks for being so sweet, out-of-towner."

And so, food served, they began to eat like wild beasts; these two siblings were the ultimate example of a fast metabolism. They could eat ninety-billion and forty-two-point-five horses and stay the in the same physique they were before. In the midst of shoving fries or burgers into their mouths, a slight crashing sound hit their ears. They turned to the source of the noise, only to see that a little girl had fallen to the floor, sobbing maniacally. "MOMMY!," cried she, as he mother crouched beside her, "MOMMY I CAN'T TAKE IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT MA!," And, after that, her words were illegible through her sobs.

"I know, I know it's not fun, Kayla, I know! But still, we have to! We have to, or else you'll end up like Dahlia! You don't want that to happen, do-" Suddenly, her head turned to Jamie and Alice, who sat bewildered with their mouths full. "Um...Oh, dear, Kayla, I think you're getting sick! Come on, let's go home, that headache must be killing you." As she gripped the little girl's hand and walked her to the door, Jamie could here her say quietly, "For this, you'll be lucky if he doesn't punish you!"

Jamie and Alice looked at each other for a moment, swallowed their food, then both decided, "Let's just get the Hell out of here."

And so, they paid for their food, leaving a generous tip, and came back through Black Angeles to their Dying Camel, in which they went back down that same road, framed by two, wide, tall fields.

Nighttime had fallen over the long road, it's darkness broken by two flickering headlights. From the car's radio, blasted My Chemical Romance's "This is How I Disappear," at, as always, an ear-splitting, soul-crushing volume that almost shook the windows. Alice was nigh the ending of her book, enticed to the point where she held the book but two inches from her forest eyes. She loved this book, mainly for the fact that the lead character was badass bearing the same name as she did. As of yet, she was wrapped in a sequence where Alice (The Resident Evil Alice) and a group of others were fighting off a horde of über-zombies in the remains of Las Vegas, she herself using naught but two kukri knives. In the hand that held not the book, was a small flashlight, illuminating the words within the book, so that she could actually read.

The night was still, silent. Well, except for the extremely loud music, but still. I guess, nobody was speaking, I should say. Nonetheless, Jamie found that this "silence" was too thick, and needed to be broken. And so, to break it, he glanced at Alice, then the road, his attention flocculating between the two. "So, Al," said he, "how's the book? The movie was awesome, but movie-based books tend to be pretty-"

"Reading."

"Reading?"

"Reading."

"Silence" fell again, as "This is How I Disappear" changed to "The Sharpest Lives." Almost an hour passed, before finally, Alice set down her book. "Finished."

"Yeah?"

"No, that was a lie-Yes, you dumb shit!"

"Ah...what'd you think of the ending?"

"Well, it was cool, but it'll be stupid if they make a fourth; I mean, a whole army of Alices? That would be ridiculous!"

"Eh," he shrugged, "that's true. And also, didn't they just ruin that ending fight scene by making the tyrant talk?"

"Oh I know! It was so stupid just 'cause of that! Well, nonetheless, I think we should make sock-puppet porn."

"Sock-puppet porn? What?"

"Yep."

After a moment's consideration, Jamie said, "Well, sign me the Hell up!"

"Fuck yeah! I'll play the-"

A deafening crash filled the air; Jamie and Alice flew forward, restrained and strangled by their seatbelts; the front of the car crushed inward, and dashboard closed inward on Jamie's legs; the windshield began to crack, before exploding inward, the pale shards of glass flying inward, slicing at the two as they tried to shield themselves, but succeeded only in drawing their crimson blood, letting it drip, trickle or splatter about; the car was sliding backward, a horrible screech torturing their ears as the tires tore, and the metal of the wheels scratched along the road. It was not until the car stopped sliding that they had a chance to see what had happened. Jamie was hunched over: he had fell face forward into the misshapen dashboard with no air bag to stop him, and cracked a few teeth, letting a mix of blood and saliva drip from his mouth. Alice had not hit her head, but was the most effected by the shattering glass: she sat back against her seat, her eyes wide and her face wild as he loud panting/gasping shook, her own blood was splattered about her face, and her clothes were wet with it. Jamie, who drew a fair share of his own blood as well, pulled himself upward, leaving a long stretch of saliva/blood between his mouth and dashboard, until it finally broke.

"What the Hell! What the Hell!," Alice was reciting to herself. In front of them, was a small, rusted truck with one headlight shattered, facing directly at them; they'd been hit. "Mmm," Jamie moaned, touching his bleeding, aching head. "Are you okay, Alice?"

Still breathing heavy with a shocked and wild face, Alice turned to Jamie, "Y-yeah. Not as bad as it looks, ha. Just a bunch of little cuts."

"Good. Well, I've chipped some teeth, got cuts like you, and," he looked down, "I'm stuck. Dashboard's, like, crushing my damn legs!" Still groaning, he unbuckled his seatbelt, and tried to pull his legs out. He let out a grunt of pain, then gave up. "Oh...what were those jackasses even doing in our lane? I mean- HOLY SHIT!" As Alice turned to face the direction he was (though the passenger's side window), she screamed, unbuckled her seatbelt, and rushed closer to Jamie, before drawing her knife from her belt; for there, hunched over to stare at them through the window, was the mannequin, cloaked in black with large black boots and gloves; tall with massively broad shoulders, his face, framed by a black hood, was covered by the same gas mask, but this time splattered with blood. His face was barely even an inch from the window.

After staring for a few moments, he backed slowly away, but stopped once he stood but a foot from the window. Then, he reached into his cloak, and, ironically, drew a kukri knife. Then, he held the knife high above his head and slightly behind him, before slashing it violently forward with a great fury Jamie had never seen, letting it crash into the window, shattering a section in the middle of it. Then, after putting his knife back, he put his gloved hands in through the whole, and began to pull at the cracked glass, tearing the pieces away as though it were just crumbling bread.

Then, as he reached inward, Alice slashed he knife, so that it cut deeply into the gloved hand, letting thick, black liquid pour outward; incredibly coagulated blood. As she did this, he simply gripped her hand, which made the blade of the knife pierce all the way through his hand, shining black through the back. He pulled with a strength that made Alice's arm crack as he did, and, seemingly effortlessly, she was pulled into a laying position, being pulled to the door. Jamie quickly grabbed Alice by the other arm with both hands, which, along with her arm, were slippery with blood. Jamie gripped as tightly as he could, yet still she slid. He gripped with all his strength, the veins bulging in his arms as he tried to keep her away from the man. But then, with one violent movement, the door was opened, and Alice was pulled from her brother's grip.

"JAMIE!," screamed she as she was dragged along the ground, hearing the gas-masked man laugh as she did.

"I'M COMING!," he cried, opening his door, "ALICE I'M COMING!" And so, he threw himself to the side, screaming in pain as his legs pulled slightly out of the tight place. Then, with a great effort, he pulled, his upper body on the pavement, his legs in the car. As he pulled, his legs slid painfully out, scraping against the thick plastic of the dashboard, as well as the wires that hung about. And now, for his feet: they were at an angle so that they faced sideways, and pulling out would have to involve pointing and bending them to a point that was inhumanly possible to do without harming them. Unless...he tried to turn his feet so that he could pull them out in a less harmful way; but, alas, they were caught on something. Immediately, Jamie decided the best route would be to get it over with, pull them out quickly; and so he did: he quickly jerked his legs toward him, and the feet slid through the small space with a horrid crack. "Agh!," cried he in pain, gripping his ankles. They felt as if they'd been disconnected. His knees had felt the same way.

He pushed himself up as quickly as he could. As he stood, he was in immediate anguish: his semi-disconnected knees and ankles were under his weight now. But still, he could not let anybody take Alice. And so, mustering his fortitude, he rushed toward the man holding his sister, his ankles making snapping sounds as he did. Running such a short distance should not make somebody pant; unless they were in Jamie's case. He reached the man, gripped the arm that dragged Alice the ground and pulled; the thing's grip would not yield. And so, Jamie thrust his fist into the gas mask. As he did so, all it served to do was harm his hand. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his forehead...the masked man's abnormally hard elbow had crashed into it. And so, Jamie fell to the ground. Everything was fading...Alice's screams were distance, every sound muffled...and, within moments, all was gone.

He fell away from consciousness; away from his sister. Lord knows what they were going to do with, what that thing was going to do with her. Whatever it took, knew Jamie, he'd have to get her back. Somehow...even if he had to endure great pain, or to go into Believe again, he would get Alice back.

His head felt as if it had been crushed repeatedly by a Mack truck's thick wheel, by a jackass of a driver who would continuously back over the skull and drive forward over and over. Emerald/blue eyes quickly opened, so to view the black abyss before him. Almost midnight, the sky had grown cold, dark and starless, an evil mirror echoing the horrible events of the night. He lay against a chilled, damp street, the Dying Camel now officially dead not far away from him, flames licking the night air and filling Jamie's ears with a mass of loud crackling. Smoke flew into the sky like ink dropped into water, wafting about the sky. Groaning, Jamie pushed himself up onto his feet...the truck that had destroyed their vehicle and held Alice's captor was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn!," cried Jamie. How? How would he find his sister if he did not know where she was taken. But, then again, he was unsure why he was surprised: did he actually expect to find the mannequin just waiting to hand Alice back and drive back into the molestation-house or Hell or wherever he came from. Twitching with anger, violently punching the air and stomping his feet against the ground, he cried again, "DAMN! SON OF A FUCK!," he fell to his knees in anger...His eyes watched the ground, his vision blurring with rage, he expected that any minute he would discover that he was "infected." That was a 28 Days Later reference, to any who didn't get it. His breathing loud and coming in long draws, he stayed focused on the damp street.

Suddenly, his breath was caught, he became entirely motionless, his wide eyes now seeing something that was before them the entire time...in the midst of the black road, was the wet pulp of what was once a page from...something. Looking closer, he made out a few words, or portions of them anyway...RES...IL...ased on...Paul W.S. Anderson...Jamie recognized it immediately. It was the opening page of the Resident Evil: Extinction novelization. Looking foreword a bit now, he saw more small, rectangular gray shapes along the road, distanced far away from each other, but nonetheless there. Suddenly, a smile fell upon his face, his eyes still wide. He began to laugh maniacally, looking at the trail of bread crumbs. "Alice," his voice shook with laughter, "you sneaky little bitch!,"

As he pushed himself up, he was caught off guard by the sound of lightning, the flash of blue light that illuminated the night, and stumbled to the side a tad. The sound was great, the loudest he'd ever heard lightning. It sounded near, and stung his ears, which then caught the sound of fire crackling, but it wasn't from the car this time. Turning to his side, he saw what the lightning had hit; a thin, withered tree, it's branches like black veins reaching for the night clouds, was now ablaze. Fire scorched it, glowing crimson, orange white and yellow; this tree seemed to somehow be a symbolic image.

But, he could not let time slip through his fingers as he stood in awe of a burning tree; he had to get Alice. And so, he set off down the road, rushing full speed down the jet black night, his eyes focused on the various pages. Ah, what a wonderful way to ruin a book! Running down the street, the scenery was monotonous; road, field, road, field, page, road, field. You get the idea. Soon, he stopped short, for the pages were no longer on the road, but on a wide, flattened path through the field, the wheat or whatever the Hell it was now crushed and clinging to the dry soil.

And so, off he went, full-speed down the path, his feet now stinging as they pounded against the ground, his legs seemingly afire. His breath came as quick, short panting, but he would not stop for anything. He kept his pace, his old, ratty shoes barely clinging to his feet as they were continually shoved into the dirt and crushed plants below. And then, he saw it: In the distance, the one non-shattered headlight stared at him, not alight, it's glare just as potent in life as in death. It hung from it's socket on the front of an old, rusted truck, the same one that had destroyed the Camel. Next to it, stood a stall-like structure, made from concrete with a rusted metal door on the front of it. Ivy slithered about it's cracked exterior; the moon was nonexistent in the black as jet sky.

Suddenly, Jamie's speed increased, the image giving him a sudden burst of energy, of an impetus, of a reassurance that Alice was near, that his run was not in vain. Within but a few moments, he was but four feet from the truck, it's dented and destroyed front curved into a demented, grim smile. In the window, was nobody. Two empty seats in front of a metal wall, with an slit-like opening that gave the only way to view the back from there. And so, he'd have to check the back of the truck, where hopefully Alice would be awaiting her rescue, ready to punch him in the face because...well, he didn't know why. It just seemed like a very Alice thing to do.

Quickly, he rushed to the back of the truck, hope whelming in his heart that he'd find his sister. But, once he stood before the set of rusted double-doors at the back of the truck, with it's handles appearing as if they'd soon fall off with so much as a poke, he realized that if Alice was there, her captor was most likely with her. He'd need some kind of weapon..."Son of a whore-fuck!," cried he quietly to himself, angered by the hindering of his entrance to the vehicle. He backed away slightly, and searched the ground for anything...after settling for a rock almost the size of his fist, he ran back to the double-doors.

Whence he stood yet again before them, he looked down at the cold, hard rock in his hand, gripping it tightly. He slashed it foreword, practicing the rock-to-the-side-of-the-head technique he'd decided upon. It always seemed to work in the movies. So, gathering up his courage, he gripped the handle...Simply with the touch of it, his heart raced wildly, his eyes widened...he must stay on his guard. And so, he wrenched the door open, quickly stepping out of the way of anybody that may come through. Nothing. Gripping the rock, he quickly rushed back in front of the doors, to peer inside of the truck, clutching the rock tightly in one hand.

Inside, it was dark, damp and rusted, it's walls covered with pieces of paper...each of which with a wildly realistic drawing seemingly by the same artist. This is not what shocked him. What shocked him is what the pictures were of. For on pasted all over the walls, were ink-drawings of Alice...and, in every picture, she had empty, white eyes...In quite a few, she stood unclothed. In all of these pictures, she had a queen-like presence about her, a power that emanated from her. In one of these pictures, she was wearing a red cloak, hood cast upon her head, with black angel wings protruding from her back. (Other than this, it was empty.)

Repulsed and shocked, Jamie leapt in and began to tear the drawings from the wall, ripping them apart and throwing their shreds to the ground. He continued this until all that remained on the walls were it's original rust. This was disturbing on so many levels. Who was so creepily obsessed with his sister, enough to draw incredibly accurate pictures of her and kidnap her, and why? What especially disturbed him was the drawings that depicted her nude. How dare anybody draw such a thing! Jamie's vision blurred and began to shake, his mind not his own for a moment as anger and fear erupted from within him. With tears of anger and desperation pouring from his eyes, he fell to his knees and drove his fist into the ground with an animal fury he'd not known he had. Continuously, he punched the ground, lost in his fury.

But then, he stopped as something came into view...a hole in the floor of the truck...and next to it, the flimsy binding of the Resident Evil: Extinction novelization, which now held less than half of it's pages. 'Damn it!,' he told himself, 'you gotta stop dilly-dallying, you jackass! Go find her before this creep can lay a finger on her!' So, leaping out of the truck, he went to the only other place to check-the cement-stall thing.

He pulled the door slowly open...inside, there was a staircase, spiral metal planks leading down into the depths.