From Within

Aftermath

"Yeah. Better get the kid in there quick. I heard some of them were worried about you.", the fisherman says.

The old man grabs the unconscious young boy and carries him out of the car. As he slowly walks towards the entrance the eyes of the people are collectively starting to be attracted by him. The old man sees in them sadness, despair, pain. He then lowers his gaze, hanging his head in shame. The young boy in his arms is his hope of not looking suspicious. Familiar faces start to call out to him as the old man walks past the crowd.

"Gray's here."

"Gray's back, I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"GRAY! Are you okay??"

"Where've you been, Gray?!"

The old man keeps his eyes on the ground.

"Over here, Mr. Grayson...", a nurse leads him to one of the rooms where the victims of the storm are treated.

He sets the boy down on a stretcher and stands beside it, crossing his arms and looking down at the kid. While the nurse is attaching the tubes to the boy, the old man asks...

"Ava and Maya... Where are they?"

"Round the corner, first room to the left."

"Thank you.", the old man says.

The old man quickly leaves the room and heads to where he was directed to by the nurse. While making his way there he hears a girl crying out loud. He feels shivers round his middle back that make their way up to his neck. He bites down on his own teeth and closes his eyes for a second while walking. He then feels a sudden migraine, which made him lose balance for a brief moment, and he stumbles. But he gets saved from falling by the twins who were walking the opposite direction.

"Mr. Grayson... Is everything alright, sir?", Steven asks...

"No... I got it from here, boys. Thank you.", the old man says.

"You sure you don't wanna take a seat for a moment?", Stan asks.

"No, I gotta see her. Let me go, please.", the old man insists.

The boys hold the old man steadily in his place in the middle of the hall, without letting go. They both look down simultaneously. The old man then finally notices why they're doing what they're doing. He sees a stretcher being lead out of the room he wanted to visit by three doctors. He sees the crying Ava being held back by two others. The two young men then assist the old man to a nearby bench.

"Maya... No...", the old man says sadly.

"We're sorry, Gray. When we headed out last night the houses were already gone. We were too late to go and save her."

"No...", the old puts his face in his hands.

The two young men sit by the old man to help him cope with the loss of his friend for a few minutes. The old man wanted to cry, but the feeling of guilt and shame, anger and self-hatred started to overtake him. All he could do is scream internally at himself for the things he's caused.

"Sir, they're planning to cremate everyone as soon as possible at the plateau of mount Atlas. It's still early so we have enough time to prepare. We're going to help. So we have to go now. Take care, Mr. Grayson. They're going to start at noon exactly. Go home and prepare yourself.", Steven says.

"How many?", the old man asks before the two leave off.

"What do you mean how many?", Stan asks.

"How many have died?", the old man asks.

"About twenty-five caretakers, sir.", Stan says.

"We'll see each other later, Mr. Grayson." Steven says.

The young men leave his side and head out to prepare for the mass cremation. The old man sits and ponders. He clenches both of his hands into a tight fist. The hate he built up for his old boy is starting to get burnt onto his aching heart. He thinks to himself that he should have pulled the trigger. He should've just stopped the monster from doing anything ever again. But...

"One day, two-six-two... I'll end you for the deaths you've caused today.", the old man silently says to himself and stands up to leave the medical center.

The old man walks home alone, head hanging with his fists clenched. The smell of the wetness in the town for the first time saddens him deeply. This event he will remember for all time to come. All the deaths, the mistake of letting his old boy come. The clock tower chimes to signal that it's seven 'o clock. The old man avoids walking past the ruined buildings. He can't bare imagining what happened that night. But even though he tries to avoid the thought, images play in the back of his mind.

"Stupid. Why the fuck did I even think of calling that devil here...", the old man mutters to himself.

He reaches home and it's half past seven. His house luckily wasn't one that was hit as bad by the storm. Just a few big holes in the roof over the kitchen area, no flooding, thanks to the elevation of the house, but his kitchen got wet from being exposed to the rain. He goes into the kitchen and put water in a kettle on the stove to cook.

"That piss shit, two-six.", the old man mutters again.

The old man tidies things up in his house, sweeping the water out of his kitchen with a broom. He puts things back to where they were, things that might've fallen with the wind. He then heads upstairs to look for clothes. When he finally put his colours together he goes into the shower for a bath. He hears the clockwork chime as he bathes.

"Ten already... Damn."