The Confluence

The Confluence Part XI

Adrian was panting, his eyes burning with adrenaline. He had killed enough of these fucking things. He wasn't about to let them kill him here. Gripping the shotgun tighter, he slid further back along the wall, moving away from the thing advancing on his right and keeping a good three feet of distance from the angrily flailing arm through the wall. Every time he looked too long at these things, it felt like his mind was melting. Stuff being cut loose, as if in a dream. He couldn't think with these things around; his thoughts were consumed by pure survival drive. Kill and live. Trying to slow his breathing, he waited for the first creature to make its way out of the collapsed wood. Now taking the shotgun in his left hand, he drew his .45 and aimed it directly at the creature's head. The thing finally only had two more logs to get through, and, with incredible strength, it took its arms and crushed the two logs to splinters with one blow. As it did this, Adrian opened fire, the pistol jumping slightly with every shot. The first shot tore across the side of it's head, and the black fluid in its face began to dribble out of the torn hole. The thing squealed its low pitch scream, and Adrian took a few steps forward, firing again, the next shot punching through the arm and into its neck. He fired again, and the third shot tore through its face and out the back, and it dropped backwards, limbs tangling with the fallen logs of the cabin roof.

"You see that shit motherfucker!" Screamed Adrian. "You fuck! You fuck! Goddamn you stupid fuck!" he howled, blood frenzy making his face hot and eyes burn as tears slid down his face, enunciating every fuck by firing his gun into the body of the creature. Adrian whirled at the creature's arm and fired through the logs near where the arm protruded. He only fired twice before his gun clicked dry.

Letting out another rage infused scream, Adrian threw his gun at the wall, and took the shotgun in both hands as he stormed forward. He vaulted through the window and looked to his left. The creature had its arm up to its shoulder through the wall, and hadn't even noticed Adrian had left the ruined cabin. Crying and screaming, Adrian released a shell into it; each pellet tearing its legs apart in a cloud of grey flesh and whitish blood. The creature collapsed, it's arm still stuck in the cabin wall. He fired again into its torso, blowing its chest open with a wet pop as its greasy white meat sloughed out of its ruptured chest cavity. Finally, the slurping sound stopped as the creature slumped even further down, its arm trapped in the wall.

Tears streaking down his face, Adrian wandered through the massacre. There was barely anything left of the corpses. Just bloody clothes bathing in the warm glow of the light.

Sniffling, Adrian wandered toward the church. Limping his way through the broken stones of the ancient church, the adrenaline was wearing off, and a kind of exhausted apathy shrouded Adrian in a soft haze. His glassy eyes scanned the nightmare scene before him, unreactive and taking in every detail. There was a spluttery generator keeping the lights on and the electricity going to the sound system and speakers. The place had a rank stench of blood, sweat, and that strange smell of those haunting creatures. As he surveyed blankly, he noticed something odd about the crumbling walls of the church.

There were carvings in the old stone. Many of them were well worn, but still could be discerned. The carvings depicted what appeared to be pastoral scenes, of people building a small town, including, or at least what Adrian guessed, was the very same church he was standing in. Looming behind and above it all though, was the ominous presence of the Mt. Wesker. There was something strange about it's depiction; in every single bas-relief the mountain had what appeared to be a cave entrance carved near the summit. Despite his shocked mental state, Adrian's curiosity was like a screw being drilled into his brain. He began pacing throughout the ruins, following the time-worn art. He saw the first settlers arrive and began building the small village, clearing out large swaths of the thick forest that once stood where the township is now. Circling now to the far end of the church, Adrian shone his flashlight against the back wall behind the half rotten altar, and then he felt his mind slip. It was a sliding feeling, as if his whole essence turned to slag and dribbled down through his body. Pins and needles rippled across his skin as he looked at the final bas-relief, a bizarre feeling of both recognition and unhinged horror. What he saw etched into the ancient stones, was another depiction of Mt. Wesker, only there was no town in front of it, just a large forest before it. Surrounding the peak of the mountain was a huge bank of storm clouds, spiraling around it in a fiery halo. Adrian slumped to the ground, as the realization of where he had to go next hit him like a train. Adrian's mind reeled as he lay there, the truth of what he had to do surging upon him. The mountain called to him, had been calling him the whole time, at the place where the clouds meet the peak.

Time found itself lost to Adrian once again. He couldn't find the strength to even move as the hours sluggishly trailed by him. Resolve came slowly, if it even came at all. Leaning the shotgun against the ground, using it as support, Adrian regained his feet. He had to get back to his car, and make his way to the mountain. Whatever answers there were to this madness, they would be found there.