and then we'll build the world again (Outlast)

Chapter 9-Waylon

Like the nameless man calling out for me. Like Chris Walker. Like all the men before me. If I die, at least Miles will make it out alive. The whole reason I contacted him was so he could live. So he can spread the word. Save the world without me.

Lisa, please forgive me. Tell our sons to forgive me.

He shut his eyes.

But the pain never came. He opened his eyes to see what happened. The Walrider had not made contact with him. It made contact with something else.

He heard a new, but horrifically familiar yell. It hit him like a powder keg exploding in his eardrums. Miles.

"NO!" Waylon forced his injured leg to do something, to move forward and stop the reporter from risking his life. But even with the last of his strength left, it was too late.

Like an angel spreading his wings, Miles firmly stayed put with his arms out, shielding Waylon from the impending harm. He gritted his teeth and growled, waiting--no, beckoning it to attack.

The Walrider did not waste any time, and threw itself against him instantly.The spirit overtook him, soaring him in the air and ignoring his pained shouts. There was a loud crack of bones being broken as he was smacked into the walls like a forgotten, swinging marionette.

Waylon helplessly stood frozen in place, unable to stop the Walrider's wrath. Its speed was unmatched to any human being.

He had to do something! But what could he possibly do? A man so ordinary, so weak and--

His eyes glued to Miles' form. In those bright, curious eyes, he didn't see a terrified man waiting to die as he was being flung around. He saw a reporter who risked his life to save innocent lives he didn't know. He saw a warrior who laughed in the face of danger and death.

Neither of them were simply ordinary men. They had fought through enough horrors tonight. And they had faced all of them together. No matter what, he knew Miles was strong enough to fight it. Or so he hoped he would.

The Walrider let out one last mighty roar, before tossing Miles aside. He lay on his back, gasping for air as the mist slowly evaporated, drifting away.

Waylon was confused. He knew what the Walrider was like--he had seen it himself. It had the capability to tear someone as powerful and strong as Chris Walker into nothing but a bloody mush. But here was Miles, moving, and clearly alive and all body parts attached.

He didn't care to wonder how that was possible. He was alive. He was gonna make it. Waylon ran towards his weakened body. He didn't wait a second longer to take his hand and keep his head secure in his lap. His eyes were open and alert, that was a good sign. Checking his wrists in a flimsy motion, he could barely make out his pulse. He was alive, just barely.

"Miles!" He uttered, staring deeply into his hazel eyes. "You're so fucking stupid," Miles coughed out blood and bile and black fluids. "Why did you save me?" He pressed.

Miles grinned weakly. "Why not?"

"Because...because ..." Waylon couldn't find the words. His face fell when he saw Miles' head roll back. "You know what that thing is capable of. I can't let you..." He didn't want to say it. He couldn't.

"You would have done the same for me. You already have," He shook his head. "Listen to me. We did it, we killed Billy and the Walrider doesn't..have a host anymore. You're gonna make it out, you know the way to the exit, right?" Waylon nodded. "Just keep running and don't stop until you're out." With their hands clasped together, he squeezed it tightly. "You're gonna make it out."