Marin's Dale

7

This quiet place was soothing beneath the moon. The road had finally turned, after what seemed miles, and what was probably many miles; well past anything humanly sane. There would be people here in this place. People of a change of pace. People who now knew their place.

Audrey didn't see anybody yet. But she could see the hard downward spiral into the cliff side. The road sunk into the earth and out of view.

Clinging to that bare cliff top, there was a house. It was a country abode. The shingled roof was well past its prime but still clutched onto memories of youth. With its big blue shutters and stout oak doors and bulky grey stones, the rustic cottage seemed like it could withstand anything.

Audrey was coming under the sentinels' guards now. Everything would be okay. Beyond the old house, the road shot back to meet the earth. At this point, a cornfield rolled with hills like viper coils; even farther, a thick evergreen forest.

The forest was where Audrey needed to go. To find her purpose. She had to be an individual, a person worthy of difference. But she also had to fit in with others—to share a common goal.

She had struggled her whole life to find that fine balance; teetering and sometimes toppling to a sad demise. But now was the time.

Audrey remembered when she used to make photo albums. It was something she did, something she enjoyed more than anything—to relive. In some ways it was more fulfilling, almost, to recall. In other ways, it was the most morbid wasting of time that she could imagine. If only she had a camera to capture the greatness that would soon befall…

Audrey smiled. She was feeling better now, which was strange. Had she felt good the whole time, perhaps?

She did know that she was hot.

Why not get naked?

But her clothes were already off, except for her bra and underwear.

"Why not get naked? Sure." she repeated to the wind. "Why not get naked. Sure."

Sure

The lesions on her ribs were still there and hard. Her pale limbs were twig-like, but she was fine.

Fine

Audrey moved slowly down the turn of the road, sinking into the earth before she would resurface a half-mile later. Her eyes were glued on those far evergreen woods, beyond the cornfield.

A searing cry beckoned from the trees.

                                     ###

Tyler's fingers opened and the rusty rim clanked to the ground. Clenching and opening his fists, he gave his arm a shake before looking to the towering humanoid.

"Just kill me then," he muttered.

The three of them had stopped in the middle of the street. The evergreens around here were leaning over. Bloated bodies were purple and black, hanging from the trees like bats. These poor bastards either killed themselves or something had gotten to them before they had the chance. Their legs were slung around tree limbs at impossible angles; stretched and splayed as if silly putty.

Tyler looked to the humanoid, and noticed, with terrifying clarity, that it was becoming more like him. It had ears now. Except, they weren't so much ears as strange lumps growing from its head. Its mouth was no longer a horizontal slit—becoming more recognizable, with half lips.

Assimilation came the response to Tyler's wide eyes.

And then it all made sense. Everything was predetermined. The instant that flash hit from the night before... Every ‘choice’ Tyler had made, every rousing thought and courageous action—it had all been under their control. Tyler was but a pawn. They had played with him the entire time.

This is just the beginning

But Tyler didn't understand it. If they had controlled everybody, why were so many dead? Why leave so many behind, if they were to "assimilate" all of them? Or perhaps, such was the cost. Perhaps, once they got inside certain minds, the minds could not withstand. They weren't strong enough, or drugged enough; they weren’t receptive enough...

Father needs a mind like yours

Tyler looked away. Their plan was to enslave the human race.

Ahead, the road continued straight but then turned. It dropped into the ground, and the swath of forgotten clothes on the asphalt was thinning. The wrecked cars about the road were thinning.

A cliff rose up with an old country home slapped right on top. And beyond, from the dark patches of evergreens beyond, the most sickening, inhuman cry sounded clear.

                                  ###

Barkly snickered as he dragged Audrey Jennings behind him. The girl's hair reminded him of the coarse hair of his mother's dolls. Barkly had always loved his mother's dolls. They were heirlooms from the 1850s, with their porcelain faces and coal eyes. He was always waiting for them to shatter—right before his eyes. They always seemed like they would shatter.

You can always make her shatter

Barkly felt a giddy chill run through his body. The beauty of such things was great. He could shatter her, and he would, because he could.

But not yet. It was like the thought of a great boss battle in Final Fantasy 7. You wanted to make sure you had all your abilities fully developed, all your accessories and strategies in order—and then when you went to do it, nobody could stop you. You dominated.

There were few things in life that Barkly had ever thought he dominated, but Father was now opening the gates. Barkly felt another giddy chill stream down his lumbar. He loved it, certainly. He had intended for Audrey to come sooner, but her stoner boyfriend had kept his hands on her at the mall.

Barkly wanted that stupid druggie gone. If it weren't for him, Audrey would have stumbled after Barkly and he could have given it to her then. Barkly wanted to show her his new body. She deserved to get carved. He was tired of being a virgin.

Take her. And finish her

Barkly thought it was a good idea. Audrey and her fiend fuck-buddy were not going to reunite. Hopefully, the dopehead was dead in a ditch by now. There was no way that Father had allowed him to continue. Barkly knew that the only reason Audrey had walked back into his world was because he had waited. He had waited by the rustic cottage on the cliff—the branch to the head had knocked her out so easily.

Father was supplying him what he wanted: a freshly weakened piece of flesh. Barkly could have killed Diehl at the mall and done it there, but such had not been Father's plan. Barkly knew that in the end, the wait was what made it sweet. The pleasure was building.

Barkly wondered how he'd do it. Would he go slowly? Would he thrust like the muscled guys in the videos who were always plowing the plastic blondes? Barkly smiled. He preferred her to be awake—but not too awake. Half-conscious was better. If she was half-conscious, she'd feel it.

Barkly remembered his mother's porcelain dolls with the coal eyes. He thoroughly enjoyed them. He really did. And now he had one all to himself. A living, breathing doll to shatter.