In the Shadow of the Mountain

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Lydia had looked disappointed when she heard about the show. She'd set her hopes on making some good connections today. She started to brighten when the girl had recognized her, but she'd sounded kind of drunk. Before she could ask if she was alright, though, she'd slid off the tree in a faint. Without thinking, Lydia hurdled the tree without a run-up, even though it was just above waist high. She landed squarely on her feet, not sliding in the mud and barely even making a splash. She quickly got down next to her and shifted her back down so she was laying totally on the sidewalk.

"You shouldn't sit her up until she comes to," she explained to the guy who'd gotten to her before she did. She pulled off her hoodie and used it to wrap the girl's hand to try and keep them clean from all the mud. "Stay with her, let me get my kit from the truck."

Lydia hopped back over the trunk again and ran back to her truck, yanking the door open and half-disappearing inside, trying to reach her first-aid kit in the back. She grabbed it and checked it for what she needed; smelling salts, an ice pack, and burn cream. This should do until the girl, Danica did she call herself? Yeah, this should do until she came to and they could get her to the hospital. She didn't really stop to wonder what happened; she had to help her first. Danica had said something about a fight, so it might have had something to do with that. She did have a passing thought that it might've had something to do with the weird thunder during the storm.
 
The scene Perry would see was one of confusion. Aside from the slicked road and the fallen tree surrounded by people, there were a few soggy bits of paper, the ruins of the car show, and the light of a train coming into view in the distance down near the river. The theatre across from the park was also damp, but something was off about it. When he'd passed by earlier, every window had been tight shut, and there had been no work occurring. Now... now one of the windows was cracked, ever so slightly. There were no real discernible footprints in the mess left in the mud by those who had fled the park when the storm started. A few birds were starting to chirp and land on power cables and rooftops now that the rain had faded. A streetlamp flashed on in the corner of Perry's vision, then went out again.

The day's events were strange, but could have been dismissed if not for what happened then. With an incredible suddenness, Harry Dal felt himself begin to shake. Pain lanced through his body. For a brief moment, he could feel where every object in the universe sat, how they moved, and it was as though he knew every intricate dance and pattern in them. But there was pain! So much stress, so much gravity, so much velocity. Harry felt his body begin to warp, to stretch, his aura trying to pull out to everything that existed. It flashed with a flicker of light as it threatened to rip away from his body, but refused to detach. Instead, it started to pull harder, ripping and tearing at his body as he screamed, strips of flesh the first to detach along with patches of clothing. Then muscles and tendons began to pop away wetly. Bones started to crack and organs to rip. Harry screamed, clawing at himself and trying in vain to literally hold himself together, but his attachment to the aura in turn attached to the universe was too much. He shattered, flying apart into dust and moisture that in no way resembled a human any longer. It flew off and upward, vainly attempting to be one with the universe before the last vestiges of energy faded and his remains dispersed throughout the atmosphere.
 
When Annabel came to again, she found herself no longer in the mud and several people standing nearby. But the person she was most glad to see was of course her sandwich-eating, rather handsome acquaintance whose name she still didn't know. She smiled up at him weakly, then struggled to sit up. She felt like she was under water, her limbs strangely light but sluggish with fatigue.

As she glanced around at the others, she took note of who was still present and who was new to the scene. A red headed woman, the very noticable and rather famous (in this small town) Alexander Smith, what looked like a homeless man, and of course Mr, Sandwich, all of which had arrived some time after she'd passed out. Or maybe some of them had already been present... The details were foggy. That left the guy with the keyboard and the woman with the truck who also owned some kind of health store. What was her name again? Something to do with healthy felines? Catwell? No, that just sounded silly.

At that moment that very woman was returning with a first aid kit and Annabel raised her hands and waved them back and forth with a smile. "I'm okay. Really. Just need to recharge my battery, y'know?" Well, there were her injured hands but she could think of past injuries that had hurt far worse.

And then it happened. Suddenly. So easily. He never stood a chance. Annabel's eyes widdened, the color draining from her face as she stared up at the scene unfolding mere feet away. It was like something straight out of a horror novel and the sheer graphic gore of it all held her captive. She shook viciously, tears trailing down her cheeks, unable to look away. Her stomach churned; the visual alone was enough to make her want to say hello to her corndog, but the sounds of flesh and tendons ripping and tearing... Oh god, the sounds! It was his cries of torment that broke her free and sobbing, she quickly scrambled away, pushing herself backwards with her hands and feet.

She'd been unfortunate to watch the life fade from the eyes of an animal, but this... This was... Legs drawn up to her chest, she still felt compelled to watch it until the end, until he was gone. And when he was, she buried her face in her knees and cried. What had caused this? Was it some kind of punishment? Her thoughts for a moment passed over the memory of the earlier chanting before moving back to the sight she'd just witnessed and she trembled from head to toe.
 
There they stood, just watching this man getting more ripped than the leaked sex tape of Paris Hilton. More goosebumps appear from the disgusting sight than the cold rain. His face frozen like a stage-fright panic attack. Why was this happening? Rich could not even say a word. His throat felt so dry that if he breathed, dust would come out. What was the reason for this?

He was there....but then he wasn't. The mans parts and energy had all but went towards space. It was truly a terrible thing to see. Any conversation he was having was as dead as the man. As the moment slowed down, the musician took inventory. The keyboard was missing again.....a monster was destroyed...a potential friend was dead...People were staring...it was just too much. Finally, his eyes watched a helpless Annabel.

She had become conscious and the first thing that was witnessed....Rich couldn't think about it anymore. Running on slight instinct, he went to her and began to hold her tight. The woman was distraught and a friend was needed. Rocking her back and forth, he hummed.

"HmmmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMM. Shhhhhhhhh it will be okay. MMMMMMhhhmmmmm."
 
It was too much, just too much! Ander watched in horror, feeling the overwhelming feelings wash out of the man who was being torn apart. He wasn't sure if he was screaming, too. He felt the edges of his vision blur as he watched, as he felt. He was held transfixed by the scene before him, and as others noticed, he felt their distress, too. He couldn't even find his own emotions in the horrible jumble within him.

It seemed to take forever. He battled at the raging feelings inside of him, tried to feel past them. Ander felt the ground rising slowly toward him. Seconds were dragging on and he felt a vague, detached amazement that he hadn't hit the ground. He sat there for a brief instant, for an eternity, then slumped over, staring unseeingly. His mind was turmoil, it was too loud, he had to escape this! But there was no escape, no thought to lead him out. He tried to focus, but found he couldn't see beyond a bit of broken brick lying nearby.

Brick. Slowly, brick by brick, he started to build a mental barrier. He'd read about it long ago, but had never thought it was anything more than hogwash and new age nonsense. Desperation lent him speed in constructing the wall, in his belief that it had to work, but he could hardly focus through the emotions around him. Another brick, another, another. He had to make it, he could feel himself about to lose consciousness. Another and another and finally! The last one was in place. Ander shuddered, his eyes closing as he tried to catch his breath. The impact of just what had happened to poor Harry hit him then, and he forced himself up to his feet.

"We should all get out of here. We can't stay in the middle of the road." His throat hurt when he talked. He must have screamed, after all.
 
Lydia straightened up from where she'd bent over behind the tree to throw up. That had been...horrific. He just, evaporated. Gone. Her head was spinning, wondering if there was some way she could've helped him. If she could've held him together somehow. If she could've reversed the movement pulling him apart. But it happened so fast, she never would've reached him in time. She put her hands over her eyes as if to shield herself from a brief flash of...something? A memory? Of something real or from a dream, she couldn't tell. It passed by so fast that she couldn't even tell what the thought or memory might have been.

"We-we should move the tree..." she thought aloud, still feeling dazed. Her mind was retreating to something safer, something she could touch, something she could do. Something she'd thought about what now felt like a hundred years ago. There was no car show, but the tree was still in the way. She laid her arm and shoulder to it and pushed with concerted effort, managing to rock the tree. Hmmm... She did it again. Maybe she could roll it...
 
'Quite the odd set of scenes', Perry thought, 'perhaps I will tell that Ander guy... he seems on the ball enough. Hey, speaking of balls...'

Perry's thoughts were interrupted by the screaming... someone was screaming... no, there was more than just one. After the hand-horror, Perry had no wish to see what was next. He just stared at the sky. Look at the birds... look at the strange wet paper... ignore those horrible, horrible sounds...

His hands flew to his pockets, digging for pills that he vainly hoped were somehow magically still there. Nothing should sound like that!

But then it was over... vomiting sounds... ew.

As the scene calmed, he dared look around. he saw the people trying to shift the tree again. Everyone looked like they had just seen something... awful.

"Hey!" Perry shouted as he took in the major element that was missing from the scene his eyes had returned to. "Where's Harry?"
 
[DASH=white]
Not the turn of events Hajori was accustomed to seeing, but it made for a very good explanation. Sitting on top of her roof away from the world and the prying eyes of others, she had been wrapped in an envelope of solitude and away from any signs of chaos or misshapen events. Turns out, the minute she stepped out of that bubble of security, she was looking directly at someone's death; someone's grotesque death. At first, she wanted the scream that was bubbling in her throat to escape and run rampant in the ears of the other teens around her. Instead, she did nothing but stare. Could anyone do anything to help the poor boy? It all happened so fast, Jori had no chance to lift a single finger in assistance. The others were taking the situation as delicately as she was. They may have knew a tad bit more about the kid than she did. Should they say a few words?

Her attention was instantly yanked when another boy exclaimed that they should leave. He looked sick, as if every single hue of color bled from his body when he watched the scene like the others. Hajori didn't react like the others did when the gurgling and hacking sounds filled the air. Sure, she was forced to look the other way, but it didn't make her sick to her stomach. The only thing in mind was to try her hardest to prevent it from happening to her or anyone else if she could help it.

"Yeah? Then where would we go? It's not like that thing was tangible or anything. Anyone of us could suffer the same."she said, being brutally honest. Of course, some of them may have been squeamish or just dismissive of any gore of any form, but if they wanted to be logical, the would try thinking it through. Hajori noticed that some attention was now dawned on her, so, shutting her pink lips shut, she waited patiently for a response.​
[/DASH]
 
Someone was talking with a raw voice, someone else was throwing up. Two others were conversing with the first. But all Annabel chose to concentrate on was the one holding her. The arms around her were warm, at least warmer than she was at that moment, even though the man they belonged to was just as drenched with rain as she was. Maybe it was just the physical contact that warmed her.

Or maybe it was his humming.

She was wrapped in a low pitch blanket, warming her, soothing her. In the back of her mind she knew she would have nightmares for months to come, maybe even years, and they would be nothing like the strange dreams she'd been having as of late. But that voice... So soothing... A voice that healed her heart, or at least put some duct tape on it for now to prevent her from falling completely to pieces.

She was reminded of a time when duct tape had actually saved a life. Or well, maybe her cousin wasn't actually dying but that durable silver-backed adhesive had come in handy when he'd put an axe in his leg four summers ago. The memory made her laugh a little on the inside, and together with Mr. Keyboard's humming she finally put a stopper in her tears and shakily got back to her feet.

Words of strength, voiced long ago by her Aunt, floating to the surface of her mind, Annabel lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, though her bottom lip still trembled. "If my opinion matters, I think we should retreat to a safer place and immediately investigate this. It's as Miss Fire Hair said. Any one of us could be next, or did no one else notice that this started when several of us chased after that orb and ended up together? Maybe it's a coincidence but I believe we're all a part of this, so we might as well work as a team."

Annabel turned then, slowly making her way on wobbly legs over to where the woman with the truck was busy shouldering the fallen tree. Her hands were of no use but her shoulders where fine so she put her hip and shoulder against the tree, she pushed.

She wasn't running from the problem but she definitely wanted to leave this specific location and never return.
 
Something had happened that he didn't expect. Annabel just felt better. That is what he had hoped, but it was almost too good to be true. Did his hums actually heal her? Further investigation would need to be administered. However, it was getting time for everyone to pack up and leave.

His eyes followed Annabel, and his ears listened. Figuring that they were some sort of team, at this point, Rich decided to follow her lead. He got in next to his new ally and the woman from the truck. Not knowing how much help it would be, his shoulder pressed into the bark. Rich could hear the squish of the water.

"Either way, I think it would be pretty decent to get this damn tree out of here." he declared
 
Once the trio managed to get the tree rocking, Lydia was finally able to use the momentum to her advantage. Her gut clenched as she focused her energies and literally shoved the tree aside, a bit harder than she'd meant to. The tree actually caught air as it pivoted on one end over the curb and back over to the grass. She also remembered, too late, to warn the pair helping her to stand back.

"Oops..." she apologized, feeling embarrassed, and a bit conspicuous now as well. She'd been so focused on getting the tree moved, she was sure she'd given herself away now.

Lydia slinked back to her truck with a mumbled and very sheepish thanks, unable to even look them in the eye to see if they needed help getting up from the mud, or if they were okay after the sudden move. Right now, she just wanted to get away. She felt weak after her sudden exertion, and fumbled getting the door to her truck to open, as well as having trouble actually hopping up into said truck.
 
Ander wasn't sure what he was seeing was real. The tree moved incredibly easily, but he was not sure that he wasn't making more of it than was really necessary. He looked around the crowd. One gone. A bum, a somewhat shattered woman, a man who had soothed her by humming, the strong woman who had shoved the tree, and the woman from the shop. Something had brought them together. Whether that something was coincidence or planned, he didn't know.

"All I know is I would feel better and safer inside, in my own house. Besides, we need to find out what this-" he held up the thumb drive "- is and why we were given it. It came into our possession the same time the storm got really bad this direction, and I'm guessing whatever caused that tree to fall and made Harry vanish is connected to it. So unless someone has a closer computer and a safe spot for us to get dry and warm, we should go to my place. I don't have any idea what is going on, but I do know if we sit here much longer, we're going to get cold and worthless if we have to fight our way out of danger. Besides, what if what took him is localized? Do you want to chance staying here if it is?" He took a breath. It hurt so badly to talk and he was finding it hard to make a convincing argument in such strange circumstances.
 
"I'm with Ander!" Perry said as soon as Ander had finished talking. He was so shaken that he couldn't think of much beyond his reply. His mind was playing tricks on him. He kept noticing tinglings and imagined himself vanishing as well.

God how he wished he had some pills about now... maybe Ander could find him a doctor to prescribe something.

"I saw it." he shouted to the others, "we need to check that thing out... also I've noticed some weird things around here."

(Perry will start describing the oddities he saw to anyone who will listen.)
 
Whatever other factors may have been present, the fact that there were cold and wet people, as well as a very traumatized group would be obvious. Traffic was beginning to pick up, and soon, they would draw curiosity. There was the sound of a distant siren, and a blast of a train horn. One thing was clear. They needed to go somewhere, if for no other reason than to make sure everyone was, at least for the time, intact. Angry drivers were having to pull around the truck that was sitting still partially in the road, a fact which almost ensured someone was going to stop and ask questions.
 
Lydia frowned as she finally dragged herself into the truck cab and shut the door just as a particularly annoyed horn blast sounded behind her.

"Yeah, you're welcome, jerk!" she shouted back before slumping down in the seat with a sigh. She started up the engine and pulled the pick-up more over to the side and out of the way before sticking her head towards the opposite window to address the group again.

"Um, I'm not sure where exactly we're going, but if you guys want a ride, I've got space in the cab, and in the back once I redo the tarp..." she offered. "We'll get there faster at least..."

She looked around at the group; they all seemed to know each other, or at least be familiar with each other. She immediately felt a pang of loneliness, missing having some kinship. She missed her family, and her old friends. Unfortunately, that desire brought with it a nauseous flash of an almost memory, come and gone before she could even avoid it. She coughed, fighting back more bile trying to rise up her throat, and sat back in the driver's seat to compose herself, busying her mind with wriggling enough to find the gum pack she knew was in one of her pockets. She had to get the taste out of her mouth and throat, and soon.
 
Eager to get on, Perry moved toward the back of the truck, presuming that no one wanted wet bum smell in their cab. Still he had no move to assist
 
***
Somehow, the group found themselves piling into the truck and getting to Ander's house. The large house was warm and welcoming, giving the illusion of being a safe harbor in the midst of the terror the group found themselves trapped in. If the darkness was trying to suck them in, at least here, they had a foothold. Those who needed to shower were shown to the bathrooms of the place, those who were wet and cold were given warm, fluffy towels by a girl who was otherwise rather unobtrusive. Ander made certain that everyone had tea or hot chocolate or coffee, while any remaining wounds of Annabel's were disinfected or wrapped so that they would not make her sick or hurt too badly. The house, the servant, and the quality of even something as simple as drinks was like something out of a world few would have forseen themselves entering and, at any other time, it would have probably delighted them or disgusted them.

Eventually, the group moved to the den, where several computers and shelves of books lived happily with a window seat, wingback chairs, comfy looking ottomans, and a chaise lounge.
 
After handing over her muddy clothes to the servant girl, Annabel took full advantage of the shower. She was no longer sad or scared because of the strange numbness that had swept over her, preventing any emotion from rising to the surface. She stood there under the spray, watching the mud leave her hair and body like little murky rivers that broke off from each other, spidered out, and rejoined later on. She found herself envying the sight, wishing she could wash away the dirt from her mind like she could the dirt from her body. She wished she could forget what she had seen, just like she'd done to her dreams.

But once the warmth of the water started to penetrate her cold skin, she began to feel a little better, or at least a little more human. It was enough to get herself going and once she had washed up she shut off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. When she joined the group in the den, she was wearing a borrowed button up shirt which was definitely too big for her thin frame because it looked more like a dress. It was enough to cover her to her thighs, much to her liking. She didn't really want anyone knowing the color of her undies, thank you very much.

With the sleeves of the shirt rolled up, her damp hair up in a messy bun on top of her head, she sank down into one of the chairs and thanked the servant for tending to her injured hands. She hadn't even noticed them stinging in the shower but now... Well now they really hurt. All she did was make a face though, scrunching up her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. She wasn't a child anymore that could cry over an owie. And when her hands were bandaged, she picked up a mug of hot chocolate carefully and took a sip, glancing around at the others. Just from the looks on their faces, Annabel could tell they were just as worried as she was, maybe even more so. It was comforting to know she wasn't the only one so affected by what had happened. She felt drained from the day's events - her long walk, the battle with the monster, the trauma that followed. The urge to lay down and sleep was strong, but first she wanted to help with the investigation. If there even was one, that is.
 
This was quite the opposite of what went on about an hour ago. Rich had traded rain, mud, cold for a hot shower, towel, and tea oh my. The hot, running water made him feel relaxed and hopeful. Thoughts drifted. Thankfully, he was allowed to fit his case in the truck. A swift exit followed. He stayed in the mirror for a time, after drying. Images what happened ran through his mind. Everything from the globe to the present. All of it was rather....f*cked up, to put it in technical terms.

Finally dressing himself in simple slacks and muscle shirt. The towel was put on his neck to keep water from running downwards. He grabbed his some dry fedora and glasses from the heater and went into the den. Rich imagined what he actually looked like. It was a less cool but more dorky version of Tom Cruise in Top Gun, but the idea made him smirk nonetheless.

Beyond the fact being frantic is unsound, humor and distraction had kept the tragic events from eating him up. He knew this. It still worked. Though seeing Anna in the t-shirt...

"How was the shower?" he asked blankly, sipping his tea.

A quick naturally perverted thought entered and exited, like an assassin. Rich sat close as he could without looking like a creep. It was all he could do without being mauled by the past...avoid it long enough to blow over or run. This was a bit too....big to ignore.
 
Ander was clearly not happy, but he tried to act the good host; southern hospitality was a way of life, after all. The darkness had threatened to consume him and he had risen against it, not let it defeat him. For the first time in his life, he felt he might actually be recovering, making progress. But it was at a terrible cost, and he could not for a moment let himself forget that. He felt responsible for these people, these strangers he'd somehow found himself tangled up with and let into his house.

They were a strange collection: The talkative and somewhat singed girl, the rather logical woman who'd argued the situation's futility, the optimistic seeming girl with the truck, the bum, and the musician. He had a sinking feeling that there had been others, others that may not have made it this far, that may have suffered the same fate as Harry. He walked over to the thermostat, turning the heat in the room on for those who were still wet from their showers. He waited until they all made their way in and were seated before he took out the thumb drive.

"This impacts us all. No matter what is on this drive, we stick together from here out. We need one another if we are going to make it through this without us vanishing like Harry." Vanishing. Well, that was the nice way to put it. He turned to the computer, inserted the drive... and frowned. It was gibberish! Complete gibberish, random numbers and symbols that made no sense for names of files as well as contents. Some of the files were still locked, too, only the first couple accessible! He frowned, shoulders sagging.
 
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