A Song for Ghosts

Faith

She opened her eyes.

The sky above was a sweep of ash and smoke, like a single plume of darkness had snuffed out the familiar black and hid the moon and it’s guiding light away. The only sounds to be heard was the herald of the coming storm, a grumble of thunder far off to the tree-lined horizon and the noxious caw of the crows pecking at her. In an instant they flew off in a rush of dark feathers when she stirred, sitting up with a jaw-clenched groan. Mist and winking embers surrounded the air about her, encompassing Faith in a circle clear of ash.

Where am I? Faith pondered, clutching her head, her brain threatening to burst from her skull. The town was deserted. Only a slight breeze provided company on the lonesome road, not a sound to be heard nor a soul to be seen, except…one.

She poked at him cautiously, quickly wrenching her hand back. “Hello…?” Faith muttered softly. His breaths were deep, as if he were asleep. Yet, when she rolled the man onto his back he did not wake. Unconscious, then.
She was so enveloped with the handsome stranger that she did not see the dark creature until it had a black, skeletal hand wrapped around her ankle.

Faith stared at the husk of a human that crawled it’s way to her, horror rising in her throat like a foul bile. Where it’s eyes had once been, hollowed crevices stared back at her. Grey bones jutted out of blackened flesh, digging into Faith’s legs like claws, for it’s legs and left arm were gone. Faith struggled away, desperately clutching at the bed of ash behind her for a hold. The creature snapped it’s blackened teeth at her, inching it’s way up her leg.

No matter how hard Faith tried, she couldn’t scream. The sound refused to leave her throat. The unconscious man remained just that, rested only a few feet away. What did come to her rescue, looked to be something even more terrifying. He was silent as the mist, and beautiful in the strange same way the embers were. With a squeeze of the trigger his revolver blasted the creature’s skull to a thousand black shards. Faith remained speechless, fears cold hands wrapped around her throat.

The stranger who had come to her aid towered above her like an enigmatic shadow. All his garbs were black, a dust-stained cloak wrapped round his chest rippled in the slight breeze. A gas mask hid his face, betraying not a single emotion as he pointed the same gun at her. With that Faith finally found her voice. “W-wait…please. I don’t mean you any harm.” She glanced at the unconscious man at the feet of the stranger. “My husband…he needs help…p-please.”

Still and silent as a shadow the stranger seemed to ponder this. Without a word he slipped the gun into its holster on his side. The stranger brought the unconscious man onto his feet, a limp arm around the strangers shoulders. Speechless yet again, Faith got her feet and took her ‘husbands’ other arm. Wordless as the mist the stranger led them, weaving through the rubble, remnant shells of what had once been homes.

Trudging through the night and carpet of mist, they left the main road and the cloud of embers and ash behind. In the shadows, the snapping of the smoking wights sounded like invisible whips, urging them on.

The shuffle and moans of more and more of them echoed behind them. The masked stranger even twisted round, shooting a round into the gathering herd of creatures bumbling after them. Faith’s heart thudded madly in her chest, fear pumping through every vein.

As they twisted left and right through the dark streets, only the stranger’s small torch for light, there was no sign of life. Faith stumbled over countless heaps of sodden waste and weeds that had taken over the pathways and side-streets. Out of the mist, a building appeared.

On the front lawn, a collapsed sign read; St Vadticus High School. “Will we be safe in there?” Faith asked as the masked stranger kicked open the double doors into the main hall. Just as the rest of the town, the school was abandoned. The creatures still stumbled blindly after them, moaning and snapping.

Faith shouldered the brown-haired man’s weight whilst the stranger blocked the doorway with a wooden beam lying close by, the wights pressed up against glass. The two shuffled down the hallway, pulling the unconscious man along. All the while her mind raced and her heart tried to escape her chest.

What were those things?

What happened to the people in this town?

And why does this guy keep ignoring me?

These questions circled, the last leading back to first, over and over again until her head spun. No time. They needed to get of here. The crack of glass and moan of wood told them to get out fast. They past upturned, rusted lockers and soiled, rotten paper, the small-hairs on Faith’s neck rising. Abruptly, the masked stranger jerked left, dragging a surprised Faith along as he kicked open another door and slammed it behind them.

The room was lined with identical benches layered with shattered flasks and bottles, the chairs sprawled about with only the moonlight filtering in through the small windows for guidance. Gently as he could, the masked stranger placed the unconscious man down, leaning against a bench. His head was titled to the side and drool soaked his shoulder.

Wordless as ever, the masked stranger placed his revolver on a bench and revealed a shotgun that had been hidden under his dusty cloak. He placed it on the bench and handed a confused Faith the revolver.

“Wait— I don’t know how…” She began, cut off by a gloved hand over her mouth. The stranger used his other hand to point at her, then at the door they had come through- now swarmed with the creatures, and made a shooting gesture. He then pointed at himself, then the door at the other side of room, also swarmed.

“I’m really not sure I’m the most, ah, qualified for this…” Faith was cut off yet again by his hand suffocating her speech. The stranger backed her up against the bench, his body merely an inch away from hers. And he… stared, despite the lack of eyes he seemed to speak. You do this, or we die.
Faith nodded meekly, her mumbling muffled under his glove. The stranger peeled away and loaded the shotgun, pumping it with a click.

With slightly shaking hands, Faith picked up the revolver and the eight bullets he handed her, feeling an odd sensation. Some strange instinct whispered, and she obeyed. Faith flicked out the bullet chamber and spun, loading it one by one. The faded voice whispered again and she slammed the chamber back in, clicking the bullet into place and aiming it at the glass pane in the door.

They stood almost back to back. The stranger, his shotgun aimed for the far door. Faith had no time to wonder what kind of plan he had in mind. But what other choice did she have but to trust him?

But it wasn’t her mind that she was listening to at that moment, no. It was the instinct that sung, the instinct that guided her form and hand that squeezed the trigger, shooting the first wight in the eye, its skull thrown from its shoulders as it keeled backwards. Gunshots, almost deafening sounded as the masked stranger blasted creature after creature apart.

It all happened so fast, Faith almost felt bad. A cold rush had taken hold of her, freezing her in place as she took out another creature, one more, two, three, four. All of them no more than shards and a heap of charred remains now.

The last gunshot echoed about the room, and the two lowered their guns. Faith spun round, the instinct fading to be replaced by giddiness. She grinned at him, and he looked at her as if, Oh, I told you so. And snatched the revolver from her.

Her smile instantly left her and she squinted at him. Yet again, they picked up her husband and made their way through the far door. As they made their way through the now-empty halls, she give him a side-way glance with a smirk as if, We work well together, you realise, so much for ignoring me.

The stranger looked to her and tilted his head to the side, Work Well? That was my plan, genius. Faith only snorted, still wearing that dangerous smirk.

The moon had reemerged, the dark clouds had all but faded away to reveal a sky full of stars. They left the high school behind and emerged onto a road curving round the face of the hill that rose up into the night. The high school and road sat at a depression in the middle, overlooking the lower city below. The night was a soft blanket over the city-scape and rolling hills, a black forest surrounding the entire city in a wall of impenetrable darkness. It was intimating, yet…comforting. The Masked stranger was clearly leading them there, so there wouldn’t be any monsters there, right?

Silent as ever he led them down a dirt pathway through a sea of grass that was the wheat-coloured pelt of the hills, dotted with half-collapsed billboards and road-signs. The three entered an alleyway and came a to stop. Faith raised an eyebrow as they set the unconscious man down next a dumpster. He drew the revolver and motioned as if, Stay here, stay quiet.

Sighing through her nose Faith slid backed against the brick wall and slid downwards, her arms folded while she glared at him. The Stranger stood and watched, as she did this slow as she possibly could, and shook his head slightly as he left the alley and his helpless charges.

Faith shivered, the nights cold creeping up through the cement. She drew her black cloak close around her, and huddled close to the bin and snoring stranger. For every breath he took, it sounded more and more like a mother whale in labour.

Curled into a ball of dark clothes and surrounded by trash, she wasn’t sure how long it had been. Sleep was out of the question, at any rate, with the cold, and the flesh-eating monsters and such. Maybe the masked stranger had simply left them, or maybe he’d forgotten. Either way, Faith felt as if she was going to freeze to death if he didn’t get back soon.

The only sounds had been the howl of the wind and the whistle through the trees, but suddenly in the almost-silence, there was a faint mew. Sleepily, Faith raised her head. “What the…” She murmured, blinking the sleep from her eyes. The sound seemed to have come from the mounds of indistinguishable paper and plastic beside her. The dark thunder clouds had rolled overhead, flashes of blue on the horizon. A light shower had begun, every drop a freezing pinch against her already frozen self.

Shivering, Faith sifted through the rubbish until she found a dark, sodden clump of fur that breathed little, shallow breathes. She petted it, softly as she could and it mewed in response. Faith scooped up the little creature into her palms and held it close.

A kitten? What would a kitten be doing out here, all alone in this abandoned town? The little thing squeaked, wiggling its little paws about in search of the warmth it felt from her. What did it matter? Faith held it close to her face and it licked her nose with its little pink tongue. She smiled and opened her cloak and slipped the little babe into a breast pocket. It happily snuggled into the warmth of her pocket, purring its faint purr.

The Masked Stranger returned not too long after, only glancing at the sudden, breathing giant bump on her chest. Regardless, the stranger led them into the silent town and through the sudden downpour.

Stumbling through the darkness, cut in ribbons with flashes of blue gave her pause to think. And yet…all thoughts escaped her. They blurred into a translucent haze, refusing to take shape.

Whenever she pressed to as to how she had found herself surrounded in a bed of ashes, a sharp throbbing ignited her head in a blinding pain. The claws of that creature had torn at her black trousers, but hadn’t broken the skin. She found a dark curiosity as to what might have happened if the stranger hadn’t shown up…

Suddenly a towering shadow rose before them. The ground had become littered with leaves slick with dew and rubbish strewn about carelessly. As they approached the mist cleared and the shadow took the form of a two story house. The two stepped onto the curb, pulling the third with them and picked their way through the soaked, rotted belongings scattered about the weed-infested lawn.

The paint had all but faded or had been chipped away. The windows lay in shards on the rotted carpet and a film of dust had settled on the house, freezing it into a disturbing stillness. The stranger led them up onto the second floor, each stair giving a ghoulish groan. Then to a room with nothing but another door, a monstrous round window a sun-bed and an aged chair piled high with woollen blankets. The stranger took her ‘husband’ and lay him gently onto the sun-bed.

It was almost as if she wasn’t there. Maybe he thought if he didn’t look at her, she’d possibly stop existing.

The stranger lit a candle that provided little, yet much welcomed light in the dim room. Faith watched his every move, curious as she was fearful. He removed his mask, placing it by the candle with his back to her. When the stranger turned, he put on a pair of ridiculously sized glasses. But he was surprisingly…young. She had expected a ghoul, and yet she found a knight.

He had a dark mop of hair, combed half-heartedly to the side with a shadow of stubble washing over his chiseled, square jaw. Yet…it was his eyes that left her again without a word to utter. They were great pools of aged oak, so deep and dark that it was so very easy to get lost in them. With his mask it was all too easy to mistake him for someone much older, with his broad shoulders and muscles that rippled and flexed underneath the thin sheet of black garb with the slightest movement. Yet he would be what? Nineteen, twenty, perhaps older?

It was until he grinned a goofy grin that Faith realised she’d been holding her breath. “The name’s Pierce. Original, yes. Creative? Not quite. You can thank my friends for that one.” He extended a hand, Faith shook it numbly. “Uh…Faith.”
“Faith? You don’t really— The auburn-haired man grunted and rolled onto his side, drooling, nearly falling off the sun-bed. Oh, Gods. Don’t wake up. At least not now, give me a moment to figure out what In the Forgotten World is going on! Faith thought.
—Take this, clean yourself off a bit” Pierce handed her a canister and sat on the wide sill of the round window.

Faith stared at the canister for a moment, than back at the strange man bathed in moonlight. The moon was full, and yet the night too dark to make out many of the surroundings, only the distant outlines of buildings atop the great hill. “There’s a bathroom through there.” He said, motioning over to the door to her left. Did he not care? Did he not care if she was some crazed lunatic intent on tasting his life’s blood? He had his gun, Faith supposed. Well, crazy times… crazier people.

The bathroom was small, most of the tiles had been upturned and soil, shit and weeds had taken hold. She closed the door behind her and rested her forehead on the rotted wood. Even if this Pierce had saved her and the other man, there was no telling if there were more of his people on the way right this moment. Or perhaps the man on the sun-bed was a danger to them both. Perhaps when he woke, he’d snap his teeth as the wight had and gnaw the life out of them without a single thought. Such pleasant thoughts sapped the strength from her bones, it felt like.

Half of the mirror now lay in the sink and the borders were blackened and stained. Yet it did not take away any of the charm of her own appearance. Faith’s hair was white as snow, spotted with patches of soot and filth. Her skin was crusted with dirt and her nails were caked black. Her cheekbones were oddly sharp, her turquoise eyes bloodshot and slightly sunken in. Her clothes had suffered the same fate as the rest of her as her white tank was torn and more grey then white, really.

Perhaps she’d once been beautiful. But in that moment, Faith did not feel beautiful. Yet, whenever she tried to remember a fiery whip came down on her in response. Gingerly, she groped for a memory. For anything. She only felt pain and confusion. With a sigh she opened the canister and splashed her face with a handful of tepid water, washing away as much of the dirt as she could. It was no wonder Pierce didn’t view her as a threat. Faith supposed she should thank him. Thanking someone for saving your live tended to be a given.

Faith returned to the room to find her husband both snoring and drooling, his left leg and arm drooping onto the floor. Somewhere, perhaps not far off chimes sang in the lazy, biting breeze. Pierce still stared off into the darkness, so Faith jumped onto a dusty arm-chair layered with knitted, woollen blankets. She curled into the chair, grateful for it’s warmth, the little kit in her pocket shifted about with a grateful squeak. She closed her eyes and rested her chin on the wooden arm.

“I…just wanted to say thanks, I guess.” Faith murmured sleepily. Pierce, still rested on the sill looked up for a moment, then returned to scribbling notes in a patchwork, leather notebook.

“It was nothing. I was hunting about the area for paper and batteries when I heard the snapping. Ashlings are pretty easy to find if you know what to listen for.”
“Ashlings?” She’d never heard of such a thing. “I’m guessing you’re a northern sort?” Pierce half-smiled at her obvious confusion. Northern. Faith felt something almost click in her head. “I…suppose I am.” Pierce’s lips twitched slightly, but betrayed nothing else. “What about your sleeping beauty?” He motioned to the snoring stranger, a thin dribble of snot running down his upper lip. Gentle as she could, Faith prodded for a memory. The pain was not so fiery this time, but it yielded nothing.
“Northern, too—” Faith found herself yawning and her eyes refused to stay open any longer. Curled into the warmth of the armchair and soft blanket of quietness, aside from the insistent scribbling of Pierce, Faith drifted into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke, the warmth was gone, the only sound the pitter patter of rain against the window. The moment Faith opened her eyes, every instinct held her frozen in place. The candle was nearly burnt down to its base and clouds had smothered the moons light yet again. She sighed in relief at the sound of a familiar, yet fainter snore and little warmth in her pocket. Yet Faith clung to the arm of the chair with a death grip, the darkness pressing in around her. The small hairs on the back of her neck rose and she nearly jumped from her skin when a lighter flickered on to light another candle.

“Oh, Pierce. Thank god, I was—” Faith was silenced as Pierce placed a gloved hand over her mouth. She struggled for a moment, flailing to push him away until he pinned her left arm down.

Weak as she was, Faith was no match. There was not trace of that goofy smile as he pulled out a syringe filled with a strange, blue liquid. The second the needle met her wrist Faith felt reality melt away. Everything blurred and distorted, the darkness and rippling form of Pierce shifted and swam about like disturbed water.

In her last moment of consciousness, all she could hear was, “Sorry.”