"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."

- Plato

02:56 a.m

8 days earlier

Stella pulled the gun up to her chest, the weight of the weapon heavier than its size. With the sky covered by clouds, not even the light of the stars and moon could be seen. Her sight extended merely to a hand's reach away. In the deep darkness of nowhere, she relied on her hearing, listening carefully to the crunching footsteps of her approaching enemy.

She did not know if Joseph was armed, or if he had the means to see her. Keeping her torchlight off and back hunched, she stepped to the rear end of the overturned S.U.V, where the impact had mangled the car enough that whoever was on the other side would be unable to see her feet through the windows below. She needed to flank him, knowing full well she might end up taking his life. As the thought of killing went through her mind, the loaded pistol felt even heavier than before and she drooped it back down to her side.

Stopping at the corner that separated 'her side' and Joseph, she crouched low, listening for the heavy padded feet of Joseph. For awhile, she could hear it nearing, steadily growing louder. And then, nothing. Silence fell upon her and the only sound left was her slow and steadied breaths. Her mind raced with what could have muted him. She imagined him bending over to peer into the car, pistol in hand, ready to shoot her brother and best friend.

Her hands steadied instantly, and with a loud pump of her heart that she was sure the world could hear, she spun around the corner of the car, gun in one hand and turned on her torch with the other. With a squeeze, she let one round fly at the first thing that moved and the bullet ricocheted off the ground with a puff of dust.

Nothing.

The movement was a trick of her eyes, a shadow glimpsed from her peripherals. But the figure that moved to her left was no trick. She dived forward as Joseph raised his hunting rifle, squeezing off with a louder bang than her own gun.

Even before she hit the ground, her shin flared as if scorched by fire. Her torch flew out of her hands and landed farther than she could reach, the light pointing right on her, as if a spotlight aiming to show her to the world. She rolled on the ground onto her back and aimed her pistol up just as Joseph walked into view. Firing thrice, she missed the first two shots, the recoil too much for her arm to aim. Her third sparked off against the barrel of Joseph's rifle, causing him to drop the firearm from the force of the impact. It did not dissuade him however, and the crazed man moved quickly over her.

In her panic to back away, she fired two random shots, one that flew overhead to nowhere and yonder while the second grazed him by the cheek. Still undeterred, Joseph swiped for the gun. Knowing she would be overpowered, Stella threw the pistol away but he merely jumped on her and wrapped his hands around her small neck.

XXX

“Pass me your bat,” Tim said to Clay, the two friends standing back-to-back against their adversaries.

The Sawman and The Brother continued their saunter, closing in on the pair with each step. Though Tim had seen them move at high speed before, they seemed to almost relished in building up tension and fear between themselves and their preys.

Clay handed the weapon over, “I hope you have a plan, kid.”

“When I say 'run', you make a beeline for the other dugout.”

“What are you going to do?”

Ignoring the question, Tim yelled, “Run!”

Clay hesitated, but with a slight push from Tim, he began doing as he was told and sprinted towards the dugout exit on the other side of the field. Tim raised the bat, did a 180 degree turn and charged towards The Brother.

Despite being closer, The Brother kept its attention on Clay, which reaffirmed Tim's suspicion that Tim was marked by The Father instead. Without any fear of immediate death, he intercepted The Brother's path, swinging the bat with all his might at The Brother.

The bat swooshed through the air at mach speed, but inexplicably stopped right before impact. The Brother stopped walking and turned towards Tim as the latter tried to push the bat through the invisible forcefield that prevented him from hitting it.

The Brother raised its bat and Tim drew back his. The two swung, their bats clanging on impact, but his wooden one broke at the handle. The Brother, bat and all, disappeared in another whirl of dust. Tim took the chance as the monster recuperated and dropped the broken handle and chased after Clay into the dugout. His friend held the exit door opened and he ran through it at full speed, looking back for one final glimpse of the Sawman, already walking pass first base before Clay closed the door behind them.

They started jogging through the long corridor, putting some distance between them and their hunters. Clay exclaimed, “I have a lot of question for you kid!”

“Can't this wait until we've survived this?”

“Fine!” Clay snapped back. “But you better have a plan.”

They turned a corner and through a gate that lead to the loading bay. The shutter's to the bay however were closed and they saw no way to raise them. Caught in a dead end, the pair each grabbed one of the tools lying around as a weapon. Tim a crowbar and Clay a wrench. The two stood in the middle of the loading bay, facing the way they came and ready for a fight.

“Alright kid, you seem to know more about this place than I do. How do we get out of here?” Clay asked.

“You have to trust me on this.”

“Spit it out.”

“You have to get killed by The Father. The man with the saw. And I get killed by your baseball kid.”

Clay grabbed Tim by the shoulder and spun him round to face him. “What the fuck kind of plan is that?”

“It's how we're getting out of this. There's too much to explain right now. You just have to trust me.”

“You do know we'll die if we get killed here right?” Clay emphasized the die part.

“Look, I'm ninety-eight percent sure we'll survive this if we do this!”

“Just ninety-eight percent?” Clay denied the plan with his trademark sarcasm.

“We've gone on much, much less in the past.”

“That's because we weren't putting out lives on the line!” he shouted back.

Tim stared at Clay as if seeing his friend for the first time. “What are you talking about man? We were always risking something. Sometimes even our lives,” he took a step closer, looking straight into Clay's eyes. “You're scared. You're really scared.”

“Tim. I don't mind dying. But this place, it messes with your head.”

“And you're scared because of that?” Clay did not reply, prompting Tim to continue. “What happened to you? Your sister is out there. Probably kicking Joseph's ass, because sure, why won't she? But you need to suck it up right now and help her!”

Zoot. Zun. Zoot. Zun.

The sound of the saw.

Clang.

The metal bat, tapping against the ground.

Clang.

The two turned to the entrance, facing both The Brother and The Father.

Tim asked Clay, “So what's it going to be...kid?”

XXX

03:01 a.m

8 days earlier

Unable to breath, Stella felt the world around her dimmed. She scratched at Joseph's face, her nails digging deep enough to draw blood. But as if drawing energy from each drop of blood lost, he continued his assault, the hold on her throat getting stronger every second. She tried to wiggle free but he had her pinned under his heavier weight. The pistol laid just out of reach to her right and she wondered if throwing it away had helped her survival or doomed her to die.

Suddenly, a metal pellet smacked right into Joseph's face, the impact distracting enough that she managed to raise her knees to his crotch. The low blow caused him to squirm in pain, only to be immediately tackled by Clay, flying in from the side. The two males rolled off Stella and into parts unlit by the torchlight. She turned to see Tim reloading his rifle, though still trapped upside down within the car, unable to free himself.

Clay managed to break off from Joseph's grasp, kicking away and jumping back to his feet to make some distance between them.

“What the fuck's wrong with you dude?!” Clay screamed.

Joseph crawled away from Clay and went scrambling for his hunting rifle. Clay saw the movement and tried to intercept, but lost when Joseph grabbed the butt of the gun and swung it at his face. The rifle barrel smacked across Clay's mouth and he though he might have lost a tooth as he backed off in pain.

The mad teen got to his feet and pointed the gun at his junior. Clay froze in the spot, staring defiantly back at his senior, clutching his broken right elbow in with his left hands, his arms bleeding from multiple cuts.

Joseph said maniacally, saliva spewing with each word. “You gave me Sin! So once I kill you, it's gonna go away!”

“What kind of fucked up logic is that?!” Clay yelled back.

With rifle raised and an inability to be reasoned with, Joseph readied himself to shoot. He pulled the bolt, the empty bullet casing jumping out as a new round clicked into place.

The shot rang through the night.

At first he wobbled on his feet, the bullet having cleanly went through his skull. When the muscle memories of his body were no longer able to support his weight, Joseph fell backwards, his lifeless eyes staring up at the night sky.

Clay breathed erratically, heart still pumping from his near death confrontation. He turned to the sound of Stella's whimper, the girl leaning against the crashed car with pistol in hand. He ran to his sister the moment he saw a tear roll down her cheeks.

Taking the gun out of her hands and ignoring the pain in his arms, he hugged her tightly and she hugged back. “It's okay baby-sis,” he pulled her closer and tighter, until the only place she could sob into was his shoulder. “It's over.”