They ran. She guided him through the decaying nightmare. Like an overinflated balloon, which had lost all air, parts sagged upon themselves. The bruised purple light diminished, though strove to stay aflame. It writhed inside the corpse of Brian, hate in full bloom. No matter its unsteady step, it gained on them, alien curses upon lifeless lips. Tendrils of skin lifted Cheri's arms to grab Gage, but he slipped out of her grasp.

He looked back at his mother, as his father's voice cursed him in idiot repetition. Cheri's one exposed eye was heavy lidded, and appeared as one upon the edge of sleep. Perhaps, a dark voice mused, she was in her own eternal nightmare, one deeper than this. Death had taken her, but that drowsy eye promised one last loveless embrace. All the way to the deepest depths she would pull him, no doubt as Brian cursed. Heaven may ignore abandoned children, the darkness in her gaze promised, but Hell loved them. Let me hold you her slack face implored, so you may see where I've gone. There is darkness here, this voice added, and it is far from empty. Indeed, Gage felt, part of him wished to gaze into the eldritch flame, so all would be devastated in the infinite. In the boundless there was no self. If there was no self, there was no betrayal, indifference, or heartless shepherds. Just fall inside the numbing light, the flames asked, and all will be nothing.

"GAGE," Moxie howled through tears. She stumbled, legs full of knots.

He turned, mind and body disconnected. The front door was before them, still ajar. A bottle of whiskey set in the sand propped up by bones, and a lighter set atop the table. Monsters are afraid of fire. Moxie had said, and his mind gnawed on it. She snatched up the bottle and doused the membrane with the liquor. Little mouths formed to curse them. She snatched up the lighter, but little thumbs could barely strike it. Brian had bought lighters tough to ignite, after she had tried to use flame to ward off Hunky Punks.

She pressed it in to his palm. "Please," she cried in his dazed face.

The nightmare faltered. Corpses of friends and foes rose. Corporeal Farley, still upon his throne, watched them with dispassion. Above, the endless sky split, and a hole opened to a reality unchained by all notions of sanity. Something drew closer.

"Monsters are afraid of fire," Gage mused aloud, and flames danced out of the lighter.

Gage stuck it to the membrane, and fire engulfed it. Moxie darted through, as the skin retreated in agony. She grabbed his hand, and both stumbled onto the porch. Brian's voice cursed them, though it was choked by a cat-like hiss bathed in insect clicks. A horde of cicadas would fail to arouse such a cacophony. Her hand slipped, when they stepped into the yard. Moxie ran, terror kept eyes from the house.

He stopped. The haze of his mind covered thought like a heavy fog. Gage turned back, perhaps to see his mother still under the control of his father's malignant corpse. She still held her arms out for an embrace. Above her the sky was torn open in Brian's nightmare. Closer something came, enticed by the promise of flesh to defile. Bruised purple light blazed behind it, like some darksome saint or god of consuming flame. Its brilliance shines upon him, drove away the entire world this cloaked figure's form was a lie, told by the mind, all within its darkness writhed and cursed. All within its power was riotous and hateful. Truth beyond the finite mind crashed into Gage.

Moxie stepped in to the road, bent over to suck in air, and felt the world grow distant. She coughed. Only she stood by the road. "SIR GAGE," she cried and looked around.

The headlights of the tow truck struck her, and she turned. It came to a halt. Haas peered over the wheel, before stepping out. The vehicle was left running, so to keep the heater going. He rushed over to her, but looked about for an adult.

"Honey, where are your parents?" he asked, but knew Cheri and Brian were addicts. God help her, Haas thought.

"I want my brother!" she commanded, chin high. "He is brave and he protects me. He doesn't know that I know, but I know!" Tears streamed down her face, and her chest hitched as she tried to hold back.

Haas kneeled down; afraid his size would scare her. "Don't be afraid, Sugar," he smiled.

"I'm not SCARED!" she wailed.

"Sorry," he held up his hands, "I meant I'm scared." Haas wished the Misses was here, for she was better with little ones.

"Oh," Moxie rubbed her eyes, and the tears slowed. "It's okay. I'll protect you."

Haas smiled, "Thank you, I appreciate it, Little Miss." He sat down to further reduce his height. "You're looking for your brother?" he asked soft as he could manage. A low rumble was all his boulder of a head could manage.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Do you know where he may be?" he took off his coat, and put it around her. She was swallowed up by its immense size.

"I saw him at the house," she said, and looked back. "I left him. I left him, because I didn't want to look back!"

Haas held up his hands, "It is okay. I'll fetch him." He stood, "I want you to get in the truck, where it is warm.

"I have to pee," she sniffed, and he ignored the wet patch on her pants.

"I'll hurry," Haas smiled.

He drove the tow truck to the house. The headlights cut over the smoking timbers. Haas frowned, for it appeared collapsed. Like everything had pulled to the center as if it had imploded, he thought. He stepped out, and Moxie stood to look out the windshield. Gage lied on the ground. After checking for a pulse, Haas carried him to the truck. Moxie opened the jacket, so she could help him warm up.

"Where are your parents?" he looked at Moxie.

"They're gone," she said, and put her head against Gage, and began to cry in silence.

"I'll take you to the Misses," Haas said with a nod, "she'll know what to do." He thought of the Van Lear Family atop the mountain. Brian and Cheri probably ran, so they wouldn't have to answer for anything that happened at the factory. He was unsurprised Brian had left the two little ones. Although he hated to get into others' business, he had left a stone on their porch as well. There was nowhere they could go to escape, he thought. Alice would find them.

"Sir Gage is a writer," she said, wiped away tears.

"Is that so," he smiled, "that is so great. I could never write a story." Haas looked at her, "Sir Gage must be very talented."

Her brother was cursed with long memory. Gage's mind drifted though drew closer to his body as they moved along the icy road. The cloaked figure descended in a halo of purple flame. Moxie would remember nothing; alien intelligence ate away at the mind, until it was gone. He, however, would have nightmares for a year. Sometimes, he would think of a hooded figure, though failed to remember. The worse was the sunset, when it turned a vibrant bruised purple. Gage's heart would race, and would have to hide from the dying light's brilliance. Something, a word, would fail to form in his mind.

Moxie pulled the coat tighter around her brother, who seemed to be in the grip of a nightmare. She would quickly forget in the coming days all that had transpired. Bad dreams came that night, but were gone afterwards. Haas and his wife fell in love with her energy and quirkiness. They were astounded by her brother's talent too. With nowhere else for the children to go, they stayed with them, until they were adopted. This night was gone from Moxie, never to return.