Chapter 39: Ape Escape (Patreon)

Gentleman Ape soars toward Emily, his arms flailing wildly in the air, a shrill shriek escapes his mouth. Emily’s head springs up just in time to see the ape’s hairy gut as it collides with her face filled with fast dawning horror and dismay. The moment the ape’s belly makes contact, a dull clap of flesh sounds, followed by Gentleman Ape latching unto her noggin. The glowing crimson threads that had been burrowing into the back of her hand snap. The split threads slice the back of Emily’s hand, and blood stains the fur on Gentleman Ape’s back. A muffled scream echoes.

‘I truly am sorry, Gentleman Ape! And to a lesser extent Emily, I suppose.’ I leap to my feet; behind me, I can hear the two men that are observing from afar.

“What!?” Mark's voice yells. A bright torch swings in my direction, illuminating and reflecting upon my unfilled body. “An actual P-Class Horror!? I-I only just got out of company orientation!”

“Shit! I didn’t think she’d actually find the thing!” Colin’s voice shouts. “Stay here, call your boss, and tell them what’s happening! I’m gonna go around!”

Wait, give this to Preston!” Mark replies.

Their voices go quiet as Emily’s tome tumbles to the ground. She clutches the scruff of Gentleman Ape’s back. “Get off! Get off!”

The frightened Gentleman Ape grips her black hair, spanking her atop the head with one hand and pulling her hair with the other. The remaining four apes fling clumps of mud, snow, and stones at Emily.

‘Gentleman Ape has done more than I could have ever hoped!’ I shove off the edge of the high rock and drift earthward. For whatever reason, the apes accompany me, climbing and jumping down, to participate in the turmoil.

Reaching the stone platform, my gaze moves to Preston. The door is half-closed, and he is biting his lip, glaring at Emily. Meanwhile, the apes have also made their way down and race toward Emily; seizing her frock, they yank her back and forth.

“Goddamn it!” Preston kicks open the door, his pistol raised. But, when he better perceives me, his jaw drops, and his mouth opens and closes. He manages to stutter a hodgepodge of words, “ A… Phantasmal Horror… smokey, transparent, terrifying...” A gust of wind blows, removing the excess haze from around my body. “G-gorgeous woman!?” His cheeks flush, his arms slacken.

“Don’t kill it,” Emily’s screams through Gentleman Ape’s stomach.

“This woman is insane!” He moves a few paces past the door. Tightening his grasp upon his weapon, he takes a whiff of the chilled air, aims at the kiln, and threatens, “Just d-don’t move...! Damn, can you even understand me!?”

‘This man is liable to shoot his weapon by total accident…’ Ignoring the rest of his incomprehensible words, I nod.

“It can actually understand me!” The cattail’s tendrils flex as I look for ways to escape. A look of disgust appears on Preston’s face. “The fuck!? Is this a nightmare! I-if you can actually understand me, stop moving! I… I won’t give you another warning!”

‘If I move closer, he may fire at the kiln. I do not wish to test my Sturdiness nor Durability.’

I take a few seconds to assess my situation. Preston is around thirteen feet in front of me—the cattail will not reach. He stands around two feet past the door. To my left, Gentleman Ape and Emily are battling twelve or so feet away, which is around four feet to Prestons right. Gentleman Ape is starting to tire and will likely release her soon. The longer I dawdle, the sooner Colin will arrive, but if I charge, I may learn how well the kiln can handle a pellet from these black pistols.

‘I… Copepod, I require a copepod and a distraction.’ I nod, overlooking the screeching of Gentleman Ape and the other apes that are still pulling at Emily’s clothing. ‘I need to get closer… The hand language thing, I wish I had practiced this more; I shall attempt it nonetheless.’

Preston’s hands shake, causing his pistol to make a faint metallic clicking sound. I hold up one finger indicating for him to wait; I notice my haze seems to be trembling like Preston’s hands.

‘Relax, Constance... I only know around six words, but here it goes.’

Raising my palms, I make a fist, lift my thumbs, push my hands together, and then I open my fist before lowering my palms. I take a small step forward while a rat-sized sable copepod stealthy slips from my right ankle. Next, I present one hand, put two fingers together, bring them to my lips, and then downward. I then take another small step forward. Finally, I simply point at Preston, taking one last step forward.

“...W-what?” Blinking, he stares at me with furrowed brows. “Was… was that sign language? Are you deaf?” he asks, lowering his pistol a tad.

I glance at the copepod, then back to Preston. ‘Foolish man! I am mute, not deaf! How would I have known what was being said earlier.‘ My eyelids make an angry expression. Seeing my face, he raises his pistol once more. ‘Aye. Now his eyes will be fixed upon me.’

Once more, I repeat the hand movements from earlier, but this time, I have the cattail slither along the ground toward Preston. If ever he is about to glance away, I become more frantic with my movements to keep his attention.

“Stop! Just stop! I don’t know sign language, so it doesn’t matter how many times you do it!” he commands, taking a breath and lowering his torch. “I’ve decided. I’m going to make a call; you just stay there… a-and you’ll be guaranteed safety.” His eyelid twitches at the last sentence.

‘I have heard such lies many times.’

I peep at the copepod, finding it has made its way to the top right corner of the door frame. Making an ‘X’ with my arms, I point at the copepod while also commanding it to leap. Preston spots it in his peripheral, gasps, and swats at it with his torch.

When the torch strikes the copepod, it bursts into a puff of black. Preston uses the sleeve of his other arm to cover his mouth. Alas, he has not seen the real threat has slithered beneath him. When the puff of black is blown away by the breeze, he drops the arm that grips his weapon.

‘Strike!’ My ambush springs into action, catching Preston by his hand.

The pistol discharges, and the cry of Gentleman Ape resounds. Glancing over, I can see a pellet has struck Gentleman Ape’s shoulder. Blood spatters onto Emily as Gentleman Ape releases her. Falling to the ground, Gentleman Ape stands, charges the door, slips behind Preston, and sprints into the park. With the smell of ape blood in the air, the other apes join him, dashing through the door and into the park.

Before Preston can react, I execute my next move, arcing the cattail and yanking him upward. His joints pop as he rises into the air. He kicks his feet and beseeches, ““Please, please, don’t kill, eat, possess, mutilate, or dismember me; I-I didn’t wanna work for The Consortium!” His body trembles as he dangles a hand’s length from the ground. [1] “B-but I got wrapped up in a cult out west, my wife had a baby, and The Consortium gives people company housing in Chicago and guarantees protection! I had to!”

‘I do not care; just release thy weapon!’

Bending the tendrils upward, so they only grip the pistol, he lets go, dropping upon his posterior. I retract the cattail while he flips over and crawls back behind the door and, like a horse would, kicks it closed.

‘I have his weapon!’ Bringing the pistol to me, I stare at my prize curiously and then draw it deep into the cattail. My head turns to the cliff and then the sea lion enclosure. ‘I can attempt to climb out or flee toward the sea lions… Mark is still near the sea lion enclosure s—’

“Monster!” a voice screams.

‘Monster! I resent such acquisitions, true or otherwise!’

I spin around, finding Emily kneeling on the ground with her right hand on her open tome. Scratches on her neck and face ooze blood. The upper half of her bosom is exposed from where the apes have stretched and torn her frock. One of the cloth squares that was stitched to her face has been almost entirely torn off. She sweeps her hand across her cheek, like someone whisking away a bug. The cloth presses against her face, sticking for a second before peeling off and drooping once more.

“Oh!” Like someone inspecting a cow for slaughter, her eyes dart between my legs, arms, dress, hair, and bust. “What a beautiful cloud, ghost monster thing you are! You’ll look magnificent standing next to me.” A maniacal laugh escapes her lips while an inky red substance leaks from behind the fabric. “Guess I better go ahead and remove this, so it’ll grow back.” She grabs the cloth and rips it from her face. I can see a few tears leak from her eyes.

‘Apologies! I did not realize thou were a lunatic, call me whatever thou wish!’ Roach-sized sable copepods exit from both my ankles, scuttling toward the madwoman. Raising the cattail, I prepare to incapacitate her, yet before I may, letters and markings that almost look to have been stitched together via red fibers emerge from the pages of the tome.

“I’m not gonna lie, that really hurt! But sometimes you’ve just gotta tear off the band-aid!” Emily grins and then shouts, “Hex snare!”

The letters and markings unstitch, and the strings speed toward me. ‘What!?’

I try to move, but the strings entangle the shell of the kiln. The line tightens while two strands dart toward the ground, piercing the rock. With a strand to my left and another to my right, they become taut.

A blue box appears.

‘Snare!?’ I try to move, but the kiln refuses to go anywhere due to the two taunt strands that have fastened themselves to the rock. My head turns down where I can see the stitched mark that was once floating above Emily’s tome has now been bound to the outside of the shell. Then looking at the strands that bind me to the rock, I can see they originate from the mark. I wrap the tendrils around one of the strands and pull. As I stretch it, my body gets drawn lower as the red string bows, forcing my legs to bend under the force of my own strength.

‘I must readjust the cattail if I am to break it!’

“Monster! Serve me!” I look toward the disturbance. Strings of red once more exit the tome’s pages, except like the time before, burrow themselves into Emily’s hand.

Seeing that the copepods have almost made it to here, I command them. ‘Halt her actions!’

They jump onto Emily’s frock and commence climbing. With fiery eyes, she peers at me, continuing, “I am Emily Bardot, a Hex Scribe, obey me; give yourself to me!” New markings ignite above the tome; it becomes apparent the copepods will not arrive in time.

“Ratify contract!” she shouts.

A blinding red light radiates from the tome. The strands above the book intertwine with the threads burrowed into the back of her hands. Once entwined, they rush toward me and envelop the kiln, veiling its violet radiance. ‘Nay, Constance, hurry!’

Bending the cattail like an elbow and bracing it against the earth, I grasp the glittering red snare that binds me to the rock from below and thrust the cattail skyward. The snare snaps with a crackle.

More threads exit from the pages of Emily’s tome. “Yes! Yes!” Emily giggles, murmuring to herself, “Don’t worry, Finn, sister has this!”

As fast as I can, I swap the cattail to the other red snare. I am too slow; the strings completely envelop the kiln. ‘Nay! I cannot be at this lunatic’s mercy!’

A blue wall appears, informing me of my fate.

My head swings to the kiln, then my right, followed by my left, expecting something to occur. For a short moment, I feel a small tickle of desperation, and I hear a tiny whisper say, “Accept. Give yourself to me.”

If I were capable, I would laugh at it because I shake my head, shouting back, ‘...Nay! Never! Nay!’

The blinding light and strings vanish, and the blue wall changes.

Emily peers at me with the same wide grin as before, but gradually it turns stiffer and stiffer. “What…” She blinks. “R-refusal? It… it can do that…?”

The cattail’s tendrils clasp the last thread of the snare, I yank, and it severs into two. The marks on the kiln fall apart. Emily’s expression turns to one of fear.

She gasps, whispering a tiny, “No.”

Her head turns downward to discover a sable copepod has crawled onto the back of her hand. The copepod turns into a haze and sinks into her flesh. Jerking her hand away, black bumps soon appear and spread.

I order the remaining copepods back, yet two of them are too far along to halt.

A second copepod leaps onto her neck, and a line of blood leaks from her nostrils, dripping onto the opened tome. A third copepod crawls onto her exposed chest, and red sores surface. The few remaining copepods return and mix back into the haze.

Lifting her hands in disbelief, her breathing becomes sporadic. She topples onto her side. Curling into a ball, she hugs herself and sobs—a gray quill and bottle of ink slip from her pocket.

‘This is not a reaction I expected! The haze’s influence should wear off in a few days as long as she does not succumb to it!’ Watching the woman mutter to herself, attempting to come to terms with her own mortality, my shoulders drop. ‘I suppose I should probably warn the woman, so she does not assume her demise and do something foolish. The last thing I need is for her to make a suicidal endeavor to pursue me.’

I hastily close the distance to Emily and reach for the tome. When my hand approaches, lightning strikes me. The lightning flows through the haze, causing it to glow a variety of colors. Yet, I feel nary any pain, but just a tickle around the kiln.

‘I forgot about the lightning! Luckily, the kiln is unaffected; that would have been embarrassing!’ Flattening the tendrils, I pop the cork on the bottle of ink and grip the quill with my left hand; I scribble words in the tome. “Weep if thou must, but do not yield. Resist. Endure. It shall pass.”

Turning the tome toward Emily to read, I stop. The ink seeps into the pages, fading—Emily’s crying slows. Still curled in a ball, she whispers, “Resist. Endure… It shall pass.” Her breathing slows to a more relaxed state.

‘What just happened? She did not even see what I wrote.’

“Shit, Em, you fucked up!” I can hear Colin yell in the distance. The sound of his footsteps thumping upon the ground grows ever louder. “You fucked up bad!”

‘I do not understand, but I do not have any time left; I must take my leave!’

I fling the wretched tome into the water and direct my gaze toward the cliffs. Winding the cattail around a tree trunk at the cliff’s summit, I start drawing myself up the side of the cliff.

This entire catastrophe that feels as if it is hours long, in reality, could not have taken more than a minute or two, as Colin has only just made it to the door that Preston still hides behind. I can hear Preston and Colin arguing and shouting at one another until the door bursts open.

With shaky hands and heavy breathing, Preston steps from the door. “Keep low!” he shouts, raising a copper pistol that has a barrel made of spinning cogwheels. He moves into position above the whispering Emily. Preston glances down at her just as one of her sores pop, spitting pus upon his shoes.

Glaring at me, he grits his teeth. The cogs on the barrel of the copper pistol revolve at an increasingly quick pace as he takes aim at my chest.

Emily spurts upward and seizes his arm. “Wait, don’t shoot it, I-I need it,” she yells, raising an arm to stop him, blood oozing from her nostrils.

Preston pulls his arm away. “No! I don’t know what your issue is, but you aren’t thinking correctly.” A few black bumps appear on Preston’s arms. “Fuck! Shit! Don’t touch anyone else,” he screams.

Now only five feet away, I start forming a large copepod. ‘Faster cattail! Faster disgustingly lovely copepods!’

“What the hell!? It’s like a Victorian ghost or some shit!?” Colin’s voice shouts.

‘Who is Victoria, and where even is the man, Colin, right now!?’

Just then, Colin exits the door behind Preston; his tome is open and blue threads have started to gather above its pages. He shoves his way past Preston. “I’ll keep it still!”

‘Nay! I shan’t allow that! I am only a single yard from the top!’

I release the largest copepod I have made thus far—one the size of a mouser. The mouser-sized copepod leaps from the kiln and onto the cliff face and scurries toward Colin. But, blue letters have arisen from the tome. “Hex snare!” he shouts.

As I crest the top of the cliff, the Hex rushes toward me. It strikes me, entangling the kiln, a single blue thread embeds itself into the tree I used to aid my ascension.

A blue wall appears in my peripheral.

‘Nay, stop, I cannot perish! Resist!’ I wrap the thread with the tendril and yank—the tree creaks.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” Colin shouts. “Hurry!”

I do not know where the copepod is, but I command it. ‘Leap at him! Leap!’

Preston lifts his weapon once more, the cogs spin faster. Just as the weapon is about to discharge, the huge copepod surprises him, falling only a palm short of the pistol’s barrel. [2] A sound like thunder roars out, and the mouser-sized copepod bursts into a cloud as a copper orb races through the air. I duck just as the ball strikes the tree above my head: the tree shivers, yellow lines spread around where the orb struck. Like a piece of brittle charcoal struck with an ax, the place the orb struck crumbles.

The tree falls toward the cliff. ‘It shall crush me!’

“I’ll grab Emily! Move!” I can hear Colin yell.

I yank at the blue snare, snapping it.

I dart to the side. The tree falls off the edge of the cliff, and as splinters and twigs rain down, I take one glance back to see Colin carrying Emily away without thought of how the haze’s effects have spread to him. Looking toward the sea lion enclosure, I can see a ride with The Consortium symbol hurrying down the road.

‘Hide. Need somewhere they will not suspect to hide.’ I dash away, leaving the bedlam behind—hunger pains arise in my abdomen. [3]

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[1]. Hands Length: 4 inches or 10.16 cm
[2]. Palm: 3 inches or 7.62 cm
[3]. Bedlam: Scene of mad confusion. An institution for the care of mentally ill people.