Chương 7: The Village
I began my investigation for the key to the Pretty Lady's room by heading for the village center. Every face soured at my passing. My mere presence there among them, they who considered themselves normal, was an abomination.
I pulled my hat down lowly over my brow, attempting to mask my gruesome features.
After all the horrors I had outlived in the forest, the last thing I wanted was a knife in the back from a superstitious fool with something to prove. While I had virtually no leads, the Musician had mentioned that the missing Chicken Lady's brother, Janek, had had an unusual fascination with the well at the village center.
Absent other options, I headed there first. To my disappointment, I discovered the well a derelict; its foundation had all but crumbled away, and the chain that ran down into the water had snapped some time ago. Cursing beneath my breath, I peered down into the depths and saw a faint light at its bottom. Curious, I thought. I deduced my only method of further investigation was to repair the well's chain, but to that labor, I would need a suitable replacement.
I began to wander aimlessly. No one spoke to me, aside from the casual warning or indignant remark. I came at last to a house at the far corner of the village. A thin smoke was wafting from the windows. Intrigued, I stepped up to the door and knocked firmly. It swung open impotently. A cascade of pleading and breathless sobbing washed over me, and as I squinted through the acrid smoke, I saw a man curled upon a bed across from the building's entrance.
He was begging for forgiveness, but to whom, I could not say. Stunned, I moved past the traumatized man and into the kitchen, where I discovered a grisly sight. A corpse, scorched as black as twilight, was spread across the floor. Its wrists were bound with a length of chain that ran into a large pile beside the stove.
I swallowed heavily, and then unwound the chain from the charred remains. The murderer never acknowledged me, even as the chain that bound his victim rattled by. As I made my way back to the well, I noticed a small patch of holes that had been dug into the earth. I peered into the largest of them and saw what appeared to be a man staring up at me with glowing eyes. He told me to leave his "holes" alone. I later discovered that by jumping into the network of holes, I was transported back to my hideout in the Silent Forest. I still have no idea how such a thing is possible.
Descending into the well, I felt a sickening sensation in my stomach. It felt like I was stumbling blindly into a trap. When at last I reached the bottom, I found several items, most important of all was a flare. The cave beneath the well was dark, impenetrable by all but the most luminous of light.
Carefully, i pushed deeper into the cave as my torch carved away the sinister darkness, inch by inch. For a brief time, the cave was like a soundproof room; each step I took was swallowed by the unseen walls. Yet, the silence was not everlasting. A blood-curdling shriek flooded the cavernous vacuum like gas. I felt the damn soil beneath me quiver as the rapid footfalls of something incredibly agile approached me.
I lifted my torch to increase my radius of light, and saw what looked like a child running at me from the empty void. My heart seized in my chest. It was not a child, at least, not anymore. The miniature chomper shrieked again once it realized I had seen it. It gnashed its terrible mandibles and then darted off into the darkness. It was one of those... chompers, I named their kind haphazardly.
I knew then that I had little time; the beast would grow bold if I chose to linger. As I sprinted through the labyrinthine cave, time seemed to stop. Each turn I took produced two more tunnels, until I felt certain I had secured my own demise. Then, from out of the grey darkness, I saw an orb of light above me bleed into existence.
I heard an enraged scream behind me as I leapt and climbed up the ruinous walls and into the light. Just as I felt my lungs cry out for reprieve, I emerged inside a ramshackle house, whose floors had caved into the underground, fully barricaded from the inside such that no person from the outside could enter.
After I had regained my composure, I searched the rooms and found the item I sought: the Chicken Lady's key. With the key firmly in hand, I departed the crumbling house without a second glance and made my way back to collapsed silo. Before I had walked ten paces, however, I hesitated. I wanted to see the Pretty Lady for myself.
It was a curiosity that I could neither explain nor deny. I turned and doubled-back to the Chicken Lady's house. The strange woman was in a trance when I returned. She seemed to be lost in thought as she stroked the disgusting bird in her arms. Her arms and chest were matted with dried chicken dung.
I tightened the cloth that concealed my face in an effort to block the stink, but despite my efforts, the pungent stench infected me. I moved through the house until the muffled groaning grew unbearably loud. I could hear the creaking of rotted wood and the crunch of rusted bed springs. I ignored the sounds and came to a door that was locked. Without consideration, I inserted the key into the lock and entered the room.
A ghastly stink, far more sickening than that of the Chicken Lady's poultry, filled my lungs, along with pained moans and raspy breathing. I turned the corner and spotted a heaving mass shifting in the dark. Faint light penetrated the room through the barricaded window, creating a haunting dichotomy of black and white that slithered like snakes.
Mesmerized, I stepped forward and extended my hand to the amorphous shape on top of the bed. My hands slid across rough fabric, and with a violent tug, I pulled the moldy blanket from the Pretty Lady.
It was an impulsive decision I instantly regretted.
I turned immediately, unable to look at the disfigured mass of flesh before me. The woman-thing was swollen beyond description, gasping and shuddering in endless agony. Her stomach was horrible bloated, like she was forcefully fed ashes. She did not speak words; only unintelligible gasps and exhales escaped her deformed lips. I looked down at the fabric in my hand, the blanket I had pulled from her body. It was a suitable material for upgrading my pack, yet as I turned to leave, the Pretty Lady, at last, spoke to me:
"Please," she whimpered and rasped. "Please, cover me."
I frowned, and left the room with fabric in hand.
Perhaps a special place in hell awaits someone like me. I shall face such consequences when the time comes. I have often told myself that the girl was no longer human.
Do I not have the right to do what I must to survive?
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