The gunshot rang out from their right. It was close. When he looked, Ignas could see an old rusty sign, partially lit by the surviving light bulbs around it. "-ts Motel" it read. Marcus started towards building it advertised.
"Someone might be in trouble." he said.
Ignas tried to keep up with Marcus's large strides, and Charlotte tried to keep up with Ignas, being vigilant as always, keeping watch for who or what may be behind them. The congregation had appeared out of nowhere in the woods. Ignas knew he shouldn't have been surprised. They looked like a sort of marching candlelight vigil, each one of them clinging to their own piece of wax, after breaking the tall ones into smaller pieces, as they searched for a sign or at least a path made in the dirt. Ignas felt guilty when he thought about how Trevor's cough was the loudest noise in the forest. But his hacking had turned to choking as man in a blood-soaked suit wrapped his dirty fingers around his throat. Two more well-dressed followers came from the bushes. Black blood came from between their lips as they violently wretched on him, as if he was on fire and were desperately trying to put him out. Justin found a stone the size of a bowling ball smashed it against the skull of one of the attackers. But pain meant little to those who transcended, it seemed. He staggered from the blow, almost fell, and forgot about Trevor, but soon turned around fell on their prey's friend. More came, laughing like children.
"Run! Just go on without me!" screamed Justin as they surrounded him arms stretched. As his candle dropped from his hands and snuffed itself out on the forest floor, his screams became more painful, as if he was being torn limb from limb. They were unbearable to Nina making it impossible for her to obey. She ran to husband, the gathering crowd, a forest of its own. Andy, the guy with the glasses, was gone. If he escaped, Ignas wouldn't know. Chaotic the scene was. There were fewer candles and light around as screams and mad laughter surrounded them. Charlotte's candle was the last to go out and lucky for them; they were already hearing the voices die behind them. "Take my hand." she had told Ignas. He echoed the order to Marcus, and they followed Charlotte's little light into a more quiet darkness. Shortly before the candle went out, they had been fortunate enough to have found a line of earth cutting through the woods, flattened by thousands of boots over the years. Near the path was a signpost. The sign read, "Strawberry." The way the sign tapered pointed down the dirt path that would take them there.
No more than a few moments they'd been in this ghost town, just as Ignas threatened to even think about finding civilization and the relatively sane people that enjoyed it, they were running into a gun fight. In the motel lobby, there were two men. One, wearing a mud stained white t-shirt and ragged blue jeans, held a Glock in a wrapped up, bloody hand as he stood over the other who was dressed as a police officer. He was motionless with a gunshot wound in his forehead. The man in the dirty clothes turned and saw the three outside. Before he could lift the firearm half an inch, they shouted.
"Easy! Easy, man!" Ignas called out.
Charlotte and Marcus shouted out similar orders.
"He attacked me. He would have killed me," defended the shooter. "I...He wasn't right in the head. I swear."
"It's cool, It's cool, we get it." Marcus said, realizing the officer's eyes were the same solid red as the congregation. His lips curled grotesquely in a smile, made permanent on his lifeless face. "We ran into them in the woods."282Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGZvkkB8L4m
A sudden discomfort came over the man, and he looked like he was about to raise the gun again. "You're dressed like them. All fancy. Why?"
"We were there when it started." Marcus spoke carefully. "I'll explain, just put the gun down. Alright? We just want to get the fuck out of whatever this is. Just like you."
Above, streaks of the wine-red sky shown through the black, mist-like clouds as they parted over the large, yellowish moon.
"Name's Marvin," he said, tucking the pistol into his waistband, "you can call me Marv."
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