A Night of Horrors & a Night of Hope
‘To kill a witch,
One need only find a good tree.
The deader the better,
‘The best’ dealt by a Goodtree.’
‘With my life’s end,
A final gift is my curse.
Yours was your best
And in mine is my worst.
‘For Sleepyveil’s want of a treat
Will reap only a pox in its stead.
And freedom’s only found in the felled forest
When the last of Goodtree’s line is dead.’
Abigail stood on a cliff’s edge, her hair pulled back into a single brown braid, which overlapped a red scarf coiled around her neck. She held a toy katana at her side as a hang glider rested on the ground beside her. The area was a lush green, though, the air was smoke filled and hazy. Across the valley, the sun set beyond the opposite ridgeline. She looked along it, her eyes then settling into the valley.
The valley floor may as well have been a different world. The town of Sleepyveil had become a black smudge—a dark interpretation of what their small Pennsylvanian town had once been. Fires burned in straight lines, bracketing her hometown on each side. The military had moved in and set up perimeter trenches and now performed controlled burns, serving to destroy the infection and preventing escape. But escape wasn’t what Abigail had on her mind.
In only a year, she thought, shaking her head. A single night and now, my home’s a hell—forever.
It was just a prank—the witch’s curse. Everyone became their costumes for the night and would be normal again the next day. Still, a lot of people died. The monster fans devoured those donning more whimsical outfits, only to revert and lose their minds, traumatized by the memories of what they’d done. If only that had been the worst of it. Unfortunately, there had been a few zombie fans as well—those bitten... Well, it seemed that only the costumes reverted. Communicable diseases and viruses? Yeah, those where here to stay.
“Abby,” a boy called from behind.
She turned to see two more survivors—few as they were.
Josh was a tall, broad-shouldered boy that had played fullback for their high school’s football team, which proved a useful experience given that he had dressed as a pro player and had plowed them a path out of the city. Greg followed him everywhere now, a lanky boy that was a year younger and had become little more than Josh’s shadow. She and Greg would both be dead if not for him.
“I got your message,” Josh continued. “What are we doing up here? And what are you wearing? I thought you swore off Halloween?”
“There could still be survivors down there, Josh,” she replied. “I can help them.”
“Are you kidding? We barely got out the first time. Besides, the Army’s there now. They’ll handle it.”
“Handle it? Are you serious? They built a fort and a fire moat. Whatever it is they’re doing, it’s not handling it, Josh.”
Greg stepped behind Josh.
“Shoot. I’m sorry, Greg...” She sighed. “Is he still not talking?”
Josh shook his head. “Doc says his vocal cords are fine. Whatever’s going on with him, it’s something in his head. You never answered me, though.” He glanced to the hang glider. “No... You’re not thinking anything crazy, are you?”
“Some of our friends could still be alive down there. If I could save someone... Anyone. I have to try.”
Josh folded his arms. “It’s been a year, Abby. And you’re going to jump down there with a sword like some kind of ninja? You’ve been watching too much Walking Dead. A sword isn’t going to get you as far as whatever you’re planning. That sword-wielding werewolf-thing... Whatever you were last year? Yeah, that would probably get you a lot farther than whatever this is.”
“I’m going to become Mioko. She’s a hero. She can end this. I know she can.”
“Who?”
“Mioko. You don’t know her, yet, but you will. Look, I’m not here to argue and you’re not going to talk me out of this.”
“What if all the Goodtrees are dead?”
Abby hesitated. She hadn’t considered that. “Well...if I don’t turn... I guess you can get in touch with the army. Let them know that the curse has ended.”
“Right. And if it has, then all you have to worry about is making your way back out of the zombie apocalypse a second time. And let’s not forget about the other fire moat that you’ll need to cross—the one that’s wrapping around most of the county.”
Abby leaned around Josh to meet Greg’s eyes. “Take care of him, won’t you?” He didn’t respond, instead withdrawing into his Josh-shell.
“Is there nothing, I can say?” Josh asked, resigned.
She hoisted the hang-glider onto her back, fastened a clip into the back of her belt, then met his gaze. “Take care of one another while I’m gone. Hopefully, I won’t come back alone.” She turned and leaped over the ledge, the blue and orange striped sail catching the wind as she peered at the town eight-hundred-feet below.
Her elbows were hooked over a horizontal bar as she held onto the katana. She spiraled around town, the air thick with smoke. Occasional pockets of heat carried her higher again as she passed in and out of smoke plumes. One such plume made her lose sight of everything and she exited in a coughing fit. Good grief. At this rate, I’ll choke to death before I ever reach the ground.
Abby forced the glider’s nose down, plummeting, the wind roaring past and forcing her eyes nearly closed. She passed a steepled church near the town’s center, only three-hundred-feet above it, the ground rushing up to meet her. She maneuvered to glide over the street, her eyes widening as she discovered a new black fabric wrapping her hands.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Save them, Mioko!
Her brown hair turned black, her fair complexion becoming olive as a young Japanese girl took her place. Her top was replaced by a black jacket with a red flap that folded across her chest like a duffle coat. The scarf flowed down her to become a red waist cape.
‘Save them, Mioko!’
Mioko’s eyes opened to show glowing blue irises. She glanced around, drawing her black-bladed katana and cutting away everything around her to suddenly plummet. What the hell’s going on?
She mentally opened a portal, a blue-bordered oval that silently appeared below her. The exit sent her sailing across the sky in a low arc as she surveyed the town below. Several portal hops followed as she sequenced herself down into the city, a final one tossing her upward, her momentum dissipating where she leisurely walked onto the street’s pavement.
Around her stood a graveyard, the buildings of an old downtown area becoming its markers. The area was free of blemish—there wasn’t a clean spot in sight. Every building was scorched, every window frame was a breezeway, and every brick was ash-stained. The wind was the only sign of life, stirring the overhead smoke and making it seem like a cloud layer that had settled down over the surrounding two-story buildings.
Mioko frowned, her brows knitting together. ‘I’m going to become Mioko. She’s a hero. She can end this.’ These aren’t my memories... I was... summoned? What the hell, chick? You can’t just... I’m not a demon.
She shook her head and surveyed what remained of the town. Zombies... When are people going to stop fucking with these things? It’s all fun and story time until someone invents something that brings them into your world. She sighed. So, this is some sort of curse? Well, I’m here. Might as well see what I can do.
Few street lights remained upright, none of them giving an impression that they intended to show up for tonight’s work. Welp, this problem’s gonna need some light.
She opened a portal, its opposite side looking down on a distant fire. She flung her hand skyward and her side of the portal moved overhead, the blue-framed flames now inverted to spill their light down around her. She replicated the same light source, spreading several around town, their cones of firelight soon dancing along the streets. A last portal followed her, lighting her way as if someone trailed with a lantern.
Mioko became a blur, moving to each building with incredible speed. “Hello?” she called, a tiny flame blossoming in her upturned palm. “I’m here to help. Is there anyone here?” Each cleared structure caught fire. If she was going to clear the town, she’d leave no hiding places in her wake.
A roaming corpse neared her, its nose, cheeks, and top lip torn away, its flesh-frame displaying skull and desiccated muscle.
Ting! She unseated her katana, a single swing passing through the top of its head, though leaving it in place like a table cloth yanked from beneath a still set table.
Mioko’s scrunched her nose as she looked at it, the zombie seeming unaware that it was dead again. Her trailing portal rotated behind it, her subsequent kick sending it through to plummet into a perimeter fire.
She heard a crash in the next building. The shop was filled with free standing shelves and might have been racks for books or records. It was impossible to tell considering its present stock only consisted of charred remains. She found a zombie bent and clawing at a toppled shelf.
Thud!
Its head dropped from its shoulders and its body collapsed, both soon swept into her portable furnace.
Mioko was about to depart when she heard a whimper. She found its owner pinned beneath the shelf that the zombie had been preoccupied with. She lifted it and a golden retriever limped its way free, nursing its front paw.
“Well, hey there, little guy.”
The dog was cautious, which was probably the only reason it was alive. It looked at her, then away, grateful for being saved but seeming torn on surrendering its loyalty.
“It’s alright,” she said, crouching. “Come here. Let me have a look at you.”
He limped over and became her subject of scrutiny. She checked his eyes, ears, and teeth, then ran her fingers through his fur. All things considered, he really wasn’t in that bad of shape, the only thing she hadn’t checked was his paw.
“I ain’t gonna like this any more than you but it has to be done.” She took his paw, to his immediate squawks and protests. “I know, I know.” It’s not a bite at least. Looks like he might have mashed it somehow. “There, there, I’m done.” She gave his ears a vigorous scratching, though he still whimpered.
She nodded to him. “Let’s just get you some place safe until I’m done here.”
Mioko had cleared most of the buildings, the dog’s refuge being one of the last, but something kept drawing her attention. For the past few blocks, the layer of smoke hadn’t closed her off from the sky. She could see a column of bright light shining upward—something just beyond the buildings she had been clearing. She cradled the dog and passed down an alley, finally glimpsing an answer.
She opened a new portal that provided a top-down view. The area’s centerpiece was a three-story building of white concrete which was illuminated like a prison yard. Lighting was affixed along the roof’s edge to shine down its walls, while perimeter lighting shined inward across a wide stretch of ground that surrounded it. The grounds were enclosed by a flaming trench, the trench encircled by a wall of rotting flesh—a mass of writhing zombies that occasionally nudged its members into the fire.
What the hell is this place? Whatever it was, it was like gravity, most of the city’s undead settling here—what she could only imagine was the bottom of a barrel. In the upper corner of the building’s wall, she could see an octagon logo of alternating red and white. Umbrella... Am I actually in a game world?
The dog whimpered.
“It’ll be fine. You see that building? You’ll be safe on its roof. Just sit tight while I check out the inside. And no heroics, you hear me?”
Ruff!
She fumbled him, the bark nearly startling her. She recovered, giggled, then moved him to the roof.
The roof’s lighting bleached away all shadows, almost making her feel bad to leave the dog there. She prepared to portal down to the front door but hesitated, something on her scabbard catching her attention.
‘Made in China.’
What the hell? It was a sticker or seemed like one. She tried to scratch it away but it was indistinguishable from her scabbard’s surface. That shit ain’t funny. What’s that about?
Whop-whop-whop-whop.
A chopper passed overhead, drawing her attention up as its blown air washed down on her. Its front end reared like a stallion preparing to gallop, instead halting to hover along the outer bank of fire. There was someone in the helicopter’s side door.
Pow-pow-pow-pow-pow! Gunfire rained down into the horde surrounding the perimeter fire, streaks of orange lead descending to punch rotted corpses into the ground.
It’s about time. This supposed military presence has been rather lack luster.
Mioko glanced to her scabbard’s sticker again, shook her head, then portal hopped to and through the building’s front entrance—double doors that opened into a grand lobby. White tiles comprised the floor and was accompanied by walls and a ceiling of the same sterile white. Bet this shit’s hard to keep clean. She looked to the large Umbrella logo that covered most of the floor and rolled her eyes. *This must be a company’s equivalent of someone enjoying the sound of their own voice. *
“Hello?” she called.
No response.
She hastily made her way through the building, clearing rooms and several sterile corridors, each seeming like a replica of the last, each echoing with more company logos. Geez, were they afraid it was going to forget who owned it?
Eventually, she entered some sort of office-lab hybrid. Glass storage tanks lined one wall. They had to be nearly eight-feet tall and contained a cloudy green substance that made it impossible to tell what might be inside. Documents, equations, dates, and lines of science gibberish occupied another wall, which seemed to double as a dry-erase board. A computer earned her undivided attention after discovering it was still logged on. Its desktop background was uninspired, possessing the same mark she was growing to despise. No puppy, kitten, or beach background? It’s official; these people are monsters.
The chair was still warm, which meant someone hadn’t gone far. She clicked through files and folders, finding research documents dating back to the 90’s. Isn’t this place only a year old?
Mioko zoned out looking at the background icon, then noticed another Umbrella mark on the bottom corner of the monitor. It looked like a sticker but when she scratched at it, it seemed to be part of the monitor. She glanced to the “sticker” on her katana. *No.
‘Everyone became their costumes for the night...’
Looks like people aren’t the only things becoming their costumes.*
“Who are you?”
She straightened.
A teen-aged blonde boy stood in the room’s doorway, his hair combed neatly over his head, his torso framed by a blue blazer, a crest over its breast pocket. “And how did you get in here?” he asked.
Mioko shrugged. “Front door. It was unlocked. I’m Mioko by the way. And you?”
“Well, that’s unexpected. A civil intruder? Very well. I’m Desmond—Desmond Goodtree. You’re trespassing, and I’ll not stand for it.”
She smirked. But you —are— standing. Are you the last of your Goodtree clowns?
“Unless... Say, how would you like a job? If you made your way in here, you’re obviously capable. I have a vacancy and find myself in need of another chief of security.”
“And what happened to the last guy?”
Desmond shrugged. “The damn fool up and vanished. I’m not sure if that’s poetry or irony to do so on the same day we have an intruder.”
“Goodtree... I’ve heard that name before. Is your family important?”
“It is. Or, it was. I’m the sole heir of my family’s legacy. It falls to me to ensure our future.”
Mioko nodded. “I have some experience with that.” Although, mine wasn’t a genocidal nut job. “So, how are you going to ensure that future? Nothing’s certain, you know?”
“My future? You’re standing in it. ‘A rising tide raises all ships,’ and I am that tide. If you work for me, your future will be set too.”
“Did you just...” She shook her head. “What are you planning to do with this stuff? You know it’s dangerous.”
“Of course. It is a weapon, after all. The government’s facilitating all of this. They mean to buy it from me. Weapons are power and who doesn’t want more power?”
Mioko groaned and rubbed her head. “This really isn’t getting better no matter how long I let you talk. How many thousands? Or millions of people die in that franchise? With this curse, you could have done any number of things to get rich. Why not make a wheel that spins hay into gold? Or bring out a goose that lays golden eggs. Hell, you could’ve even turned into the goose and shit out more eggs than you’d know what to do with. Why is something so harmful your go to?”
Desmond scratched his chin. “Yes... I suppose I could have done that... had the thought occurred to me. But we’re here now and the ship’s sailed. I have to report my success to my contact or they’ll firebomb this place come morning.”
“Oh, well that’s convenient. Sounds like that would save me some work.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, I’ll show you. But is anything in here voice activated?”
“No, most of this tech is mid-90’s, early 2000’s. Why?”
Mioko nodded and walked over to him. “It’s in this sticker,” she said, pointing to her sheath. She proffered it to him. “Hold this and look here.”
Desmond took it with both hands and read, “Made in China? What’s that got to do with—”
She withdrew her sword and struck, her black blade passing through his wrists, then caught her scabbard as his hands fell away.
He stared, wide eyed, too shocked to scream. He backed into a wall and slid to the floor, blood spurting in increasing gouts as his heart thundered into a gallop.
Mioko knelt alongside him, his eyes unable to break away from his bleeding stumps. “If you’re incapable of imagining a harmless path to wealth, this world is better off without you. Now, don’t go making any calls while I’m gone. I’ve saved you a front row seat to this convenient bombing you mentioned.” She glanced to his wrists. “Just try not to bleed out first.”
Mioko returned for the dog but the roof was empty. She was about to check beyond a ledge when she took notice of a giant moon flooding the valley with its light. She could see the helicopter flying away, heaps of smoke trailing behind it. It was quickly approaching a grass field outside of town.
She portal hopped to move alongside it, stepped onto its skid, and grabbed a handhold to peer in through an open doorway. A bewildered Sylvester Stallone stared back at her. He was shirtless, a red cloth wrapped around his head. The dog lay next to him, seat belts fastened over top of it.
A pilot looked back, double taking as he spied her clinging to the outside of their moving helicopter. He wore an old leather aviator helmet, his expression not quite surprise, instead implying a question; “What the hell took you so long?”
“Y’all hang on,” he yelled back. “Imma try something I saw in a cartoon once.”
Mioko arched her brow as Stallone suddenly attempted to pull an additional seatbelt into place around him. She shook her head, then cut the seat belts away from everyone and swept them through portals, all of them emerging in a grassy field to look back up at the crashing helicopter.
The pilot saluted as it barreled into the ground and didn’t explode.
“Huh,” said Stallone. “They just don’t make ‘em like they used to.” He extended his hand. “That was some fine work, little lady. Name’s Rambo—John Rambo.”
Mioko smirked. Of course it is. “Mioko. Did y’all get shot at or something? Why were you on fire?”
“You’ll have to take that up with our pilot, Murdock.”
“Shit!” yelled Murdock, grabbing his head. “We didn’t get Billy.”
She shook her head. “There was no one else on there.”
“Yeah, my dog. He was co-piloting.”
Mioko glanced to Rambo, confused, and saw him mouth ‘imaginary.’ Oh. “Actually, he made it off. I saw him jump through my portal. He must have ran further away... to avoid the crash.
Murdoch turned back, pulling his hat from his head. “Yeah, that must’ve been what happened. Dog’s damn bright. Not sure what I’d do without him around to keep me sane.”
As she watched him, Murdoch changed. He had the same lanky form but he became much younger, the man becoming a boy who still held the same aviator’s helmet. He was familiar, his name suddenly coming to her.
“Greg.” The name left her lips but was carried on a voice she wasn’t expecting. She raised her hand to her mouth, the black hand wraps gone, a red scarf settling back around her neck. “Greg,” Abby repeated.
He rushed up and took her by the arms. “You’re safe.”
Tears streaked her face. “Yeah. You came for me.”
A hand settled onto her shoulder and she turned to find Josh, his shirt torn and tied around his head. “We both wanted to go. It’s just... neither of us wanted to be the first to do so. When you left, you took away our only reason not to.”
Abby nodded, then turned as they heard a groan.
Another teenager sat up from the grass. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, angrily tossing a mask that had been turned inside out.
“Kenny!” Abby shouted before tackling him in a hug.
“Ow!” he howled. “Careful! My hand.”
She shook her head. “You were the dog. But... how are you alive?”
“That crazy-ass Desmond. He had me working security for him, but when I found out what he was up to... We have to stop him.”
“It’s fine. We changed back before dawn. Mioko did it. The curse... It’s over.”
Kenny nodded. “Good. Boy am I glad to see all of you.”
“But why were you a dog?”
“I was trying to escape. I had to wait until Halloween, but I got hold of one of the masks we collected after last year’s fiasco. I figured I’d be fast enough to get away as a dog. I used an escape hatch that got me out of the lab but once I became a dog... I just kept doing stupid crap. I kept chasing smells and rats. Ugh. It was driving me crazy. I couldn’t do what I wanted. I couldn’t get away.”
Josh helped him up. “Well, you’re safe now. It’s over.”
“Not quite,” Abby added. “The army’s going to fire bomb this place at dawn. We should get as far away as we can.”
“I don’t think that’ll take much convincing.” Josh clapped her on the back. “So what was with that chick you became?”
Abby smiled. “I suppose I’ll have to tell you about her.”
The four of them made their way down the valley, but Abby looked back a final time, staring at the distant flames. You ended up saving us all. Thank you, Mioko.
[WP] A witch’s curse has made it so everyone will turn into their costumes every Halloween Night. Unfortunately for the witch, the townsfolk got used to it and are now milking this golden opportunity.
