It didn't take long before the three Hummers retraced the path to the scene of the attack. It wasn't very far off from the school, after all, only a few hundred meters from the building where the Rave'N happened.
That said, the word 'strange' could not begin to describe the feeling of going somewhere you died in. Stepping closer and closer to the soil you once laid bleeding on, mauled by a beast to death. It's… ineffable, horrific yet immensely sublime.
There is grace in rebirth, Adam thought, much more so in being dead. The purity of it all, the silence of death that rings like a melody of freedom. Cleansed of your worldly senses, free from every chain, every bondage that hinders your very soul.
Ecstatic is the word closest to the feeling, which makes living so much more disappointing. In death, there exist no plagues of looks, no bloodsheds of murder, no mystery to inquire. It is silence, and absolutely lonely.
Surrounded by darkness indifferent to your being, left with unanswered questions, consciousness that never gets tired… bound to your lonesome. The idea, at first, is romantic, but ultimately punishing in the long term.
Being in a dreadful situation, living a life of incompleteness, going about your day with a hollowed hole in your chest — one could not help but romanticize the utter solitude of death.
The forest of Jericho sings hymns with the wind, the trees dancing with euphoria in the cold, some withering from the coming autumn. The ground was dry, filled with fallen leaves, stunt-grown bushes with blooming flowers and berries.
Adam remembers this place clearly, like a memory that happened yesterday. He feels something, somewhere in his neck, a throbbing ache, itching more than it hurts. A pain forgotten, healed, but stayed not in the form of a scar, but a phantom feeling of what he experienced.
A lingering thought, a fleeting dream. Surreal, but not imaginary. It truly did happen, and he truly did die; and he truly did live again.
Another pain occurs somewhere on his body, a stabbing, sharp pain with no wound. No blood, no beast. A pain of regret, of sin. Unbridled malice surges from his chest, raw, unbecoming. His hands have not unclenched since they managed to sneak out of the school, seemingly tightening with every second passed.
'I should've killed it then and there.' He agonized. The thought gnaws at him, like cradling a blade stuck in your body, slowly creeping its way to your death. Except he cannot die, and he cannot re-do what is done.
6 people. 6 murder in the span of a month, 7 counting his. All people mauled to death, a mockery of their dignity, a mockery of life itself.
Guilt is such a mind-boggling feeling. We, as conscious beings, burden ourselves with responsibilities that do not befit us. The morality of taking on a task not given to you, but by your own will, solely because you have — or had the ability to complete it, to stop it.
What if he had killed it? What if he did not hesitate? It's terrifying, these questions. Pondering on taking a life creates a toll on the psyche, and your virtues.
Adam took a deep breath, placing the thoughts in the deepest corners of his mind. His hands slowly unclenched, like ancient doors slowly opening towards a brighter sun.
"We're here." A flat, emotionless voice declared. Adam's focus shifted, eyes turning to the girl standing unnervingly still in front of him.
Wednesday turned around, complicated eyes glancing at her two companions before wandering the forest, darting to every crevice of the ground. With one last look, she turned fully to the two, a deep frown adorning her face. "It's been scrubbed."
"Scrubbed?" Adam asked, his tone containing intense disbelief. The scene has been… scrubbed? By whom? Wednesday crouched down without answering, her pale fingers brushing away dead leaves. Perched on her shoulder, Thing, handed her a flashlight which she quickly pointed to the ground.
"The blood, the teeth… I'm sure it's here."The girl clicked her tongue as she began looking around. Eugene nervously stepped forward, hesitant. "M-maybe it got swept away?" he asked.
Wednesday paused her search, standing up like a spring cut loose with tension. She turned around to meet the boy's gaze. "By what? It hasn't rained one time, Eugene. Think."
"Someone cleaned the scene on purpose—" Her words stopped, caught by something. Wednesday's eyes darted around the gullible boy, noticing one person missing, "Where's Adam?" Eugene looked behind him, noticing the same. Their masked companion was missing, or not.
Merely a second, Wednesday pointed at a direction. "There." She said, her gaze somewhere to the left. Eugene followed her eyes to see Adam standing still, head low, looking at the ground with the utmost intensity.
"Hey! Adam!" Eugene shouted to catch his friend's attention, but to no avail. He scratched his head, confused, opting instead to jog there instead.
Each step the boy took was punctuated with the crunch of brittle leaves, each step he took gave flashes of memories. Where Adam was standing at looked familiar. That bush filled with berries to the right, that protruding hill, that—
"Ah…" Eugene whispered, the scene finally clear to his eyes. "Adam…" he called out, his voice fading to a murmur. His friend still didn't turn, simply looking, staring. The ground was clean, filled with fallen branches and leaves, but something about it screamed differently than others. Something… morbid.
"It's where you died." Wednesday said with a hum, appearing beside Adam quietly. Unlike Eugene, her steps barely made any sound, like a feline's paws or an owl's flight.
"Yes," Adam replied, his voice even as he began crouching down, palm on the ground, "and someone removed every trace of it."
"Someone smart," Wednesday added, flashing the ground with the UV light, "an expert. It's thorough, unlike Rowan's, that one was a crude attempt."
Wednesday sighed, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Thinking, hypothesizing. "Apart from us, only Ms. Thornhill knew this place." She said, "But after she reported to the Principal, it could be anyone for all we know. It's been 4 days."
"It's not Larissa." Adam said defensively, dusting his gloved hands off the dirt. "And what makes you say that?" Wednesday replied sharply, a blade unsheathed.
Their eyes collided in the air — Adam's a burning star accentuated by the sun's glimmer in between the trees and Wednesday's a black hole swallowing light indifferently.
"I know. She would've told me." He answered, his tone firm. Wednesday tilted her head, a mocking glint in her eyes. "You know? She would've told you? Don't make me laugh." Her face morphed into a scowl. "People lie, Adam."
"Would isn't absolute, she still could. You don't know the lengths people would go through to bury blood." Wednesday's cold voice crept in the trees, like veins of poison infesting the very air. "I told you, didn't I? We're all monsters."
Adam stepped closer, his face steeled with resolve. But before he could speak, Wednesday did first. "She lost all credibility when it comes to truth the moment she hid that murdering monster's existence," she said, her words cut through the air like death's scythe. A feigned feint chuckle left her mouth, "Then again, what do you know? The faithful do not doubt their God."
Faith and doubt. Two emotions that's constantly at war. Could faith persist in the face of doubt? In the face of bloodstained truth? If it does, then how different is your faith to that of the murdering pilgrims? If not, how big is the disparity between a charlatan and you?
Faith. It turns the words of the sane man to that of a court jester. Devotion turns to humiliation. Truth becomes mockery. Doubt becomes a sword that could pierce the membranes of your heart.
Faith in the face of doubt becomes desperation, bred from the yearning to be true, to be right. Adam asked himself — is he yearning for the truth? Or just to be right?
"Guys!" A voice shouted, breaking the brewing tension building itself in the air. The two turned to Eugene, one of hesitation and one of firm confidence. "Hey, let's try and talk properly, okay? No need to throw insults… to each… other…" the more the boy spoke, the more he cowered beneath the weight of the two eyes looking at him.
He coughed, bracing himself, acting brave. "We should try looking in its lair," Eugene said, a finger pointrd towards the hill. "It's right there, maybe there's a clue there."
Wednesday hummed and began walking without another word, brushing past Eugene uncaringly. The boy looked at Adam, hesitant on whether to say something or not. Before he could, his masked friend gave him a comforting nod, following the girl silently.
—-
"It's charred." Wednesday said flatly, standing on the mouth of the cave. It didn't need one entering to see how everything inside was gone. Just standing at the entrance, you could see the walls blacked from fire.
The smell of sulfur and burnt leaves permeated the air. That, along with the faint smell of gasoline mixed in. Wednesday clicked her tongue once more.
'Too late.' She thought.
Every scene was cleaned thoroughly, even Adam's once-deathbed. Maybe they expected this, that they'd come looking back for evidence, for Tyler's blood.
'This could only mean one thing.' A theory circulated in Wednesday's mind, a theory that may very well be true. 'Tyler isn't working alone.'
Adam appeared beside her, walking past, his shoes leaving imprints on the blackened ground of ashes from leaves. He took a glove off, fingers brushing against the charred walls of the entrance. "Purged." He whispered.
"They're covering tracks." Wednesday added, unbothered by the suffocating mixture of the smells, of the choking ash floating in the air. Adam turned slightly, nose winced. "They? You believe he has an accomplice?"
"Most likely," she replied. "He's not the smart type. Besides, your punch did damage. He wouldn't be able to do all this without a helping hand."
Adam nodded in silence, digesting her words. An accomplice. A smart and cunning one, potentially more dangerous than the beast itself. After a moment of thought, he spoke. "They know someone's looking." He said before a pause, eyes turning to the cave, "This is evidence enough that they do."
Wednesday's eyes scanned the scorched ground, her thoughts running faster than her hands could move. "The lair is gone, the crime scenes are gone. That means they're aware, they're covering their tracks."
Adam stepped back, leaving the uncomfortable atmosphere near the cave's mouth. "Or it could mean they're planning something bigger."
Wednesday's head snapped to him, intrigued by his words. "Pray, tell." She said, opting Adam to explain. The masked boy looked hesitant, pressing his lips beneath his mask. "Your murder board as you call it, the victims had missing body parts. From the books we read, body parts could be used for…"
"For rituals." Wednesday said, finishing his words, her brow furrowed. The books did say that, rituals, powerful ones, involved the use of flesh and blood. "Or it could simply be a case of serial killer habits — collecting trophies to re-live murders."
"A serial killer — except we're working with two," Adam's voice steeled, turning low, "A ritual, especially involving body parts, is bound to result in a dark ending."
Eugene hugged himself, terrified. "But aren't rituals only for witches?"
Wednesday shook her head. "There are accounts of male witches, or as many call them, warlocks using rituals in the past. Chances are, whoever is helping Tyler is one of the two."
Rituals were created for many things. At first, for healing, for purifying one's body, to cleanse. Some darker rendition, however, born from malice and hate, involves cursing, or outright killing someone from afar with the use of sorcery. It was used a lot in the Dark Ages, hence the heightened witch hunt during the time.
That theory was simple, a child's thought — still, it's… possible, the question is for what? For what are they collecting those parts for?
"A whole leg, two toes, a hand, four fingers, one right eye and one tongue." Wednesday listed like a market errand, "Ring any bell?"Adam shook his head. "It's still too ambiguous to conclude, but it's a possibility."
"True." She replied with a nod, considering his words. Adam looked at her incredulously, not expecting her reply. Wednesday noticed his reaction, tilting her head as their gazes met. After a moment of silence, the boy spoke. "I thought you would dismiss me again."
"I would if you had said something foolish. Again." Wednesday retorted, "You didn't, congrats." Her tone was laced with sarcasm, with sharp mockery, yet heavy with something more. A sensitivity towards the topic that she herself may not realize.
What is the cause, Adam wonders. Is it merely the mere gravity of the situation? Her quarrel with Larissa? The pain? Where is it coming from? How complex is this girl? How impossible is she to grasp?
Nonetheless, Adam nodded at her words. Perhaps… he did come off as foolish, a blind follower, an idiot even. Despite the sharpness of which she swung it at him, there is no denying the idiocracy he acted with.
'It could be anyone.' He thought, the idea settling in his head like a weight. Adam prayed, to God, to whoever — 'Let it not be Larissa.'
—-
Soon, twilight occurred and dusk arrived. The sun settled and the moon rose, signaling the arrival of the night. The pale guardian of the sky lit up the walls of Nevermore with a gentle light, the quietness in the halls left only for forest insects to break, and silence seems to echo in every corner without mistake.
It's past curfew already, so much so, that even the dorm fathers and mothers are already asleep in their rooms. The sky was filled with stars tonight, mayhap a signal for the coming winter, constellations that have existed for unfathomable amount of years graces the night sky. Stars that have witnessed the birth of legends — conquerors, philosophers, artists. Some named after them in honor of their deeds.
They stand in the sky like gods, stretched as far as the horizon reach, watching men quarrel, watching men be fools. Maybe they are gods, maybe they are divine. Countless brothers and sisters of the undying sun, or perhaps they are souls, watching over the living. How wonderful must that be? To be amongst the stars?
Alas, a dream. Stars are gasses, unconscious balls of fire indifferent to what it burns. One can only hope of being one, of it being alive. Then again, the sun has been the symbol of life for many cultures — maybe there is merit in that thought.
Once again, the stars stand witness towards another adventure. A potentially, immensely dangerous adventure. One that could end very badly if carelessly pursued.
Under the moon-lit sky is Adam, wearing a coat black like the night, dark enough to blend in the shadows. Walking in front of him, wearing a similar, albeit of her size coat and her leather backpack was Wednesday Addams, along with Thing perched on her shoulder. She holds a flashlight, one that emits a normal light, treading the woods with the carefulness of a hunter.
They walked in silence, him behind her, surrounded by forest that seems to watch their every move, in the direction of Jericho. The crime scenes left no trace, cleaned with efficient care of any and all evidences gone. Most would've given up, save it for another day — not for Wednesday, and not for Adam's conscience.
They say fortune favors the bold, bold they are. A plan was made — infiltrate the main lair, the Galpin home. Of course, without the knowledge of Eugene, lest they want to jeopardize everything.
Wednesday would climb the house, look for a DNA sample source and Adam would act as distraction. His role is the most crucial, and would ensure the safety of the girl, at least half of it.
Deadly problem 1: the Sheriff is off-duty today. Deadly problem 2: Tyler could transform. Wednesday, strangely enough, was more worried for problem 1. The sheriff's patience for her is as thin as a strand of hair right now. She says she might get shot on the spot, especially if the sheriff himself was the accomplice.
Adam would act like a wild bear outside, triggering their car's alarm, letting Wednesday break-in. Easy enough, except she had to do it without alerting Tyler.
Adam felt confident in her abilities. He's noticed it before, here at the forest, at the library where they read, and as she walks in the halls — her footsteps are truly silent, unnervingly so. He could barely hear it, even with his senses, lest he truly focus on wanting to.
The smell of damp earth filled the air, along with the scent of pine from the trees. Adam stepped closer towards the girl, now walking beside her. "You're awfully quiet," Adam whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft crunch of leaves underfoot.
Wednesday didn't turn to him, her eyes fixed ahead as the darkness draped itself around the path. "Thinking," she replied flatly, her tone not unfriendly, just is.
"About what?" he asked, briefly glancing at her expression.
"The accomplice," she said simply. "Who they are. How they think. And how many steps ahead they believe they are."
Adam nodded slowly. "Do you think they know we're coming tonight?"
Wednesday hummed, considering it for a moment before replying. "No," she said, "but if they do, I'd start thinking they're a seer."
He adjusted the black coat on his shoulders. "What do we do if they know?"
"We improvise," she said in the same steady tone, "we adapt, and then we beat them at their own twisted games."
The trees whispered in the breeze, the forest floor crackling under their boots as they approached the clearing that led toward town. Adam inhaled sharply, letting his worries be extinguished by the cold air. Once again, he glanced at the girl beside him. Her eyes holding the same unwavering look, that same facade.
Perhaps he looked for too long, for seconds after, Wednesday's eyes met his. "Speak." She said, "Or you might just choke on whatever it is you want to say."
Adam's eyes widened at the reading, was he truly that obvious? He sighed, letting the words edging at the tip of his tongue loose. "You seem to possess a certain affection for that… boy, Tyler." He said, his tone calm and curious, "I wa—"
"No. I don't." Wednesday interjected, making Adam pause. The girl looked at him glaringly, fierce, a wolf disturbed in her sleep. Adam looked back at her still, unafraid. "You told me to speak." He said.
"You did," Wednesday replied, "and you've spoken enough."
Adam nodded, silence reigning for a while before he broke it, speaking nonetheless. "Are you afraid?" He asked, leaning forward to match her gaze. In those pair eyes, usually empty, were contempt, anger, and… trepidation.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes, her face ever so still contorted in mild anger. "Of what?" She snarled. "Of the truth." He said, "That he's truly guilty."
The mild anger turned to disbelief, only to morph slowly into a scorn. 'How dare you?' She thought. Wednesday opened her mouth to say something, to deny him, to tell him he's wrong, to—
"…"
But nothing came out, she could not hear her voice, she could not hear herself. Her throat was clogged with sentences mortifying to the ear to hear, with heavy retorts, with words sharp enough to kill — yet nothing.
Again, the universe mocks her. In place of her inability to speak, an owl hoots, the wind intensified its whispers, and the crickets seem to laugh. But amidst it all, in the silence of her voice, Adam looked at her softly, kindly. That eyes of his — so godly pure, untainted.
For Adam, the silence was answer enough. "You are." He said, a declaration of what even Wednesday denies. He hummed, the rhythm of his tone matching the soft bristle of the leaves.
"Why do you reject it so?" He asked, Wednesday assumed it was for her, a question for her. She turned, expecting that questioning, curious gaze that beheld his eyes, that, however, have long left her. So the question lingered as they walked, not the choking kind, no — more like a gentle hand waiting for reciprocation, for comfort.
"Fyodor Dostoevsky said that hell is being unable to love." Adam watched as the moon followed their every step, an endless, inexhaustible guide. His eyes, however, slowly fell and softly, it landed on Wednesday's. "Why do you choose to be in hell, Wednesday?"
Wednesday's eyes wavered, the anger gone, replaced by… nothing. "I don't know." She whispered in reply.
She could feel it clearly. She could see his smile despite the dark, despite the mask.
"You do." Adam replied back.
—-