Second Encounter

“No. I won’t let you, Belladonna!” The woman shouts into her phone, “You were supposed to help. I never should have told you.” She angrily hangs up the phone, stands up from the bed, and stomps to the bedroom door. After unlocking it, she storms through the house, collecting clothes and stuffing them into a suitcase. Salsan is 15 years old now [5 Earth years]. She can tell something is wrong.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Salsan asks from the couch, where she is huddled in a blanket.

“Pack your things, Salsan.” The woman says, “We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” Salsan asks. The woman stops tossing clothes in her suitcase and concentrates with a stressed expression on her face. “I don’t know. We can’t stay here in the city.” The mother admits, “But not even the Outer Villages are safe. They’re everywhere! Ugh! If they A.S.S.F actually did their job, I wouldn’t have to worry about this!”

“We’re not coming back home.” Salsan says, interpreting the context. The mother doesn’t say anything but nods. They pack their things together in silence.

—

—

—

Salsan sits in the back seat on a little booster seat while her mother drives. The woman looks around nervously, hands quivering on the wheel. Salsan senses the fear of her mother and is scared to. Salsan is beginning to feel incredibly nauseous. She doesn’t think she’s car sick, but… “I finally did it!” Salsan shouts enthusiastically, scaring her mother, “I told you I could do it. I just had to try when she was awake.”

The woman doesn’t like what she’s hearing behind her. No. Belladonna is wrong. She’s wrong! “S-Salsan, sweetie?” The woman asks, voice shaking, “A-are you feeling okay?” Her fears grow as Salsan continues to speak.

“Woah, she’s just a little girl!” Salsan says, voice full of curiosity and wonder, “And look at this. The room we’re in is flying!” … “No, there is only one other person in here with me.”

The woman pulls into a parking lot and stomps on the brake, stopping in the middle of the parking lot, not even in a parking space. The woman puts the car in park and slams the door open. Furious red with anger, she yanks the back door open and stares Salsan in the face. “What have you done to my little girl?” The woman asks.

Salsan tries to get out of the car but is caught in the seatbelt. “The ground is all smooth stone?” Salsan says in awe, “But I think I’m a prisoner, a leather belt is holding me down. No, it’s not too tight. I think I can wriggle my way out.”

The woman grabs Salsan by the shoulders and stares down her wandering eyes. “Salsan, can you hear me?” The woman asks, “Are you in there? Please, my baby, come back to me!” The woman says, tears running down her face.

“Oh, man. You’ve just got to see this, Ms. Myrkul, I’ve never seen buildings so tall.” Salsan says, … “Ha ha. I guess not. But it’s like I said, you don’t have anything to offer me. I got here on my own.”

The mother growls. “No! Belladonna has to be wrong!” The woman shouts in Salsan’s face, “Release her, you monster! Release my baby.”

“No, yeah. She noticed. She’s screaming in my face.” Salsan says with a chuckle, “I guess that’s why they call this the land of the Screamers.”

The woman watches as Salsan’s blank stare and stupid grin turns into a worried frown. “What do you mean? Why would I be in danger?” Salsan asks, though, not to her mother, “I’m her daughter aren’t I? She wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Salsan, please. Come back to me. You’re stronger than this.” The woman says, falling to her knees, which scratch against the pavement and begin to bleed, “Salsan, you said you’d never give in. Don’t give in to this tyrant! Remember the stories of the Banshee Scream? You can break free too!”

“Uh oh, she just mentioned Banshee.” Salsan says, “Ms. Myrkul, why does her mother know about Banshee?” … “Her homeland! You could have warned me, you know!” … “No, it’s not obvious. Why would I assume Screamers are related to Banshee?”

The woman sees the fear in Salsan’s eyes, and grins. Salsan might not be able to break free, but maybe I can take a different approach. “Yes, tyrant. This is the land of the free willed. We don’t accept your kind here.” The woman says, “Have you ever wondered what happened every time the Lady of Life and Death tried to lay down roots here?”

“T-tyrant? I’m no tyrant.” Salsan sputters, “I just want to explore and-”

“How do you feel when your mind and body are wrenched from your grasp!” The woman asks, “Have you ever experienced something like that before?”

Salsan looks contemplative. “Y-yes. It was terrifying. I caught the attention of another person, but I wasn’t myself.” Salsan says, eyes watering as she remembers, “I didn’t fight back! I just ran and ran. And it caught me. I barely escaped, crawling on the ground, leaving a bloody trail.”

“That was… that was…” Salsan says, “No! Get out of my head! It’s just a bad dream! It’s just a bad dream! It’s just a bad dream!”

The woman smiles hopefully. “Salsan, is that you?” She asks. The little girl looks at her, sobbing. “Yes, it was so scary.” Salsan cries, “It’s like the Ghosts from the stories.”

“Oh, baby!” The woman says, throwing her arms around the little girl. I wish it was just an Incorporeal messing with my daughter. That would be infinitely better. “Mom, they won’t leave us alone.” Salsan says.

The woman frowns. “What do you mean, Salsan?” She asks, “Who won’t leave us alone?”

“The Lady.” Salsan says, pointing at nothing. “The other me.” She says, pointing at herself. “And the Screamers.” She says, pointing behind her mom. The woman’s breath catches. She freezes still. She doesn’t want to turn around, but she already knows what she’ll see.

“You can’t hide from us, Witherwright.” A familiar voice calls from behind her, “And now you have seen for yourself that I was right.”

“Belladonna.” The mother hisses, turning to face the woman dressed in black robes and a pointy, black, wide brimmed hat, “You’re wrong! Salsan is still with me, free from the control of the tyrant!”

“Ooh, are you an Undead?” Belladonna mocks, “Because you’re clearly in Denial.” Two grotesque winged bat-like men that look to be living statues of carved stone swoop down from the sky above and land on the ground, cracking the pavement beneath them.

“Sorry, Witherwright. I know it’s hard when a tyrant takes someone close to you.” Belladonna says, sounding apologetic, “But you also know, we can’t abide tyrants to take root in our realm. We’ve both seen first hand what they can do.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.” Witherwright says, growling, “She broke free of the tyrant’s control. I saw it myself!”

Belladonna shakes her head sadly. “A tyrant can perfectly mimic her behavior.” Belladonna says with sadness in her voice, “It has her memories, her personality, her everything.” Salsan breaks free of her horrified stupor and slams the door closed and unbuckles. She goes out through the other door and hides behind another car in the parking lot full of cars. “You won’t get away from me, tyrant!” Belladonna says, unholstering an assault rifle from off her back.

—

—

—

“It’s all my fault!” Gripshaw says, covering her face with her hands. “There-there, dearie.” Lady Myrkul says, putting a rotten hand dripping with wet fungal growth on her shoulder to comfort her, “If it makes you feel any better, she was probably going to die even if you hadn’t intervened. It is the land of the Screamers, after all.”

“Eew! Don’t touch me!” Gripshaw says, slapping the withered hand off her shoulder, “It’s worse than just death. I practically tortured her. Our link has been giving her nightmares!”

“I doubt there is much here that is scarier than any Screamer she’d meet.” Lady Myrkul says, “It’s the land of Screamers. They’ve got Undead there, so a rotten corpse shouldn’t even phase her.”

“She’s just a child. She’s never seen a Screamer before.” Gripshaw says, tears in her eyes and full of regret, “She shouldn’t have seen such terrible things here. People who kill for fun. They’re humans just like her, that’s more terrifying than any monster.”

“So what will you do now?” Lady Myrkul asks, “With this newfound perspective you have, I don’t think I’ll ever get you to be my host to reach the land of Screamers.”

“You’re right. I’ll never let you take my mind. I’m so selfish. I wouldn’t give up my own mind to you, but I nearly took over the life of a child.” Gripshaw says, “How many lives have I overtaken and made my own? I’ve stolen countless childhoods, squandered thousands of dreams. Their desires were nothing compared to my overwhelming motivations.”

“We are called Egocentrics for a reason, my dearie.” Lady Myrkul says, “I think you probably understand it more fully now.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Gripshaw asks, “Don’t you understand what this means? When we are born into new worlds, we steal the bodies of others!”

“I never expected to find such noble morals in this wasteland of serial killers.” Lady Myrkul says, “I must admit. I’m not much better than those killers. But my cause is greater than the life of any one individual, including my own.”

“I guess everyone has to draw their own lines.” Gripshaw says, “I couldn't stop you if I tried. Death doesn’t mean much to an Egocentric.”

“Tell that to Banshee.” Lady Myrkul says with a sour tone in her voice, “She thinks to kill us Egocentrics for our own choices.”

“To be fair, these choices do result in a terrible kind of mind control.” Gripshaw says, “I think I’m starting to see her point of view.”

—

—

—

A spray of bullets cuts through metal and glass. Cars’ burglar alarms overlapping wail deafeningly in the air. Salsan whimpers as she huddles behind a car. Belladonna turns to her gargoyles. “Lock Witherwright in her car and find that child.” Belladonna commands, “We can’t let the tyrant escape!” The gargoyles force the keys from Witherwright’s hands and push her into the car, locking her inside. Belladonna knows that won’t hold Witherwright for long since she can just crawl into the front seat and unlock the doors with the press of a button. The bat-winged statues leap into the air with heavy beating of their stone wings.

Witherwright doesn’t try to escape. There’s nothing she can do. She takes out her phone. She tries to think of anyone she could call for help. But there is no one. She knows that the police aren't prepared for this, and that the A.S.S.F. won't respond. Her phone begins to ring. She stares at it incredulously. Someone is calling her, but not just anybody. This is a prank. She thinks to herself. She answers the phone anyway.

“If you think this is funny, you’ve got another thing coming.” Witherwright screams furiously into the phone, “My daughter is getting chased by gargoyles and a woman with a gun, and you dare prank call me!”

There is silence for a time for a few seconds before the voice comes from the other side of the line. A woman’s voice but deep and gruff. “Don’t worry. She’ll be okay.” The voice says firmly, “Since you’ve already noticed the Sreamers, there is no need to tell you that you should probably get moving towards the nearest safe house. It’s just three blocks Feyward from your-”

“Shut it! Don’t mess with me!” Witherwright yells full of anger. She hangs up the phone and covers her face with her hands, sobbing. That’s when she hears it. Crash. She looks up. Out of the window, she can see it. One of the gargoyles is lying on a car. On top of the gargoyle stands a person, but Witherwright can’t be sure if it’s human. Gas mask. Hook hand. Cannon arms. Bullet proof vest. Combat gear. Maybe that wasn’t a prank call after all.

—

—

—

“She’s not dead yet.” Gripshaw says, staring into space, full of tension. “Maybe she’ll make it out alive!”

“You shouldn’t watch.” Lady Myrkul advises, “Seeing her die will only make you feel worse.”

“But… but…” Gripshaw sputters.

“Whether she lives or dies, you watching won’t make a difference.” Lady Myrkul says, “The only difference is you getting your hopes up and being devastated when you see her die.”

“Maybe I could help her.” Gripshaw says hopefully.

“Help her? How?” Lady Myrkul asks, “Even if you took control of her, which you aren’t willing to do, you wouldn’t be able to get her out of this scenario. What you described sounds like a gun. You can’t save her.”

Gripshaw grits her teeth and grimaces, but she knows that Lady Myrkul is right. She’s no good at fighting. She’s a pacifist. She doesn’t fit in here in a land full of serial killers, that is why she spends so much time with Lady Myrkul, one of the few people that hasn't tried to kill her. Sometimes she wonders how people in this land reproduce if they kill everyone they meet on sight.

—

—

—

The strange figure standing atop the downed gargoyle lifts its right arm, a cannon. A boom strikes through the air, along with crackling electricity following two lines leading to the other gargoyle, the one the figure just shot with her tranquilizer cannon. Scorch marks form on its stony hide and it falls to the ground, spasming.

Belladonna points her assault rifle at the strange person. “This doesn’t involve you, agent.” Belladonna hollers, “Go back to your compound and sit around doing nothing, that’s what you’re best at.”

The figure doesn’t speak or make any movements to leave. “Well, I warned you.” Belladonna says before she opens fire. But as her finger presses down on the trigger, the figure jumps 20 feet into the air, its left arm launches a hook on a chain, which lands past Belladonna a little to her right. Belladonna raises the barrel of her gun to shoot at the leaping figure, but the strange person lurches downwards towards her. Belladonna struggles to follow her with her gun, and a loud crack sounds as the gas masked agent hurtles towards her, following her chain. The gun burns hot in her hands. Belladonna drops the gun as electricity singes it with two taser darts stuck in it.

To her right, the agent walks towards her. Belladonna grabs the taser darts, ignoring the electricity surging through her, she pulls them out of the gun and drops them. But the agent smacks her to the ground with her taser cannon arm. Lying dazed on her back, Belladonna looks up at the agent standing above her.

“You fool! The tyrant will escape!” Belladonna shouts, “Their blood is on your hands.”

The gargoyle lying on the car groans and starts to rise. The agent turns its head and the deep, gruff voice of a woman shears through the air like a revving car engine, “Stay down if you know what’s good for you.” The gargoyle examines the scene and sees the state of the other gargoyle and belladonna. The gargoyle roars with its clawed hands open outwards.

“Oh, I see. My bad, you only speak violence and Bargaining.” The grinding voice comes through the agent’s mask, “How about this? You stay over there. And your friends will stay alive.” She points her cannon arm at the tased gargoyle spasming on the ground and her hook arm at Belladonna beneath her. The gargoyle growls in displeasure but backs down.

“Now where’s that little girl you were trying to murder in cold blood?” The agent wonders aloud, looking around.

“The tyrant isn’t innocent.” Belladonna says, “It took the life of that child!”

“Ha! The tyrant took the life of the child?” The agent says, “Just like you were about to do?”

Witherwright escapes from the car and walks out nervously. The little girl, Salsan, runs out from between two cars and hugs her mother. The gargoyle jumps up and over the agent, gliding towards Witherwright and Salsan.

Boom. A hook, cracking into its stony surface. A cannon arm around Belladonna’s side, the agent zip up to the gargoyle’s back. “Land carefully, your human friend is too fragile to survive a crash landing.” Witherwright pulls Salsan with her as they run to the car and the agent wrestles the gargoyle in mid-air, throwing it off-course.

“You broke our deal, gargoyle.” The agent hisses like nails on a chalkboard. They land and hear a revving engine. The wheels screeching against pavement as a car drives off faster than is legal. “She got away. Go ahead and kill me, but make sure you kill the tyrant too.” Belladonna says, closing her eyes, bracing herself.

“You can’t see behind my mask, but I’m smiling. We’ve had a recent change in leadership.” The agent says, voice hoarse, like metal-against-metal, “ And while I’m in charge, no member of the A.S.S.F. will be killing anyone. Why should we stoop to your level?”

—

—

—

“Mom, what was that Screamer that saved us?” Salsan asks from the backseat as Witherwright speeds down the freeway.

Witherwrights slows down to match the speed of the other cars, as she calms herself. “That wasn’t a Screamer, sweetie.” Witherwright says, “It was a human from the A.S.S.F.”

“The A.S.S.F.?” Salsan asks.

“The Anti-Screamer Special Forces.” Witherwright says, barely able to believe it herself, “They protect the city from Screamers.”

Salsan thinks back at the person that saved her. That was so cool. She thinks the A.S.S.F. is amazing. Salsan, you’re alive! I’m so glad! Can you hear me? I’m so so- “Argh!” Salsan groans, concentrating.

“Sweetie, are you okay back there?” Witherwright says, worried. She looks for an exit where they can pull over. “It’s back. It’s in my head!” Salsan says, “Go away. I won’t give in!”

—

—

—

“Salsan, you’re alive! I’m so glad!” Gripshaw says, “Can you hear me? I’m so sorry for tormenting...”

“Why’d you stop?” Lady Myrkul asks.

“She pushed me out.” Gripshaw says quietly, “I just wanted to apologize.”

“Maybe this is for the best.” Lady Myrkul says, “As the Lady of Life and Death, I often say, ‘sometimes it’s best to leave them be.’”

“Do you actually say that?” Gripshaw asks, “What does that have to do with you being the Lady of Life and Death?”

“Well, it’s good advice.” Lady Myrkul says, “And I’m the wise Lady of Life and Death, my advice is worth considering.”

“I see. But you also don’t have a problem with stealing the bodies of children.” Gripshaw says, “So excuse me if I don’t trust your advice just because it’s from you.”

“What? Do you think it’s best to keep bothering her then?” Lady Myrkul asks.

“No, I agree.” Gripshaw says, “I should leave her alone.”

“See? You do respect my advice.” Lady Myrkul says.

“I guess… I guess I do.” Gripshaw says, “I guess I shouldn’t discount everything you say just because you don’t share my morals.”