Hunted|Haunted - Chapter 13 - Trains, wreckages, absolute trainwrecks, and the trainwrecked

The "gatekeeper" was tall, taller than anyone Toma had ever met before. His skin was thick and oily, and crimson. He had legs like a dog, tail like a deer, and pronghorns like a... well, a pronghorn, though much bigger. He wore ping-pong balls on their points, probably so as not to damage anything he bumps them into. Despite his animal features, his face was rather human. His hair reminded Toma of a horse, as the stripe in the middle, spanning forehead to neck, was much brighter and lighter in colour than the rest, like a mane. With how he carried them, despite Nex kicking all the way through, it was clear that the only problem the gatekeeper had was the tunnel itself.

The unsightly concrete tunnel wasn't built for someone of the gatekeeper's stature, so the giant practically trotted on all fours. Well, threes. He did drag Nex like a gorilla. Toma was promptly stuck in a pocket, next to a cold, green Wrench.

After an excruciatingly awkward minute of silence, the service tunnel led into a much more spacious, and overrun by a massive punk gig, train tunnel.

— You know, Nex, sir, it seems that the world of trouble the workers promised was better.
— Oh, shuddup, smartass!

Gatekeeper stood up straight, stretched, announced their presence by multiple loud howls and set the two on the floor, returning to the smaller tunnel.

And a swarm of other, not much smaller savtktani was bad as it was, but soon Toma saw something bad enough to make an entirely new shrieking sound.

— Wha-
— CEILING! — Toma shrieked.

From the ceiling at them looked an entity, that could only be described as a crumble-punk savtktanque, floated down to their eye level, staying more or less upside down. Her limbs did not entirely align themselves with conventional anatomy and even with each other. The vest and top somehow stayed intact on her body, despite being cut into two disproportionate parts, right where her shoulders floated above the rest of her body, exposing her discoloured skeleton. The smiley-chain on her belt, too, didn’t abide by the gravity’s rules. The same thing applied to one of her cut-off pronghorn and a few strands of hair that were even redder than the colour red itself.

Further description was complicated by the fact that the red menace looked at them with her swirling, hypnotic orange eyes and flashed a sharp and dangerous grin, that mimicked in shape the large horizontal scar across her face.

— What a well-behaved eeny shva you are, even brought me a tribute.

Toma prepared to beg for Nex's life. He was not prepared to beg for Neven's.
Entity pulled the toy from his arms, and pulled a shiny, bluish orb from the toy. Next, the orb was thrown to the far end of the tunnel.

— What are you doing?!
— No worries, eeny, I'm just gonna have myself a friendly little play-fight
— …I’m not even sure am I tripping or what the fuck. — Nex, after looking around for a bit and a second or two staring at the ghostly savtktan, finally said that.
— Damn, you fellas see Tove? — Someone from the crowd shouted
— The… the… um.. In pieces?
— Yup, that's Tove arright. — That same someone answered.
— I guess I earned myself one more hallucination. — Nexialist sighed. — So… It was nice seeing you people and all, but we really gotta go now, our train’s probably coming soon.
— You can go arright, but not with shva. Shva is staying. — A savtktani with a lot of patches said.
— …And shva means?
— The big one called me eeny shva… I don't know why.
— You are eeny, and shva.— A savtktani without a shirt added.

Oh. Not good, like at all. A bunch of savtktani weirdos wanted Toma to stay with them, and Nex, while not a picture book parent, thought of himself as someone more reliable than them. Though admittedly, he probably looked and sounded like someone even weirder.

— And what if that’s not an option? — He had a gun. While he didn’t really want to use it unless absolutely necessary – gunshot echoes could attract attention, and the kid was already traumatised enough, no need to add to the murder list in his presence – he absolutely could and would use it. The question was only will they would be insane enough for him to shoot.
— Then y'all ain't leaving, simple. — A savtktani with way too much eyeliner answered. It seemed they were used to answering as a group, rather than individuals.
— Maybe there’s a way to change your mind? — Think. Think. Think, damn it. Unfortunately, thinking didn’t come easily. Must be a meds drawback. Fuck. — What is it that you want with the kid anyway?
Savtktani scoffed and groaned.
— Do you have eyes under that thing? He’s soaking wet and his face is bloody, you ain’t going nowhere like that. — The “patches” facepalmed.
He whistled, and a couple of other savtktani grabbed the kid and took off.
— Let’s dry him up at least. We’ve got a fire bin over there.
— …Alright. — Nex found himself surprised. So he tried to act more or less casual. And ignore the faint weight of the hand on his shoulder.
— Nah, nada, they be draggin shva to Kims. — This savtktani had a hat skewered on one of his pronghorns.
— To Kims, then. It’s in that corner, you’ll see it. Got like twenty lamps, he’s our tat guy.
— Hm. — Alright. Nex was okay with letting them take care of Toma where he could see it. What he wasn’t okay with was potential harm coming to Neven – though it was debatable if the old witch could be harmed at all, being ghost and shit. — Ok. Could you also maybe tell your… friend, I guess… to not kill a dead witch?
— Ohhhh, she got a toy. — The shirtless said.
— Damn… — Hat agreed.
— Yeah, no, you go do that yourself. There’s no talking to her until she gets her dose. And, well, not like we know where she is, until she bumps into something electric. — Patches patted Nex on the shoulder.
— Fuck. — Nex sighed. The overall picture didn’t look well. At least Toma was getting something like medical attention and warmth. That was something.
— She never killed anyone, so, like, your ghost will end up in a ghospital or summin.
— Well, then let’s hope he won’t be the first to be killed by her. — There was a jittery laugh – as if a ghost of it – in the air. Nex quietly gulped. Trying to focus on the situation, not on the apparition standing next to him. It hurts. Why does it hurt? — I’m not sure how durable ghosts are. And he owes me money.

Meanwhile, Neven tried his best to compose himself. One moment, he’s asleep in a soft, warm void. Next, he is thrown into a wall. Did they get to Avonborough yet? What’s with the lights? And who is this chopped up bitch?

— I… what.
— Welcome to the jungle, dumbass! Let’s see what you’ve brought to the table.
— … what?

To which the savtktanqe pulled him up and punched him hard enough to surely break a rib or two.

And it hurt.

It hurt. Worse than anything he felt alive, worse than all the beatings put together. And savtktanqe was about to hit him again.

He was lucky enough to dodge, compared to his usual opponents, this one barely had a technique, but utilised their "state" to counteract that. Blocking was not only futile but dangerous, as most of the time, limbs just twisted around and out of the way.

— Yoooo, are you a soldier or what?
— What?
— Arrighty, you said it yourself, “what”, you’re fun.

What kind of person even calls a fistfight fun?

A couple more punches and throws made him pretty sure he wouldn’t survive another one, if his current state even allowed him to die. Looking into his opponent’s orange, swirling eyes, he could feel something turn upside down inside of him.

What Tove saw in those fleeting moments is her plaything suddenly standing up, relaxed, looking her in the eye and letting out the most frightening, and the coolest, roar she had heard in a long while and probably ever. The next thing she didn’t see, as the plaything’s teeth sank into her collarbone and…
The fucker took off with her head.

— Hey? HEY! Do you fucking mind!?
To which he responded with incoherent growling and running faster.
— Do you HAVE a mind?! Give my head back, or I’m taking yours!
— Coyote, what are you doing? — Toma was sitting on a metal barrel, juicebox in hand.
— SHVA, TELL YOUR DOG TO CHILL THE FUCK OUT!
— Uhh.. please?

Coyote stood there for a minute, seemingly confused by the ordeal, but eventually let go of the head. After another minute, Neven remembered he was supposed to be the responsible adult here.

— Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s happening?
— I’m okay now. I tripped, but Kims gave me big bandages and orange juice.
— Kims?
— Him — Toma pointed to the savtktane with a tattoo machine, working nearby. — He told me to sit here until someone other comes back. I’m kinda lost, I don’t know where Nex is. I don’t think it’s a good idea, Tove.
Tove has affixed her head where it’s supposed to be and was standing right behind Neven, ready to swing a bat.
— Oh, really?
— Yea, he taught me to shoot. He’s very good. Can you please not hurt my friends any more?
— Tsk, never could say no to eenys like you. Fine. But YOU, aquatic sonovabich, pull that stunt again, you might just find out how it feels like.

The witch activated the Lowac death stare. It wasn’t as petrifying as the Grobar death stare, but ultimately conveyed the sheer frustration hanging in the air.

— You literally hit me first?!
— Yeah, I remember. Stealing my head still felt like shit.
— So did my broken ribs!
— You ain’t got no ribs.
— Do ghosts usually have ribs?
— You ain’t a ghost, that motherfucker over there is.

Tove pointed to Nexialist’s shoulder. Neven’s death stare intensified to the point where Tove started remembering grammar school, for some reason. Not that she was there much.

— Woah, you two finally stopped being up close and personal? — Nex interjected, lifting his head from where he studied the railroad map that he bought before.
— Fucking finally. — “That motherfucker”, being a tall seemingly-dead slightly translucent guy in a full punk-ish getup, with wounds from bullets all over his body and his arms and legs bending slightly wrong way for a human, crossed his tattooed arms, sounding really done. His mask was reminiscent of Nex’, if only more advanced, with LEDs lighting up to make a “face”. — This really ain’t the time to express love language.

Out of general stress and surprise, Toma turned into a pile of seaweed, rocks, and three sea urchins.

— Woah, that’s something that eeny shva’s usually do, or is he like, malfunctioning?
— Beats me. — Nex tilted his head, looking at Toma a bit nervously. The ghost near him just shrugged, also turning to look at Toma.
— Can’t say, got no clue about raising witches.

The eldest witch in the room decided to put away his frustration until a better time, like he often did, and returned to sharpshooter breathing, soon calming down.

— He’s just stressed, he’ll turn back after some time. Just don’t stress him further.
— You also turn to seaweed?
— Does this answer your question? — The coyote sighed and took his rightful place inside a toy. It’s best to keep Toma’s magic down now. Wouldn’t want him to develop miscast.
— Y’all shva’s weird. Now, what about you, my dude? Ya won’t chomp my head off, will you?
— You don’t try trampling me or Nex over here, and we’re chill. — The ghostly guy looked at her again. — Or we could take it out to the street, seen a sledgehammer out here somewhere, and I could really use a break.
— Ohhhhhh, I like you, dude!
Tove’s excitement made nearby lamps flicker, which was met with “TEURA, I’M WORKING, DAMMIT!” from the tattoo master. The rearranged giggled, floating higher, so as not to affect the lighting.

Nex stared at the ghost, body language hinting at surprise.

— Cogs-
— Fuck off. — “Cogs” flipped him off, which was enough to make Nexialist shut up, and turned away to look around. — Now, where’d I see that sledge…

A savtktane came up with a plastic basket of things.

— Hey, you’re the one who brought in the kid, right? We’ve gathered some food and clothes, sort yourself out. Fire’s over there, bring whatever you want toasty. See ya.
— …Yeah, thanks. — Nex nodded, turning away from the ghost and taking the basket, looking through the items inside in a deflated kind of way.
— Savtktani are very nice — the pile of seaweed mumbled.
— Glad you think that way. You good over there? — Kims said, wrapping his client’s arm in plastic.
— Yeah… Why does Tove look … like that?
— Got ran over by a train twenty-something years ago. The tracks weren’t lit all the way through back then. Now she just goes wherever we go. Man, I’m finished over there. Want something new on your skin?
— …Depends. — Nexialist, finally understanding that he was asked the thing, answered. He was talking mostly to seem fine, which he really wasn’t, but didn’t want to let anyone know. He had had enough of other people minding his business as it was. He just wanted to lie down somewhere and never get up. He did deserve to be ignored by Cogs, considering everything that happened. But man, did it hurt. — What’re your prices?
— Depends on size, the least I can do is 10. Go look on that sweetheart’s knee, done that a couple of years back. Was about a tenner.
— Do tattoos hurt?
— Depends on the place and bunch of other stuff, like skin thickness and such. You’re a tad young to get one, kiddo
— I know, my mum has a lot of tattoos.
— …By the way, speaking of moms. — Nex tried to distract himself from depressive thoughts and thinking where in the hell savtktani had knees. He looked at his phone and noted. — We really need to get going if we want to reach Harvey in time.
— Where you’re heading? — Kims was now wiping his chair.
— Avonborough.
— Nah, the next passenger train there is about at noon. I know folks from a mail train, I’ll get you a place in the booth. They owe me one anyway. Should be here around 4.
— You know about that place?
— Folks… Go missing there sometimes. I’ll put it like that. And my puppy is in the organisation that works cold cases. Some old-time mafia used to bury folks there, because no one really looks at the records. Lots of cement shoes. But keep in mind, those cases have been cold for about 50 years. Those who done it are probably in the ground themselves now.
— Considering the way the mafia operates in this country? Doubt it. — Nex snorted humorlessly. Then sighed. — Constructor’s underpants… it really stinks of forewarning.
— Even then, they changed grounds. I think they caught someone, but I’m probably wrong. That’s not my thing, after all. So, you want a tat or not?
— Eh. Sure. — Nexialist nodded, deciding once again to cover emotional pain with something more tangible, and added, half-joking. — To the mafia-land we go, then.