Mallory pulled up the meat out of the water. It hit the metal bridge with a disgusting sloshing sound. Being the only one wearing gloves I picked up the gray mound of flesh.

"What should we do with it?" I asked as I turned it around in my hand.

"Dunno," Mallory said, "Maybe we could feed it to Phillip?"

In response Phillip made a threatening noise then aimed his antlers at Mallory.

Mallory forced out a laugh then retracted her sentence.

We stared at it for a moment before Melengelle said, "Maybe we can keep it?"

Confusion in her voice Mallory asked, "Why would we do that?

"You could study it?"

Mallory pondered that for a few seconds. Since we weren’t sure what the inseam on the meat meant, she decided we could learn a thing or two from someone who has presumably been weaving for years. After a brief argument over who was going to carry the meat, it was decided I would, despite my proclamation against it.

Mallory slung her backpack over her shoulder and we left the water treatment plant.

* * * * *

The meat felt cold through my gloves. Its sliminess made it difficult to hold and I nearly dropped it a few times. Had it been any other thing I wouldn’t have minded dropping it, but as we walked along the dirt forest path I felt it shift. It was as though some unseen force was lightly tugging at it. I thought nothing of it, after all, it would tug in the direction we were walking, so I believed it was slipping out of my hands those few times. As we walked the tugging became a more clear pull. The four of us walked along the fence, just outside The Scarred Man’s nest and the meat yanked itself towards the building with such force I was face down on the ground within the next second.

"Are you okay?" Mallory asked

I lifted my head and responded, "Yeah I’m okay."

"What happened?"

I got back to my feet and told her, "Not sure," I dusted myself off, "it’s almost as though something pulled it out of my hands?"

Mallory’s interest peaked at that, "do you think it was a ghost?"

"No," I turned to look at the building beyond the fence, "I think it was something else."

The three of them turned their gaze toward the building. It stood as menacing as ever in the afternoon light, even without the resident being fully alive.

"We should go in," Mallory said with slight concern in her voice. "At least one last time, cause now that he’s gone we’ll actually get the chance to look around."

"For what?" I asked.

"Maybe... maybe, we could find those missing people."

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I believed those people wouldn’t be found in any form of good health.

She could see it on my face and she said, "Or maybe we might find... something of theirs, so we can pay our respects."

I stayed quiet for a second. I wasn’t the most eager to see the bodies of my classmates. However, I had just killed a man a few nights before, and I wasn’t certain of the impact that would have on me, but I began to believe that viewing my classmates as lifeless husks of their former selves could possibly make it worse.

I dusted off the meat before producing a sigh. There were many points at which I should have said no to Mallory, that was one of them.

Being unsure of whatever mechanism the Scarred Man used to open the side door entered through the only way we knew how. We made our way through the maze of conveyors to the true nest of the Scarred Man. The area was more bleak than our original visit. It was almost as if the rooms knew their master was no more and were mourning his death. Deep, pitiful sorrow filled the space below his bedroom, it felt almost alive the way it yearned for his return.

The meat in my hands no longer yanked on my arms, but rather cautiously nudged like a curious animal attempting to inspect a possible threat. The meat walked us through the Scarred Man’s workshop, which had items thrown around it haphazardly. At the back of the workshop stood the metal door we hadn’t inspected previously. Mallory made an attempt to open it but failed.

I set the meat on the floor, causing a slight wisp of air to lift the minor layer of dust that had settled down on the tools into the air. A brief sneezing fit from all of us followed. I proceeded to help Mallory with the door. We pulled the door and it opened with a muffled metallic screech. Looking at the other side of the door I could see deep scratch marks, forever scarring the metal door.

Mallory wore worry on her face as she stared into the darkness of the descending staircase.

I felt a slight push forward when Mallory placed her hand on my back. I took a step forward, forgetting about the meat. The ring became a knife, one different from the one I had used to kill the Scarred Man. Though I couldn’t see it, I could feel the blade was longer and the hilt was weighted to counteract it. I hadn’t asked for the longer blade, but I was afraid of something being out of reach and I believed the ring felt it. I began to think the ring took some of my energy to manifest as a knife because when it morphed I felt tired. Oddly enough not exhausted, but rather the type of tired a brief nap could fix. Or perhaps an apple.

As we walked down the stairs I asked Mallory to reach into her bag and find me a fruit.

She happily obliged, and I happily ate my apple.

We soon reached the bottom of the stairs. I looked around for a light switch and promptly found one. Hung next to the lightswitch was a ring of keys, which I decided to take.

I had not yet seen a prison at this point of my life, so I had no reference point. Yet, despite that, I knew these conditions were abhorrent. It would have been inadequate to call the individual cells anything other than cages. Many were big enough to fit a hunched over adult. One, however, on the far end of this decrepit basement stood an actual prison cell.

Looking down we noticed dark brown stains caked onto the floor. Some stains were older than others, and it was clear to me that they rust marks. Following the rust with my eyes led me back to the prison cell. I thought I saw movement, but when I concentrated on where that movement was there was nothing there. Strange.

Phillip hopped alongside me as I walked down the row of barred off cages. I took time to look past the bars. There was a mattress in each of them. Dirty blankets were thrown onto the floor of some, as if the occupants had been suddenly ripped from their beds. I thought of the similar scenes the Scarred Man had produced when took some of the children of Cyprianus.

The children.

I whipped around to check the cell behind us. Nothing.

Mallory and Melengelle took to checking one side of the basement, while Phillip and I checked the other half. We ran along in search of something, anything, that could at the very least be buried.

Soon I heard my name be called out and I went to Mallory. Inside the cage, on the mattress and under the blanket was a lumpy mass. The knife returned to its ring form as I fumbled the keys as I attempted to find the correct one. The bars of the door scraped along the floor when we opened the cage.

A loud rattling came from the far half of the basement. I instinctively snapped my eyes to it. How strange, there was nothing in there. That didn’t matter.

I returned my attention to what we were doing. My hand trembled as it hovered over the blanket. I carefully pulled the blanket off the lumpy mass to reveal what it was.

A sleeping child, one that I had seen before, lay on the suspiciously stained mattress.

"Oh gosh!" Mallory gasped. In an attempt to wake him up, Mallory shook him.

The child groaned ever so slightly.

After a bit more jostling, the child began to wake.

Suddenly he bolted up, screaming in the process. His arms flailed about, and nearly hit Mallory in the face. The three of us backed up but Phillip aimed his antlers at the child. His attacks soon slowed to a stop when he grew tired.

He stared at us with confusion at first and for a moment he braced himself for an attack that would not come. Then, when realization hit, a tidal wave of relief washed over his face.

"Is this actually happening?" He whimpered.

Mallory and I looked at one another.

"Is what happening?" Mallory asked him.

"Are we being saved?" he sobbed.

Mallory’s face lit up like a tree decorated for a nondescript national holiday celebrating the birth of a godchild, "yes!"

Getting him out of bed was a struggle as he had spent the last few months with very little exercise. When we freed him from the cage he and Melengelle did some stretches in hopes it would help increase his mobility.

Mallory, Pillip and I continued our search with newly found confidence. We helped two more children who had similar reactions to the first. After the second child was led to the stretching corner, the rattling of the large cage rang out like a warning alarm. It caused all the kids to jump, then they cautiously returned their attention to Melengelle.

My eyes became glued to the cage. Something inside it wanted freedom. On some level I could empathize. I looked down at Phillip, who in turn looked up at me. We nodded at each other and after informing Mallory and handed her the key ring, then he and I hurried over the far side of the large basement.

We stopped short of the bars. Upon further inspection it was clear that the prison cell was much deeper than originally thought. A wall covered in scratch marks stood a few paces past the bars. On the right side of this was a doorway that caught my attention. The door frame bore a smooth section, near the area where the top door hinge would be. It seemed as though that area had been eroded away by constant contact. I wasn’t sure what would be so tall that it constantly grazed against something that high up.

The reminder of the cell was not much to look at. A few claw marks here and there, and a few dark brown stains were the only things of note within the cell.

Weird, I thought, what made those noises?

Phillip made a soft squeak to catch my attention.

I looked down to see him sniffing at a couple of scratch marks on the floor. They were difficult to see because some rus had formed in them. The way they faded suggested that the bars could swing open like a door. Why would that be needed?

The thought had been marinating in the back of my head since we turned on the lights, but now it had fully ripened. Why did the Scarred Man create this basement? It was clear it was made by a novice, but a novice who had time. How long had he been doing this?

I came out of my trance as Phillip hopped over to a padlocked door. I debated with myself for a few seconds before I turned in Mallory’s direction. I took a step toward her but Phillip was already returning with the key ring hung from his antlers.

The padlock was heavier than I anticipated so after unlocking it, the padlock fell to the ground with a metallic thud. I gave the key ring back to Phillip who then returned it to Mallory. I managed to pull the door open by the time Phillip came back to me.

The room we cautiously walked into was cold. The light that reflected off the metal walls was so bright I had to cover my eyes while they adjusted. Once I could properly see I noticed the walls had many different sized shelves and cupboards. The shelves held jars full of murky liquids and odd specimens, such as eyeballs or a few fingers. Some jars had strange pieces of what looked to be meat. A leaky sink was embedded into a counter that was underneath a cupboard. In the middle of the room stood two tables. One was covered by beakers and burners, almost like our chemistry lab at school. The other table doused in congealed blood and an assortment of oddly colored furs and body parts. My hands shot up to cover my nose, yet the stench clung to my nostrils.

With my nose pinched shut I made from the tables toward one of the shelves.

Each jar was labeled with initials. Many, such as some of the eyes and what looked to be pieces of brain, were marked with M.M. Even a few strips of muscle were marked M.M. Claws were marked with P.P, some skin was marked H.H. Strangest of all, a thick piece of black metal was labeled D.W.A.G.T.T.I.S. I wasn’t sure what any of that meant.

A small viled marked M.M contained jerky like dried meat. It caught my attention and decided to take it, maybe Mallory could help us decipher what all of this belonged to. I glanced at the grotesque table.

Maybe I’ll leave that part out.

I moved over to a cupboard.

Full of books and journals, all older than I was. I couldn’t make sense of most of them, for they were beyond my reading comprehension. One, however, described with a certain amount of detail how to create monstrosities that would be an amalgamation of a variety of animals. They would be stronger and faster than most animals and the goals of these monsters would be whatever the creator instilled into them.

I turned my head to look at the mess of parts that sat on the table.

Is that why he took them?

A mahogany colored hand jutted out from the pile. It was small enough to be a child’s hand, however, it only had three fingers excluding the thumb. I came to a thought as I stared at it.

If he had succeeded in making one of the abominations, then he would have to keep it somewhere.

I slammed the journal shut, took Phillip in my arms and quickly left the room. I slammed the door shut by leaning against it.

I placed Phillip on the ground then crouched down to talk to him. "We need to check inside here," I pointed to the prison cell.

After a brief explanation of a possible monster Phillip stood on his hind legs. He seemed worried.

I reassured him we could simply run away and if that didn’t work I could always create a knife.

I began to pull the bars. A bit of give could be felt, but they did not move. Soon enough I managed to move the bars to a point where I could just barely squeeze through the gap between them and the wall.

Phillip struggled to get his antlers through so he sat, defeated, on the other side of the cell. I assured him I would run at the first sign of danger. "But, you should go to Mallory, in case we have to run."

He squeezed at that then hopped away.

I moved through the doorless doorway into a dimly lit cement room. A disgusting crust mattress lay in the middle. I reached my hand out to touch the wall while I walked toward the mattress. Bits of rust flaked off as my hand rubbed against the wall.

Rust? On cement?

I took a closer look. It smelled like rust and flaked like it, but the patch of rust was oddly placed. Looking around the room I noticed other patches of rust. All over the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. Some were bigger than others.

I made my way to the middle of the room, the mattress no longer there. Oddly enough it was now further into the darkness that was the back of the space. I squatted down. The floor where the mattress had been had a patch of rust that looked close enough to splatter marks that I realized what the rust actually was.

I quickly got to my feet. My heart pounded in my chest. Whatever caused that splatter pattern must have been child sized, and whatever splattered it was definitely larger than a child. My false sense of confidence evaporated, leaving only the terror I had felt the night I killed the Scarred Man. Coming in here was definitely a mistake.

I formed my knife. The moment the blade was fully formed I heard the mattress slide across the floor directly at me. It hit my shins causing me to fall forward onto it.

Oh God! Oh fuck!

I rolled off the bed and scrambled to my feet. Fear pumped through my veins, but I was ready to kill whatever was in here, no matter how many of my lives it took.

Seconds passed and nothing came for me. I stared into the darkness, looking for a shape. Nothing.

Realizing that whatever was in here could have easily ran out, I whipped around to leave.

The bars were now fully opened, confirming my theory. My eyes moved to Mallory and the rest of the children. No sign of a monster.

I ran by each prison cell and clanced into each one.

Nothing.

When I reached Mallory I was out of breath.

"Are you okay? What’s wrong?" Mallory asked.

My breathing was labored as I tried to speak, "did... did... something... run by?"

"Uhm, dunno. Don’t think so," Mallory scratched her head. "Why?"

"Nothing. It’s nothing," I replied. "I think I might be going crazy."

I straightened up in time for Melengelle to hand me Phillip. "He’s crazy too."

I took Phillip under my arm. I glanced behind me and still, nothing. I felt more at ease after seeing nothing.

He looked up at me.

"It’s alright Phillip we can be crazy together."

Mallory clapped her hands, "Now! Since you’re back we can take these kids home!" She shouted, "are you all ready to go home?"

The children shouted in unison "yes!"

I chose to lead the way, in case my insanity was itself a mistake.

We reached the top of the steps. My knife in hand and Phillip in the other I was ready for anything, but nothing attacked us.

I looked around as best I could, but it wasn’t enough. Because it was only later in life that I realized that the meat was no longer where we left it. It had returned home how these children were about to.

*****

The cold night air was a wonderful contrast to the damp basement we were just in. No one found the need to run after Mallory explained to them that I had scared the Scarred Man away. Some of the children wanted to take turns carrying Phillip, but he was being difficult and refused to be held by anyone other than Melengelle.

As we grew closer to Cyprianus I began to fall behind everyone else. Through no fault of my own of course. The children were simply excited to return home.

When the treeline came into view everyone ran beyond it, even Mallory. Melengelle did a light jog in an attempt to catch up.

Curiosity had me so I stayed behind. I walked a few yards into the brush to reach the Scarred Man’s body.

It was there, decaying quicker than a body should. I formed the knife, but it was thinner and had a serrated edge. That didn’t matter to me then, I had an infinite lifetime to discover how to properly wield the ring. For then, I would do what I wanted to do. I plunged the knife into the skull of the dead man. The wet sponge that was his skull did not hold onto my knife while I pulled it out.

I stabbed his head again, and again, and again, and again. Tears streamed down my face. I poured all the anger I had never acknowledged onto this dead man. This monster that hunted in my town.

When I was satisfied and fully gathered myself I returned to the tree line. Unable to explain the bits of flesh and blood on my clothes I tried to avoid Mallory.

When I walked by her she asked, "do you think you help these kids get home? They live on your side of town."

"Of course!" I said cheerfully.

"What’s on your clothes?" She asked.

"Don’t worry about it."

She was suspicious, but decided not to worry. Or perhaps she didn’t care. Maybe she never did. Mallory shrugged. We said our goodnights and we parted ways for the night.

*****

It took a few days for some of the children to be spotted at school. A handful of days after that all ten of them were back in school, doing their best to readjust to life.

For a while genuine feelings began to return to Cyprianus. There was rarely a morning in which I didn’t wake up happy. One morning, however, about a month after we rescued the children, I woke up to a high pitched chitter, or perhaps it was a whistle. It was annoying at first but soon I realized it was repeating itself, almost like a song.

I sat up in bed to look out my window. On the outer window sill stood the creator of the noise. It was bright yellow with bits of red along its body.

My eyes refused to move from it. I was overjoyed. This was the first time I had ever heard the birds chirp.

Next Chapter: Sugartown