Chapter Text
George didn't know how long he'd been staring at that makeshift grave, or rather, at the body of the man responsible for all this, dumped there like a nobody (should he have felt satisfaction in that?)
The shovel was starting to feel heavier in his stiff hands, but he still couldn't bring himself to let go (He'd always hated digging, but for that night he was forced to make an exception).
But the cold air was starting to make itself felt, so he decided to get a move on and bury that damned body, then start the second hole.
He didn't want to do it, God, seeing Ogden's image in a grave brought back bad memories.
He started digging again, throwing dirt on dirt over the body, until he could no longer see anything.
Every blow to the earth reminded him of horrible events of the last few days. (Luckily, William wouldn't have to witness that.)
In his head, the sound of Williams' bullet piercing the yhe doctor's chest, throwing her into his arms (his hands had become red and hot from it).
The thud that bastard's body made when he hit him on the head two days later was also audible, repeatedly until the man's moans turned into a perpetual silence (the woman's body was starting to smell bad).
He imagined the inspector's or Higgins's faces if they'd witnessed that.
Henry would probably make some joke like, "Well, now we have a reason to send you to jail," and pat him on the shoulder to calm him down.
....
What the hell was he thinking? It was a good thing no one had seen him, why would anyone be spying on him?
He hated being spied on, and he hated having to dig!
...
He was losing his mind, wasn't he?
Probably from the fatigue or the events of the past few days, right?
Now he imagined eyes staring at him and someone in the forest ready to attack him, as if he could afford to overthinking!
Maybe he should sit down for a moment, or maybe close his aching eyes for a few minutes...
Speaking of his eyes, was he wrong, or did they seem brighter than usual?
Why did it suddenly feel like there were intruders inside?
...
NO! This wasn't the time to think about that. Now he just had to finish digging and get out of there, find a way to contact the inspector (if he was still alive, because he was, right?) and tell him about it...
And then? What would he do next?
Would he go home, and the next day go back to work as if nothing had happened, or be forced to count the dead (Had they managed to shoot Higgins and Jackson, were they still among the living?) and see William's desk empty?
How could he live with the knowledge of the dead all around him?
Maybe if he did enough, something would change?
And why the hell does he feel obsessed? He's alone now, in a fucking dark forest with two bodies on his hands, all he can do is dig and pray to some god of—
"G-George?"
He turned sharply, a habit he'd acquired over time working with them, called like a soldier by his commander.
But he was supposed to be alone there, so why was that body standing, emerging from behind the door of that shed?
Finally, he dropped the shovel, too shocked by what he saw to hold it any longer.
Julia was standing, breathing, and looking at him with a blank stare, as if something had attached strings to her body to command her to move.
It was dark, and only the lantern gave a kind of light, but it was enough to see the woman's face clearly.
And God, he would have prayed that never happened.
"G-George, is that you?" the voice continued, carrying a kind of sickness within it that made her seem like she was suffering from some disease.
But he was too busy staring at the worms crawling out of her face, half of which was marked by deep holes and mushrooms growing from where her right eye supposedly was.
The maggots were crawling everywhere, and the flies were circling as if attracted by the carcass of some lost animal.
But maybe they were like that, animals lost in a forest with no guidance and no purpose to pursue.
"George, please answer me." The woman's voice had become a plea, an attempt to call him back to his thoughts and have a dialogue with another human being (were they still human?).
She approached, staggering and displaying a walk that made her look like a zombie.
He continued to stare at her, motionless, trying to process the vision he was having, hoping it was just a hallucination.
Only when they were close together and she held him tightly and he felt the worms touching his skin did he finally realize that no, he wasn't hallucinating.
Before him was Julia, alive and well, but something had infected her, something had nested inside her.
They were silent, with only the noise of the night and the crawling of those little creatures.
The air was cold and everything was wrong.
"God, what's happening to us?" she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, something he hadn't seen in a long time.
"I don't know, you're..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but in a sudden flash of clarity he began to search for where the bullet had struck the woman.
His fingers touched a hole in the fabric of her now stained and wrinkled dress, finding a slimy substance.
"AH!" It was certainly a justified reaction to such a discovery, but it certainly didn't comfort the woman.
"Why are you covered in worms and holes?!" He pulled away from the embrace, visibly worried.
"Calm down, please."
"No, I'm not calming down, Julia!
Look, we're in a damn forest, your husband is dead, Williams is dead, you were supposed to be dead, and now you're standing in front of me covered in holes!"
"You acting like you literally don't have more irises and eyes than normal!"
"Wait, what?"
Julia grabbed him by the arm and carried him into the shed (probably belonging to some fisherman near the lake) where there was an old mirror near one of the walls.
She pushed him in front of it and shone a light, and George almost screamed in fright.
It was him she saw, it was him, but with two slits under each eye, which snapped open to reveal two small, bright green eyes.
It was also confirmed that the irises were more now, fixed on him , trying to figure out who the man in front of them was
He didn't know what to say to that, he just turned to the woman who let him go.
"I heard voices," she began, her voice breaking.
"Voices in my head telling me to stay calm, that corruption is natural, and that now I can live a second time."
"A... second time?" he continued, muttering the words over and over.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know." She fell to the ground. , curling up, followed by him, who leaned next to her.
They remained silent again for what seemed like endless minutes.
"Is Williams dead?"
"Yes, I hit him repeatedly with a shovel, now he's in the ground."
"Did you hit him well?"
"Does 10 times seem enough?"
"Good.
That bastard's dead.
Where are the others?"
"Higgins and Jackson were shot in the church by his men.
I managed to escape before they shot me."
"Great, more dead."
"What do we do now?"
"I don't know, the voices told me to find William."
"But he's dead..."
"I want to see him, I won't believe it until I see him."
"Are you sure about these voices?"
"No, but it's all we have now."
"Will everything be okay?"
"I don't know, I really don't know."