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The bottle nearly slipped from his grasp every time he picked it up, frost and dew dripping off of it even if the interior was nothing close to brisk. Jazzy music was going in one ear and out the other, the girl’s squeaky voice sometimes breaking in a rough but classy manner; it wasn’t the type of music he was expecting in the more poor parts of the city.
Rather than finishing the beverage that tasted more like piss than actual brandy, Ford shifted in his seat, trying to see past the dim lit lights and heavy rain pouring outside of the bar. It had been three days since he had parted ways with another business partner, and even if the loss of stocks and material hadn’t caught up with his wallet, it was only a matter of time before his mistakes would come back to bite not only him, but all of Gravity City. Bill-the maniac that he realized too late to be- had laughed and poured himself a glass when Ford had signed over his share of the company, and now all the man had to do was give the word for chaos to begin. It had been a painstaking couple of days waiting for Hell to break loose so his twin was often left alone in their apartment while Ford tried to calm himself.
It wasn’t like Ford had any choice when it came to the company. Years filled with the horrors he had seen was enough for him to say goodbye to his studies and put everything he had worked for on the shelf. As long as it slowed Bill’s process he was willing to put up with the depression of losing all of his research.
The alcohol wasn’t helping though. Pushing the bottle further down the aisle he got up from the stool and for a second considered staying. This place wasn’t doing anything for his mind, but it was a good distraction from the bitterness of life.
That was until a faint light left the corner of his eye. Ford wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the suspicious fact that it was moving down the alleyway opposite the brightly lit windows, reflecting oily colors off of the wall of booze.
A mind hungry and curious made Ford pace forward and swing the bar doors open, rain drowning out the jazzy music and the bartender’s orders to close the door. But he wasn’t listening, he instead watched the silhouette of a kid walk with shuddering steps and a hunched back look behind himself, meeting eyes with Stanford, and quickening his pace.
They were glowing eyes of ember and blues that Ford knew all too well. Through the years of studying the exotic and supernatural how could he not?
He pushed away from the bar before being violently pulled back inside.
“What th-”
“Got a lot of nerve comin’ back here Stanley.” Half expecting the bartender, Ford stared into a face that was more beard than skin. It wasn’t the bartender, but that man was looking at him with the same disgusted expression while wiping down the counter.
“What?-Oh.” Jeez Stanley, what bar have you not gone to?
Ford always thought that being thrown out of a bar would be a lot quicker. It might have been if he hadn’t tried to back out of the predicament and explain himself. Apparently when you owe someone money they don’t take kindly to that.
Pulling his trench coat together the man sat up from the puddle of water and soot he was tossed into, laughter slowly fading inside the small tavern. When he looked back up the small figure was gone, only the yellowing light reflecting off of mildew on a neighboring building made him stagger to his feet and slink forward. Leaning against the wall and there stood the figure, who he could now hear whimpering. Silently it turned a corner that led deeper into the alleyway and his eyes narrowed. There were no inhabitable places nearby. Bill had done enough with rounding up strange and bizzare wonders, could this be one that he had missed?
“Hey kid!”
No answer, not that he was expecting one. Jogging slowly forward he neared the corner of the brick building and peeked around the corner. Upon seeing the figure sprinting away Ford flinched and then gave chase. Heavy boots cutting through the deep puddles and potholes of the dirty streets. He was gaining ground quickly compared to the pathetic wobble of the child who he now could see through tattered clothing, was leaving drops of blood in every footprint.
“Kid, I promise I’m here to help you!”
The promise was of course ignored as the figure rounded another corner. Seconds passed before Ford rounded it as well, and was met with a heavy blow to the shoulder. The impact did little to stop him but the small hands that grabbed him and attempted to pin him against the wall definitely did. Twig arms that pulsed with strength held him firmly in place and eyes wide with regret and anguish bored into his own.
The kid was at least two heads shorter than Ford but he had to say he was impressed by the vigorous child. Hair matted and plastered to his face, clothes tattered and barefoot, this kid had certainly been introduced to the same horrors that Ford had. He could quite literally see it in the boy’s illuminating stare.
“Leave me alone!” It was a command with a voice much deeper and threatening than Ford knew was possible for such an adolescent, and it proved his theory instantly. He firmly grabbed the boy’s forearms and lifted them off of his coat, replacing the maddened look with outright panic. Trying his best the boy struggled against Ford’s gentle grip. When that didn’t work, kicks to the shins and feet almost made the latter lose his hold.
“AcK! No stop, I just wanted to ask you-”
He lifted the kid off of the ground but the kicking still continued, frustrated grunts and snarls leaving the boy’s mouth along with whimpers of pain.
“Let-me-go!” Flex of snot mingled with the pouring rain as the child began to tire of his efforts, now with the voice high and young. Realizing that he might have gone too far made Ford finally let go and the child slumped to the ground, head rocking up and down. For half a nervous second he doubted himself and wondered if he had just attacked some poor kid.
He looked down at his hands. Grimy substance lingered on his fingers. Upon seeing blood beginning to spread from the child’s nursing arms, cold terror made him realize that it was bits of skin. The man dropped to the child’s side who immediately drew back, his arms tucked into his chest with what little protection he could offer.
“Please, I’m really sorry, I just want to help you.” As rain continued to blind him he took off his glasses and tried to remain focused on the boy who was now backed against the wall. “Look, I- I’m not good with children, or people to be honest. But if you keep holding those injuries like that you’re just going to hurt more.”
A wail escaped the boy and he buried his face in the ruined arms, giving Ford the sight that his shins were in just as bad shape. Only when the boy began to choke on rain, tears, and blood that he allowed the stranger to draw nearer.
Gently taking the damaged hand into his own made the poor thing jump, but he didn’t stop the man, and Ford slowly drew out the arm and inspected the deteriorated bruises mingling with ripped skin. This wasn’t a normal or even rare skin disease. Underneath the first layers of blood and vein, murky black began to appear, slowly oozing out of the wounds and staining his already soaked trousers, reminding Ford of paint.
Hiccups were replaced with yawning and the boy shivered again at the sight, trying again to tug away from the man. Glowing eyes reflected off of the shimmering pavement and Ford’s discarded glasses. “No! S-stop! Please stop.” His entire face seemed to glint the pale yellow as more tears were shed. “It hurts-s-s.”
“I’m sorry. Just- hold still please.” Urgency tightened his jaw as Ford racked his mind for anything that might offer aid. A glint on his hand reminded him of what he was wearing and with nimble fingers the man slipped off a ring from his finger.
“Here.” The ring was much too large for any of the boy’s tiny fingers, so Ford instead fitted it around his thumb. Instant reaction took place. Like dousing a fire the boy gasped, eyes extinguished and replaced with dazed carmel. The tiny hands began to tremble and one could almost watch as his bones relaxed against the physical restraints they had been bound to.
Ford had to catch the boy as he fell forward, weak and frail body almost weightless. The unnatural hardiness in his muscle was gone, along with whatever thing was feeding on his life source. However it didn’t fix the bleeding and that was another large problem.
Ford didn’t know what to say to soothe the child's sobbing, so instead he reverted back to what he did know: Supernatural experiences. “The ring will help you, you understand? I’ve done research on these things and am fairly certain that it is used to ward off evil beings and cleans bodies of cursed illnesses.” The ring was actually a little something he had picked up on his way out of Bill’s office. It’s properties were around the lines of: putting a muzzle on a feral dog, a useless object to him until now.
However his analysis did little to calm the boy so he tried again, this time a little softer. “Whatever you had is gone now, you’re safe. Just don’t take it off until I can find something else to help you, understand?”
Through the shivering, the young child nodded, and slowly Ford helped him rise to a kneeling position. Both pairs of eyes lingeried on the ring that was still rather loose on his thumb. The man tried his best to bundle up the small child without getting any more blood on himself. Soft whimpers echoed down the alleyway as the bullets of rain beat down on the wounds. Ford stood after finding his glasses and helped the boy up as well, holding him against himself for support.
“What is your name?”
A small gulp to clear a sore throat, or to maybe stall the tears. “Wirt.”
“Just Wirt?”
The boy nodded and Ford followed suit. “A strange name, but I like it. It fits you.”
The two misfits started a tentative walk downtown to the less than hospitable companies, averting anyone who stared too closely or walked too quickly. The orange moon was tinted with ugly clouds that would have looked beautiful on any other night.
Soon that awful moon would be the only source of light through the column of dead trees they now walked in.
“Why did you need to bring me here?”
There was no answer, mere mumbling and shuffled footsteps that simply guided the man closer to an enormous structure. After walking through town all day, dragging and occasionally carrying the child, Ford was eventually convinced to go where the child directed him. Decaying forest lined the giant train tracks that ran across a bridge, overthrown with moss and ivy dripping down the brick walls like a small fan.
“Wait no. No, not that.” The small boy’s conversation with himself got louder as he moved deeper under the bridge, his frame now pitch black without the glowing eyes. He zigzagged through garbage piles and small walls of stone. Ford tentatively followed and came closer when the rusty sound of metal shifting made him tremble. The boy had moved aside a small window in the ground with a metal gate, which Ford only then noticed to be a fire escape. He looked beyond this and only then could he trust his eyes and nothing else.
Old windows and a broken door followed these patterns down under the bridge, an entire destroyed building slowly blooming in front of him, overgrown with dead vegetation and missing bricks. The broken gate leaned against the brick, reading the words ‘Langtree Elementary’.
Ford could feel his legs backtrack with the sudden sight, knees failing to keep him completely upright. It was almost too grand to be true.
“What happened here?”
A silent reply came as little Wirt gestured at the small opening right next to the small staircase. Holding the metal gate open for the kid, Ford watched him slowly climb down the rusty ladder and descend into an unknown cellar. As he knelt slowly the man could detect the musty odor of burnt wood and rotting flesh. A rat scuttled it’s way across the abandoned street and swaying crows took flight from the high, crooked rafters.
It wasn’t a cult sight or witchcraft, that much he did know. After mindless years of researching the dread that lay beneath the city grounds, a mystery was unveiled that stumped the scientist. There were definitely questions to be answered once they got to safety.
A little voice from down below made him look deeper into the dark cellar, a discarded shoe and playing card were being stepped over as the young boy ducked back into view, cradling a filthy rag in his arms.
The man froze as the child expectedly held the bundle up, and with shaking hands Ford took the blanket in one arm, holding the gate above him with the other.
It was a baby, fast asleep and covered in discarded soil and grime.
“I didn’t know what- I didn’t know where else to put him.”
“I-what?” Ford stood up unbalanced, trying his best to hold the infant as the other tiny boy climbed back out, and took his supposed brother back into his arms. “This is Gregory.”
As Ford looked at the thing like it was other-worldly, the infant stirred and opened its eyes, wide-eyed curiosity for the terrible world it was given to. A filthy hand reached out and grabbed Wirt’s collar. “He’s all that I have left.”
There was no tone to his voice, like a broken phonograph it skipped and crackled but all emotion was gone, just a simple demand for acceptance.
Acceptance was something that Ford could give, but it was the only thing he could give. “Uh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Shuffling aside from the brothers he neared the metal gate again. “Do you mind if I....?” Simply pointing at the underground cellar made Wirt shake his head and start forward.
“No. No, don’t go there.”
“Why not?”
Words that never came out ran across his face, searching for some excuse or reason. Instead he backed away from the gate, grimacing at it and whatever secrets it held. “Don’t go down there. Don’t-not down there.”
“Alright, alright then. Let’s find you a place to stay.” A vague hint to the child that Ford might now be a caretaker. He waved behind him and didn’t start walking until he heard the pitter patter of footsteps in the puddles. Hefting the bundle further up in his arms, Wirt hopped timidly to the man as they both turned away from the terrible building. Tiny cold hands wrapped around a single finger and Ford felt the big ring against his rough skin. He looked down as the mop of brown hair burrowed into his jacket to brace against the cold.
He would visit the place again; try to find out what had happened, what they were doing there, and how he could help them. But not tonight.
So when small sniffles echoed through the tunnel as they walked to town, and when tiny wails of the infant drew attention, Ford simply held the hand closer and breathed deep.