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Ever since he was revived, Kian has never had a quiet moment. Well, he wasn’t quite sure if it counted as revival. He never really died, in the sense he understood it anyway. The way he theorized it, his consciousness was split between the monsters, the webbing, and, well, the only thing he could think of was the beyond.
Kian was never one to believe in the afterlife. But he was also never one to believe in doppelgangers or bug monsters or eldritch gods, and look where that got him: huddled in a bunker with the only two people he knew to be alive. He also wasn’t sure if Rolan counted as alive anymore.
Kian wasn’t sure if he counted as alive anymore. The eyes didn’t help very much. Instead of the sapphire blue he had come to know, they were a bright pale gold, and the streak of white through his hair didn’t make him feel any better about them.
To be honest, Kian wasn’t sure about a lot of things recently. It was unsettling, perhaps even more than the insectoid doppelgangers were. Kian was used to understanding. People, things, sounds, science, most anything you can name off the top of your head Kian knows. He didn’t show, of course. But he knew.
And now, now that he didn’t know, everything and nothing was echoing through his head all at once.
The ghosts didn’t help either.
It took him a few days and multiple… incidents to figure out that's what they were. As far as he was aware, he was the only one able to see them.
The first ghost he saw was Rolan’s. He didn’t recognize it as a ghost then, a patchy and fragmented form hovering behind his friend at all times. It was the smallest ghost Kian knew, legs fading into nothing just below the knees. The face was familiar, they all were, but, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment and the drama of fighting an alien bug queen, Kian didn’t let himself dwell on the figure.
It was a while after hunkering down he recognized the ghost.
Their plan to kill the queen went, well, poorly. None of them liked to dwell on it now, mostly ignoring Rand’s missing fingers, Rolan’s occasional clicking fits, and the constant soulless look in Kian’s eyes. Now they were hidden down in the bunker, venturing out only for supplies. Sometimes they tried to rescue people from the community house. It never went well.
It was on one of these ventures that Kian both realized that the figures were in fact ghosts and who the ghost haunting Rolan was.
The three, armed to the teeth with weapons and alcohol, snuck through the swamps of Galloway. The waters were still stained with blood, dripping from the trees and seeping into the ground. Rolan led the three of them, tilting his head every so often and abruptly changing direction. Creatures would stalk by then, senses disrupted by the subtle smell of alcohol drifting from their location.
Rolan would nod a few seconds later, and the three would move on, slowly approaching the town.
The smell in the streets made Kian sick every time they approached. Sickly sweet and rotten and sharp and metallic all at once, it clung to his clothes and skin. It only barely washed off in the shower, and Kian really had to scrub to get the smell out of his hair.
Webbing stretched between and around the buildings, webbing that Kian distinctly remembered being at once point. It was strange to see that material, so logic followed that it was strange to be that material. There was no feeling and yet every nerve in your body was stretched out to their maximum length, spun and coiled and turned into spiderwebs.
Creatures clicked and shuffled through the narrow streets of Galloway, stopping every few moments to turn around. The misplaced eyes and faces and distorted limbs never failed to make Kian sick to his stomach, no matter how high or drunk he was.
This whole town made him sick.
He saw spectral forms following each of the creatures, mimicking whatever human face was left on the insectoids. They seemed like patchwork, ripped and torn and roughly stitched together. He looked over his shoulder to glance at Rolan’s form, the small figure floating behind him.
The three of them sat, crouched in a small space between thick cypress trees. They all kept shooting glances toward the town, where monsters stalked the streets. The silvery forms seemed to shake on each of the figures, and Kian tilted his head.
“Ok, we’re headed to the convenience store, yes?” Rolan whispered, trailing off into a quiet buzz.
Rand nodded, sticking yet another cigarette in his mouth.
“These things don’t eat food the same way we do, I think. Shouldn't have touched it.”
“We sure this is a good idea, dudes?” Kian asked, turning back toward the town, “There’s a lot more of them than normal.”
“There’s always a lot of them, Kian,” Rand hissed, “Better now than never. We need food.”
“Their weird spectral thingies are acting up,” Kian whispered, watching the translucent forms begin to writhe.
“Their what?”
Kian blinked, turning around to see both Rolan and Rand shooting him confused looks.
“You know. The little gray looking things attached to the bug guys.”
Rand raised an eyebrow while Rolan shook his head.
“You sure you’re not too high, buddy?” Rolan asked.
“No I- Well, yeah I’m high, but they’re there when I’m sober, too. I see yours all the time.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah, you got a little kid lookin’ one attached to your back. You’ve really not seen it?”
Rolan looked very confused for a moment.
“Do you mean like ghosts?”
“I guess they could be ghosts,” Kian responded, pausing, “Never thought they were. Thought they’re just like extra mutations or something.”
“Whatever they are, you’re the only one who sees them,” Rand shot, beginning to creep into the town, “Maybe check your smokes next time.”
“Bro, I’m telling you, it’s not my weed.”
Rand simply hummed in response, and Rolan, shooting Kian a concerned look, climbed out after him. Rolan’s white, scythe-like arm hooked into a large tree trunk, and he began to clamber up. The form followed him, the spot where its hands should be wrapped onto his shoulders.
Kian didn’t move for a few seconds, contemplating what the forms were. He supposed they could be ghosts. Something like the human part of the creature's consciousness forced out of the body perhaps. He would have to figure out more how they were made to discern what they were.
Rand stalked back into the brush and grabbed Kian’s arm, hauling him out.
Rand and Kian snuck through the alleyways of Galloway, spraying alcohol on any webbing they came across. The alcohol split the nerves in it, letting them cut through without alerting the greater hivemind. Rolan followed them on the rooftops, clicking every so often to disrupt the communication of the creatures.
This was the plan they had figured out and performed several times before, sneaking into town for supplies.
Kian moved slower than usual, and Rolan and Rand noticed. Kian saw Rand glaring daggers at him over his shoulder and Rolan peeking over the ledges, a concerned look on his face. But Kian paid them no mind.
He was focused on the ghosts.
“Are they ghosts?” He began muttering to himself, “It would make sense. Perhaps the spotted nature of them is due to split consciousness…”
“Dude. What are you saying?” Rand hissed from around a corner, pulling Kian by the arm down the alley, “We’re close to the store, you can’t go mad here.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just come on. And stop muttering about ghosts or whatever, it’s creeping me the fuck out.”
Kian did, in fact, not stop muttering about ghosts, but he lowered his volume so much as to mostly just be mouthing the words now. He made sure to follow Rand more closely, listening to Rolan's cues overhead, but he didn’t move his mind from the figures.
He could see one now, out of the corner of his eye.
A woman, with long curly hair and wide frightened eyes. Attached to a beast, with far too many legs and far too many faces. It was jarring, the difference between the two, when the only similarity was the facial structure. Sharp nose, soft smile, wide eyes.
Wide eyes pointed directly at Kian and Rand.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rand breathed, grabbing Kian and abandoning their route, instead making a wild break for the convenience store. Kian’s eyes were still fixed on the ghost and her creature, which had begun to click, echoing all throughout Galloway.
Rand sprinted, dragging Kian behind them, Rolan following quickly overhead.
“We’re close, we’re close,” Kian heard Rand repeat to himself, “We’ll make it.”
And then the clicking multiplied into a buzz, the number of individual voices Kian could not discern.
“Fuck!” Rand screamed, continuing to run through the town.
The two could see the store now, webbing draped over the floors and windows. Rand stabbed into a beer can and hurled it toward the store, spraying the area with alcohol. It caused the flesh to wither and shrink, turning brown as it did.
He cut through the webbing, swinging the door open, dragging Kian and Rolan in behind him, and slamming it shut.
All went quiet for a moment.
Kian looked to Rolan, who had stood up straight and tilted his head to the side, listening.
A few minutes passed.
“We’re safe,” Rolan breathed, “The alcohol sent them off the trail.”
“Thank fucking god,” Rand hissed. He spun on his heel to face Kian.
“What the hell was that, man? You could have gotten us all killed!”
“Dude, calm down. We’re fine now, aren’t we? I was just watching the ghosts.”
“There are no ghosts, Kian! Just monsters!”
“Maybe he’s the only one who can see them,” Rolan offered from the other side of the store.
“Oh yeah? And why would that be?”
“Y’know. Whole revival spell thing.”
Rand paused.
“I guess.”
There was silence for another moment.
“God, it just keeps getting more and more complicated,” Rand muttered, leaning on a wall and sinking to the floor, “How the hell did we get from Dungeons and Dragons to Kian seeing ghosts? And how is the step in between that bug people who kill our loved ones?”
“They’re not all dead bro,” Kian whispered, “The consciousness is split between the ghost and the monsters. I think so, at least.”
“And how is that any better?”
Kian didn’t respond.
“Oh my god, they have gummy bears here. I haven’t had gummy bears in years.”
Kian blinked, turning to see Rolan, across the store, digging into a bag of gummy bears. Picking out only the red ones like he used to. The ghost looked interested too.
And all of a sudden something clicked for Kian.
It was Rolan.
Of course it was. How could he have not noticed before?
The ghost had the same nervous posture, the same resting face, as his friend from high school. The other ghosts resembled their monsters, why wouldn’t Rolan’s as well.
The ghost seemed to notice Kian staring at him, and he looked back.
“Kian, you’re doing the thing again,” Rand called from his spot on the floor “Earth to Kian.”
Kian blinked. The ghost turned away.
“Sorry, sorry. Let’s get some food and go. Smells bad in here. An uncomfortable bad.”
“You just noticed now?”
Rand got up from the floor and began shoveling food into his bag.
“God, I love preservatives,” He muttered, walking up and down the aisles, “We’ll eat for years.”
Rolan was still eating gummy bears, and he had moved on to the orange ones.
“Still eat them in order?”
“What other way is there to eat them?”
“Like normal.”
“I’m normal.”
A pause.
“Well, normal enough.”
“Yeah, I guess compared to the bug-pocalypse outside, eating gummy bears like a geek isn’t too bad.”
“Says you, Mr. Accountant.”
Kian chuckled, grabbing a gummy bear out of the bag.
“Remember when I mentioned your ghost?”
Rolan paused.
“I guess?”
“Yeah. Um. I think it’s teenage you. Back when this all started.”
Rolan paused, a green bear halfway up to his mouth.
“Are you sure?” he murmured, a faraway look in his eyes.
“I’m never sure, dude. That’s just math.”
“But- But it’s me.”
“Yeah. I think the ghosts are what’s left of the consciousness when people are turned into those things.”
“So I've had a ghost on me for fifteen years.”
Kian shrugged.
“Couldn’t tell ya. Only started seein’ them recently.”
Rolan took a deep breath. His voice was shaky.
“How does this week keep getting worse?”
Kian patted his friend on the back.
“Got no idea, mi amigo. But alas, c’est la vie.”
“That’s two different languages, Kian.”
Kian spun on his heel, walking toward the store window once more.
“Ciao!”
Rolan laughed, and Rand came to stand beside him.
“Sorry I snapped at you.”
“Don’t worry about it, dude. Stressful time.”
Rand didn’t respond.
Kian took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something but-
“Can you really see ghosts?” Rand blurted.
Kian blinked.
“I think that’s what they are, yes.”
Rand’s hands began to shake as he turned to face his friend.
“Have you seen Rachel?”
Kian paused.
“Not that I remember, no.”
Rand sighed.
“What does that mean?”
“I got no idea, dude. The whole seeing ghosts thing is new to me. I dunno where they come from or how they work or whatever.”
“If you see her, tell me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Rand turned to Kian again, eyes sharp and steady.
“Even if something is wrong with her. Or if something is wrong with me. Promise me, Kian.”
“I promise.”
Kian did not have to wait long to keep that promise.
The three of them made it out of town with little trouble, but just a few yards away from the bunker, something leaped out of the brush.
Rolan had let his guard down, he could see the entrance from here, and Kian and Rand? As soon as they were out of town, they began drinking as much beer as possible. Kian was almost entirely drunk by this point. If it wasn’t for the practice in high school and Hollywood, he’d probably be dead from alcohol poisoning.
And so none of them were paying attention when a creature lunged from the bushes and bit Timothy Rand square on the hand.
They were, however, quick to act.
Rolan lunged forward, stabbing through the creature with his scythe-like arm.
Kian pulled the thing off his friend with no small amount of effort.
And Timothy Rand himself?
He swung the shotgun off his shoulder and blew the thing to kingdom come.
Kian looked at what was left of the creature, bleeding black bile. It was smaller, about the size of a dog. He glanced just above it, where he saw a small ghost floating, the ghost of a child.
All of a sudden, Kian felt sick once more.
He furrowed his face and glanced over to Rand, who had fallen to the ground, shaking violently. Kian rushed to the door of the bunker, opening it, while Rolan picked up Rand and carried him inside.
Rolan laid him down on a cot, and Kian could see black bile and foam beginning to form on Rand’s hand, where he was bit. Rolan grabbed a bottle of vodka and began to pour it over the wound.
The flow began to slow, but Rand continued to shake, and Kian could almost hear clicking in his throat.
“Not now,” Kian muttered, “We almost made it. We can’t lose you now.”
His form began to flicker gently, and Kian knew what it was on instinct. He watched in terror as Rand’s ghost began to seperate from his body, unable to do anything at all.
And then Rand was whole again, coughing and sputtering blood. Not bile.
Kian blinked, seeing the face of Rachel Rand for just a moment, and hearing her voice for a moment less.
“Don’t let him die. This is as much as I can do.”
And then she was gone and Rand was alive and both Kian and Rolan were crying, for similar and yet very different reasons.
“Wh-what happened?” Rand sputtered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
“You got attacked by one of them,” Rolan coughed between tears, “We got it out. I hope.”
“We did.”
Both of them turned to Kian.
“What?”
“You were dying, Rand. I saw your ghost begin to form.”
Rand went pale in the face.
“And then all of a sudden you were alive again. It was your sister.”
“Rachel?”
Kian nodded and took a deep breath.
“I think she saved you.”
Tears pricked in Rand’s eyes, a sight Kian had not seen for decades. He took a shaky breath.
“Tell her I love her and I miss her and I’m so so sorry.”
Kian paused, looking at the space above Rand once more, watching for the familiar face. Rachel Rand didn’t appear.
Kian shook his head.
Rand sighed.
“Yeah. She never did show up when you wanted her.”
“Only when you needed,” Rolan murmured under his breath.
Kian smiled, a sad smile, the only kind you can in the apocalypse.
He reached for the half empty vodka bottle, wiping black bile from the label.
“Drinks, anyone?”