Chapter Text
The two weeks following the mysterious note Tyler found on his bed that Sunday night are a blur of monotony. A draining loop of failing all his classes, getting a little too violent on a few occasions and being plagued by thoughts of the downward spiral his life had become.
The only thing that had really changed was his health, which had been taking a significant nose dive in recent weeks. Some days were much worse than others. Weirdly, there were times the brunette woke with nothing but a mild cough and a headache. Other days were different. The hallucinations would warp his sight and whisper poison into his ear until he could swear they were bleeding, wrapping around every inch of his vision long past when it turned fuzzy. His breath would feel laboured, struggling in broken stuttering lungs. The ache in his limbs would feel dizzying, dull throbbing that weighed heavy on his bones. He’d been struggling to hold down the little he ate too, once ending in him passed out at the bowl of the toilet and the taste of copper strong in his mouth.
He liked to think he had been dealing with it well, resisting the urge to outwardly react until he was in the solitude of his own room and keeping a guarded mouth around the therapist he had been forced to see a total of three times. Well, two. He had skipped yesterday after getting a ridiculously long detention, sat a few seats behind the girl of both Tyler’s dreams and nightmares.
Despite both of their best efforts; him and Wednesday seemed to bump into each-other at every turn. They hadn’t spoken since his first week, barely even shot a glance. Still, the small foolish part of him was holding out for something. Alternately, Enid had been weirdly kind to him since their last interaction a few days ago. Smiling at him openly in the halls and even slipping him some history notes at the library. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He’d been trying to not let her be affected by his social disrepute but it was hard not to shoot the girl a small smile back when she beamed at him like that, even with the guilt chewing him up inside.
Today though, Tyler doesn’t have to worry about any of that. His bones ache and his head feels cracked down the centre but he distantly chalks the feeling up a ‘good day’ for his body. Small victories. Plus, thoughts of Wednesday and Enid barely hold a candle to the idea of this ‘Uncle Isaac’ he had been asked to meet.
The hyde hadn’t slept a wink all night, eyes burning into the ceiling. After several hours of fretting over hypotheticals he had had seemed to come out the other side miraculously calm. When he eventually pulls himself out of the bed, glancing at the alarm clock reveals the muddy image of ‘5.55 am’. More than enough time to get ready before sunrise.
——
The clock tower, for as large and imposing as it is, is strangely empty. Nothing but a ridiculously long stairs and empty boxes, mouldy fabrics draped over abandoned items. As he scales the tall winding staircase to the centre he laments about the thick gathering of rust and dirt across the iron, trailing dirty tracks across his palm each time he drags it up the railing. The outcast could have taken the lift but that nightmare looked like a death trap and he was already nervous enough. Having to keep reminding himself to be prepared for disappointment is growing grating.
Anxiety gnaws at him as he places a steady hand over his thumping heart, beating so loud he’s convinced everyone on campus can hear it. Ignoring all the hypothetical what if’s fighting for the front seat of his mind; he places an unsteady shoe on the final rung. The rickety middle floor of the clock tower is tall and wide, four connected platforms running across each side in a thin iron gate. Half destroyed building leaving wooden panels and tiles to drape loosely over the platforms edge, teetering in the soft morning breeze creeping through the towers cracks.
Despite the scattered rubble though; there’s nothing, no prank, no set up, not even a mysterious uncle the small part of him was holding out for. It turns out to be a little more than disappointing to say the least, if only for a fleeting moment.
It starts barely audible, easily mistakable as the rocky wilted foundation of the tower. But the creaking persists, loud stumbling steps accompanying it as he strains his ears to listen. Fighting against the sharp stabbing pain echoing through his skull. Tyler’s heart stutters, the smallest drop of hope coursing through his veins. He places a shaky hand on the railing, legs feeling all too wobbly and unsteady. Suddenly, the musty smell of decay poisons the air, cutting straight through the dust floating through the tower and thick grime smothered across the floor. Familiar in a way he can’t place his finger on.
After what feels like years of anxious anticipation a set of curled black locks come into view. Followed by the stumbling form of a lanky slouched man, long brown trench-coat draped over a white collared shirt. His clothes are tattered, mud and grime smothered across him in streaks and patches all the way down to his boots. His skin looks sunken, strange patches of skin stretching unnaturally across his face. As he circles onto the platform he shoots Tyler a wide smile, yellowed teeth peeking out of purpled gums. He looks both impossibly young and unfeasibly old. To be frank? He looks fucking creepy. The man laughs lowly, slow and devoid of any real humour.
“You’re early” his voice is gravelly and coarse.
“What- who are you?” Panic creeps into the words unconsciously, suddenly feeling completely out of his depth. To be honest he’d probably be fine all things considered, the guy looked like he’d topple over by a small flick to the forehead. Still, his rabbiting pulse persists.
“Well, I thought the note was pretty clear” The man shifts uncomfortably to his other foot, swaying a little as he stands. Tyler shoots him a puzzled look, feeling more confused than anything else. Strange droplets of information that he can’t seem to fully connect float to the front of his mind.
He realises now the familiar rotting scent wafting off the man is something he had picked up on Wednesday’s little swarmer friend on his first week. Oh shit.
“What the hell are you talking about?! You’re the zombie- clearly, why- why would you leave me that letter? why are you still in Jericho? why would you say you’re my uncle? Is your name even Issac? Why would you say you know my mom? What is this?” Frustration creeps into the hyde’s voice, warm tinge spreading across his face in a rather poor attempt of not transforming and mauling the man. The undead before him simply shoots Tyler a wide gummy grin, hobbling towards him with broken steps. A cold gloved hand grips loosely around the side of his left arm, it takes all of his will power to not flip the man over the railing. The brunette shifts a foot behind him, ready to flee.
“Tyler I am your uncle Issac, and I am the ‘zombie’. I didn’t leave Jericho because I need to save your mother. You can help me”
Ice fills his veins, foggy cloud forming around his thoughts in one big fuzzy blanket. His face wipes of all emotion in a second, mouth left agape in what could equally be horror or surprise. The moment branches out for what feels like years, several useless seconds of staring dumbly into cold, unyielding, sunken eyes.
What?
He blinks it away. Intimately familiar sensation of pure undying hatred storing in a body that suddenly feels all too small. Swiftly, he shoves a violent hand into the dirtied undercoat - grip so hard his fist shakes. He pulls him impossibly close. From here, Tyler can see every sunken scar and deformity of his rotting pale skin. His breath hitches.
“You better start making sense right now”
The zombie Isaac faulters, if only a little bit, small downwards curve to his lip disappearing the second it passes over his face. He pushes Tyler away, stumbling a little on the grate.
“Calm down. My sister- or your mother rather, never died in willow hill. It was a cover up so they could keep her down in the basement like a guinea pig, experimenting with my old machinery” malice ebbs into the final words.
“Oh that’s rich, you’re a real asshole you know that” the thought of this mentally deranged guy trying to convince him his mother is not only alive but had been getting experimented on for the past fourteen or so years makes his skin crawl.
Abruptly, Isaac reaches out a palm. Gloved hand revealing a small folded up picture of a face Tyler could only remember seeing in photographs. He’s in the picture aswell, tiny and baby-faced, hands clutched around her neck and onto her hair with a smile missing several teeth. She looks tired, deep circles around her eyes with tangled unbrushed hair, clothes visibly stained and smile faltering.
Gingerly, he takes the photo from Isaac’s hand; uncaring for the scuffed and torn edges. Warmth wells behind his eyes. He’s never seen this picture before. The outcast had only really seen a handful, dad had been thorough in his mission to scrub every inch of the woman from their house.
“We found it in the cabin…I can take you to her” Isaac’s voice is softer now, creepy grin calmed into something deeper. Strangely genuine.
“I- I can’t leave Nevermore” he cranes his neck, pointing at the collar firmly fixed around his neck, “there’s a tracker in-“ he’s cut off hastily, undead already pushing his head to an unnatural degree to get a better eye at the object. The man hums to himself, muttering something with big fancy words he doesn’t understand.
Something shifts to the forefront of his mind at the feeling of something coming loose around his neck as Isaac pokes at it, “don’t take it off. I…” wanna stay “Dort and willow hill would literally kill me if I broke or lost this thing” it’s not entirely untrue.
Obviously, he wants the collar off. More than anything. But it was a small price to pay for his limited supply of freedom and ultimately, it did stop him from transforming and killing people. Which he definitely counts as a win.
“Don’t raise suspicion… got it. I’ll just take out the tracking chip… once I find it.” He practically pulls him to the floor, kneeling next to Tyler’s crumpled form on the mucky iron grid. The hyde clutches his hands around his knees as the other works, completely lost in the thoughts of his frazzled mind. He tries not to focus too hard on the little instruments the undead pulls out of his pockets.
Beyond the strong scent of rot wafting off the man he could also make out something flowery. Usually, the smell would make him feel sick. He’d started to associate the sickly smell of flowers with his old master long before he’d ever started remembering the murders. Typically the smell was accompanied by the feeling of unwashed sheets and the tear tracks that stemmed from long nights that never seemed to end. But here it was different. Felt different…Maybe it was the thought of his mother fresh in his mind but a small helpless inch of hope she was still alive, somehow, forms. He finds it doesn’t bother him the same way it didn’t bother him whenever Wednesday used to come into the weathervane smelling straight out a graveyard. She usually was.
His thoughts are interrupted by a thick gloved hand waving a small greyish piece of metal in-front of him.
“Aren’t they gunna notice it’s not moving…?”
“I doubt it” he chuckles to himself, “but I’d just come back for it later and carry it around if I were you” the undead lazily goes to throw it to him with no warning, Tyler scowls at him when the tiny object nearly falls through the grate, carefully placing it in the middle of a pile of boxes to his side.
“We should go before the rest of your school wakes up”
He nods simply before following close behind, not trusting his words. He’s leaving. To see mom. Or well, he hopes he is. Laurel always said he was far too trusting. Maybe he was. It didn’t matter. He would absolutely take a leap of faith on this if it meant even the smallest chance to seeing her. The idea was both exhilarating and exhausting.
——
Being outside of the school, going against direct orders, sends adrenaline coursing through him. He could only imagine the amount of shit he would be in if he got caught for this. Outside of bounds without a tracking chip and following the on-the-run zombie of Jericho was something he could have never even dreamed of happening when he woke up this morning. Between his father to Laurel to Willow hill, his desicion making skills were beyond stunted. The thought of just doing what he was told split him in two.
On one hand being ordered around like a dog made his blood boil. He’d need several more hands if he tried to count the amount of times Laurel made him want to snap her neck after a command. He hated being ordered around in boot camp and he hated the staff of willow hill telling him how to act and he hated Laurel’s constant commands.
On the other hand, it was a relief. The only real decisions he had made one hundred percent on his own recently was killing Laurel, nearly killing Wednesday and running away from willow hill in the panic. None of which did him very much good in the end.
So yeah, maybe following a creepy half alive guy through a deep forest to a mysterious cabin supposedly holding him mother was a bad idea, but when had that ever stopped him before?
Cutting through the forests edge with a watchful eye Tyler can’t help but wonder how, with all the shit that goes down in this town, the police force isn’t patrolling the area twenty four seven.
The forest circling around and through the entire town of Jericho is dark, uneven and bordering on haunted. Even in the daytime the woodland was creepy, trees standing so tall and close together they blocked out almost all light when you were deep enough in. He’d been through it enough times now though to know the worst thing someone could averagely encounter is a wild animal. Or a hyde. The deafening silence stretching between the two is finally shattered by Isaac.
“I take it you didn’t get to hear my uh- story huh?” The playful glint of his tone does little to hide the pure hate radiating off him.
“You mean how you died?” He forces his tone to remain steady.
“Yeah. Little friend of mine told me they tell it to all the freshman boys each year as a fun tradition” Isaac pockets the small trinket he had been tinkering with prior, clapping a hand against Tyler’s back in a way he’s sure is meant to be affectionate. Silently deciding this guy definitely freaks him out.
“Enlighten me”
“One night, I finally figured out a way to save my dear sister” he smiles to himself for a moment, blinking away the action as a small scowl wipes over his face. His grip on Tyler’s jacket tightens. “The machine was allll built and I even had a uh-willing volunteer for the power source. His little girlfriend showed up though.” His voice shakes, “She sabotaged my machine. Sending the entire operation to pieces. Exploded both iago tower and myself in the process. They buried me under skull tree” The vague details and lack of specifics send off alarm bells in his head. Clearly this guy had some kind of warped narrative of the experience but Tyler couldn’t exactly focus on that. In the mentions of his mother his brain had completely skipped over something Isaac kept saying.
…Save her?
Save her from what?
Stumbling a little into him on a stray root sticking out of the forest floor; he speaks again. “Don’t worry though, I have a plan to cure her”
“Cure? Save? What’s wrong with her?”
Isaac simply shoots him a puzzled look he’d find condescending under different circumstances.
“Her condition…? You didn’t exactly get your hyde genes from your father”
He stops dead in his tracks, shrugging off the arm he had forgotten was still curled around his back.
“What do you mean condition? I- I don’t understand” his voice shakes.
“I think we should talk about this later. We’re nearly at the cabin anyway” Isaac turns away from him fully, pushing his hands into his pocket and continuing to walk through the woodland. Something urges him to push and pry for an answer. He doesn’t. Swallowing his pride and following the undead man.