Chapter Text
Like a tick, the pale visitor is a pest to deal with.
And like a tick, trying to unlatch it from you becomes increasingly annoying with every faulter.
So with this bothersome thing metaphorically leeched onto his person, feeding off his very soul with every visit, he must at least attempt with sanity to survive this catastrophic event in time, if only for his own last remaining sanity and for the neighbors daughter in whom still cries late at night from the lost of her late father.
This night for the homeowner in particular was tiresome, having to deal with FEMA right off the bat then ending the night with the visitor, persisting with the same old questions and he gave the same old answers in return, as it found he was telling the truth, the thing left, not forever, momentarily, almost guaranteed to be back in the days to come.
There are mornings in which he so longed to stay in bed for hours on end, if only to waste the whole day away again and succumb to exhaustion, so only then it wouldn't hurt to peel his eyelids open when he awoke, the crust gathering on the lids some days becoming so thick that'd it became borderline painful, this was one of those mornings. As this happened, Mirshka sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing harshly at his eyes and feeling the clumps clinging to his eyelashes turn to grainy powder as a result of such harshness, it wasn't until his eyes didn't feel like they were being weighed down by grime, did he actually rise from bed, throwing on the same turtleneck and slacks he wore yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that, and so on. He was quite aware of how unhygienic that really was, but at the moment he couldn't care less, more so concerning himself with checking up on the people he was currently housing..
He was pulled out of sleep at the first rough knock, becoming more insistent each and every time the knuckles met wood.
without much thought he dragged himself across the house with the rifle slinged around his body, once at the door did he peer through the peephole, as he looked out he found that manic vigilante from TV.
He must've heard Mirshka from the other side because he began talking.
"Keeping your distance, huh?"
There came no response from the homeowner.
"Good," he continued plainly, "That improves your odds of survival, unless.. your a visitor."
He deadpanned, frowning deeply.
"Who are you?" Came the monotone voice, only slightly irked from the accusation.
"Someone who's here to clean up filth, my neighborhood's dealt with, you don't need to know nothin' else about me." That wasn't much of an answer, certainly not a trustworthy one either.
He was feeling rather sassy for some reason tonight, "let me guess, is that a broom in your hands?"
"Hah. That's a funny way of lookin' at it." Yet his facial expression stayed all too serious for the statement, the mans hands hands clinging onto his own weapon. "Sure, it's a broom."
"I could sweep away the filth with my bare hands, but this just makes it easier."
He doubted that, but didn't comment on it, the maniac continued his rambling.
"The most effective way, though? lock 'em up in a house and torch it, and anyone who feels sorry for Visitors.. might as well be one."
Now that was something they could come to an agreement with. Mirshka cleared his throat to speak, "So, why are you here?"
"Hold it."
"You already asked your questions. Now I'll ask mine." He made it clear enough that he didn't plan on leaving calmly until his questions are answered, so he stayed silent as the go ahead.
"Anything going on in this neighborhood? Any threats I should keep an eye out for?" Fair enough and not at all as bad as he thought, easy enough to answer.
Thinking back to that same nuisance constantly dropping by at night he would reply; "A half naked visitor annihilated and entire patrol."
The man was not as surprised as he would've originally predicted he'd be.
"Just one? Half-naked? So it wasn't wearing any protective armor?" Did it's skin count? despite the drooping of the flesh its outer layer did look quite thick, like leather almost.
"..."
"Interesting.. you actually saw him?" A rhetorical question, "Yeah, I believe you did. You don't talk like someone who's in the habit of spreading rumors. You've got my attention. I'll be back."
Whether that was a good or bad thing, he did not know, more or likely the latter. The dangerous man left the premises as he was left with his own thoughts. Or rather what little of them. He'd have to watch out for that man in the future, beyond a doubt.
It was early that morning when he checked the few people he let in last night, not wanting to go through procedures like this while the daughter of his old neighbor was awake- he is glad for this system as he quickly found that one of the very people he let in last night was indeed a visitor and was shot on the spot. The gunshot was never the less loud as he wished it would be. The man cleaned the remains up efficiently enough, gathering the bits and pieces into a trash bag to be disposed of later on. The downside was that the less than human things blood seeped through his floorboard in a dark red nearly black color, if he wasn't so revolted by the entire existence of the species would he have admired the rare ruby red color, of course if it weren't blood and instead maybe a nice wine, the one like his ex-wife used to adore every so dearly.
The thought of Vera made him disgustingly lightheaded so he quickly finished up with his current task in scrubbing blood out of the wood paneling and cooked up some breakfast for the guests.
The breakfast in itself was nothing remarkable in the sense of flavor, simply just bread (untoasted) and jam spread atop of it, he could whip up about 4 of those before running out of bread and having to resort to leftovers for himself and the weird geek. Almost all the adults drank an alcoholic beverage, (beer, its the only thing he owns.) and the neighbors daughter, water.
While he himself ate at the table with the neighbors daughter- as to teach good manners while she was still young- The other guests went elsewhere, his living room, office, bathroom, the closet. She sat quiet across from him, chewing softly on the given meal.
"When is dad coming back?"
She asked suddenly, still chewing, whilst he stared down at the table, "Soon." he answered in short, wanting to avoid this conversation as much as he possibly could at the moment.
"When's soon?" she questioned, place the small piece of bread left on the table and peering up at him.
"Soon." He repeated, trying to shy away from this talk.
Soon, that was a lie but one not just for her but himself, of course Mirshka was all too knowledgeable about the truth, the man died from the fire, had to, that or from the visitors inside there with him. She was not satisfied with his answer, as he could tell from the tears welling in her eyes and the angry scrunch of her nose, the neighbors daughter said not a word but stormed off, probably to the find wire face, despite the fact the man does not speak Russian- they still somehow could comfort her more than he could.
Tonight the homeowner again finds himself camping by the entryway, in which is closed, almost always, especially right now, as the pale visitor stands just on the other side of this door, which the creature surely had the strength to break down whenever he wanted, but hasn't- so far. For whatever reason, he did not know, as it was the same very thing that murdered a group of 10 or more FEMA agents, all of which armed with heavy defense weapons.
The unhuman man peered down into the peephole, trying to catch a glimpse of the other, as he heard breathing, his breathing, a remarkable noise, muffled through the wall separating the two. Memorized, was the thing despite it all. Hearing it once more clearly, as the homeowner made a grave mistake of leaving his windowsill open one night early into the apocalypse, he just couldn't help himself on listening in. Awkward, though, as when the other man awoke hours later and found the visitors head hanging into his bedroom, watching very intently from the open passage, the way the homeowner yelped and staggered across the space in his boxers to grab his gun was almost amusing, and embarrassingly girlish of the man.
"Howdy!" said he atlas as he brought himself back to the present, backing away from the door a tad to revert back to the usual posture, back hunched and one hand holding the opposing wrist.
Without it having to ask, the homeowner already answered. "No, I'm not alone."
The pale thing nodded slowly, of course it already knew people were inside- as he heard not just his but their breathing too, he did not care for all those others however, neither did he care for this man. Not in a nurturing loving sense at least, he found the man admittedly an interesting human, yes, interesting enough to let live just a tad longer than all the others, interesting enough to stalk.
"That was quite rude, was it not?"
"Get off my porch."
"And so he continues!" Quipped the tick.
"I already told you, there are people here, in my home. With me."
It rolled its eyes, tsking. "I'm aware. But what fun is there in cutting our conversation short? None right? Then lets continue."
Mirshka scowled in displeasure, shaking his head, though it couldn't see any of this. "Lets not."
"Lets!"
The towering creature gave a sly, shit eating, grin. To which was returned with yet another scowl. The creature, again, could not see this, sense it perhaps- but it is not the same as seeing it with your own eyes, why no! Much much different.
The pair, did nothing but stare back at each other for a good long minute, (the pale one could only see his eye) stared and stared, all the while the tick's smug look never left its features. The homeowner found out a new fact about the other man; he didn't blink. Or he could blink and is just able to hold a blink for an extended amount of time. The man was uncanny, and ugly, very very ugly. Extremely so, the only neat thing about him was his orderly hair, as Mirshka could even see his hairline and the parting of it, the raven strands neatly combed through and put into place- but even with all this done, it was greasy, and proved him to be even more off putting.
After this long act of silence, It blinked, twice, rolled its neck out and giggled. "Well, I suppose. If you you find my company so unpleasant, Ill take my leave for now." "Ba-bye!" It waved a slim mocking hand, and sauntered off into the distant, unforeseeable darkness.