The red consumed me, and the harsh stench of burnt toffee assaulted my nostrils, burning and itching the delicate inner lining of my nose. It was pungent and nearly unbearable, like breathing in pure smoke of a sweet-scented candle.

I looked around the room. Although I had fallen asleep in Hermit's tree hut, I was now surrounded by red in the reception area of the asylum. The familiar horseshoe shaped desk with and the broken computer monitor nearby. I thought of Nurse Jane briefly, and the way she tended to me during my time in her care. Her gentle voice, her funny jokes, her sense of nurturing.

She had been the closest thing to a mother I had.

When one of the girls made fun of me for not taking interest in writing anymore and because I wasn't able to find entertainment in TV shows or movies, Nurse Jane told me to stand up for myself. To speak my voice and stand my ground. She had always encouraged me to express my thoughts, to voice my opinions, but unbeknownst to her I never had the energy to.

Looking back in hindsight, maybe it was the medicine they gave me. Maybe they suppressed more than my imagination, they kept me docile emotionally. They kept me just as much of a prisoner as my imaginings.

The result or side effect was depleting me of my power, keeping me the endangered damsel in distress I despised so much. It was always others in control of me and my life. Even now, my fate lay in the hands of the city, the authorities, the military, the scientist and researchers, and in some ways the media.

I didn't have a chance to go deeper in my thought as I wanted to, because the trail of black sludge took my interest when contrasting the bright red in the room. The trail followed the same path as before, traveling along the broken and chipped tiles to disappear into the doctor's quarters.

The double doors were closed but the large print of black ink still covered them. Splatters of ink were on the adjacent walls where the Scorcher had burst through leaving its evidence.

My heart raced as I approached the doors, but I reminded myself that here in my imagination I was safe. Although the Scorchers were big and fierce and their goo burned like the boiling pits of Hell, I would survive here.

The realization fueled me with a bit more courage as I pushed the doors open and peeked through the sliver. Thankfully, to my relief, nothing was on the other side but more trails of goop. I stepped inside and carefully followed the path.

Looking at the desk and the tossed and mucky furniture gave me a visual of the chaos that happened in the space a while ago.

I imagined Dr. Johnson in his white lab coat and a formal black tie behind the desk, assisting nurses with their questions, writing prescriptions, making diagnosis, and so on.

I continued through the space and followed the ink trail through another set of doors, aware that the black ink on the doors was dried and cool to the touch. I stepped through the door and its slanted doorframe to see one of the creatures ahead.

Its bulbous backside pointed in my direction as it huddled over in the darkened corner. The sound of gurgling grew louder the more I focused on it and the thick inky layer of flesh expanded with goopy bubbles.

My heart sped up with anticipation and my first thought was to try and will it away. I stared at it and repeated in my mind, go away, disappear, leave. It did neither, crouching in the corner like some wild animal on the hunt, which was not far from the truth.

It wasn't until I focused on the erratic beat of my heart that I realized the tempo matched the bubbling, inky flesh on its surface. Every beat coordinated in tune. The thought of me and that thing somehow being connected and sharing a heartbeat filled me with such terror, I backed away to put more space between us.

A scream I wasn't aware I made, until it was too late, emerged from within me when the creature's face melded through the flesh of its back to face me with its dripping gaping mouth and hallow holes for eyes.

It occurred to me. The entire time, it had been aware of my presence.

I turned and burst through the double doors, back into the doctor's area. I wasn't sure what to do as I was supposed to watch and learn, but all that flowed through me was terror.

Could I hide? Was that even an option?

Quickly, I rushed into a corner and slid within the darkened shadows. I tried desperately to slow my heart rate and take in even breathes.

The double doors I had just ran through burst opened, nearly splintering from the hinges. A big black mass swooped through the door and paused. Its head swung from right to left as it scanned the room. The drips of goo puddled into steaming pools of liquid beneath it.

I fought the urge to place both hands over my mouth to keep the fear from escaping my body as a scream and instead flattened myself against the wall. I watched how it moved, it's creeping, stalking-like motions was different than the other creature that looked more like it moped around in pain or anguish.

Was it possible these creatures possessed slightly different characteristics but motives as well? Comparing the one in front of me to the other from memory, this one resembled the characteristic if fear, terror and dread.

Is this the creature that presents itself whenever I feel fear? Was this why it was here now, attracted to the terror it caused?

And the other must appear when I'm in a deep sadness or displaying emotional anguish or turmoil. It made sense. They were feeding off of my emotion.

My curiosity searched my memory bank for a third one. Sometimes there were three. The third creature didn't always make an appearance, but when it did, it was definitely unpredictable and much more destructive.

As much as I didn't want to be in the presence of any of them, something told me the third one I should avoid at all cost.

The Scorcher crept away, back through the double doors, leaving them swinging unevenly on their hinges with a black puddle beneath. I refused to move, afraid that any sound I made or breath I take would invite it back. I wasn't ready to face it.

Even though their touch can't harm me in this place, the searing pain still hurt like hell. No one in their right mind would invite another experience like that after going through it once.

I tiptoed toward the other set of doors that led to a dozen of rooms along a narrow hallway. The door squeaked as I pushed it open, I looked over my shoulder to make sure the creature hadn't heard it and continued through.

As soon as I stepped foot in the hall, a light-haired figure rushed from one of the rooms toward the reception area.

I wanted to call out to them but knew better than to make a noise, so I continued following. I reached the end of the hall and peeked my head around the corner. No one was there, but the doors to the front of the hospital were wide open, almost inviting.

I stared out into the darkened forests, seeing nothing but black and further still a tall, thin figure beckoning me.

"Kyla," it whispered, urging me to follow its voice. "Kyla, wake up."

Confused, I cocked my head to the side like Lilac so often did. "Lilac?" I called back in a low tone. "Is that you?"

"Wake up!" they screamed.

My eyes snapped open to Lilac's piercing peepers. For a moment I had forgotten where we were, but the hut, our shoes, and Hermit all brought it back.

"Sshh," Lilac instructed and pointed to the forest below. The moon was high, but several figures moved through the trees with flashlights shining and lighting up most of the area below us.

Lilac gently pressed his finger to my lips, and I nodded as he searched around the platform for the climbing shoes. As he got ahold of the boots, Hermit snatched them away. He shook his head to communicate his disapproval. Resorting to body language and remaining silent, he pressed his thumb to his chest, and I could hear the words, "Mine," even though he didn't verbalize it.

Lilac shrugged and pointed down over the platform.

Hermit gathered the shoes in his lap and shook his head stubbornly.

Lilac dismissed him with a flick of the wrist and turned to me. Lips pressed to my earlobe, he whispered, "I'll go down and distract them away from here."

"No," I pulled him by his collar. "That's suicide."

"The last thing we need is for one of them to look up. If that happens, we are done." His breath was warm on my earlobe. "I'll meet you here later." He nodded and waited for me to agree before covertly putting on his shoes and making his way down the tree.

I watched and listened in anticipation.

One of the hunters spoke out loud as he searched the vicinity. "Those creeps think they can hide, and no one will find them. What they don't know is that we don't give up. We fight for what's ours and no amount of darkness will scare us off of our land."

"That's right," another shouted, his accent similar to the other with a hint of a drawl. "I don't care who tries to stop us, we have the right and the freedom to remove this stain on the city."

"For Jeremy and Earl," another said.

"For Jeremy and Earl," they repeated in unison.

There were about eight of them identified by the lights they carried. They must've gotten more people to accompany them, and Jeremy and Earl must've been part of their other crew.

It was amazing that they stopped at nothing to seek what they felt was justice, but in their fight, they failed to recognize that hunting down anything alive in the Scalded wouldn't bring their loved ones back and only put them all in more danger.

Did they not recognize that by coming back many more of them could get hurt? Maybe their anger pushed them to do irrational things and caused them to make unnecessary and dangerous decisions. Although, they were filling themselves with liquor which wasn't the proper fuel to consume when hunting dangerous creatures like the Scorchers. Nothing prevented me from believing they loaded up on alcohol for liquid courage.

I could smell the stench of beer and hard liquid from my position in the trees. It was potent and abrasive when you're used to the smell of burnt sugar.

Far in the right, a whistle like a mixture of a beautiful songbird and a screech cut through the stillness like I never heard.

"You hear that, Jacob?" one of the men asked. "It's coming from over there."

"Let's go," another one called and together all of them followed the sound of the whistle.

When they cleared out, Hermit gently cleared his throat and instructed me to go down as he place his shoes on. He recognized the look I gave him and added, "Getting down is easy. I need these to climb up, and these are my only pair."

I huffed and put on my own shoes to lower myself over the platform and searched around with my foot for a branch to stand on. When my shoe found one, I placed my weight on it and continued down the tree until I was safely on ground.

I stared up, watching and waiting for Hermit to follow. His effort was easier as he didn't have to search for a proper branch to hold his weight. With each step, the nails from his boots dug in, crunching the bark of the tree. The sound of sticky sap was heard every step of the way.

Finally, with a few feet remaining he jumped from the tree and buckled, rubbing his knee in pain before standing straight. "Alright," he whispered. "Let's go."

Before we could make another move, a pair of burly arms grabbed my arm and pulled me further from Hermit. "Stop!" I cried out, struggling against my attacker who tried keeping a sturdy grip on me.

Hermit hobbled over, clenching his teeth through the ache of his injured knee. "Let her go, damn it!" he ordered, but they only held on tighter as I squirmed and wrestled. Finally, I elbowed my attacker in his ribcage and wrestled away from his grip.

A brute male wearing full camouflage quickly lunged for Hermit, taking him off guard.

"I got one," the man called out. The smell of beer distinct on his breath even from the distance. "Goddamnit, Sammy, James, ya'll? I said I got one."

Hermit managed to turn in the man's arms and the momentum took both of them down and they struggled over the vine covered ground as the sound of heavy boots and the beams of flashlights drew near.

"Kyla, go," Hermit said through clenched teeth. Getting the man in the right position over him, Hermit kicked his leg out and the sharp end of the nail snagged the outside of the man's calf.

He fell to the ground, hissing and hollering while holding his leg that I imagined bled profusely by the sound of his cries.

The others were closing in on us, rushing in under the light of the moon towards the sound of screaming and commotion.

I wanted to take Hermit's advice and run but seeing the rifles and large blades in their hands stunned me and the thought of Hermit succumbing to their vicious attacks wouldn't allow me to leave him.

"Well, you think you're a tough fellow, don't ya?" The bearded man with an oversized camouflaged jacket stood over Hermit and lifted a machete. The sharp edge of the metal gleamed in the moonlight as Hermit's arms went over his head to guard himself.

"No," I screamed in terror, unwilling to see the carnage about to play out in front of me. Little did I know, I had no say in that.

From between the trees directly behind the machete wielding man, burst forth a massive foreboding black beast. Its dire call didn't come from its voice but from the roots and vines its claws destroyed as it moved effortlessly through the forest.

The machete wielder turned, and a high pitch scream left his throat just as those huge, uneven, chipped claws swiped through the air to tear flesh and bone in half. The man's screams were stunted as his top half fell to the earth before his bottom half.

Hermit stood and limped away in time to see the Scorcher cover what remained of the man in its searing vomit.

"Run," Hermit instructed, just as the creature continued its pursuit after one of the other men. Was the man Sammy, James? Who knew? Just the sounds of sizzling flesh and screams filled the night.

Hermit and I headed toward Knoques with the screams of terror and fear on our tails. Was Lilac ok? I turned and caught a glimpse of him behind a tree, hiding from the massacre. The fear in his eyes was contagious.

"Lilac!" I called, to get his attention.

He turned to me with a flood of relief on his face just as the creature appeared behind him, looming over him like a great dark shadow with a gaping mouth and hallow sockets for eyes.

"Watch out!" I pointed to the encroaching beast.

He looked over his shoulder and waited not even a beat to expertly run through the trees and over roots in our direction. The utter fear in his eyes paralyzed me. Even in the moonlight I could make out the whites around his startling baby blues.

"Kyla," he called out, his hand extending, reaching for me. I was about to run toward him against my better judgment, but Hermit grabbed my forearm to stop me.

The creature undulated, its body rolling and writhing in an unearthly maneuver. From its dripping maw, a pool of thick black vomit spewed forth like a typhoon. The scalding tar hit the back of Lilac, splashing and splattering over the surrounding trees, and seconds later Lilac dropped to the ground as the creature mowed over him just like the tiles of Knoques.

It happened so fast I didn't even hear his screams or mine. 

~~~

Uh oh. What does this mean for Kyla? What are your thoughts?