Is it the living or the dead that should strike fear into them?

Clara isn't sure what to do. She asks Beverly, while the two wander down the beach. The day is grey. The water, which usually shimmers and shines a bright blue, reflects the colour of the dark clouds above.

Beverly doesn't notice. Her eyes rest on the forest, listening to its call. She carries a pouch of salt-water with her, instead of something she can drink. It keeps her safe. It is her own personal weapon, and she is ready to kill.

"What shall I do?" Clara asks.

If Bev were to be honest, and she isn't planning on it, she was barely paying attention. The conversation between them is, honestly, less than ideal.

"I have not the foggiest," Beverly says. She kicks up sand with her feet, trying to find something to occupy herself. She wonders if Clara would be willing to go into the forest. After all, she has yet to see the creature which has haunted them. "Men confuse me."

"Men confuse us all," Clara agrees.

No. It's not the same, not to Beverly. She would never admit it, not even to Clara. "Right."

Clara is too caught up in her own world to notice Beverly's distance. "Mickey and Hubert are quite the complicated men. I do not pretend to understand either of them. Nevertheless, I've been forced into an uncomfortable position."

"Why kiss someone you do not like?" Beverly asks. She knows why one would, vaguely, but only by force. She doesn't understand Clara's choices.

Clara furrows her brow. "Because you are made."

"Did Mickey make you?" Beverly counters.

"Did I say that I did not like him?" Clara asks.

It seems practically impossible to like anyone, Beverly thinks. Let alone two people at once. Even if there were two Flo's, Beverly wouldn't be sure if she liked either of them. Beverly doesn't understand that Clara has the opportunity to be with two people who love her and who she loves. It seems to unrealistic. Too privileged.

Where Beverly comes from, the option has never presented itself for her to love someone.

"I do not think it fair for you to waste their days with contemplation," Beverly says. "But then again, I know that I waste someone's days as well."

"Who?" Clara asks. She honestly doesn't have a clue. It occurs to her that her focus on men has detracted from her friendships. It occurs to her that she has to do better, but she isn't sure how.

"It does not matter," Beverly says, and she means it.

Clara drops the matter.

~~~

Even though they are not supposed to be separate, Mickey needed some time alone. He agreed to walk with Adwin into town, but eventually left on his own, with four pieces of wood, a hammer and nails, and a shovel, all in a bag.

He juggles the items as he carries them through the forest. Narrowly, he avoids the rot. He has grown an eye for it over the time that he has been stuck in Alaque.

Eventually, he makes it up to the top of the hill. There, he walks along the graves, none with fresh footprints this time. He looks at them, lined up in perfect rows, and makes his way to a spot that fits in.

There, he digs a hole. It is small, just the perfect size for a tombstone. He puts up the cross, nailing it in place.

He has never done this, but he has seen it done many times.

Unfortunately for Mickey, there is no way for him to mark this grave. He moves on to the next, constructing it in an identical fashion to the last.

One for Ivy and one for Tim.

~~~

Adwin and Hubert walked back from the town and into the forest. Since Adwin is only beginning to know his way around, he lets Hubert lead.

"This is not coming along well," Hubert says. "It has receded more before."

Adwin furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"

Hubert doesn't answer. He is just happy that Clara kept his secret for him.

All the while, Adwin figures it out. Hubert, like them, is a stranger. It shifts his worldview, as Hubert becomes the centre of it. What makes Hubert so special that the universe picked him? Then again, what makes any of them so special? What ties the others to Alaque? It can't just be random now, not with Hubert in the picture.

Instead of asking though, because words tumble out, he forces himself to be sociable. "Where were you went you came back?"

Funnily enough, Hubert doesn't really remember. "I was running. From that beast you call a spectre. The details are fuzzy."

Even though he was sleeping, for Adwin the details are as clear as day. Much to his own detriment, he remembers everything.

"Did you know last time that the water destroyed the rot?"

Hubert nods. "That's how we came further along. Towards the end, we got too sick to carry on the task. No one has figured out the illness yet, unfortunately."

It is indeed unfortunate. The illness has not yet plagued them enough that Adwin has dared consider it. Although, Flo has been coughing in her sleep as of late.

Sometimes, in the night, Adwin will listen to her breathe. He will listen to their collective breaths filling the room. He hopes that no one else dies like nothing else. It will be even more impossible to get out of bed then, as difficult as it is now. It will be entirely unlikely that they will be able to go home.

"Do you worry that we are all doomed to die?" Adwin asks.

Hubert does not worry, for he knows.

~~~

Though they dislike being forced to spend time with one another now, Maverick and Alvaro are stuck moving the rot together. They heave bucket after bucket, helping it to recede. When they cross paths with Adwin and Hubert, they grow no more silent then usual.

They do not speak. Instead, they listen to the forest. The spectre does not seem to appear. However, Maverick has learnt to hear the forest, thanks to Bev, calling his name. It pulls him to wear he imagines the spectre must be, but he keeps his head down. Eventually, the call turns to a numbness spreading across his lips, chin, and fingertips.

Alvaro looks to Maverick are filled with longing and with pain. They are soft in the centre but rough on the edges. His eyes cling to Maverick's dark hair and eyes. He wants to speak, but he doesn't dare. He isn't sure that he would know how to talk if someone presented him with words.

Neither of them wants to be the first to speak. It is so painful, the silence, that Alvaro has half the mind to take some of the rot into the palm of his hand ad spread it across his face. Maybe that would get Maverick's attention.

It is likely that it would not, since Maverick tries his best not to look at Alvaro at all. It becomes so easy to be distracted in him. To soak him up like rays of sun. Today it is cloudy, though it is hard to tell from the canopy of trees over their heads.

Above them birds chirp. And below them, branches crack. None of these sounds are satisfying. In fact, it just reminds the both of them of the silence.

~~~

Flo sits alone in the cabin. Her thoughts are rising around them. Like a tide.

Then the door opens. On the other side is a man she recognizes a man she doesn't. One is their closest neighbour, the other a stranger (not one like them). They rush in without a moments notice and grab her by the arms.

Flo screams, and they clamp a hand over her mouth. She bites down until she tastes flesh. A hand moves back and slaps her across the face. She hits the bed, dragging her sheets down with her. She gets tangled amongst them, struggling to fight back. They throw a bag over her head as they carry her out the door.

She pulls and pushes at them even though she is blind, until she decides to go limp. If they are planning to carry her across town, then it's harder for them to lift her dead weight then her struggling, she surmises. Eventually, they bound her body in rope. She feels herself hoisted on top of a horse.

At that point, she begins to cry. Her tears soak into the brown back, and she screams once more. As loud as she can. A shriek not unlike the one the spectre made when covered with water.

Yet, no one hears her.

~~~~~

Welp. She's short, but she's got the spirit. Honestly, I just wasn't feeling this chapter. I was debating to cut out this plotline all together, but it was too important, I felt. So, here goes nothing.