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On a flyer for some unknown event, found waterlogged in a puddle outside of West Eighty-First Street in Gotham with the text smudged besides these words :
“God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.”
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It was a humid day, bringing with it a gray sky trimmed with thick billows of smog and airy grime. The few hairs that had fallen from my trusty elastic stuck to my neck in a disgusting manner, slipping down uncomfortably no matter how many times I tucked them back to where they belonged. The stiff uniform of a button-down shirt (long-sleeved) with pressed black pants and a scratchy blue apron did little to increase my comfort, and one quick look around the store showed that I was not alone.
“This is horrible!” One employee whined, draping herself over my counter while the blonde bun on the top of her head threatened to explode into uncontrollable tresses. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”
I pushed her off my station before the manager could walk by, giving a helpful look at the clock in the same swift motion.
“It’s only two, Tara,” I informed her, fiddling with the nameplate in front of me to pass the time. “We both have shifts until nine.”
“Nine?” she shrieked, brown eyes wide with horror and sorrow. “This place is an oven, are you serious? They’ll have to roll us out like dead turkeys!”
“Dead,” I repeated slowly, “turkeys?”
“You know,” she explained as if it was simple, “like Thanksgiving turkeys? All cooked and dead and stuff?”
“...Someone tripped over the display case in aisle six,” I pointed out, nudging her in the right direction. “I’m pretty sure Jack wanted you to take care of it.”
“Oh boy,” Tara rolled her eyes, trudging through the maze of products and souvenirs. “Just what I want to do, fix a pyramid of hair brushes. Whoopee.”
As she departed, the phone next to my station rang, and I scooped it into my hand before pressing it against my ear.
“You’ve reached Oscar’s Outlet, where we’re stocked to the top for your convenience,” I answered with words I had memorized from over a year on the job. “This is Jayne; how may I help you?”
I listened to the tedious question with disinterest before replying, “Yes, we do carry party favors, sir. Our hours are nine a.m to nine p.m, so you can come anytime between that.”
More squawking from the phone while I doodled on a piece of notepaper prompted another interjection of, “We do have balloons, Mr. Douglas. What size...?”
I wrinkled my nose, trying to think; how do you measure the size of a balloon?
“I suppose that depends on how much air you put in it,” I guessed, drawing little bug eyes on the butterfly I had scribbled lazily. “They’re all colors sir; yes we have cartoon characters on them.”
Nodding along to his unnecessary gratitude and thankful chuckles, I finally was able to say, “Thank you for your service. We hope you see you soon.”
Glancing down at the newly tiled floor where the phone’s extension cord stretched to the wall, I wondered if I could really be blamed if I accidentally ripped it from the socket.
The hours dragged by slower than they should’ve, seconds stretching into minutes that seemed never-ending. Eventually, the alarm from the clock at my space beeped, saving me after forty customers and twenty-three more phone calls. Just as I draped my apron over my chair, where it would be waiting cruelly for me tomorrow, the hateful alarm of the phone exploded. My fingers twitched, and I fought between conscience and self-gratification. Sighing with obligation, I grabbed the plastic and stuffed it into my ear.
“You’ve reached-”
“Jayne?” my father’s voice crackled through the static of a poor connection.
“Dad?” I answered in confirmation, sitting back down and letting my bag drop onto the floor from where I had picked it up hopefully. “What’s going on? I’m about to leave-”
“Where’s your brother?” he demanded, traces of anger brimming darkly on the ends of his words, subtly revealed by the edge of each syllable.
I froze, mouth fumbling weakly, “He isn’t home?”
“No,” he replied stonily, and I could practically picture his mouth shift into a thin line. “I managed to get back on time for once, and he’s not even here! What could he possibly be doing? He gets home from school at two; he doesn’t have a job. It’s practically nine-thirty!”
“Dad, relax!” I tried to calm him, my heart leaping erratically in my chest, pushing its way up my throat. Something was wrong, obviously wrong. Rick always called me if he was going about with his ‘personal activities’ giving some excuse to tell our father incase he actually showed up on time. I hadn’t received anything, and when I spoke to him this morning, he said he’d be home at five for the latest, stating this afternoon was just a delivery trip.
“I bet he’s out at a friend’s-”
“I called that Jake boy he always tells me he’s hanging out with,” Dad interrupted, and I didn’t want to question how he’d get that number. “He told me he hasn’t spoken to Derek since they both got detention because my son, my son, tried to cheat off his test! When has Derek started cheating on tests and going out this late without telling anyone!”
“Dad...” I groaned, dropping my head in my hands when a headache began to brew. “I’ll...I have some of his friends in my cell. I’ll call them and see if they know anything, alright?”
“Fine,” he grumbled, and when I heard a click in the background, I prayed it wasn’t the safety on his gun. “But get home immediately afterwards. I have a feeling you and I need to talk.”
“Of course, Dad,” I muttered, hearing the line go dead with an ominous tone. I pulled my cellphone out of the bag at my feet, flicking the top open and watching the scratched screen flicker to life. The address book took a few minutes to open, but when it did, I scrolled through until I found Dan, the one number I actually did have.
“Please...” I whined under my breath, keeping my head down when Tara pranced out the store ready for the nightlife, a tight pink dress replacing the conventional employee uniforms.
For once in my life, I wished we could switch places.
The phone rang, my hope dying each time no one answered.
“Hel...Hello?”
“Dan?” I leaped up in my seat with excitement, slamming my free hand on the desk to keep my balance.
“Dan, are you there?”
“Jay...Jayne? Y-You...” he stammered, his voice shaking terribly, and I wondered if our connection was that bad.
“Dan, what’s-”
“Stop it!” he suddenly began screaming, his voice becoming impossibly high-pitched. “Get away, no! Get away! Get off of me, stop it! Oh my god, get off!”
I felt my pulse begin to rush with fear, the terror in his voice so prominent and uncontrollable that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Dan,” I repeated worriedly, my own words shaking a little. “What’s wrong?”
“Jayne!” he shrieked, somewhere lost between mania and reality. “Save me, Jayne, oh God, please! They’re eating me, Jayne, everywhere. It hurts!”
The line went dead and the phone fell from my hand, clattering unto the ground. I stood immobile for a few seconds, the clicking of the clock the only noise since I was the last person in the store. The next thing I knew, my phone was tossed into the bag and the bag itself was swung over my shoulder. The lights blew out and keys somehow found themselves into the lock, and then my feet were ramming into the street.
Buildings rushed by until our neighborhood came into view, shifty houses and apartments getting filthier and more broken down. I didn’t know where to go, peeking into every alley I passed, hoping and not hoping to find a familiar pair of green eyes peeking out of the darkness.
“Rick! Dan?” I shrieked, my voice echoing desperately, mockingly, through each crevice and crack. I knew my apartment was coming up in a few minutes, but that would do me no good since I already knew my brother wasn’t there.
“Derek! Derek, where are you?”
It was fruitless and futile, and it felt like I was searching for hours. I checked every place I had caught their stupid group conversing, even the alley I had confronted him at only a week ago. Finally, covered in sweat and with lungs ready to burst, my head pounding painfully, home came into view and facing my father became imminent.
I stumbled towards the door, grabbing for my phone when it began to buzz but just tossing it back when I saw ‘Dad’ racing across the screen.
Taking a second by the door into the building, I allowed myself to regain my breath, pushing the ragged hair from my red face. If I hadn’t been bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to keep from spilling my guts onto the gum-littered street, I wouldn’t have noticed the movement only a few inches away.
“Almost there, almost there, almost there, homehomehomehome, almost there.”
The voice was familiar, a little hoarser than normal, but familiar, and I edged forward carefully, spotting the usually tan face I knew; however it was so pale that it looked more skull-like than human.
“Almost home, scar...sca...there.”
“Derek?” I questioned carefully, moving closer and gaping at the muscled figure that seemed completely weak, twitching and on its stomach, crawling forward like a disgraceful reptile. His black shirt hung off his body in shreds, red scratches showing wounds underneath the tatters, and his jeans seemed in the same state, as if he’d been tearing his own skin off in a frenzy.
His dull eyes rolled upwards unseeingly at my face, a thick film covering them and almost making them look blind. The top of his head was dripping with perspiration, drops sliding down his face and under his eyes like tears, which had gathered down his cheeks on their own.
“Ja...” he could only spit out, his mouth hanging open dumbly. “Nonononononono, stop it! Go back!” The next second he had leaped forward, grabbing my shirt and trying to pull me down to his level.
“Save me! He’s everywhere, eating us, sending them on us!” he spoke in a rush, drool gushing freely from his mouth as if he couldn’t control it. “Scarec...sc...ro...”
When I tried to pull myself free so I could help him to his feet or call Dad for help, he switched his grip to my arms, digging in his jagged nails and causing me to cringe.
“Don’t go! No go, Jayne, no! Don’t go back there! They’ll eat you!”
He finally let go, collapsing on the ground in a rush of tremors and bodily earthquakes, and when his form stopped blocking my view, I could spot a human shadow behind him.
It wasn’t moving.
Derek started screaming, his cavernous mouth letting out shrieks of horror and bewilderment, his hands clawing at his body and creating more wounds.
“No! Get off, get off!”
Taking a nervous step backwards, I picked up my phone and dialed home, trying to keep the metal device from slipping out of my hands while I shook.
“Hello, Jayne? Why the hell didn’t you answer? I told you-”
“Dad...” I whimpered, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, trying to ignore the banshee cries in the background.
“Jayne, what’s the matter with you? What’s that noise?”
“Come outside, Dad, please?” I begged, my words becoming choked at the sound of further screaming. “Just come outside.”
At the practically groveling tone to my voice, my father hung up immediately, and I could feel him rushing down the stairs, probably taking them two at time. I still had the phone to my ear when the sound of a slamming door crashed through the night, and the pattering of heavy footsteps caught up to me.
“What-”
His breath caught in his throat, and I knew his brown eyes were fixated on the thrashing figure writhing on the ground like a soul caught between purgatory and Hell.
“Is that...” he couldn’t finish his sentence, instead gulping solemnly when I nodded.
“Do you know what happened?” he pressed stiffly, but I shook my head, finding the strength to lower my hand and place the phone into my pocket robotically.
“I...I found him like this,” I whispered, my gaze glued to the shadow of my brother rolling around the pavement. “And there’s...another one over there.”
My father’s eyes didn’t stray from his son, for which I could not blame him.
“What could’ve-”
His inquiry was cut off as my brother’s screams became to loud, overtaking any conversation we could’ve had.
“No! Dying; getting, ugh, eaten! Sca, scarrr, scarecrow! Scarecrow, scarecrow, scarecrow!”
Both our stares widened to their limits when Derek sat up, glaring at us with unseeing green orbs.
“Scarecrow!”
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Alright, now we're getting somewhere. Points to anyone who can guess how this'll lead to Mr. J ;) Maybe it's just me, but I don't like this chapter at all. It's just icky and disjointed and gross. :(
Joker by chapter four or five eat the latest, by the way.
On the note of Crane's fear toxin, I'm not really sure how it works in Nolanverse. In Batman Begins, it made everyone scream 'Scarecrow,' but also hallucinate terrifying things? It seemed the only time it was a worst fear was when Batman was training. In the comics, they just see their greatest fears, and don't yell names at all. I just kind of went with seeing terrifying things, and screaming 'Scarecrow' because that's what happens in the first movie. Stupid inconsistencies.
Oh, and the quote is from Voltaire I think.
Well as always, please tell me what you think. I'd appreciate it immensely. Thanks so much to everyone who sent me a message, because you rock my world!
