Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Soil is so soft. So very soft. Better than the stinging pain of shoes jamming into stomachs. Better than shouted words that often turn into needles. A stomach full of pills managed to tale that pain and grief away.

   Finally.

   It's over.

   ...

   ...

   ...

   "Yeah, she doesn't want to go to school tomorrow, but, what can you do, huh?" The neighbor chuckles over the phone. His daughter showing sitting on the swing outside. "Listen, I got something important to talk with you about, I'll stop by tomorrow night, yeah?"

   "Yeah, I don't mind." The homeowner states. "I'll see ya tomorrow, man."

   "I'll make sure to bring my beers." 

   The call ends after they share their goodbyes. The homeowner is typically a more reserved individual. Staying to himself more than most folk. Earning himself the crowned title of "The Hermit" amongst his neighborhood. Though it wasn't always this way.

   There's literally a photograph of the homeowners wife right next to his phone line. Once upon a time, he was happier... He lets out a deep sigh as the memory consumes him. One should not concern himself with the past, but it's impossible when that same person is surrounded by it. He's lived in this home his whole life. His father lived here his whole life too. It's hopeless. 

   Trapped under a roof of dread and a sorrowful past. Not to be opened to the public. Like an abandoned dollhouse, closed off forever. Never to have its secrets be pried open to the public eye again. 

   The homeowner heads to his kitchen and whips himself something small to eat. Just some chopped baby potatoes with tomatoes, onion and some sausage. 

   As he ate in his kitchen, he could hear his neighbor and his neighbors daughter giggling outside and playing. A reminder to him how very lonely he is. But it's not too bad. Could be worse. 

   Much worse.

   Tomorrow comes faster than usual. The homeowner tends to sleep off a day when he doesn't feel like doing much. It may not be the most healthy thing, but it's something, right? 

   During the night, the knocking on the door wakes the homeowner up. With a heavy sigh and a the rub of his face and eyes, the hermit gets out of his bed. Ready to greet his neighbor. He's known the man since he was a teen. He's younger than the neighbor by a few years, but he's grown a stable enough friendship with him as he reaches his lonely thirties. 

   The hermit makes his way down the hall. Making note of the teens playing in his yard and the drunkards on the street. He gets to the peephole and sees his neighbor. Great. Socializing... 

   "Hey neighbor, how's life?" The neighbor asks, but he doesn't sound as chipper as his words entail. 

   The homeowner shrugs. "Same as it ever was." His voice comes out barren and tired. 

   It's so common to come from him nowadays, it makes the neighbor concerned, but he doesn't push too far. He'd known this kid since he moved in across the street.

   Well, maybe not kid, he is only a few years younger after all, but it's hard not to see a man he's watched grow from his teen years like that. Though watched is also a strong word since he's such a hermit. Granting him his nickname after all. 

   "So, let me level with you: I came over for a reason. I’ve been getting a little worried about you." Worried? Of course... All this man does is worry. The hermit sighs as he continues to listen. "Something real bad seems to be headed our way."

   Something real bad? What could be so horrible that the neighbor felt the need to come by in the middle of the night? Another sigh leaves the homeowners lips. He hangs his head low for a moment before looking back through the peephole. "I just got off the phone with my cousin. She told me the news is saying something weird is going on with the sun, and that there’re people coming up from underground. They’re calling them “Visitors” for whatever reason."

   "Visitors?"

   "Creepy stuff, huh? I sure hope it’s not true…" The neighbor worries. So that's why he's fussing. Of course. It'd be the homeowners luck that an apocalypse hits. But it seems it just means not going outside. That'd not difficult for him at all. 

   The burning question on the homeowners mind finally comes out from his enclosed throat. "What's going on with the sun?"

   "Either it’s gonna explode or something’s gonna explode on it… Not totally sure. All I know is something’s wrong with it. I’m sure you noticed this summer’s been the hottest one ever, right? I think we need to prepare ourselves for the worst." The worst, aye?

   The homeowner turns and looks at his carpeted hall. The basement. At least he has somewhere to flee in case things go south. On the bright side, he won't have to-

   "My cousin told me that being home alone is dangerous. So I came over to make sure you don’t end up hurt — or worse." What?

   Home alone? He can't be alone in an apocalypse where he has to stay in his house all day!? His eyes narrow and brows crease. Coming closer together to form a frustrated expression. "I can take care of myself." He bites out. Is this man seriously telling him he needs people in his home to survive what otherwise would have been the perfect apocalypse?!

   "I'm sure you can. But I'm not sure you understand just how dangerous it is to be alone right now." Of course the neighbor cares so damn much. It's starting to piss the homeowner off.

   Luckily, he has a small soft spot for his neighbor so he won't fully bash him, but god damn, it's no less frustrating. "How about I stay with you for just one night just in case. I promise, it'd really help put my mind at ease." The scowl on the hermits face softens slightly.

   Despite it all, his neighbor has been by his side. He refuses to retain his name in his mind, but he can at least understand when hes being fussed over. "What about your family?" If this apocalypse requires people in the house, hus neighbor should really be with them. Not him.

   "Don't worry about my family. A good friend of mine is staying with us right now. He's looking after them while I'm here." A small pause. The homeowner almost wants to scold his neighbor,  but at the same time, he gets the worry. He's just not used to it. "...Great. Let's continue this conversation in the morning then." 

   Reluctantly, the homeowner opens his door and let's his neighbor inside. His neighbor resides in the usual spot when he'd come over in the past. Taking the kitchen and setting his beers in the fridge. World's gone to shit, but a nice cold one still hits the spot. 

   The homeowner closes and locks the door. Ready to toss in the towel for the night. He comes to his room filled with horrific memories, and slips into his bed to rest.

   ...

   ...

   ...

   It was supposed to be over. What's the point of embracing the warm embrace of death, if it only ends in a chilling rude awakening.

   Even though the urge to reclaim death is strong, the need to survive is victorious. His hand juts out from the dirt that had slowly begun to cover his body over time. He had no proper burial... no one cared enough to give him one. 

   The cutting part was easy, but regretting it is so fucked. Died to be the white ghost of the man he was meant to be. No memory of him resides in anyone's head. Evicted from the minds of anyone who knew his name. 

   Crawling out of the makeshift grave built by nature's winds itself, the man immediately feels off. There's not wind, but he's freezing half to death. He looks down and sees an unfamiliar hole. What's going on in this new fucked up world? He went from someone forgotten, to a monster...

Sunrise

   The sunlight peers very scarcely through the wretched window of painful memories. The homeowner stirs. Wearing the same clothes for the past couple of days. He sits up and takes a small whiff of his underarm. Immediately, he's met with a rank stench. A shower is in order...

   The homeowner stands up, grabs another outfit of his similar to his current. Turtleneck and casual slacks. He grabs undergarments and socks alongside a towel obviously. 

   As he grabs everything, the news comes on. He usually sleeps with his television on standby so it's easy to just flick through whatever channel keeps his mind off the past.

   So. His neighbor isn't making shit up. It would be a perfect apocalypse if not for the needing people in his home. Ridiculous. He sighs heavily and heads to the kitchen to greet his neighbor. Clothes and towel hucked over his shoulder casually. 

   "Damn… So it’s all true, after all…" His neighbor mutters in disbelief. He must've heard the news from the kitchen. "Well then, everything I said makes sense. Don’t go outside during the day. And you have to remember to let other people in."

   Letting people in. He's not particularly thrilled by the concept. "Why would I let strangers into my home?"

   "I know you prefer to keep your distance from people, but you have to. My cousin doesn’t know for sure why we can’t just bunker down by ourselves…" The homeowner scoffs. He wants to retort. To argue. But he doesn't. Allowing his neighbor to continue. "But she mentioned that if anyone comes and asks if you’re alone, say no and tell them someone’s in the house with you."

   Another deep breath. Just to have some self restraint. "I hate dealing with people..." The homeowner grumbles and stuffs his hands in his pockets before leaning against the doorframe. 

   "I know. It won’t be easy for you, but you have no choice. It might be the only thing that keeps you alive." Keep him alive, huh? The homeowner looks off to the side. This man cares too much... dammit.

   Why does he care like some father? They're not far apart in age. Sure, he met his neighbor through his father, but that doesn't warrant this man to treat him like a son. 

   "And who knows, they might even bring something useful or share some interesting information. You won’t have much energy during the day with this heat. I know you don't want to deal with people and it's going to wear you down, but you have to test people. Ensure their safety."

   Ensure their safety?! What about his own?! It's not fair. None of this is fair. The homeowner huffs in frustration again. His head hanging low. 

   "By the way, I brought you a case of beer. My brother-in-law works at a brewery. Knock one back before you hit the sack." He gestures to the fridge. 

   The homeowner holds up his clothes. "I think I'll shower first. I appreciate it." He says dryly and gives a forced, small smirk before leaving the room. Damn this guy. He's too kind for his own good... 

    Guess now all he can really do is survive and hope for the best...

End of Chapter 1

Chapter Text

   It was the next morning now. Last night, the homeowner had let in three new people. An abnormally tall man kicked from a bar, some weird anxious woman, and some punk teenager who ran away from home. 

   The homeowner gets up. Makes his rounds. He only has enough energy to care about two signs. The news had stated perfect white teeth apparently. His neighbor also left last night. His daughter wanted him to come home.

   When he heard of the game his neighbor came up with the play with her... it tore something that he hadn't known was there. He's truly a good man. Not wanting to scare his daughter. Making a game out of barricading the door...

   He heads to the bathroom and washes his face up. Getting rid of the tired look, but it's stained on his features. The homeowner groans and decides to bare his teeth to the mirror. Perfect whites. Shit. Smokers would kill for these. The homeowner pulls back and turns on the shower head. He closes the bathroom door and takes his daily shower.

   Trying to keep some form of normalcy in this fucked up world. He runs a hand over his hair as he washes out the shampoo. Of course. Hair falling out and slipping through the drain.

   Out of all the things his father cursed him with, the hair loss is probably the kindest thing to give him. After the shower is over, he changes in his usual attire. Listen, it may all look the same, but at least the man knows what he likes. His wife always liked blue...

   Once the homeowner leaves the bathroom, he hears faint, strange giggles in the closet. Did that freaky girl with scoliosis choose to stay in his storage closet...? Odd choice, but whatever. The homeowner heads inside to check up on her. Might as well spark conversation. 

   Immediately, he's greeted with an interesting sight. The woman huddled in the corner. Laid down with her fingers fidgeting in her mouth. What a freak... she's so pathetic she sort of gains the man's sympathy. She doesn't even processing his presence yet. Trembling and muttering to herself. 

   Just the sight alone makes the homeowner less inclined to test her. He's only truly suspicious of the overly tall man with seeming to be anger issues or too much cynicism. 

   When the woman finally notices the homeowner, she hastily stands up off the floor. Her shoulder still clearly messed up. Hard to tell if it was always that way, or forced. "Heh h-heh. I hope all this ends soon." She whimpers timidly.

   Great. She giggles nervously. Just what the homeowner needs to hear from someone who's always nervous. 

   The burning question resides in the homeowners throat. Hotter than the sun itself. He really should ask. She'd told him she lost her house when he let her in. His curiosity too high. "How did you lose your house?" 

   The woman stammers as she finds the words. "Ahh... I remember like it was yesterday. I had just gotten fired. All I wanted was to go home, climb into bed, and cry my eyes out." That's right. She mentioned she was a cashier who lost her job. Probably from her overwhelming anxiety she clearly has... 

   "But when I got there, I saw a buncha boots. I thought maybe my roommate had some friends over or something, y'know? So I went up to her room to find out what she was up to. But as I got closer, I started hearing a strange sound." Strange sound...?

   What strange sounds could she have heard? Unfamiliar boots. Her roommate is female too based on how she discusses it. The homeowner doesn't press more. He doesn't have to. He just lets her ramble anxiously. 

   "It kinda freaked me out. But I, um, decided to take a peek, quiet-like, and see what was going on in there. I was only able to catch a brief glimpse of my roommate lying motionless on the bed when suddenly..."

   The homeowners stomach twists in knots. His expression unmoving to the new information. He knows what kind of scenario this is now. He almost feels bad for thinking of this woman as pathetic.

   "Some grubby guy grabbed me from behind and said, "You can't go in there. She's... not well. Come have a seat in the kitchen." Then he quickly pulled me away and sat me down at the table."

   More silence. The homeowner just lets her speak about her experience. He has no right to stop her now. He asked after all. "I wanted to leave, but I was paralyzed by fear... Then... I... He..."

   God.

   God dammit.

   This is why the hermit refuses to interact with society. Men like that. It was multiple. She mentioned that already. Sick men who broke into the home of two women and ruined their lives. 

   ...

   The cashier backs up and lays back in her spot. The homeowner swallows thickly. Shes not a visitor. He doubts it, and hes not going to test her either. Shes dealt with enough in her life. "I need to lie down. I... I... My stomach is doing somersaults... Ugh..." She giggles nervously again. 

   Yeah, her stomach isn't the only one pushing whatever it could up the esophagus. He feels sick. He can't even begin to put himself in her shoes. How sick she must feel. The homeowner sighs and leaves the closest as the cashier goes back to laying on the floor. He closes the door behind him.

   Leaving her to her troubled mind. 

   He almost doesn't even want to bother with the punk ass kid, but he has to. He heads to the kitchen. Seeing her leaned against the fridge.

   "Ugh, I'm sick of all this." She grumbles in annoyance. Great. That makes two annoyed people who don't want to deal with each other.

    Regardless, the homeowner decides he at least cares enough to ask the most basic question he can think of considering what he knows. "Why are you out there on your own?" He hates that he's showing even an inch of concern, but something about this girl. A reflection. He was almost like this once. 

    A runaway.

   "Well… home was cramped. Loud as hell. Zero comfort. I wanted out Wanted to see the world. So yeah, I grabbed a backpack, a couple sodas, some snack bars, and this old friendship bracelet I made back in school…And I left. Parents probably didn't even notice. Not that I care." 

   Parents didn't notice? Yeah, no wonder she ditched. Yet still, the world is dangerous. Even before all of this. Especially for young women. The homeowner learned more about the dangers women go through not long ago whilst talking with the cashier in his hall closet. 

   "Since then I just wander around, crash wherever I can. And honestly? Been fine so far. At least nobody's on my back, and I’m my own damn boss." She bites out defensively. As if expecting the homeowner to scold her. Expecting a speech. 

   Unlike her expectations, the homeowner raises his hands in solidarity. "I was just curious. I'm not gonna tell you what to do of course. I'm not your dad." He shrugs. She immediately rolls her eyes to the notion. Hating how he says it. "What I do know is the world is dangerous. People take advantage. Especially of homeless teens. After this blows over, you're going back."

   She scoffs and holds her pack tighter as she looks away. Sneering. If her parents suck enough that she ran away, maybe the homeowner should be more open with her. He's had his fair share of parental arguments or issues.

   Especially I'm regards to his father. God knows how much he hates that man. If it were a competition, his detest for his father would burn more than the earth right now. He decides to leave the girl alone and head to the living room. 

   There he was. The man he's most suspicious of. He's overwhelmingly tall. Something about his face. It all throws the homeowner off. 

   As he approaches the man on the couch, the tall man looks up at him. "Yes? Was there something you wanted?" He asks plainly. 

   "I need to test you." He states dryly. Shotgun held by his hip in case he needs it. 

   "Ok, what do you want to check?"

   "Teeth."

  "You want me to show you my teeth?" The tall man seems baffled by the test. He hadn't heard the news and knew nothing of what sign was a visitors yet. "Okay, take a look. Take in that odor of sadness and smoke." He stretches his mouth. Making it easy for the homeowner to properly check. 

   Yellow. Very, very yellow. And he wasn't kidding. There was definitely a lingering stench of smoke and alcohol. 

   "Pretty yellow, right? So piss off with your tests. I’m not a Visitor." He states firmly. 

   Tiring. That's all today was. A drag. The homeowner lays in his bed. Everyone seems normal. Teeth? His own are perfectly white. He'd be fucked... People are probably killing each other right now out of intense paranoia. At this point? The homeowner doesn't want to stay detached because he hates people, but now? What if he begins caring for someone and they die? Or worse. They're a visitor? To hell with it. He needs to go to bed.

   Don't think about it...

   Don't think about it...

   Don't think.

End of Chapter 2

Chapter Text

   What a shame. It's unfair. How the sun still melts his flesh, but no matter the layers of thick clothes he wears, he still feels the same. Cold. Empty.

   At night, he does as he's expected. Find shelter. Knowing little of what's going on around him. He finds a home and is quick to ask for entry. The homeowner lets him in. She can sympathize with his situation. He's all alone and freezing despite the growing heat. 

   After being allowed in, he finds a spot to sit in the living room with a few others. The homeowner and her husband begin to talk about the whole situation. How unfortunate of an apocalypse this is. They head up stairs after a while. Leaving their guests alone to themselves down below. 

   The coat guy shivers as he sits next to another male. The man watches him weirdly. It's discomforting. More than the cold. He smirks after a while. "What even are you? You look like a chick, but sound like a dude." He mentions of course.

   Even in his unlife, people taunt him for his appearance. "I-I'm a m-man." He shivers as he responds. 

   "Timid little thing too." His smirk becomes a sick grin. He's not a visitor. That's the sickest part. This freak is human.

   How is a visitor less dangerous than a living human being?

   The man reaches out and touches the coat guys hair. Still grinning. Freak. "Huh. You got vertical pupils. I doubt that's very normal, hm?" He chuckles. "See, I came in hoping to get something from the chick upstairs, but her husband's got that gun on him, y'know?" He leans closer. 

   Too close. The alcohol in his breath reeks. Do the homeowners even let him have their drinks or does he just take what he wants? The coat guy looks away. Still trembling from the cold. His skin barely registers the humans unwanted touch.

   Then he feels the next, gruly step. His hair gets pushed back behind his ear. "Hehe, gages. What are you? One of those emo freaks?" Yup. Same old trip. Just like how it was before. 

   "Hey, leave him alone already, jeez." Another male huffs as he comes into the living room. "I'm trying to sleep, but all your creepy yakking is making it hard." He snarls.

   So it's not even out of concern that he's intervening. It's so he can sleep. Dammit... Once the man leaves to go back to wherever he resided prior, the drunkard only got worse. Now that he won't speak, he acts more.

   The man suddenly pulls up the coat guys sweater. He puts a finger over his lips. "Shh... I just want to test something ou-" In that same moment.

   Without being able to finish his words... the human male... he explodes. The coat guys eyes widen as he stares at the fresh corpse.

   Stomach exposed. The whirling spiral in his cavity beckons. It calls. For death herself... part of him is glad. This monster wouldn't have stopped with just him. But at the same time... oh god. He's a monster himself. He just made a human implode. His whole upper body is gone. Blood now stains the couch and walls.

   Luckily barely any got on him. Should he leave? If he stays, he'll just be shot. But knowing his new condition? Perhaps he should be put down. He pulls his shirt down.

   Maybe it only harmed him because he didn't want him to touch him. He should show the homeowners. See if they're willing to keep him around despite it. He heads upstairs. Through the door, he can hear the woman and her husband fighting. He reaches out and knocks very quietly. As he waits, he crosses his arms as he shivers. 

   "Yes, dear? Everything okay?" The homeowner asks softly as she looks over the freezing man. "Here, come in." She's so kind to him. It's a nice contrast to the corpse laying on their couch... 

   "I-I uhm... the man d-down there was uh... well p-per-persistent. He pulled up my s-sweater-"

   "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I'll go kick him out right away, I knew he was trouble." The woman reaches out to pat both sides of the cold ones shoulders. 

   "N-no worries, it's not n-ne-necessary. Uhm- it's why I came up h-here. So you knew to c-clean the mess?" He stammers as he continues on.

   Of course, because of his failure to elaborate much, the woman takes mess as something far more sick. She's lived her whole life dealing with the scum of society. Hell, the man admitted to trying to go after her. 

   "Mess? Oh my God. Did he-?"

   The husband cocks his gun. "I knew that man was fucking trouble." He growls. 

   "N-no! I t-t-took care of it. It's actually w-why I came to you so y-you'd know. S-see, he lifted my shirt, b-but-" He lifts his sweater to show them. He wants them to see. So it's different than the man forcing him. Yet... it's all the same.

   As he reveals the portal to death, the couple is met with the same fate. They don't even have time to react. They probably died quickly. They stay standing for a moment longer. Lacking their upper torsos now splattered on the floor and bed. Slowly, they both fall back. 

   Gruesome. Vile. God. No no no no. He wanted to show them. He wanted them to see. Why did they still have to die!? The coat guy stumbles back in horror. He didn't want them to die too! Just that freak trying to molest him! 

   Why? Why isn't it different!? Why can't he control it!? This is what the pit does? It kills? He's a monster. He's a fucking monster. There's no sugarcoating it. He killed innocents now. They'd done nothing wrong. They showed concern. Empathy. Fuck. Fuck! 

   ...

   ...

   ...

   A loud knock on the door echos through the halls once more. Another night. Guess this is the new routine. The homeowner sighs as he sits up. He's exhausted. Tired of it all. He stands up and heads to the door.

   Feet dragging.

   The windows?

   Fuck the windows. He doesn't feel like looking. He peeps through the hole in the door. First thing he sees is some dude in a coat too big for this weather. 

   "H-hello. The heat doesn't b-bother me. I'm just looking for a quiet place to rest. Might I find some p-peace in your home?" He stammers. Great. The homeowner is about to let in some stuttering fuck. He looks over the guy. If he hadn't spoke, he would have thought this was a woman.

   Aside from that, how is this man freezing? It's blazing hot outside. If anything, he should be too hot for those layers. "Who are you?" The hermit asks. Asking for names isn't typical of him. Again, he tries to stay far away from people now. Attachments only breed pain and sorrow.

   Betrayal is easier when they're close enough to jam a knife in the back. 

   "It doesn't m-matter anymore. Are you wondering if I'm a Visitor? I'm n-not. But I do have a request. I'll ask you later. I'm not sure I can tr-trust you with it yet." He mentions through his cold shivers. Typically, the homeowner would hate the stuttering, but with this guys condition? Nah. He's more concerned than anything. 

   "Take off the jacket." The homeowner doesn't necessarily demand. Mostly a recommendation. 

   "No." The answer is firm. Quick. Leaving no room for argument. "You don't have to let me in. I'll leave. I won't beg. I won't b-b-bother you any longer."

   God, why is everyone so depressing? All of it. This guy and the cashier in his closet? These are sad times, sure, but fuck... "Come in."

   "Th-thank you. Ceiling is a b-bit low. But it's fine." He mentions as the door opens. The homeowner closes and locks the entrance as usual. He reaches out suddenly and grabs the coat guys arm. "Uhm- yes?"

   "I don't want you shivering the whole night. Let me get you some blankets." The homeowner offers before heading to the bedroom. He returns with a thick blanket and hands it to the coat guy. "Hopefully, that will at least numb some of the cold." He mentions. 

   "Th-thank you for th-this..."

   "Don't mention it. Go. Find a spot in the house. I'll talk to you in the morning."

   And with that, the coat guy leaves to the living room and finds his resting place. The blanket doesn't warm him, but the cold is slightly better this time. Maybe it can be different here... no. It will be different here...

End of Chapter 3

Chapter Text

   The daylight shines through the blinds of the home. The homeowner stands by his phone. Talking with his neighbor. "..."Daddy, I saw a face in the grass." So she definitely saw it... I just want to protect her from the world, you know? But it's impossible." Hearing the hopelessness in his neighbor in regards to his daughter hurts in a way he never knew it could. 

   "I'm so sorry to hear about that." The homeowner states. He hadn't looked out his windows last night. He'd heard the giggles of the girl and her father playing outside, but he hadn't known those teens died. It's unfortunate. 

   Soon enough, after the conversation ends, the homeowner puts the phone back down. He sighs. His green eyes shift to view the photograph. 

   Even with her being gone, the homeowner is still glad to know she won't have to live with this absolute nightmare. He rubs his tired face and decided to make his rounds. Entering the closet first once again to talk with the anxious woman in the closet. 

   He walks further in and kneels down. Not wanting to make her have to get up to discuss her trauma. What a world. What a change. Going from closed off hermit to... gee... he really should have interacted with people more.

   This poor girl could use comfort.

   To know some men out there can be safe. Such trauma can screw up someone's view of specific groups of people. He wants her to at least feel safe. "What happened next? At your house, I mean." He shouldn't ask. He doesn't truly want to know. But he's sure talking about it will make things easier. 

   The lady looks over at him timidly. She closes herself off more. Shrinking against the corner. "Ugh... After the man sat me at the kitchen table, some huge guy came out from around the corner blocked the exit." She starts her story again.

   "He started talking loudly with the guy who'd grabbed me before. They were acting like... Like I wasn't even there. And then...they started to touch me!" The hermits brows furrow at the knowledge. He'd already assumed the worst from the previous conversation, but God... if he's even there that is. Its hard to pray for a figure who never protects who he calls his children.

   Now is not the time for the homeowners pessimism towards the lord. He just needs to listen to this woman tell her story... "First my arms, then my shoulders... And in the background, I heard cheers and laughter that seemed to come from my room... It sounded like there was a whole crowd of men in there. Hahaha!"

   Laughing. Plenty people do it in stressful situations. Makes the homeowner wonder if she was always so anxious or if what those men did to her and her roommate made her so timid. She's like a stray cat. Skittish but willing to to be fed. Taking any help she can to escape this nightmare.

   Hell. Anyone would. "I... I couldn't breathe. My heart felt like it was about to explode out of my chest... I wanted to scream or call for help, but... my voice was lost in a sea of panic. I couldn't even make a sound." 

   It's not her fault. It's not her fault. The homeowner wants to assure her, but he remains silent. "I just sat there, useless... like a deer in headlights." You're not useless, he wants to say. That the situation was just fucked. It makes him wonder.

   Would visitors ever do such a dehumanizing act? Or is it just their kind? Perhaps the end of the world isn't the worst thing. 

   Feasibly, the lord is aacting. Maybe the homeowners earlier cynicism about Christ was just purely bad faith, because it's not like God hasn't ended humanity before over such deplorable sin being so rampant. Is this... atonement?

   "But then the big guy went to the fridge to get something. I realized that was my chance...! H-Heh! I sprinted for the exit. It was like the fear gave me strength. I just ran and ran... I ran and never looked back." So much hope in her small voice... "Well, I did until my legs gave out and I collapsed..."

   It should be known that one goal to be calm in this never-ending world can be lost. Its all so damn depressing. A moment more of silence as the homeowner processes her story. The cashier ran. The blood out in the fields never stopped her. She was probably so full of adrenaline that- wait...

   But the sun. How did she survive the sun?

   He decides not to ask that. Chosing instead to ask, "What happened next?" 

   "I was lying on the ground, and then... Then..." Silence forbodes them once again. Casting a dark cloud over the shrouded closet room. "I could've sworn I remembered everything that happened to me that day... Hang on, you don't think I... I..." No. This is exactly what the homeowner didn't fucking want! If this chick isn't human... then what about her story?

   He's met women, and even men with such disturbing pasts and this thing made it all up for sympathy? No, it doesn't feel that way.

   "I might be a Visitor?" God fucking dammit. The homeowner stands up and looks down at her as she begins to drabble frantically. She's so scared. If she's a visitor... then how do they even come to be? "N-No, that can't be true!? I... I remember my whole life. My childhood, my mom and dad. No! I'm not a Visitor, right? Tell me I'm not a Visitor!" She screams hysterically. Panicked that she may be a monster. 

   Quickly, she stands up and grabs both of the homeowners hands. Terror fills her eyes. "Tell me I'm not a Visitor!" She begs. 

   A visitor wouldn't act like this. Surely not. If they're trying to blend in with society, why would one... Shit. This isn't fair. How is he supposed to know!? "You're not a visitor." He assures, though he's not too sure himself anymore. 

    Immediately, the woman calms down. "Thanks, that makes me feel better... Ugh, I need to lie down. My stomach is churning again." She backs away and goes back to her spot. Should he really check her? Make her life worse? She's already going through enough.

   Fuck it. He's checking her.

   ...

   ...

   ...

   The coat guy shivers and rocks back and forth in his seat. Hands over his head. Facing his closed knees. He can't handle much more. His mind still stuck on those people he took the lives of. He's a visitor. Shit shit shit. He's gonna die. Maybe it's best that way.

   Death would be warmer than living like this. Her embrace would be the only loving feeling he'd have ever felt. He looks down at his nails. He'd overheard the news. Dirty nails. He can't check his teeth unless he went to the bathroom, but he's terrified. He won't. No. No he can't. He won't. He already knows enough. That he's a monster.

   More of a freak than he was before when he was harassed daily. His nails are filthy. Some are chipped in half. Barely clinging to his nails. He'd torn them off. Trying to feel some sort of warmth. Same reason he bites his lips so hard. The warmth of his blood.

   A kind of fearlessness where he couldn't care less whether he lives or dies.

   All he wants is normalcy.

   Warmth. 

   The tall man next to him looks over. Slightly agitated. The coat guy is constantly shivering and huffing. The taller man coughs a bit briefly. Fucked up lungs due to his old smoking problem. He wished the homeowner didn't just have that empty cigarette box. It's not like he's a smoker.

   He may not have inspected the owner, but if anyone were too paranoid, he'd be shot for his teeth alone. It was no secret now what any visitor signs were. Whatever the homeowner asked to see was a sign. 

   "Could you quit shaking so much?"

   "S-s-sorry. Can't really help it." He responds dryly. Even with the homeowners blanket, he can't seem to warm up. Suddenly, a gunshot goes off. It startles the coat guy, but the bar guy seems relatively unfazed. 

   A visitor was in the home then. God. He's next. He's next. The coat guy holds the blanket closer. He buries his face in it. Muffling his troubling exhales. "Guess someone showed the signs." The bar guy huffs. "I could really use a smoke..." He leans back. The homeowner has beer. He might as well help himself.

   Especially now that he's in the clear with him. He gets up off the couch and leaves the room. Briefly, he catches a glimpse of the homeowner stumbling to the bathroom. Looking ill. The storage room was slightly ajar.

   There it is. The corpse... faceless. Laid out lifeless against the wall. God dammit... The tall man can faintly hear the homeowner hacking up and hurling in the bathroom. Who wouldn't?

   Emerging from the kitchen was the teen girl. Holding her pack close. She looks scared. Frightened. She can't be older than twelve. The tall man reaches out to her. "You don't need to look at that. Get back in there."

   Immediately, the girls face hardens. "Don't tell me what to do, old man." She snarls before swatting away at his hand. "Hmph... whatever. At least we're safe I guess." She heads back in the kitchen and leans against her usual spot along the fridge. The tall man follows so he may grab a beer. 

   The shadows of the homeowner making his way to his bedroom cross the path. He doesn't seem to care that the bar guy is taking his beer. He's tired. Nauseous. He heads in his room. Not even talking to anyone else for today...

   Now it's just time to wait for another day. Another damn day of this hell...

End of Chapter 4

Chapter Text

   "Son, when I'm gone, you can open this. But for now, I don't want to see your nose snooping around in my shit." The man growls to the teenager. 

   Only seventeen. Only a few more months. He can leave this hellhole. He can finally escape this roof. This house. His father began drinking more once his mother passed. It was so long ago. Yet it's burned into his skull. The image of his mother.

   Unbreathing on the floor. She'd always had a weak heart. Cancer. He'd been told he'd get over it as years go by. Well. It's been five years now and her soulless eyes still haunt him. 

   "You even fuckin listenin? Damn brat." His father snarls. Cigarette crumbling beneath his tensed jaw. 

   "Yeah. I heard." He responds dryly. 

   The teenager leaves the storage room and heads back to his room in the hall. His dad has made it clear that he can't wait for him to move out so he can make the room into a study. If he had it his way, he'd make his father's room his own and turn his own room into an office. But he knows his father won't ever leave this fucking house. 

   Sometimes, he wishes his mother didn't have to live here. She didn't have to die here either. Worse than hell. She was such an inspiration in every way he'd never want to be. Her lord. Her Christ. She never strayed.

   Praying every night like a good Christian. It's not like she deserved it either. The cancer. She never killed anyone. Never drove an evil spear into His side. Even though He was the one that did this to her, the Priests during the funeral still preached that He brought her into his supposedly loving arms. And now he's trapped here with his father's strikes. 

   Every day is a new screaming match, buy now that he's seventeen, he doesn’t get smacked around. Maybe his father is scared of losing a fight. It's like they say. Stop fighting the son when he can fight back. 

   Months had gone by. His father was worse for wear. Doctors didn't have high hopes for his lungs or liver. Yet it doesn't depress the son. When his mother was diagnosed with her heart diseases, he wept for days. Then he lost her only a few months later. But now when his father gets a similar fate, he doesn’t care.

   Matter of fact? He can't wait for God to take him out of his life...

Fifteen Years Later

   It's all so confusing. Sick. The door is once again knocked on. The homeowner gets up. Walks over. His eyes widen. Fear overtakes his body. That fucking freak the news spoke about. Tall. Shirtless. He's as pale as death. His smile. That eerie fucking smile. Most people can't be judged off of looks alone... but this man. He's a monster.

   A beast. 

   The man grins. His eyes drifted apart slightly. "Howdy!" He greets cheerfully.

   "I'm not letting you in." The homeowner states firmly. Holding whatever ground he can. He's not alone. He can live through this. His home has people. He has fucking people.

   God. He's never wanted to pray so bad for the past twenty years. Yet here he was. "Is your door nice and sturdy? Never know what might happen to it." He giggles and leans closer to the peephole. He sees the homeowner. Clear as day. "You understand." It's not a question. It's a statement. 

   "I don't need anything from you." 

   The man hums. "No, you don't. Soooooo..." His face contorts. A sickly grin. Eyes rolled back and his perfect white teeth bared out. Clear as day, even during the night. "You alone?"

   Right. Just as the news said. Just as his neighbor warned. It's all real. It's all fucking real. "No, I'm not alone." He says as calmly as he can. Keeping his cool. The pale ones face falls.

   It's a terrifying sight. He looks almost... pissed. "It's your lucky day. I can hear someone whispering inside." He growls out lowly. Threatening. His whole presence alone is frightening enough to give a rodent a heart attack. His smile returns after a moment if silence. The crickets chirp outside. "But who knows where they'll be in a few days?" He chuckles before beginning to recede. Leaving entirely.

   God. Fucking- no. No no no. This can't be real. Now he has no other choice. Keep the people in his home. Keep them safe so he may be safe. Survival. It's all that matters now. He backs away from the door.

   Feeling a chill run down his spine. Calm down. Calm down... another knock greets the door. The homeowner sighs and looks through the peephole. "I sense the energy here is stagnant. Something very bad is developing within. The Sun and Leo are in the Fifth House. I see it all so clearly."

   What.

   The.

   Fuck.

   What is this bitch talking about? It's not easing the homeowners anxiety at all. Not even close. "You're a pretty assertive person, aren't you?"

   "What?" 

   "I can see you prefer to take action rather than talk." Why is this woman reading him out like this? She's not necessarily wrong... But how does she know all this? "Typical Leo, am I right?"

   Great. She's one of those people. Zodiac signs apparently are able dictate someone's whole personality. 

   "You've accumulated a large amount of dark energy here. Yes... Very unpleasant... I don't yet understand the how or why..." She's acting like she knows. 

   As if she can tell the history of the house by just looking at it. How the hell... no. She better fucking not be able to. For her sake. No one can know what went on under this roof. That's his trauma to bury, no one else's treasure to dig up. "Everything feels so neglected, I suppose I should start with affirmations."

   "Thanks for dumping all that on my already troubled mine." He grumbles. Frustrated by her audacity. 

   "I understand that this is stressful for you since you're a Capricorn rising." Didn't she just say Leo? How does all this zodiac shit even work? "You're juggling several constellations within yourself. You're a complex person. We can use affirmations to reach the depths of your inner cosmos. You understand, don't you?" No. Not at all. But... it's a confusing offer. 

   Is she saying she wants to reach what he's hiding? To understand him? Could she...? Stop thinking that way. That people exist to fix him. Fix. As if he's broken. He sighs deeply. Contemplating. "Come in." 

   "Ah, delightful. You're in quite an excellent location here, to be honest." Wait. Now she's saying it's nice here? Was she just saying all that stuff to get him interested? Dammit, and it worked... "Theres a powerful current of positive energy flowing through your house." She says.

   Yet not long ago she was just going on about some bullshit of his house having negative energy. She managed to worm her way in from... ugh... The homeowner is such a sucker.

   He pulls away from the door again and watches her stroll down the hall towards the kitchen. He sighs. That's fucked up. He was fully ready for some kind of psychological reading. Hell, if Visitors exist, what's to say fortune telling is all a sham?

   Another knock hits the door. He peaks through and sees a strange bald man in denim. He seems familiar, but he can't place him. "So, we meet again. I remember things were a bit different last time we crossed paths. Yet  we remain alive..." This shit can't be happening. Back to back? For real?

   "Hm... it's a strange thing—I don't know how to explain it. I'd like to start our conversation with a divination."

   "Hold on, I'm sorry, just- I already had a freaky fortune lady enter my home, I'm really tired and quite honestly tired with all the astrology bullshit or whatever for the night. If you need to come in, just say it..." He cuts off whatever the prophet was intending to say. 

   "Well then, I'll cut this short. I only truly came here to tell you that the cat must enter no matter the events that unfold." 

   Whatever that means. But he gives the homeowner a wave and a nod before he makes his way off the porch. Then... no one else comes.

   Everything is put of control. Everyone expects him to have answers, but he's only left with more questions. What is he meant to do? Meant to say? It doesn't matter anymore. He sighs and begins walking back to he room. On the way, he hears whimpers and struggling breaths from the nonexistent cold.

   The homeowner does something he never does. Entering a room at night. He peeks through the door. The tall guy is laid out on the couch. Asleep. While the coat guy is shivering with the blanket on the floor.

   Damn his empathy. 

   Next thing leads to the other. The homeowner comes into the room and kneels down by the coat guy. "Hey..." He whispers quietly. He rubs his shoulder briefly. "Hey... wake up."

   The homeowner rubs his arm a bit. The cool air radiates off of the younger man. It's insane. The man stirs awake. His bottom lip quivering. His teeth chattering. "Jesus..." His hand comes up to gently touch upon the coat guys cheek. His skin is frozen to the touch. 

   "I-I-I'm f-f-fine... I told you, I'm just c-cold..." He huffs out quietly. But it doesn’t soothe the homeowners worries. A sigh leaves his lips. "Come on. Let me try to help you stay warm or something. I got space in my bed. Better than you laying on the hardwood." He offers.

   The coat guy looks up at the homeowner. The cold one looks so strange. The hermit has never seen anyone like him... probably what piques his interest. 

   "I w-won't ask that of y-you..."

   "You don't have to ask." The homeowner mentions before standing up and pulling away. "It's open for you in case you want to join in the bed. I promise, I won't try anything, either." That last bit. That he won't try anything weird. The cold one recalls the man who pulled up his shirt. This man is nothing like that. He gets off the floor slowly.

   Cocooned on the blanket tightly. He follows the homeowner into the bedroom...

   Maybe this man's embrace can make a change. Maybe. He needs some sort of warmth that doesn't require so much self inflicted pain...

End of Chapter 5

Chapter Text

   "Face it! You never talk to me about anything! You're scared. You've been scared this entire time!"

   "Don't act like you know everything."

   "Well, should a wife be oblivious to who her husband is?!"

   ...

   ...

   ...

   The nightstand. Thats where she used to sleep by. Often times they'd sleep facing away. Especially after an argument.

   Back to back. 

   Going to sleep angry was never healthy. Always a frustrating thing. The homeowner would wake up and she'd already be at work. She'd lack sleep, he'd sleep too much. 

   Now that side is occupied once more. But not by his wife. Not even a lover. No, but a stranger. A man he barely knows. Barely even talked to. Yet his growing sympathy made him allow the man to sleep in his bed with him. How stupid. This guy could be a Visitor. Tear him to shreds in the middle of the night.

   Fuck. 

   At least the shivering is quieter. The homeowner looks over his shoulder. Even though the shivers are quiet, he's still shaking. Probably still awake too. The homeowner sighs and turns over to face him. "Hey... you still awake?" He asks quietly. 

   No response. The homeowner sighs again. How does he sleep like that? Shaking and huffing like a freezing dog. He decides to lay back down. Either he's asleep despite the cold, or he doesn't feel like talking. Either way is valid. He can't make him talk. They are basically strangers sleeping in the same bed together. It is a little weird...

Sunrise

   "Asked about the people staying here, scribbled something on a tablet, and then..." Silence. His neighbor pausing over the phone as he prepares to explain the situation. How dire it truly is. "One of them took someone out of my house."

   Out of the house... shit, seriously? FEMA is taking people now? The homeowner thinks about who all he has. That teen, the tall guy, and the one in his room. He almost doesn't want FEMA to take any of them away. The teen is just some hopeless punk with a shitty father. The tall one he at least knows is human, and the guy in the coat? Well... what's so special about him anyway? Yet, he still doesn't want to lose him either... just a stranger but... The most he'd allow is that creepy fortune teller lady. 

   "Good thing they didn't take your daughter." He responds. 

   "No way in hell I'm ever letting that happen. Over my dead body. If those bastards so much as lay a finger on her, I'll tear them apart." Wow. 

   Okay. That was a shock. The hermit had never heard his neighbor talk like that before. Well- there was one other time, but, this has much more malice and promise. The weight of those words truly hold merit. 

   As the conversation pauses, the coat guy emerges from the bedroom and heads down the hall. He looks over at the homeowner as he speaks with the neighbor. "Hey, I'll let you go. Take care."

   "Thanks. Hey, never thought we'd end up living through interesting times..." The hermit waits a moment before hanging up completely. Letting his neighbor finish his thought. "The sun, the Visitors, and now FEMA... So many questions, and not a single damn answer."

   Ok, come on pal. Wrap this up...

   "Neighbor, I need to ask something of you..." The homeowners brows crease and come closer between his forehead. He's asking something special. Needs something very specific. Shit. "If something happens to me, promise me you'll look after my daughter."

   His expression becames stiff. He's asking him to take care of a kid? Why him? Why not- well... does the neighbor even really have anyone that close? How is he meant to? How is he expected to? He presses the phone to his forehead. He hadn't even considered that something catastrophic could happen to his neighbor.

   This whole situation is only getting worse and worse by the minute. His green eyes dart back to the cold one watching around the corner. This is it, then? This is the apocalypse where the homeowners crown as 'The Hermit' must fall. Getting to know people. Growing bonds. It's the only way to ensure his own sanity.

   No! Did he not just hear his neighbor!? He needs to do the opposite. He's going to lose people. He can't get close. "I can't promise anything." His voice comes out colder than usual. Harsher than intended. 

   "I..." Dammit. The neighbors shocked pause. It breaks something within the homeowner. "You really won't help her? She's just a kid. I just don't want her to be left all alone. Damn, I gotta run... Bye, neighbor."

   Just like that, the phone is cut off. It beeps at the absence of another like. 

   ...

   ...

   ...

   He watches the homeowner slam the phone down in its place. Looking pained and frustrated. This guy seems like he goes through a lot. 

   The coat guy continues to watch as the homeowner leans down. Head hung as his hands brace on either side of the desk. The force of which causes the mysterious photograph to clatter and fall over. 

   He approaches cautiously. "What is it?" The homeowner asks dryly. "Still cold?" He looks up and takes a deep breath to level himself. 

   "I-I was just g-going to thank you. For letting me s-stay in your r-r-room. It wasn't a solvent, b-but it helped." He mentions. 

   The coat guy watches the other man sigh. He hates seeing this guy like this. It's depressing. Reminds him too much of himself. He sees that pitiful look in his eyes. So full of empathy less so paranoia. He tilts his head as he stares at the homeowner.

   Would it be different with him? Could it...? Nah, he doesn’t trust him enough yet. He'd rather wait a couple more days to show him his secret. Maybe he shouldn't have promised him a secret when he came in. Is the homeowner even curious about it? Right now he only looks... what's the word...? 

   Kind.

   He looks kind even in these harsh time. Closed off? Sure. But nonetheless kind. He definitely has a big heart... compassion... it only makes the cost guy more curious. The homeowner turns to face him completely. 

   The homeowner shakes his head. "No need to thank me. If it helped, that's all that matters." He mentions. 

   "W-would it be alright if we slept together again...? It felt better than-"

   "You don't gotta explain it. I don't mind." The homeowner cuts him off. "So, you're really keeping the jacket on? I'm surprised you really are that cold in this heat."

   "Y-Yes, there's one thought that frightens me. What happens if I t-t-take it off? I can't get warm, even in the h-heat. If I remove the jacket, will I d-die from the c-cold? Or worse. Remain alive and feel even c-c-colder?" The cold one holds his arms tighter than before. He looks up at the other man.

   Watching as he crosses his arms, sighs, and leans against the wall. He thinks for a bit. "So, do you not take showers?"

   Oh no. Not this question. Of course he'd come to that conclusion. It's right after all. He doesn't shower. He often times struggles with the motivation to clean himself, well- now it's just for his own sanity. He hasn't tried to yet, but he's certain a shower won't help his temperature issues. 

   After the pause, the coat guy flattens his lips in a tight line then finally answers. "I'm n-not going to answer that question. S-Sorry." It's basically a confession, all he can hope for is that the homeowner doesn't ask further. 

   The homeowner hums a bit as he thinks about continuing to conversate or not. Why stop? He trusts who he has in his home. Relatively... he's probably still shaken up after having to shoot that cashier. 

   Poor girl. Wonder what sign she showed. Will the homeowner even check him at all? He seems much more focused on socializing. A shocker. "Any ideas on what to do about your temperature? Other than sleeping in my bed?" 

   The coat guy looks down at himself. Can he even do anything to change this? Just existing hurts more than it did before his burial... "Hmm... I d-don't believe I can change this. A hot bath only b-burns me. I don't feel any warmer." He doesn't even know if thats true or not, but hes scared to test it.

   Absolutely horrified. "You know... I thought of a m-m-metaphor. Picture deep space. Vast and fr-frozen. Galaxies are born. Stars c-collapse...And I just observe." Observe. That's the word. Never watch. It's always been observe. He's done so his whole life.

   Stayed silent. Off to the sidelines. Never acting. Only observing. "I'll never feel the heat of the s-s-sun. Or the w-warmth of an embrace. It seems neither s-space nor society need me."

   At the mention of the lack of warmth of an embrace, the homeowner steps forward. Arms spread out. He suddenly hugs the cold one. It's all so sudden and out of nowhere. "So even this doesn't make you feel warm?" The homeowner asks softly. 

   After a while of the hold, a shift begins to occur. Like tectonic plates creating a new continent. This is an embrace then? Not out of malice...? Ironically, the cold one melts against the man. Still feeling a cool breeze against his skin. "Hey. You okay?" He shows so much concern.

   It's refreshing. "Y-yeah... yeah I'm o-okay." He stammers. Still lightly quivering. "It-" He should lie... "It helps a l-little, but... not a huge ch-change." He doesn't want the homeowner to feel like he has to do this.

   To fix him any sort of way. It's not his duty to. Not his obligation. "Right, sorry." The homeowner pulls away. "Well, I'll take a shower and head to bed. You can head in there any time if you'd like." For being called the hermit, he sure is open about this kind of thing...

   ...

   ...

   ...

Nightfall

  Galvanized awake by the sound of the door being banged on and shouting outside, the homeowner jolts up. Next to him is the coat guy slightly stirring. "Shh, go back to sleep. I'll see what it's all about." He says quietly.

   It's almost too affectionate. Weird... He huffs and stands off the bed. He heads straight to the door without batting an eye towards the windows. Feeling a sense of urgency by all the racket. He makes it to the door to greet... FEMA. They're here.

   Just as his neighbor alerted. They're here to take someone. Damn. Of course they are. 

   "Good evening." The muffled voice escapes the gas mask. "I'm from FEMA. We're making house calls around your neighborhood, checking in with the residents."

   The homeowners gaze hardens. Gluttonous bastards. Taking whatever they want. "Why should I trust you?" He asks sternly. 

   "I can show you my credentials, if it will put you at ease. Anyway, Visitors rarely move in groups. Maybe even never." 

   A scoff leaves the homeowners lips. "How are you going to help us?" His voice breeds venom. 

   "Our first order if business is collecting more data to send to FEMA HQ." So that's what they're calling people. 

   Data. Cattle. To them, civilians are nothing more than livestock to investigate. "Once we do, they'll be able to develop a suitable response procedure. Right now, you just need to stay calm."

   Easy for them to say. They don't have the secret Whacko Warner brother to deal with trying to break into sequestered individuals homes. "Does FEMA have a plan of action?" He asks sarcastically. 

   "Of course. But we can't action our plans without proof. So, we'll take one of the people staying here back to our laboratory." Please take the creepy fortune telling lady at least. At least her.

   Wow. Weird thing to pray. Hoping they take someone he's not growing attached to. This is exactly why he can't get attached. Dammit. "We'll have them complete a few tests so we can make sure everything's above board, then we'll send them back." Oh. They bring them back? A sigh of relief leaves the homeowners dried lips. 

   "So, I just wait here for something to happen?"

   "Yes. Once we have more information, we'll provide instructions to all citizens. You have no reason to worry at the moment. We'll just take one person and try to get them back to you as soon as possible."

   Guess he'll need to come in then. The homeowner unlocks the door, opens, and let's the man inside. He strolls through the house. "Where are your residents?"

   "I have on in the living area, and two in the kitchen." And one in his bedroom, but... that's none of their concern now. 

   The FEMA agent peaks through the rooms and writes down on his notepad. The homeowner is beginning to feel uneasy. He sure is taking his damn time. The FEMA agent steps into the living room. "Hey, get up." He demands. 

   The bar guy looks up tiredly at the FEMA agent as he's woken up by the barrel of an AR. It's like a black and white dystopia... The homeowner watches helplessly from the doorway. "Just make it easy, man."

   "Piss off. I'm getting up. You're all so damn paranoid." He grumbles as he gets off the couch where he slept. He growls in frustration as the FEMA agent gets pushy. "I'm going. Damn. Acting like I'm one of those things and you haven't even checked me, yet. Whatever." They walk out of the front door. 

   "Take care."

   Even though they said they'd bring him back, the homeowner still feels uneasy. What are they going to do to him? He steps away for a moment and plops down in the chair next to the door. Tired. He runs his hands over his face before the next knock pulls him out of his break. 

   The homeowner gets right back up. His legs cracking in resistance. He just needs to hurry this up and go back to bed... he peeps through. Some heavier set guy with his eyes drifted apart. Mole on his cheek, next to his nose. Now to see what this guy's deal is. "Hello there, human. How lucky we are to witness the humanity's final judgment with our own eyes!"

   A religious nut. No, that's fine. Completely fine... he almost sounds like his mother... "The Earth is being cleansed of SIN. The Sun is doing its holy work." God he wishes he can tell if they're a visitor by just looking at them. What the hell is this man on about...? "We are on the path to a pure, new world! BEHOLD THE FUCKING BEAMS OF BLESSING!"

   "Shh! Hey, man, don't draw attention..." The homeowner shushes quickly. Damn this guys loud. "You're scaring me, man."

   "You're SCARED? Have you gone shadow mad?! Here—I'll break it down for you in simple terms." Please don't. "The sun does not burn and BROIL US ALIVE without purpose! It is cleansing us of our sins! Our lust and greed has polluted this world, and it has ANGERED THE SUN! THIS IS OUR RECKONING!"

   Yup. Just like his mom. Only louder. And... covered in more beer. Guess technically he can't argue too much. Perhaps God truly is washing the Earth. He'd promised to never flood, but He'd never said a damn thing about bringing hells heat to them. 

   "And it us a blessing." He's still going? "All sin will end, and we shall live as righteous fucking ashes under its gaze!"

   Like God said yeah? He'd promised everyone virtuous will be sent to Heaven, and He'd send the sinners to hell. Then what? No one has been ruptured into the sky, yet. Is God truly so tired of His creations, He'd rather wash it all away?

   Is He at war with land and all of its creatures? His followers not so gentle persuasion has been known to wreck economies of countries and empires. He's meant to cradle the sun, and instead, He powers it to finally end all sin.

   No matter how small it is. This is hell. "What'll happen to you?" The homeowner asks. 

   The man frowns disapprovingly. "What does this have to do with me? We shall all LIVE DELICIOUSLY as soon as the Sun completes its salvation! It's holy rays will help us escape this torment, don't you see?" Admittedly, no. No the homeowner does not see it. This man hasn't mentioned Christ once.

   Are all religions like this then? Even the ones he'd never heard of? "You definitely see—that's why you're still alive!" 

   What will get this man to shut up? "Come in." Fuck it. Might as well...

   "VERY GOOD, HUMAN! We can keep discussing this in-depth!" He sure fucking hopes not. "Oh, before I forget to ask—you got any beer?" The homeowner nods and opens the door.

   Sighing in frustration. That conversation tired him out completely. What is wrong with some people? Immediately, before the homeowner can close the door, he hears sniffling. He peeks back outside, doesn't see anything at first, until— 

   "H-hi. L-L-Let me in." It's his neighbors kid. She's sobbing. Snot pouring out of her nose... What happened? He immediately lets her in safely and closes the door. He kneels down before her as she tries to silent her sobs. 

   "What happened?" He asks softly. 

   "U-Um... M-M-My d-da... Th-They k-k-k... killed m-my d-daddy..." She manages out between hiccups and harsh breaths. A wave of terror and confusion barrels through the homeowner. His spine twitching in unease. His neighbor... no. He's dead?

   No, he can't be distracted by that now. He has to comfort her first. "Who did it?" He asks, still as softly as he can. He reaches out to holder her shoulders steady as she wails and sobs. 

   "V-V-Visitors came t-to the house. They were s-sitting w-with us... Daddy was t-talking about s-something. And th-then they... k-killed him. He... Our..." She hiccups and sobs louder. Struggling to contain it. 

   "Hey, don't hold it in." The homeowner tells her. He knows how much it hurts to hold sobs in. How hard the chest collapses... 

   "Now our h-house is on f-f-fiiiiire..." So that was the burning smell. The ruckus and loud yelling he'd heard. He pulls her in to hug her.

   Letting her cry into his shoulder. That's it. He's done with this closed off shit. He's killing every last Visitor that steps foot into this home. He's keeping this little girl safe. He failed to promise his neighbor. But he won't break the promise he's making to himself. He cups the back of her head.

   After a while of soothing embraces and touches, the girl calms down slightly. Still hiccuping and sniffling. She's no older than eight. He pulls back and brushes her hair out of her face. "Go. Find a spot in the house." He pats her back and she heads to the kitchen.

   Probably since her dad always sat there. It's like the memories pour in at the worst of times. He'd sit at the table with his neighbor. His wife and the neighbors kid would play around. 

   The memory is abruptly cut short by the knock on the door. Please be the last person... he's heart broken enough. He peeks through the hole. 

   "Hi."

   Oh hell no. What the fuck? Nope. Nuh uh. He doesn't judge at the door, but this woman is not human. There's no way. She can't be. Nope. He doesn't care if the prophet told him to let in the cat, there's just- fuck! 

   "You open or not?"

   "What do you want?" The homeowner grumbles. 

   "Crate of beer. Drawer. Ham leg. Don't know. Give whatever." Yup, even the way she speaks. It's not natural. The cat looks horrified in her dainty long fingers. "You open? Yes? No? They tell me come here, so I came."

   "How did you find my house?"

   "See city? Lived there. Saw your house. Walked over here. Not hot here." Guess it would be hotter in the city than the booneys shockingly enough. 

   The homeowner looks her over briefly. Those horrifically sunken eyes. The gummy smile. The way her neck is- eugh... wait... yet she does look strangely familiar. Like off of the television. "You remind me of... someone..."

   "Do I? Sure. So what now? You tell me more? Or what? Strange thing to say." Yeah, she has authority over what's strange or not...

   "Prove that you're a person." He demands. 

   "Two arm, two leg, one head. Not enough for you? Did I pass test? You open or no?"

   "You should leave." He's not trusting this. This creature... it's not human. Hell, he can't even call it a Visitor. At least Visitors actually try to look and sound human. This thing is... Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. It unnerves him just looking at her. 

   "Look at kitty. Think again."

   "Go to hell already." He snarls. He's not letting this beast inside. Not when he has the little girl to protect now. 

   "You find kitty under house. Small gift. From me." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is she going to kill the cat? Ugh... leave it under his house? That's... vile. She soon leaves. Finally... he can rest. For now. 

End of Chapter 6