"I'll always protect you, no matter what!"
Royal Sussex County Hospital, Brighton, England. April 5th, 2000
That childhood memory was all he could think about under the bright lights of the hospital.
They were like daggers to his vision, the clinical force causing him to squint under the pressure.
Lillia would wake up soon, surely. It had been a month since that day of the accident, though a pain reverberated in his mind, throbbing fresh as the day it happened.
They were like daggers to his vision, the clinical force causing him to squint under the pressure.
Lillia would wake up soon, surely. It had been a month since that day of the accident, though a pain reverberated in his mind, throbbing fresh as the day it happened.
--
New Mexico, March 4th, 2000
Driving on a dark night, somewhere near Exit 291 on I-40, he was surprised by the clear and dead road.
Nobody for tens of miles at a minimum, save for the stray, unfriendly folks they would occasionally see walking the side of the road that told them to get lost.
He'd heard the stories of course. Saying he and Lillia were horror buffs would be an understatement.
But ghost hitchhikers on Route 66? Surely they were not real... right?
Either way, they were bound to see something cool. Whether it be the stars or the scenery.
Quickly drawn out of his thoughts, he notices flickers of mysterious light on the side of the road in the distance, obscured by shrubbery.
Holy shit, what... The lights distract him.
Long enough for him to suddenly realize there was a person.
The presence of a blood-soaked, gored man with some kind of demented flesh-helmet, haunted his vision.
It had begun stepping in the way of the RV.
He shouted a warning to the half-asleep Lillia, barely managing to emit a harsh, "Fuck, hang on!" as he attempted to swerve away to the right as time seemed to slow to a crawl while his adrenaline spiked. It was all he could do to try to avoid the man. The RV collides into the man's body, and knocks it limp into a newly formed imprint on the front of the vehicle, as he feels the vehicle losing control. The flesh-helmet floated off the man, revealing a deformed and brutalized face, laced with puncture wounds. It seemed to glide through the compromised windshield, banging against his head as everything spun and blurred to starry darkness in an accelerating and disorientating haze.
Nobody for tens of miles at a minimum, save for the stray, unfriendly folks they would occasionally see walking the side of the road that told them to get lost.
He'd heard the stories of course. Saying he and Lillia were horror buffs would be an understatement.
But ghost hitchhikers on Route 66? Surely they were not real... right?
Either way, they were bound to see something cool. Whether it be the stars or the scenery.
Quickly drawn out of his thoughts, he notices flickers of mysterious light on the side of the road in the distance, obscured by shrubbery.
Holy shit, what... The lights distract him.
Long enough for him to suddenly realize there was a person.
The presence of a blood-soaked, gored man with some kind of demented flesh-helmet, haunted his vision.
It had begun stepping in the way of the RV.
He shouted a warning to the half-asleep Lillia, barely managing to emit a harsh, "Fuck, hang on!" as he attempted to swerve away to the right as time seemed to slow to a crawl while his adrenaline spiked. It was all he could do to try to avoid the man. The RV collides into the man's body, and knocks it limp into a newly formed imprint on the front of the vehicle, as he feels the vehicle losing control. The flesh-helmet floated off the man, revealing a deformed and brutalized face, laced with puncture wounds. It seemed to glide through the compromised windshield, banging against his head as everything spun and blurred to starry darkness in an accelerating and disorientating haze.
-
With a groggy groan, he can barely peep his eyes open and focus, having to choose between a laser-squint or wide-open, imprecise sight of his surroundings.
He goes with the latter's gradual fuzziness, his vision fading into a degree of clarity. He attempts to fumble with his seatbelt before realizing he was upside down, still dazed.
He assesses his injuries, examining his hands, arms, legs, and tapping a few fingers to his head. No bleeding from anywhere, thankfully, just some... weird yellow fluid and a feeling of malaise.
He looks around, noticing that weird flesh helmet oozing that yellow fluid. Looked a little like some odd, genetically mutated chicken, and it was sprawled on the ground, just outside the wreck.
Whatever this thing was, it seemed to have mauled the poor, limp guy in front. His instincts took over as he unclipped himself, colliding into the roof with a slight, braced 'Oomph'.
He hobbles to the back of the upside-down RV, looking for his sister in the dark wreck. He manages to grab her limp body, which had been lying on the roof.
Hoisting her above his shoulders in a fireman's carry, he kicks open the side door with a couple of kicks.
It closes shut behind him as he takes a few steps out, starting to feel a little more lightheaded with his exertions and the tail end of the adrenaline dump.
He makes it to the road, setting her down on the side of it as he does a once-over of the crash site before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a thankfully intact flip phone.
He goes with the latter's gradual fuzziness, his vision fading into a degree of clarity. He attempts to fumble with his seatbelt before realizing he was upside down, still dazed.
He assesses his injuries, examining his hands, arms, legs, and tapping a few fingers to his head. No bleeding from anywhere, thankfully, just some... weird yellow fluid and a feeling of malaise.
He looks around, noticing that weird flesh helmet oozing that yellow fluid. Looked a little like some odd, genetically mutated chicken, and it was sprawled on the ground, just outside the wreck.
Whatever this thing was, it seemed to have mauled the poor, limp guy in front. His instincts took over as he unclipped himself, colliding into the roof with a slight, braced 'Oomph'.
He hobbles to the back of the upside-down RV, looking for his sister in the dark wreck. He manages to grab her limp body, which had been lying on the roof.
Hoisting her above his shoulders in a fireman's carry, he kicks open the side door with a couple of kicks.
It closes shut behind him as he takes a few steps out, starting to feel a little more lightheaded with his exertions and the tail end of the adrenaline dump.
He makes it to the road, setting her down on the side of it as he does a once-over of the crash site before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a thankfully intact flip phone.
(The memory still fresh, he remembers that day with unwelcome ease. The amber liquid leaked from her head, and he felt it drip across his face when he had first picked her up. It still taints his memory.)
(A newspaper clipping he had saved from the local news. Police body-cam footage was released to the press, & various stills such as this were obtained.)
--
Russell does his best to put the memory out of his head, instead taking Lillia's hand in both of his.
She was still recovering from the injury, the doctors saying that she needed time to recover still in a medically induced coma.
Her body had been ragdolled around during the wreck such that the doctors were talking about last rites.
She was tough, but he was slowly beginning to believe it. But... she can make it. She has to.
She was still recovering from the injury, the doctors saying that she needed time to recover still in a medically induced coma.
Her body had been ragdolled around during the wreck such that the doctors were talking about last rites.
She was tough, but he was slowly beginning to believe it. But... she can make it. She has to.