Chapter 11--Starve the Beast

This is the first time I’ve entered the cafe in a week. I feel bad about that. Leaving it closed for that long is a risky move, not to mention I could only give so much paid leave to Pierce. At least I’m starting to leave this rut, so I may not end up putting everyone in the red. I’m not sure what we’re gonna do about Peddito, but we have to take this one battle at a time.

I left the cafe’s blinds closed so no strangers come wandering in thinking we’re open. Everyone else sits alongside the counter, with Fakey resting a tip of its face along a seat-less edge. Doisette is resting one of his hands on the Doise’s back. I quietly make everyone’s drinks. Nothing eccentric, nothing sugary, nothing laced with the usual stuff—we all just want to mellow out a little bit, and I’ll let that happen.

Wish it wasn’t quiet though. I mean, I don’t mind being quiet—I can’t think of much to say right now—I just wish I could hear a little life around me. I guess you could only ask so much from a group of people who’ve had a week of hell. Maybe they all need a moment of silence.

Doise doesn’t look good though. Her eyelids haven’t regenerated, so she just looks spooked out of her mind. I wish you weren’t hard to read—not for my convenience, just yours. Doise’s drink is ready; Doisette mentioned she likes her coffee black. That’s the closest I’ll ever get to reading her mind.

I softly place the coffee in front of Doise and scoot it towards his hands. He stops staring at the wall and looks at the drink. Does she not want it? She starts caressing chords along the cup, never making a full rotation.

“Do you not want it?” I ask.

“Should I want it?” Doise retorts.

“I think you should have something nice. You’re not doing great.”

She pauses her fidgeting and rears her head.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I should believe in myself like you guys are doing.” It seems like he was going to go on a tangent with that statement, but it doesn’t come.

“Hurting you wouldn’t solve anything.”

He exhales. I’m not sure if she’s scared or mad.

“I mean, I know he hurt you bad as much as he hurt me bad—and I look like him. I don’t get it, really. Out of all people, why can you still look me in the eye?”

I can’t tell him the obvious. I’d love to say, “oh, I don’t see him when I look at you; I only see you,” but that doesn’t work. To be honest, I see him more in me than I see him in her. You could make a point that I am some kind of other version of her, though I hate that idea very much. Such is the fate of demons made in the spitting image of their client.

I got an idea.

“Y’know, Doise, I was originally made for him and him only. Technically speaking, I am more similar to him than you are.” My expression weakens for a moment. “It makes me sometimes wonder if I’m as bad as him for that. But it really doesn’t add up, weirdly enough. If I can linger and take in the sheer horror of consequence, than I can certainly be better than him.” I smile at her, “it seems like you do the same a lot already.”

Her face stays unchanging, but she lets out a sigh. “I’ll have to think about that one.” He laughs abashedly, “I’m sorry, I’m a real nutcase, aren’t I?”

“Better a nutcase than a nutcase-maker,” Bo quips with a wink.

I haven’t gotten anything for Fakey have I? I pause for a moment to hoist the bin underneath the bar’s counter and slide it towards Fakey. They lower their eyes as a sign of appreciation and start scavenging through the garbage to find anything interesting. We haven’t really rekindled that flame, have we?

“You do a lot of wandering, right Fakey?” I ask.

“Scavenging is my favored nomenclature, but wandering it still encapsulates.”

“Does it ever get old? There’s only so much to explore around here.”

“I say it is sufficient, but it bores like binary at times.”

“Well, I’ve had this little idea bouncing in my head, eheh—it’s kinda random—but, if you ever wanted to see me more often, would you be open to helping out around the cafe?” Man, this really ain’t a great idea. I add, “I’ll pay you. You can do whatever feels right. N-no pressure.”

Fakey hums as they peruse through the trash some more. “Perhaps. It is worth some thought. Though I’d rather see you more as a friend,” it pauses to wheeze, “than as a boss. Not every neighbor is a laborer.” It raises its head to look at me and bare its teeth. “I could make a very suitable family dog… ha, ha.”

Everyone else snickers.

“No fair! I want to be the dog!” Bo playfully whines.

“C’mon man, you’re more of an uncle than a dog,” Doisette contests.

“I’m an uncle-grandpa, take it or leave it.”

“Can I be the lawn?” Doise butts in.

“Only if I get to be the crazy old cat lady who lives next door,” I joke.

The conversation continues its liveliness, the voices bouncing through the walls and creating presence. I’m a part of it too. It’s nice. Fakey hasn’t made many comments.

I look at Fakey, smiling towards it. It lowers its eyes once again once it makes contact with me, a nice little moment interrupted by its ears perking up. Their eyes widen and they adjust their posture, the others still continuing on their joking. I’m too transfixed on Fakey to know what specifically kills their conversation; perhaps it was from my change of expression.

Now everyone’s silent.

“I heard something,” Fakey states quietly. They then make their way to the door without hesitation. Agile as always, it slips through the door without a problem and shuts it tight.

Doisette rustles through his pockets. “Shit! I didn’t bring my gun!”

I try to stay positive. “Fakey’s tough. I’m sure they can handle it…”

We go quiet again out of anticipation. Only the humming of the kitchenware can be heard. I wish I didn’t close the blinds. I can open them again. I walk slowly, and somewhat cautiously, towards one of the windows to get a clue of what’s going on.

I get pretty close to the window before a large, muffled thud followed by popping is heard from outside. I rush to the window and peep through the blinds. A tiny eye in an endless spiraling pool of socket consumes all what I see outside. I immediately close the blinds out of fear, stumbling onto the ground.

“Peddito!” I blurt.

Everyone grows more apprehensive. Wait, I hear something outside. Lots of thuds, clashes, and occasional growls. I can’t tell who’s winning the fight.

Fakey’s squeals are becoming more frequent.

I can’t take it. Peddito has no interest in me. Maybe I can help Fakey out. Besides, everybody else makes for a terrible candidate to send outside. I almost make it to the door until something fleshy squeezes through the bottom crack of the door. There’s some spare teeth attached to it, must be a fragment of Fakey’s mouth.

“Run,” the mouth commands hoarsely.

We all start panicking, silently. If we were in a better state right now, we would all be screaming. I rush to the others to discuss what to do.

“I think we could leave through the back door; the car’s parked at the back too,” I suggest. The solution’s simple, but it doesn’t comfort me. “I don’t want to leave Fakey, though.”

“You can’t run or hide from this thing,” Doise adds solemnly, his arms crossed and head low. “If Fakey can’t win, it’s gonna take one of us away too.”

You can’t argue with that.

“I’ll stay with Fakey! I’m the only who has a chance!” I declare unsteadily.

“You can’t fix them.”

Doise’s comment catches me off guard.

“I-I can take a hit, for sure. Demons are kinda good for this sort of—”

“No. I’m staying.”

The others share my shock.

“DD-love, you ain’t even back to normal!” Doisette pleads.

“I’ve fixed them before.”

“I-I can fix a car—I can help Fakey!”

“Fakey’s not a car.”

Doisette frowns. To think I was Fakey’s closest friend. He stews in the Doise’s words for a bit.

“I can come back. I just don’t know if Fakey can without me.”

He starts to cry, looking away from the Doise for a moment before facing him tenderly. “Fine… but only ‘cause I trust you.”

Doisette gets out of his chair and we all copy him. I can’t leave. Why should I leave?

I grab Doise by the shoulder. “I’m staying. I can protect you.”

She takes off my hand off her should and places hers onto my shoulder. “Protect Bo. I’d rather die over and over again than let this goddamn curse spread.”

I nod reluctantly before leading the others outside. Doisette breaks off from me momentarily to kiss Doise. The two of them take a moment to hug before splitting off and Doisette joining me once more.

We make it outside just fine enough. There’s not much that we could’ve done inside that would’ve attracted attention, anyway. Fakey and Peddito still seem to be fighting, though the sounds from the brawling have become gradually more sparse. Bo and I hover above the ground and Doisette keeps his footsteps light to minimize making sound.

We all make it to the car, Doisette as the driver once more, and we all pause. I can’t really hear the fighting anymore.

Doisette places his hands over his head. “Shit man, how are we gonna get outta here?”

This car is old, decades old. You can hear it actively groan whenever it’s moving out and about.

“Doise wanted us to sneak out, right?” Bo asks, sitting in the back.

“I think that’s what she wanted,” Doisette answers, shrugging.

I see Peddito perched on top my cafe.

“I trust her though. We just have to put our heads together and fill in the—”

“IT’S HERE!” I shout. “IT’S WATCHING US! FLOOR IT!”

Doisette slams on the gas pedal, prompting the old car to roar and stumble across the pavement. He makes a sharp turn to leave the parking lot and Peddito enters the air. The chase has begun. We pass by the front of my cafe in less than a second, but watch little caught didn’t look good. Fakey was lying on the ground, body turned away from us. Doise, you better know what you’re doing. We make it onto a longer stretch of road and the worry really starts to get to me.

“Where the hell are we gonna go?!” I ask.

“Man, I don’t know!” Doisette exclaims. “I guess all we can do is go as far as we can.” He’s real tensed up, placing as much force as he can on the gas pedal. He can’t keep up that coordination forever. I wonder if the car can even keep it together.

“You sickening creature, GET OVER HERE!” Peddito snarls, its voice echoing through the car.

I quickly look outside the car to check Peddito’s progress. It’s making more of an effort to gain on us, flapping harder and harder with its talons raised up, going for the kill—

Doisette makes a sharp turn at the end of the road, jerking all of us around in our seats and making the car cry out in agony once again. I hear a crash from Peddito failing to make the lunge and smashing into some nearby trees. I quickly look back once again to see Peddito trying to recover from the failure. It’s disorientated, but seems to be recovering fast.

“It’s not gonna stay down for long—keep going!” I order Doisette.

I check on Bo in the back seat. They’re not doing great. Frozen in fear, barely having a hold on their senses. The seatbelt barely even fits them. We can’t leave them alone. Doisette’s heading back into a busy area of the town, making lots of smaller, nauseating turns to avoid colliding with anything.

Fuck! I can’t reach them while buckled; they’re too small! I unbuckle myself to get more room to move, holding onto a part of my seat to have some kind of anchor. I turn around and reach out to Bo, struggling to keep my footing on the seat. C’mon, c’mon—that’s it! I got a grab of his leg. Bo, with the little bearing on reality they have, notices what I’m trying to do and unbuckles themself, allowing me to sloppily pull them out of the seat.

As I try to get a better hold of them, Peddito speaks again, “YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE! STOP PRETENDING TO BE PURE!!” His booming voice shakes the car, causing me to kick Doisette in the elbow and tumble into the back of the car. Doisette loses control in the wheel for a moment, scraping against something, but not enough to fully stop the car’s tracks.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He blurts.

“Bo’s not okay!” I get a better hold of Bo. “They’re not all here. I have to help them!”

“Just stay in the back! Crawling back to the front’s gonna cause trouble!”

With one arm around Bo, I quickly hop into the left back seat and fasten the seatbelt around the both of us. I hold Bo in both of my arms and look at them solemnly.

I really don’t know what to do to help them. It’s noisy, it’s bumpy, there’s no time for rest, I can’t do much. At least Bo’s able to look back at me right now.

“You’re a sickening creature, Bo. Your hair, your skin, your skull… all the way down to your soul.”

We’re the warmest things in this car. Their pupils quiver as they look at me. Don’t look at anything else. Just see me. Just see me, not him. Just me.

“Of course you did it! Just look at yourself!”

Just look at me.

“YOU CLAIM TO KNOW BETTER YET YOU STOOP SO LOW!! CAN’T YOU LET A POOR ANIMAL EAT?!”

I cling onto them tighter.

The car suddenly screeches as it’s forced to a halt. I look up and see a car exit the frame.

Doisette slams onto wheel, blaring the car horn. “FUCK! Man, now’s not the fucking time!!” He quickly starts driving again. I look at the back window.

“It’s gaining on us!” I shout, squeezing Bo.

The car sputters as it loses some of its footing. God please, do not give up on us now. It slows does momentarily before regaining its speed. My eyes are glued to the back window as I watch Peddito go for the dive, talons bared in hatred as it goes for the kill. Where is it aiming?

The car roof screams as peddito’s talons grip onto the lower end of its body, an awful sound that makes all of us flinch. The car starts to swerve as Doisette tries to manage Peddito’s weight as it presses against the top of the car. From the top edge of the back windows, I can see the edge of his wings spread out to maintain balance. The roof’s starting to leaving an indent, a bulge that intensifies with every second and every effort made to stay stable. I catch a glimpse of intense fury in Doisette’s face as he starts wildly wobbling the car in an attempt to shake Peddito off. A small tear starts to appear on the car roof. I feel nauseous.

It’s not enough. The tear bursts open as Peddito scratches the roof open. He thrusts a leg into the opening, his talons slashing through the middle seat. I can’t even look at it anymore. I can only look at Bo for comfort, like Janney couplers backed by opposing charges. As I hear Peddito struggle to get its foot out of the seat, I curl around Bo, bracing for eventual impact.

Doisette screams as the car starts to tip over, losing all control of the car. It’s over. His weight is too much. I hold onto them as tight as I can. Leave no inch of them open. I’d rather it tear me open before it takes away Bo.

The car tips towards the right, leaving all of us hanging through our seatbelts. The car’s right side grinds against the asphalt, wailing and squealing in agony as its metal flesh is worn down. Bo is still in my arms.

It’s silent now. I hear Doisette panting. I don’t want to let go.

Keeping the rest of my body small, I raise my head to see the wreckage. Some of the windows broke. Peddito’s not there anymore. Its leg is not stuck in the hole. Where is it?

Looking through the window closest to me reveals Peddito walking towards the car. His scowl is nightmarish. I hide my face into Bo’s body. God, don’t notice us, please don’t notice us…

I can feel his presence looming over the car. I hear it sniffing the front of the car. It quickly switches to the back. Don’t move a muscle.

I hear the window shatter. Its teeth! Its teeth are snagged on my body! It stings! It pulls me and Bo out of the car and thrusts us onto the pavement. The action causes me to break my position and I lose my grasp on Bo.

Bo and I look at one another in deep fear. As Bo makes an attempt to get up, Peddito lurches downwards and grabs onto Bo with its teeth, swallowing them whole once upright.

“Bo!!” Doisette and I shout.

They’re gone. No, you’re not gonna let it happen. No more cycles, no more.

I shoot up from the ground and charge at Peddito, clawing at his leathery back. No matter how deep I claw, not a mark is left. I can’t even leave a scratch. Why can’t I make myself turn into something more useful?! Now would to the time to do so! All I’m just doing is clawing at this solid wall, like I’m not capable of more. I can’t take it.

Peddito turns to look at me, unmoved by my attacks. Its head twitches like a bird as it focuses on me, wings all folded and scowl still in tact.

“Now’s the time you don’t want to speak? Really?!” I blurt out in frustration. “You’re not an animal, you know!”

“Don’t talk to it!” Doisette exclaims as he peeks out of the car. “It won’t do anything!”

Peddito looks off into the distance, still unmoved.

“Why would anyone of your size eat something so small? You did it just for fun, not to serve nature or any good force. You’re sadistic—a monster!”

It starts walking away, its body all huddled into itself. This solves nothing, but I can’t take it. It starts walking away, its body all huddled into itself. This solves nothing, but I can’t take it.

“YOU HEAR ME? YOU’RE A MONSTER!!”

Peddito stops walking. He scrunches up more. God, I’ve made it mad now. I’m a moron. Doisette retreats back into the car, cowering in fear.

Peddito suddenly lets out a gutteral screech, nothing like the smooth or brutish talking he’s done before—just a pure, animalistic cry that vibrates through my body. I cover my ears to block the sound. I hate how I can feel it shaking my insides. I look at the creature as it continues screaming, drunkenly stumbling and flapping its wings. It turns towards me to reveal a darkened spot on its stomach. It attempts to scream once more, but it suddenly starts vomiting dark scarlet clots all over the pavement. Blood. It’s blood!

Peddito collapses onto the ground as its vomiting tapers out, its eyes vacant and unblinking as it gasps for air before vomiting some more. Its chest stops moving.

It’s not dead, is it? His chest is moving again. Doesn’t look like the type that comes from breathing or any kind of convulsion.

I uncover my ears and slowly creep towards the body. A small, but noticeable bump rises from its torso and inches its way up into its chest. It starts to struggle even more as it enters the throat. Another lump appears behind it, a much larger one that forcibly widens Peddito’s lifeless neck like some kind of awful parasite. I have no clue what to expect, but I don’t trust it.

Then I see the walls of Peddito’s mouth illuminated by a white glow.

Bo squeezes through the creature’s teeth and stumbles onto the ground, covered in blood and bodily fluids. One of their hands, altered to have large claws, is drenched in the most blood. They take a moment to breathe before reaching back into Peddito’s mouth to pull something out. I gently grab onto their slimy back and help them pull out the object. It’s surprisingly strong and heavy. Maybe it’s attached to something, whatever it is.

We make one final tug that finally releases this mystery object, making an unusual snapping sound. It gave us a strong enough shove back to have both of us fall onto the ground. I get a look.

It’s Peddito’s stomach turned inside out.

“Oh my fucking god,” Bo remarks breathily.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” I cry out before scooping them up for a hug. Bo’s too exhausted to make a reply, but hugs me back.

Doisette rushes out of the wrecked car and towards us. “Holy fuck, man! You killed that thing?!”

“I—I think so.”

“Usually, Fakey only manages to rip the limbs off of this thing, sometimes its brains once in a blue moon. How the fuck did you even—”

“Oh god, Fakey!” I exclaim.

The other two become as alert as me.

Doisette looks at what we believe to be Peddito’s corpse. “We gotta get there quick. If only that thing didn’t wreck our car.”

“We can fly there. I can carry you,” I answer.

The flight is short, much longer than by car, but not time consuming. The sun’s starting to set. It’s cozy, all the concrete and asphalt is not dampening that. It’s nice. For how existential these concrete jungles make me, something about the unremarkable quality makes me feel secure. As much as this landscape is a product of someone depriving the land of life, it feels lived in. It’s very brooding; I’m not usually into stuff like that. It’s not good, but it is home.

Fakey always found odd little things like this pleasant. Now they lie backside up in front of my cafe, Doise crouched beside their sprawled body. We make a soft landing and approach the two of them. Fakey’s eyes move to look towards us. Thank god you’re alive.

“How are you doing, Fakey?” I ask.

“N-n-naught of welllllll-ness,” Fakey replies, its voice much weaker and distorted than usual. My frown deepens. Fakey makes an attempt to reposition themself, but a chunk of their body looks unresponsive and the rest of it is too weak to carry the responsibility. I notice a large pool of black fluid oozing from their chest. I get closer to them and take a knee.

“He got them in the heart,” Doise solemnly clarifies. “H-he’s never injured them there before and I-I…” She starts tearing up and fails to finish her sentence.

“The carrion d-does what it haaaas t-to do. Did it wellest—d-d-data leakaaaage, but not en oil spill,” Fakey clarifies.

“I… I guess at least I kept you alive long enough to see the others.”

Fakey uses the rest of its strength to place a couple fingers on the Doise. “O-overfill-ing the q-quota. L-lovely.”

Bo, still covered in blood from earlier, slithers from behind me and approaches Fakey. They fold their hands and drops onto the ground to reach Fakey’s level. They aren’t saying anything. They just open their arms and let out an awkward snicker.

Fakey’s expression lightens up, its eyes widening and mouth agape. Nothing about the expression reads as a smile, but it certainly is happiness. “C-c-c-ceased?”

“Never fought harder in my life,” Bo confirms, creating claws on their bloodied hand and wiggling their fingers.

Doise is astounded. “You did it. You actually did it! This is better than what I hoped for!” Her happiness is short lived. “But somehow it’s wasn’t good enough.”

I place a hand on Fakey’s face and start caressing it. Its skin has never felt real. They’re colder than any other skin I’ve felt on a human. The skin feels less fake and more greasy than usual, likely a response from the injury. Its face starts to melt, drifting into more illogical proportions. Usually it would be a bit more flashy when they do this.

I remember a game you and I would play. I felt so crazy for finding it fun, finding it safe, but I was the only person at that point who could distort like you. It helped me; despite how much I changed, you still saw me as that woman, that silly rabbit who loved to think about the world. I remember how surprised I was when that game never soured in my memory despite my relationship with the Noise. Sometimes I worried that was out of perverseness, but it never really was the case. Somehow this game was the purest thing in my life. I want to return the favor.

I let my face melt alongside theirs, dozens of teeth peeking out where they shouldn’t be, more pupils than I usually have, my sockets sinking to depths they haven’t in a long time. Somehow this doesn’t make me feel weird. No no, it makes sense. Of course I feel this way. All that’s here is just my friend and our favorite game.

They let out a laugh, a very, very labored one. Its face has grown too weak to give anything back. “T-this the best date… of the calendar…” It grows frightened. “I… did not nothing fore this?”

“You did everything,” I assure them tenderly.

They suddenly gain a moment of lucidness. “I suppose that means I’m not him?”

“No. You never were.”

“Tha…nks….”

Fakey stops moving. This is the coldest skin I’ve ever felt.