#palewire

The blast of a shotgun rang in his ears as he remained blissfully unaware of the commotion past the storage-room door. Between the banging at the entrance door, and the yelp of a man; he was sure to not make any noise. The shelf burrowed into his back as he pushed himself into a corner, his limbs trembling as he held his swollen mouth shut. As the night fell quiet, doors creaked open and feet shuffled; something heavy was dragged past the storage-room. There were voices and whispers between the footsteps. The racket had finally ceased, but Wireface was petrified. Eyes wide open, not breaking his gaze from the handle of the door. Wireface feared the worst-case scenario, but a sole vein in his heart remained hopeful.

The handle twisted slowly, the creak of the hinge left the flimsy door ajar. Darkness loomed on the other side. He tensed even more, as did his bated breathing.

His sight was met by a man as white as snow, taller than the frame itself. His shoulder were wide, and collarbones hollow; it seemed as if his skin sagged from it like a shirt off a hanger. His black hair was neatly groomed and parted; he wore a sly smile as the finest accessory. He was not a man, more akin to something in which shouldn't exist. Contemplating, Wireface had to make a run now and go off into the night. Despite his vivid mind, his body shook like the leaf in autumn wind. The ghoulish man bent as he walked inside, wide palm reaching out for his catch.

Wireface was held by the collar of his shirt, face to face with the pale man. His small pupils bore into Wireface, who promptly looked away. A calloused thumb cupped his jaw.

"Kovzhv..."

"Please…"

"You're not from around here," commenced the pale one. "I can smell it, FEMA left their trail on you."

"Wlm'g sfig nv, R yvt. R dzmg gl tl slnv," sniffled Wireface.

"Don't hurt me, I beg. I want to go home."

The pale man cupped Wireface's jaw, pinning his chin between his thumb and index. He carefully examined the young mans face as he turned, shifted and prodded his bruised skin.

"My dogs only bite on command, but they've taken notice of you," the man informed. He turned Wireface to meet his obsidian eyes again.

The edges of his lips curled upwards as he continued, "you have something I want. Do you understand?"

"R wlm'g pmld, R wlm'g pmld dszg blf'iv hzbrmt."

"I don't know, I don't know what you're saying."

"Xlnv drgs nv," the cryptic man hushed.

Wireface felt vomit bloat his throat, he feared his heart would come out with it too. He clamped his teeth shut, yet to no avail; bile and water spilled over his lap as he heaved without end, a pathetic gag as his lap was stained. His breath trembled as he leaned forward. Either he's at the risk of dying to Visitors, or a fellow man—or he takes the offer. He was not constructed for survival.

Clinging onto a puny dream of finally returning to his family, he stuttered with the little vocabulary he knew.