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  • Writer's pictureGrae Queen

At The Eighth Hour

Chapter 23


Days Since Incident: 1103

Time: 7:15

Place: Campsite, Grae & Rayn’s garage

Climate: 73°F


‘God damn it Rayn…’ Grae said to herself as she opened the garage door. Taped onto the door was a note from Rayn that read: “If I find you working, I’m going to kick your ass.” Grae ripped the note off, and tossed it aside.

“I am not afraid of you.” she said in a low voice. “I do what I want.” She pushed aside the door, and stepped inside.

It felt as if she hadn’t been inside for months, though it had only been a few days. A small layer of dust formed on the top of the “working” sign she kept by the door. She quickly grabbed it, and hung it outside. Just in case anyone wondered where she was, they’d notice the sign. Thankfully no one would dare walk inside.

Grae walked beside one of the bikes, her attention fixed on the bag resting on its side. She opened the leather bag, and took out a set of keys. “Time to get to work.”

Unbeknownst to everyone else, there was a vast underground facility underneath the garage. Apparently the previous owner of the house was a bit of an “alarmist” when it came to an apocalypse. He or she had planted a few bunkers under the garage, stocked with everything they need to survive. Too bad they didn’t live long enough to actually see the apocalypse.

Underneath the bikes was a rug, covering a hatch door. She slowly moved the bikes and rug aside, and opened up the entrance to her office. There was a long set of stairs, enveloped in darkness. There were no lights, yet Grae was familiar with every step. She knew every bump, and every dip in the foundation.

There was a long tunnel at the bottom of the stairs. The floor and walls were cobblestone, with candles laid about to add some light. Down a few yards was the first door, which was always left wide open. Inside was a small room, with a large desk at the center; there were drawings and notes scattered everywhere. Some of the pictures were hand drawn, courtesy of time spent fighting them. Others were taken with a polaroid camera that no longer worked.

There were hours spent taking notes, and trying to tie the pieces together. She wrote everything down, even from the first day she entered the campsite, and encountered the Black Reaper.

The first incident happened years ago, yet Grae remembered everything. She remembered the look on Andrew’s face when he first spotted the Black Reaper. It stood in the center of the campsite, surrounded by abandoned vehicles and forestry. It didn’t move, nor did it make a sound. It watched as the small group began to survey the land with bright, hopeful eyes. It wasn’t until Andrew noticed the tall, black figure, did the group realize they weren’t alone. Grae could still hear Andrew screaming…

There was something peculiar about the Reapers; they weren’t like the average Chaser. Chasers were anything considered “living” at one point in time. Plants and fishes were not included, however.

They fed on anyone they could get their hands on, but thankfully, couldn’t turn anyone. The only way Chasers were born was from a Reaper.

Each Reaper possessed different abilities and powers. The group had only seen four, each marked by a different color. The Chaser would reflect the color of their “creator”, and would gain different abilities. Apparently, the White Reaper had the power to allow some Chasers to speak. The only other Reaper to have this ability was the Black Reaper.

Not all Reapers were the same though; some were more powerful than the rest. Grae could remember some of the things the Black Reaper revealed to her once they fought. One of the things it said kept playing in her head.

“You can never defeat me; only take my place. And with White wanting to overpower me, how would you survive.”

The incident days ago gave her verbal confirmation of the Black Reapers’ warning. The White and Black Reaper seemed destined to hunt each other forever. But why?

That is what she wanted to know. She wanted to know their history, and where they came from. There had to have been a reason why they were here...

Grae sat down on the chair, and began digging through her notes. Somewhere among this chaos, was a piece of information she neglected to see.

“I wish I had some coffee…” Grae said, sighing heavily. As she attempted to escape the house, she neglected to make herself coffee.

All of a sudden, a bell rang by the entrance. “Jesus Christ! I just sat down!” Grae yelled angrily. “If that’s Rayn, I’m going to kill him.”

She stormed to the entrance, visibly upset at whoever rang for her. She lifted the latch, and carefully closed the hatch door behind her. She covered everything before opening up the garage door. To her surprise, it wasn’t Rayn. Kris waited by the door, with two cups of coffee.

“Figured I’d find you here.” she said, passing Grae a cup. Grae took it almost immediately.

“Thought I wouldn’t see you for a few more days...you know, after our last argument.” Grae said, eyeing her sister suspiciously.

“Just in case you forgot, I live here too. Just took a few days to cool off.” Kris spat back. “Besides...it wasn’t my fault…”

Grae let out a pensive sigh; she didn’t have time to deal with Kris’ shit. “Look, I need to get back to work, so..”

“GRAE!” Rayn yelled from the opened kitchen door. “What the hell are you doing?” He bounded the steps, rushing towards her.

“Good morning Rayn. Boy, you look terrible!” Kris said, holding back a laugh. Rayn ignored her, and stopped in front of Grae.

He looked pissed, having only noticed Grae’s absence a few minutes ago. “You were supposed to rest. Why can’t you listen to ONE SIMPLE RULE?”

“I had plenty of rest. What I need now are answers.” Grae argued back.

“You can barely get up a flight of stairs! You aren’t at full capacity to do anything.” Rayn yelled back.

Just as Grae was about to counter, Kris stepped in. “I’m not one to forcibly interject between a married couple, but you guys should keep it down.” Kris said, pointing to the door. Mimi, and a few kids stood there, watching Grae and Rayn argue.

Grae let out another pensive sigh. ‘For fucks sake.’

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