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Survivors: The Long Road Ch. 1 P1

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Survivors: The Long Road
Chapter 1: Better Scrap the First Impressions

-A conference room in Denver, Colorado.

“The assets have made it to the second site,” a man reported to a woman in a business suit. She was standing behind several other people seated at computers.

“The second site? They were supposed to be heading to Zeichner! Is everyone in this company incompetent?”

“Ms. Granat there were problems with their containment and transportation.”

“How hard is it to administer sedatives and get them on a trailer to the nearest jet?”

“Reports say that their uh, bodies were adapting to the sedatives used and overriding them. The truck made it one state over before a potential containment hazard arose. The driver and lead scientist both agreed it would be safer to instead drive to the secondary site and hold them there.”

Helen Granat swore quietly. “Fine, fine, we’ll deal with that later. They’re safely contained correct?”

“Yes. The second site was designed to hold the next step in Project Walrider, so it should be adequate for these patients.”

She couldn’t be too upset at the guard who delivered this news to her. The security regulations around the new assets were harsher than those pertaining to Project Walrider. This poor man didn’t know much about what he was talking about, he only knew there were some dangerous patients being transferred to a new facility, anything else was beyond his paygrade. “As Project Overseer I’ll be moving my office to that site then. The Engine shielding is stronger this time around allowing me direct access to all the facilities. Starting tomorrow I’ll be working there full time, instruct anyone wishing to contact me to use the updated information.” She paused. “Alright what’s the status on Mt. Massive?”

“All traffic in and out of the mountain has been halted.”

“The reason?”

“Re-grading the roads. The recent rains made some of the dirt roads unsafe and hazardous. The only people we let out were those working for the fish and wildlife service up at that fishery. After that we blocked the roads.”

“Good. And the asylum?”

“Nothing since we sent that first team in. And as you know, they never returned.”

Helen rubbed her head with her fingers, massaging away a potential headache. “I want the whole mountainside searched again. Clearly some Variants were missed in the initial sweep following the riot. Then send in five teams, full bullet proof armor and heavy weapons, to clear out the asylum. Leave no survivors; we can always get more test subjects.”

“What about the rumors that Project Walrider still hunts those grounds?”

“Just that, rumors. Our tests have shown over and over again that no human can host that thing without being attached to life-support. Billy Hope died and that iteration of the project died with him. The soldiers that fell to it on the morning of the riot died to a beast’s final struggle.”

“R-Right, I’ll assemble the teams.”

“Good, don’t botch the mission this time. We’ll move forward with the detonation plans in mid-November, that should give the scientists enough time to salvage everything from the labs and move it to the secondary site.” Helen turned her attention to the other people in the room. They were seated at computers, hastily typing away. “Have either of you completed the cover story for the footage yet?”

“We’re working on it,” one of them replied, a young woman, straight out of university. She was a smart and gifted writer, looking for a job in journalism. She ended up spinning lies instead of truth, but it paid well and she had debts to pay down. Morality tends to bend under the weight of money. “There’s a few different avenues we can approach this from. We can go the slander route, destroy this Mr. Park’s reputation and make him seem crazy and vindictive. Or we can deny it outright; say it’s a prank, hoax, or advertisement for a movie or game. I sent several emails to the heads over at the Damage Control Department as well as Public Relations. When they get back to me I’ll draft the first copy of the formal press release. If all goes swiftly we can put a representative on a podium by tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning is the fastest you can manage?”

“Yes Ma’am. Damage Control seemed very worried about this, they’re taking everything slowly. We have to place our cards carefully or the house will blow over.”

Helen always liked the girl’s analogies. “Fine, if it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped. I like the idea of it being a viral marketing campaign, that’s what popular these days anyways right? I’m overriding the Damages Department; get a group together to start researching possible ways to spin this into a movie. Tell PR that’s the direction we’re going and get them ready to brief a representative.”

“Yes Ma’am.” She turned around to look at Helen for the first time that day. “In our last email Damages was requesting information on a Mr. Upshur? Miles Upshur?”

Helen nodded and said, “I’ll handle that. Your focus is on the press release. You know what to do.” Without waiting for the confirmation she knew was coming, Helen walked out of the conference room and dialed up a number. “This is Granat. Put me through to the Director. Hello Sir, everything is handled down on my end. The mountain is being swept again, all roads are blocked and a team will move in on the asylum shortly. That leaked footage is being dealt with as well. There are two loose ends we need to discuss, one being easy and the other being hard. We’ll start with the easy.”

“Go on,” said the voice on the other end.

“Mr. Waylon Park contacted a host of different reporters. Only one showed up. Miles Upshur. Our legal teams and public relations have already dealt with him and his articles before. The man is relentless and even followed us to Africa to write a report. In the footage we could easily make out his Jeep parked out front. His press badge was left in plain sight. In my professional opinion, he’s not a worry to the Murkoff Corporation.”

“What do you mean? If he saw even a second of that riot we’ll have a problem.”

“Lucky for us he’s dead.”

“Do you have confirmation?” The man asked.

“Yes. In the leaked footage Mr. Waylon Park took Mr. Upshur’s Jeep to escape. Mr. Upshur was not inside. Had he survived the riot he would have taken his own vehicle. If our best soldiers couldn’t make it past the Variants without being carved up like pigs then an unarmed reporter stood no chance.”  She continued. “There’s more, all of his social media has gone dark since the sixteenth. The last thing he posted was a picture on Twitter. It was of a rest stop bathroom, the hand dryer. Graffiti, someone changed the phrase “saves paper towels” to “saves poopy owls”. His humor is crass.”

“Get to the point Granat.”

“Sorry. It has been three weeks since then and there’s been no activity from any of his feeds. No accounts have been accessed and his friends haven’t mentioned hearing from him. If Mr. Upshur escaped he would have broken the story by now, not Mr. Park. It’s my conclusion that he died. None of our helicopter sweeps of the mountain on the day of the riot picked him up, nor did any of our eyes in Leadville spot him.”

“What was the hard problem?” The Director asked, pleased that the reporter had been taken care of.

“Our dear whistleblower, Waylon Park. We had left him and his family alone while work on the secondary site was finishing up. We kept tabs on him, but he seemed too skittish to ever leave the house more than a handful of times. Our Damages team was going to make him go away after everything at Mt. Massive had been taken care of. However, now that he’s leaked the footage, he becomes an immediate threat. He needs to be disposed of.”

“Then dispose of him, I don’t see what the issue is.”

“Well, Sir, he has a wife and two sons as well. Mr. Blaire spoke with them a few days before the riot. Informed them of their husband and father’s condition. If we kill him, the wife will know.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need your permission to order the wife and children to be killed as well. Murkoff will never be able to move past this dark day unless all loose ends are taken care of. His family has become a loose end.”

“Very well, I authorize the killing of Waylon Park and his family. You may proceed as soon as possible.”

“Thank you Sir, we’ll move quickly. Soon this will be nothing but a bad dream to this company and our investors.” Helen hung up the phone and continued down the hall. Her footsteps echoing down the empty hall was the only sound.

---

-Leadville, Colorado. The Park residence.

A black claw tapped Miles’ shoulder. “There’s movement inside Host, the time to act is approaching.”

Miles nodded and sat up a bit straighter, he shoved his notebook into his backpack and listened. He couldn’t hear through walls, he didn’t have that kind of super power, but he trusted R. “Remember, you stay out of sight, invisible, and do not do anything.”

“We know. We will stay hidden. This plan will not work with Us involved.”

“At least not now,” Miles said. “We’ll have to tell him eventually, especially if we’ll be on the road together for as long I think we’ll be. I can’t hide you from someone like that.”

“Not to question your control Host, but We do not think you’d be able to. You rely on Us for conversation and for physical support far too much to shut Us out for weeks.”

“Yeah, no shit. This whole parasite host thing is the worst sometimes,” Miles said with a chuckle. “I’ll tell him about you, but not now. We need him to trust us, and to let me in. Then when I’m sure he won’t run, I’ll tell him about you, about me.”

R’s laughter rippled through the static. “It almost sounds as if you are laying a trap.”

“Maybe I am,” he murmured and left the safety of the firewood pile. The sun was just starting to rise, it cast a pale light over the early morning sky. Miles crept along the side of the house, he was still hidden, cloaked in a swarm of dark nanites that kept him looking like any other shadow. He could see a woman move from the house to a car, turning it on to warm it up, before heading back inside. Miles took a few breaths and watched it freeze in the morning air. He hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten, R must be doing a more thorough job at maintaining his core body temperature than he thought.

“Your body runs hotter now Host.” R supplied the answer to Miles’ unasked question. “You produce too much energy; this will make you appear warmer than the average human. An added bonus is that you will be harder to chill.”

Miles whispered, “So it’s like I have a mini engine or furnace inside me?”

“That is the idea, yes.”

After a few more minutes had passed the woman came back out with two young boys trotting behind her. “So Park does have kids,” he said. “Shit.” Kids weren’t the end of this plan, but they complicated things needlessly and it would be better, safer, if they weren’t there. But he’d deal with that later. For now, he had to make contact with Mr. Park and not scare him off.

They waited for another hour, crouched along the side of the house before Miles began moving again. He wanted to be sure that the wife was gone, and didn’t forget something. It would be much easier to talk with just Mr. Park, alone, than with the wife too. There were things he didn’t know if she should hear, or see. “Do you know what you’re going to say Host?”

“I have an idea,” he muttered back. He stepped up to the front porch and took a deep breath. “Well, it’s now or never,” Miles said. He knocked on the door and waited. The sky around him was now much brighter, and he could see the details in their surroundings.

There was a long pause of absolute silence. Not even the birds were chirping. Miles raised his hand to knock again, but the door opened and interrupted the motion. A man came to the door with fearful eyes, and messy light brown hair. “Who are you?” He asked, in a voice that strove to be brave but was falling short.

“Mr. Park?” Miles asked instead. He wasn’t going to offer up his name until he was sure. The man nodded. “Good,” relief washed over him for a moment. “My name is Miles,” he said and extended a hand. “Miles Upshur.”

“U-Upshur?” His eyes went wide. A trembling hand took Miles’ own and shook it briefly. Miles could see that his eyes were analyzing him, taking him all in. It was in this moment he regretted not showering before leaving the mountain. He hoped his hand was clean enough. Waylon’s gaze lingered just a bit too long on the severed pointer finger of Miles’ right hand.

“That’s me. Do you have a moment to talk?” Miles retracted his hand.

“Y-Yeah. Please, come in.”

Before Miles stepped fully into the home he gave Waylon one swift, not very gentle, punch to the gut. The man nearly dropped and clutched his stomach. The fear returned to his eyes. “Sorry about that, I promised past me I’d sock whoever sent me that damn email.”

“But it was an anonymous tip,” Waylon wheezed out. “How’d you figure it out?”

“For someone who was just assaulted you seem to be asking the wrong questions. Shouldn’t you be demanding I leave your property?”

Waylon cracked a pained smile, “Honestly, I probably deserved that one.”

“Fair enough.” Miles stepped inside and closed the door. The house was small, homey, and extremely clean. Either the Parks didn’t have a lot of stuff, or someone was very anal about putting things away. Miles didn’t know them well enough to decide which answer fit.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“First off, and I don’t mean to offend, but for a smart guy, you are really, really, dumb.”

“Excuse me?” Waylon said, stepping into the hall and guiding Miles into the living room. “You punch me, come into my home, and now you insult me? You better start talking before I call the cops.”

“Please don’t call the cops, I do not need that headache on top of the mess you caused.”

“Again, excuse me?”

“The footage you released yesterday. You fucked up.”

“How?” Waylon asked. “I did what any sensible person would do. Murkoff was hurting people, from the looks of it, you know exactly what I’m talking about. How did I fuck up by exposing those bastards?”

Miles sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Ughhh, I knew you wouldn’t even know what you did wrong. Did you ever stop to think for a second that the footage would be considered fake?” Waylon shook his head. “Did you ever expect that Murkoff would figure out who leaked it?”

This time Waylon shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I went in anonymously, they told me they’d cover my tracks.”

“They? You mean the leakers?” Waylon nodded again and Miles burst out laughing. “Those bastards at VIRALeaks are probably lounging in beach chairs in the Bahamas sipping drinks with little umbrellas, all off of your story’s ad revenue. Trust me, they didn’t cover shit. You know what they did do though? Line that link with advertisements and watch as their hit counter went through the roof.”

Waylon suddenly felt sick and sat down. “But my footage, I cut myself out of it…”

“But you didn’t cut out your prisoner jumpsuit, Mr. Twenty-Five Thirty-Six.” Miles didn’t sit down next to Waylon, he didn’t want to dirty the couch. “Listen, I’m not here to beat you down, that’s the last thing you need. I’m here to lend you a hand, offer my help.” Miles could see that Waylon’s mind was racing. “Listen, please just look up your story, look up Murkoff. You’ll see that they’ve already covered their asses.”

There was a computer on the table that Waylon pulled onto his lap. He flipped it open and ran a quick search. Miles could tell by the way the other man’s face paled that he was learning the hard way how difficult a foe Murkoff was going to be. “This is ridicules,” Waylon said. “A viral marketing campaign for a film? Are you kidding me?”

Miles sighed. “I’m not, at least they didn’t slander your name, I was prepared for that outcome as well.”

“You said this was my fault, that I fucked up. What else was I supposed to do?”

Miles shrugged off one of his backpacks and let it crash to the floor beside the table. “Well, for starters you needed to release more than just the footage. Footage can be claimed fake, as you’re learning right now. But you know what they have a harder time explaining away?” He pulled out binders and folders of his research data. “Emails between employees, signed medical documents, official government documents and military projects, transcripts of audio recordings that are signed and dated. This is the kind of shit that ruins corporations doing shady work.” He let the documents drop onto the table with a dull thud. “This, combined with the footage would have won this story. But now it might be too late. It’s already being spread as a hoax, and it’s going to be damn near impossible to fight the media on this one.”

“What does this have to do with me? Wait, no don’t answer that, how the hell did you get all of this?” Waylon asked as he started to paw through the documents Miles dumped on the table.

“I spent about a month living in Mount Massive, collecting everything I could.”

“That’s impossible, the Variants would have ripped you apart.”

Miles shrugged, “I got lucky, most of them were dead by dawn. Murkoff Tactical were damn good at their job,” the lie was minor and he doubted Waylon would catch it. “And the reason this involves you is because Murkoff is going to come for you. Probably within a day or so. They didn’t publically fuck you over, they didn’t say you were a crazy ex-employee with a grudge to settle. No, they went the safer route. However, this doesn’t mean they aren’t going to eliminate a threat to their wellbeing. And you are that threat. If they have even the quarter the resources I did, which they don’t, they have double, they’d be able to find you. You need to move, now.”

“How did you find me Mr. Upshur?” Waylon was starting to grow suspicious of this stranger.

“Easy, you have my Jeep. Inside my Jeep I left my phone and laptop, there are trackers inside all three, all I had to do was activate them and I had your address. Who you were was easy to figure out too. The patient records I found had a Mr. Waylon Park forcibly committed to their care the same day you sent me the email. After talking with other surviving ex-employees it was easy to see what happened. You blew the whistle, you got put into their care, you escaped during the riot and you took my Jeep to safety.”

Waylon leaned back, impressed and overwhelmed. “Ok, I have to admit, that’s pretty good.”

“I am a journalist. Our best skill is digging.”

“Right, well Mr. Upshur I’d love to believe you but…”

“You want to see my footage?” Miles asked.

“You have footage?” Miles looked at Waylon like he was stupid. “Right, reporter, should have guessed. Yes, I’d like to see your footage.”

“Great, I’ll let you watch on a few conditions.”

Waylon cautiously agreed, “Ok, and they are?”

“First, you don’t call the cops. Second, you show me my Jeep, and third you let me use your shower.”

“Deal,” Waylon said. They weren’t all that outrageous. He led Miles to the door to his garage. “Here’s your car.”

“Oh!” Miles exclaimed and ran up to the vehicle, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again baby.”

“Uh, the key’s on the-” Waylon stopped as he watched Miles throw his arms over the car in what looked like an attempt to hug it. Then he dropped down and reached under the driver’s side wheel well. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing the spare key,” Miles said and produced a small box. “There we are,” he pulled out a set of keys and walked to the back of the car. “I always keep a spare set in a hidden spot, speaking of hidden…” He opened the back hatch and pulled the carpet up in the back. Waylon watched as he lifted a false bottom out and slid a key into a lock. From there he opened up a large compartment that had a suitcase and a few bags. “You have no idea how happy I am to see my own clothes, and my Jeep.” Miles said.

“I guess it really is your car, you aren’t lying.” Waylon didn’t know how anyone would know about those two secret places unless they were the original owner.  

“Nope, most definitely not lying. And really eager to shower off all this shit, I must reek.”

Waylon admitted, “Yeah, you kinda do.”

“That’s what I get for living in an asylum full of dead people for a month,” He pulled out a change of clothes and grabbed his computer bag before closing up the compartment and locking everything back up. Before he left he grabbed his phone from the front seat. Once they were back in the living room he tossed his computer bag down and pulled out a few chargers. He handed Waylon his camera and a notebook. “You’re looking for the first memory card, please don’t go digging around in the others. It should be the first file; you’ll know because it’s the long one. The notebook contains a few time stamps where interesting things happen, you probably don’t want to watch two hours of me hiding in a locker or under a bed.” He took his change of clothes and the phone charger when he stood up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“We have two,” Waylon said ejecting the card and putting it into his computer. “You can use the master bathroom, it’s upstairs to your right.”

“Thanks, I’ll try to make it quick.” Miles left Waylon to dig through his footage and think about things while he took to the stairs and located the bathroom. He plugged in his phone on a nearby outlet and flipped on the lights. “God I look terrible,” Miles said to his reflection. “Why did Park even let me in?” He stripped out of the stolen clothes and looked at his naked body in the mirror. It had been a while since he’d studied himself.

His skin was pale, like death, even though R assured him he was healthy. His eyes were still grey, still human, but ringed in dark circles, like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages. He hadn’t. His dark hair was matted and greasy, he looked like shit, but he looked human. That all changed when he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and let his forehead touch the cool mirror. Near instantly his skin shifted to black and his eyes became glowing silver orbs. “Fuck,” he said and backed away. Even his teeth had become pointed.

“Relax, Host. You are fine. You’ll look human again in a moment. You slipped because you relaxed. It is normal.”

“You better be right R,” he said and stepped into the bathtub. He stood for a few moments staring at the shower dials before figuring out how to get the water to run hot. Within a few minutes the air was steamy and Miles was enjoying the blissful hot water. He used what he assumed was Waylon’s body wash and shampoo. He’d gone a long time without a proper washing, sure he used the showers in the labs a few times, but there was no soap to be found and water only does so much. Dirt and dried blood swirled the drain and he smiled watching it disappear. Hopefully this would be the last time he’d have to wash off so much blood.

He stepped out refreshed and clean for the first time in weeks. Miles toweled off and ran a hand through his hair, it was silky smooth now and would be fluffy when dry. After he put on his own clothes and underwear he was feeling incredibly better. “Nothing beats wearing your own clean clothes after a shower.” He wiped a spot free of the mirror and smiled, a normal human smile reflected back at him. Feeling braver he opened the door to the bathroom and grabbed his phone, he was ready to rejoin Park in the living room.

He took the steps two at a time and strolled into the living room. He could hear his own voice, whimpering and near tears, and the cocky voice of Trager coming from the speakers. “Oh, just in time for my favorite part,” Miles said and stood behind the couch, watching the screen. Waylon flinched at both his sudden words and the footage on the screen.

“Sorry about your hands,” Waylon said.

“Eh, it could have been worse, I could have been captured by that creepy fuck with the table saw.” He saw Waylon visibly shudder at the sudden memory. “Who needs all ten fingers anyways, eight out of ten is still a B.”

Waylon chuckled, “You sure are upbeat, have a nice shower?”

“I’d prefer a nice bubble bath, but that did the trick.” Miles walked around the room while Waylon continued to watch his recording. He’d ask a question every now and again, and Miles would answer. Most of them were about what he was feeling at that particular moment. When the video neared the last annotation Miles slipped behind the couch again. He watched the camera fall from his hands as the Walrider attacked him, and he watched as R possessed his body. Hopefully Waylon didn’t catch on. He reached over Waylon’s shoulder and paused the video and closed it. “The rest is just me stumbling down the hallway, I pass out for a good forty minutes and my camera filmed the wall. Not really riveting television.”

“I can’t believe you survived an encounter with the Walrider and lived.”

“Shit, me either, but here I am.” He walked around to a different chair and collapsed down into it. “So, you believe me a bit more? Or trust me more at least?”

Waylon nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah I think I do. After seeing you with your Jeep, and this footage, I’m willing buy more of your story. So after that you just stayed there? You didn’t run for safety?”

“Well, when I woke up Murkoff Tactical had already taken care of most of the Variants, there weren’t really many threats. I thought about bailing, walking down the mountain, but I had a job to do. After all the shit I went through and survived…I’m too stubborn to give up and go home. Plus I didn’t have my Jeep, phone or wallet. That sucked. So I stuck around, kept doing research and compiling a story until I saw that the news had broken ahead of me. After I figured out who did it and that it wouldn’t work I packed up and left. I wanted to get to you before Murkoff did.”

“And then what? What’s your plan? Why do you want to help me?”

“Because you’re a survivor, we’re survivors. I can’t let Murkoff kill you, we’re stronger together and honestly, I need the help,” Miles admitted. “I know my way around the media, and I know about Murkoff. I can keep you safe until we can post the real story, the full story.”

“So what does this include?”

“We go on the run,” Miles said. “Murkoff has no idea I’ve even been to Mount Massive, unless they freeze frame the few shots you took of the inside of my Jeep and read my press pass. But they won’t think I escaped. They won’t be looking for me. They’ll be looking for you. So come with me, lay low, and then we can release the whole story as well as my footage and reveal Murkoff’s movie to the bullshit we both know it is.”

Waylon considered Miles’ proposal. “And where will we run to? For how long?”

“My apartments, I have a few scattered up and down the coast. I want to head to the one in Oregon; it’s the closest and best stocked. How long it takes will depend on how fast we can chew through this data and get it all scanned and uploaded. I’ll need to write the actual article too. Maybe a month at most, a few weeks at best.”

Waylon thought this over, “A month…” He thought, “That wouldn’t be so bad.” He met Miles eyes and said, “What about my family? I have a wife and two boys. Will they be coming with?”

“That’s where this gets tricky,” Miles said. “I’d prefer that they go someplace else, motel hop or stay with a family friend until this blows over. Murkoff will be targeting you, but I’m sure you’re as aware as I am that they wouldn’t hesitate when it comes to harming your children or wife. If they’re with us, they’re in danger, and I’d rather have them out of the line of fire.”

Waylon agreed but he wasn’t sure how well Lisa would be taking all this. “You’re sure they’ll come for me?”

“Definitely. You’ll have an “accident” soon and then that’s all that there will be of Waylon Park.”

“And what if…what if this doesn’t work? What if you break the story and Murkoff still denies it? What then? Both our necks will be on the line.”

Miles stood up and looked through the sliding glass door to the outside. “If we do everything we can, and they still try to shove it under the rug, well…” Miles paused, “Project Walrider is mighty impressive in person.”

“Oh no, you won’t get me to go back there. I refuse to even step foot on that mountain again.”

“Don’t worry; we won’t need to go back.”

“I don’t understand. How would we show them Project Walrider without going back? And it shouldn’t even be alive; you clearly killed Billy at the end of your footage. I don’t know much about Project Walrider but I know that once you kill its host it dies.”

“Once again, for a smart man, you can be sorta dumb. I thought you would have figured it out by now.” Miles kept his face turned away from Waylon. “We don’t need to go to the mountain because the Walrider no longer resides there.”

“Meaning?” Waylon asked, but he was afraid he might already know the answer.

“Project Walrider lives in me,” Miles said, and turned back to face Waylon. He let his control slip, just a bit, and his human disguise fall away. He flinched when he saw how Waylon reacted; it was instant fear and panic. “No, no please don’t! Shit, I’m not going to hurt you.” Miles forced himself to look human again and took a few steps away from Waylon, his hands in the air. “Listen, please, when I killed Billy the Walrider didn’t die, it jumped hosts. That’s why I stopped the footage where I did; I didn’t want you to see that before I could explain.”

Waylon was still debating whether or not he should make a break for the door, but he had seen what the Walrider could do. It would rip him to pieces before he could hobble to the kitchen. If Miles wanted to kill him, he would have already. The monster had him trapped. “Are…are you dangerous?”

“No,” Miles said quickly. “No I’m fine, one hundred percent ok.” He wasn’t completely sure it was true, but he needed Waylon to trust him. “I’m the host, yes but I’m in complete control. I won’t go on a murder spree like Billy Hope. I promise.”

“Why did you tell me this? If you’re in complete control wouldn’t it be better if you just hid it from me?”

Miles shrugged helplessly. “I figured you deserved to know. Especially if I was going to ask you to travel with me. It wouldn’t feel right to keep that a secret.” Miles met and held eye contact with Waylon. “Listen, I need your help, and you need mine. The worst thing I could do would be to lie to you.” Miles rubbed the back of his head and tried to appear as harmless as he could. “If you’re too scared of me, it’s fine, I get that. I can give you and your wife some tips on hiding and vanish from your life. I’ll take my Jeep and you’ll never see me again. But,” he looked away and towards the pile of information on the table. “But I think we’d be stronger together and I’m afraid I can’t do this alone.”

“Couldn’t you get one of your other journalist friends?”

Miles shook his head. “This isn’t their fight, and I’d rather not endanger the lives of the few friends I have.” He was certain he would have at least one ally on his side, but there was no way he could risk asking something like this of him.

“I want to watch the rest of your video,” Waylon said suddenly.

“Why?”

“I want to see you become the host.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Miles agreed and pulled out his memory card again. He popped it in and skipped directly to the part where the Walrider attacked him. “This is when he entered my body,” Miles said and paused the video. “At first I thought he had just disappeared, and that the pain was from the beating I just took. I was very wrong.”

“Pain?” Waylon questioned.

“Yeah, pain.” Miles elaborated, “Hosting the Walrider takes a considerable toll on my body. For the first few days I was in incredible pain, like my bones and blood were on fire. It’s mostly passed now.” He continued the video.

Waylon watched as Miles stumbled forward, dropped to the ground several times, and struggled to breathe. When they reached the part where Miles was shot repeatedly Waylon gasped. “How are you still alive?” Before Miles could answer they both heard Dr. Wernicke proclaim Miles as the new host. Then, even though the camera was pointed at a wall, they heard the ripping and tearing of flesh.

Miles swallowed, his throat dry. “I know what you’re thinking, that doesn’t seem like control to me. And it wasn’t, I was unconscious and my body was protecting itself. It hasn’t happened since.”

Waylon closed the video file and opened his own. He also skipped to the end and paused it on the scene of the shadowy man on the staircase. “Was that you?” He asked.

“Yeah, that was me. I wanted to make sure you got out alive, and that no one tried to stab you again.”

“So you killed Blaire?”

“I did.” Miles watched himself hobble towards his Jeep. He laughed quietly. “Can you believe I thought that maybe you’d take me with you? If I had known how monstrous I looked I wouldn’t have even went outside.”

“You saved my life,” Waylon said quietly. More to himself, but Miles still heard. “Alright,” he said, and met Miles’ gaze. “I’ll travel with you and help you take down Murkoff.”

“Thank you,” Miles said, and he meant it. “It’s not going to be easy, and it won’t be safe. We’ll be burning a bridge here. One we might not be able to rebuild.”

Waylon nodded. He had gotten a similar speech from the man representing VIRALeaks. “I know, if I wasn’t ready to take this all the way I wouldn’t have leaked the footage in the first place.” He examined Miles again and asked, “How did you survive getting shot? You didn’t answer. That was at least…ten shots, maybe more.”

Miles nodded. “Eleven,” he clarified and took off his shirt, exposing his chest. “I survived eleven shots from a high caliber rifle. I shouldn’t be alive, but I’m not exactly human anymore.” He pointed to the various scars that littered his chest from the event. “The nanites that live in my body are parasitic and protective; they can produce both their own cells and mine. When I was shot they became synthetic veins and muscle. Basically they held me together while my own cells repaired the damage. The process took about two days and only the scars leave proof I was ever shot.”

Waylon watched Miles move to put his shirt back on but he stopped him. “Can you…can you do that thing again? Where you look like a monster?”

“Y-Yeah, I can.” He took a deep breath and let his control slip. He could hear R whisper in his mind.

“You’re doing good Host, do not worry, you have complete control.”

This reassured Miles and he let himself relax completely. He could feel the swarm move around his body, lightly brushing against his skin and weaving around his arms. “This is uh, me, I guess. What I look like now. At least when I’m not putting on a human disguise.”

Waylon was out of words. He had questions but they all died at the tip of his tongue. Instead he nodded dumbly and tried not to scream. He didn’t want to be afraid of Miles, but seeing something so similar to the Walrider that once hunted him, it was a primal form of fear he couldn’t shake. “You can stop, I’ve seen enough.” He could tell from Miles’ reaction that his voice had not been steady and betrayed his fear. He was amazed at how quickly everything vanished, how quickly the darkness evaporated and Miles appeared normal and human once more. “You’re a monster,” Waylon couldn’t stop himself from saying.

“Yes,” Miles didn’t deny it. He had spent weeks up on a mountain denying that simple statement. “I guess I am. But I’m a good monster.”

“If there’s such a thing,” Waylon muttered. He started to paw through the files, his eyes glancing up every once in a while to look at Miles. The man hadn’t moved any closer to him, he was keeping his distance. He was clearly aware that he frightened him, and didn’t want to make any sudden movements. “I would have kept yourself a secret,” Waylon said. “I don’t think I can ever look at you without seeing the Walrider.”

Miles sighed and said, “I figured as much. But I didn’t want to hide that from you. I especially didn’t want the truth to come out unexpectedly down the road. We’ll be traveling and living in close quarters. Even if I could keep my disguise up at all times I’m sure I’d slip eventually.”

“How close are we talking?”

“Well, all the traveling will done in my Jeep, it’s not the biggest vehicle, so you’ll either be driving, sitting next to me, or in the backseat. My apartment isn’t that big, it’s a one bedroom, and of course there’s the motels we’ll need to stop at, I’m sure you’ve been in a few.” Miles sat down in the chair across from Waylon and leaned back. “I don’t expect us to become best friends or anything, shit I don’t doubt that we’ll hate each other by the end but…well that’s what happens when you’re forced to spend a lot of time with a stranger. I’m sure we’ll do more than a bit of bickering.” Miles chuckled. “Kinda looking forward to it.”

“How so?”

“I spent three weeks talking to corpses,” Miles said, “A living person is a step up from that.”

Waylon nodded. “So all that stuff about Murkoff Tactical killing all of the Variants was a lie wasn’t it? You survived because you’re the Walrider.”

Miles shrugged. “Not entirely. You saw them; they were very efficient at killing everything that moved, including my human body. By the time I woke up they did clear out a large portion of the asylum before they were overwhelmed.” Miles sat forward and rubbed his forehead. “The others? Yeah, I intimidated them, and their fear kept me pretty safe.” He omitted the parts where he slaughtered hundreds of them for sport, pity and food. Those secrets were going to the grave with him. “I ransacked the kitchens, hoarded food, and created a safe space for myself to do my research. That’s how I survived. There’s no doubt that any normal human, who wasn’t already in the asylum’s ecosystem, would die.”

“Ecosystem?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Miles said. “The Variants they, they created various territories and leaders and such. There were vague rules and a system of respect. If you didn’t tread somewhere you weren’t supposed to be you’d be safe. Well, as safe as you could be.”

“But no one messed with you, right?”

Miles smiled. “Wish that was the case. A lot of Variants wanted me dead. I was messed with plenty, but I mean…I’m the host of the Walrider, they weren’t going to harm me much.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.” Miles pulled his chair closer to the table and helped make sense out of the papers on the table. “You’ll have a lot of time to spend with this stuff, but, I do have it semi organized.” He went over a few of the major folders and explained what was in them. “I also have flash drives of documents and I scanned and emailed myself more. There’s a lot to sift through, I wasn’t even able to get through half of it before I bailed.”

“Incredible.”

“You didn’t email a rookie,” Miles said, a bit of pride creeping into his voice. While Waylon flipped through papers Miles pulled out his phone. It had charged quite a bit while he was taking a shower and he turned it on. As soon as the home screen flashed up the phone started to vibrate madly with missed call alerts, old texts, emails and voice mail messages. “Jesus,” Miles said and set the phone on the table where it vibrated away.

Waylon raised an eyebrow. “Somebody’s popular.”

Miles rolled his eyes and waited for the phone to stop buzzing. “Seventy-two missed calls, one hundred and three text messages, ninety emails and sixty voice messages. This should be fun.” There was no surprise that the vast majority of them were from Julian, with most of them being recent, within the past two days. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call.”

“I’m sure you do,” Waylon replied and watched Miles get up and walk to the kitchen.

Damn it, I always write these chapters to be too long for DA to handle.
Part Two is over here: tien13.deviantart.com/art/Surv…
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anime1addictithon's avatar
Damn this chapter was good, I am glad to see an update as I've been looking forward to the continuation of my favorite Outlast story. I had to read slowly to savor this story all in since I love your writing, and seeing Miles and Waylon finally meet was really exciting and I had to keep pausing myself to calm down. lol. Now onto part 2 of this chapter!