Chapter Text
Feelings are an essential signal for the human being. In my case, they are a weakness. Anger. Vulnerability. And worst of all, love. They cloud judgment and weaken resolve. I have already miscalculated love once. That sentiment is a luxury reserved for those who can survive its aftermath. I learned that lesson the hard way—at the hands of someone I can’t believe I trusted. Even so, this sentiment followed me north, clinging like a bad habit.
The road did not care about my reflections. Sitting on the side of Uncle Fester’s bike, the scooter wheezed like a dying cat and looked like it had survived three wars—and lost all of them. The temptation to attempt a burglary at the nearest auto shop was strong, but the freezing air began to gnaw at me. We were not far from the Canadian border, hence the reason for such relentless cold air.
Uncle Fester hummed tunelessly to some garage music beside of me, completely unaware that his choice of transportation was a crime against engineering. Frost crept into my gloves, numbing my fingers. If hypothermia claimed me before we reached our destination, I would haunt him every time he seemed joyful.
The scooter ran until sundown, finally halting in a nearby forest for the night. We would rise a little before sunrise so we have enough time to cross the borders in search of Enid.
A shape appeared ahead on the road—too deliberate to be roadkill, but too upright to be ignored. I narrowed my eyes.
“Stop,” I said flatly.
The scooter coughed in protest before lurching to rest. The figure stepped into the weak beam of our headlight, hands raised—not in surrender, but hesitation. He looked thinner than I remembered. Paler. As though something had hollowed him out and left the shell behind.
Tyler Galpin did not look surprised to see me. That, more than anything, unsettled me.
I keep my eyes on his raised arms. Uncle Fester stepped off the vehicle and walked towards what could have been a dead body on the road.
“Wednesday,” he said, voice rough, like it had been worn down by too many unslept nights.
“Isn’t this your serial killer boyfriend? The Hyde?” Uncle Fester turned around to face me. I was still sitting on the side of the hideous scooter, completely unbothered.
“I have no utter relationship with this monster. You’re mistaken, Uncle.” I shot back before he could say anything else.
I skimmed Tyler: bruises blooming beneath his collar, dried blood at the seam of his sleeve, the faint tremor he failed to control. He smelled like antiseptic and cold metal.
“Aren’t you supposed to be imprisoned?” I said.
“No.” That was all he managed to spit out. Short. Concise.
“Interesting.” He displayed an image of great control, barely.
Uncle Fester leaned over, eyes bright. “Thank me, you weren’t smushed to become my dog’s next dinner!” Since when did he have a dog?
Tyler’s gaze never left mine. “I-I can’t stay any longer. I need to run,” he said.
“Where are you heading? You’ll be caught dead in a couple of days, considering you’re one of the most wanted criminals right now.” I spit the truth out at him. He knew what he was. What he did. That’s no excuse to run away. I listened attentively for his answer.
Tyler swallowed. His fingers twitched, the slightest betrayal of nerves.
“Anywhere but here,” he said.
An unambitious answer. Cowardly, even.
“Running without direction is a waste of energy,” I replied. “Eventually, exhaustion will do what law enforcement could not.”
His jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he might argue. Instead, his shoulders sagged, as though the effort of standing upright had finally outweighed the instinct to flee.
“I was told for my own sanity that coming here would be best. They don’t want me locked up,” he said quietly. “They want me trained.”
That was new.
Uncle Fester straightened, suddenly attentive. “Trained for what, exactly?”
Tyler’s eyes flicked to the trees. Not paranoia. Anticipation.
“For when it happens again.”
Silence settled between us, heavy and deliberate. I examined him more closely then—not as a former acquaintance, nor as the creature he had become, but as a variable. Dangerous. Unstable. Useful.
“You’re asking for asylum,” I said at last.
He laughed once, hollow. “I’m asking not to be turned into a weapon.”
I considered this. Canada lies north. So did our objective. Enid’s trail had already gone cold once. Another monster in our presence could complicate matters.
Which, historically, had never stopped me.
Uncle Fester walked towards me, whispering in my ear. “What are we gonna do about this fella?” Simple. We’re going to leave him alone and forget about his existence. Except what comes out of my mouth is the complete opposite of what I intended.
“Get on the scooter.”
Tyler blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Temporarily,” I clarified. “Betray us, lose control, or slow us down, and I will personally ensure that you never escape anything again.”
His lips parted. Relief was immediate, and gratitude did not follow.
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The scooter got heavy with the weight of another body. Slowing us down by half a second.
“So, where are you guys heading anyway?” He broke the silence.
Uncle Fester kept his eyes on the road, humming to some garage band he was very fond of back in his 20s. His music taste was very questionable. He could do better, perhaps a classical piece of Mozart. Although my uncle isn't the type to listen to this calm music.
“North.” I replied to Tyler, since no one else decided to speak.
The scooter halted at the forest ahead of us. The moon went up, illuminating the dark trees across us.
Uncle Fester and I got off the vehicle first. He went to do his business somewhere in a bears den, while Thing and I grabbed the tents for our night here.
It was then Tyler decided to get off as well, hands his pockets and his fingers obviously fidgeting in there.
“You never really said why you're going North.” He followed behind me, bringing the second tent with him.
“I don't suppose that it's any of your business to know why I'm traveling up North.” I dropped the tent to look at his bruised face.
“If you want to stay, you'll need to do whatever I order from you.”
Without a word, he turns away and places the two tents to start setting them up.
We share awkward glances at each other, his lingering for a few seconds longer. The tents got up, and the silence stretched longer.
The moon had climbed higher now, pale and bright, casting a thin silver light between trees. Shadows seemed thicker, and something felt off.
The leaves crunched.
“You hear that?” he asked quietly.
Movement. Of something large. Like a group of something.
I tilted my head slightly, listening again.
“Yes,” I said calmly. “It's coming here.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened. “We’re not alone out here.”
“That much was obvious.”
A faint orange glow flickered deeper in the forest. Firelight. Only campers would use it this late at night. It was definitely on purpose.
I take a glance towards Tyler. He looked tense; something was bothering him. He knows something I don’t. Does he know what this is? Who this was?
“Talk. What is that over there?” I asked.