Part 17: The Puddle on the Road

The sounds of the world fade into total silence, and when she opens her eyes again, there is nothing but darkness.
Vertin: Where am I?
*plop*
A cool drop of water falls on her nose.
Vertin: Is that rain?
"The Ring": I can catch anything with a toss.
Vertin: ...
Isabella: Vertin, that's why you've gathered us here, right?
Vertin: You shouldn't be here.
Isabella: You understand what we desire most, right, Vertin?
The falling rain surrounds them. The children watch curiously.
"The Ring": Vertin, we made it, right?
Isabella: But why is it still raining?
"The Ring": Don't be such a baby, Isabella. Haven't you seen rain before?
The children reach out as they try to catch the raindrops in their hands.
Vertin: No!
Tuesday: Are you afraid of children? Or rain?
A familiar voice echoes in the darkness.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: No, I'm not afraid of them.
Vertin: Rain is common. It's always falling somewhere in the world.
Vertin: It's merely an ordinary weather phenomenon.
The maid snaps her fingers. The raindrops halt, then start to flow upward.
Tuesday: This is the kind of rain you're afraid of, isn't it?
Tuesday: Hmm, I've never seen rain fall upwards. Is this some creation of your imagination? Still, I don't see why you'd be afraid of rain falling in reverse.
Tuesday: Would you care to enlighten me, dear child?
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Ms. Tuesday, please. Stop trying to get in my head, and tell me where Argus is.
The maid ignores her and steps closer.
Tuesday: Before I met you, I never thought that a person without fear could exist in the world.
Tuesday: I've never once guessed someone's fear incorrectly, either. You really are something else.
Vertin: You didn't guess incorrectly.
Vertin: These reversed raindrops have brought utter chaos to the world, pulverizing people under the crushing wheel of time.
Vertin: You should be thankful you've never seen it.
Vertin: But it can't stop us anymore.
Vertin: Because the umbrella's here.
She opens the umbrella.
Vertin: At least now, when the "Storm" comes, I can hold up the umbrella and protect my companions.
Vertin: And although this ability has come too late for some, we still have a future to protect.
Tuesday: ...
Vertin: Why are you so obsessed with people's fears? Your hands have been trembling with excitement this whole time.
The maid clasps her hands under her chin, her face flushed like a blooming flower.
Tuesday: Haha. So I wasn't wrong at all.
Tuesday: Why waste your time with that mercenary? She may look tough, but she's hollow inside. Have you ever eaten a macadamia nut? Crack the hard shell, and you'll find the delicious center.
Tuesday: Who could resist the soft texture and rich flavor of fear?
Vertin: Ms. Tuesday, this has to end.
Vertin: You're the one pulling the strings here, aren't you?
The maid blushes as she twirls her skirt with one hand.
Tuesday: Oh, what an astounding accusation.
Tuesday: But, oh, do I feel so, so gratified. I've never felt so satiated in my entire life!
Her very being seems to be caught in a strange tremor.
Tuesday: Oh, you! You're the only one who's ever seen through me! How exhilarating!
Tuesday: However, your accusation missed the mark.
She stretches out her hands. They look especially pure under the rain.
Tuesday: You see my hands? They're immaculate—never once tainted by a single drop of blood.
Tuesday: I take great pride in it. You see, I barely do anything to make people's fears arise.
Her hands tremble with excitement.
Tuesday: Ha, I would never injure anyone. Fear created through physical harm is its crudest and most base form.
Tuesday: What I crave is the fear that lingers in their hearts forever.
The maid's cheeks flush a faint pink.
Tuesday: The kind of fear that, even years later, when they recount their experiences here to their friends and families, a seed of fear is planted in the listeners' hearts.
Tuesday: Ahh, haha.
Tuesday: I instill fear in my guests, and they become my beloved children.
In the rain, her fingers tremble uncontrollably, and a beautiful smile spreads across her wet face.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Where is she? Where's Argus?
Tuesday: Well, I suppose she's experiencing her own fears right now. Under that hard mercenary exterior, she's tormented by them. Can you imagine that?
Vertin: Sorry, Ms. Tuesday.
Vertin: But I'm not interested in this vile obsession of yours.
Tuesday: —!
The one with the umbrella walks deeper into the darkness.
The sound of birds chirping fills the air. Argus is back home—on those familiar plains.
Argus: ...
Argus: This is ...
She stands in the field, nothing but the wind and the rustling grass before her.
Resident I: Howdy, Argus, long time no see. We thought you'd never come back.
Argus: Mr. Dennis? Why are you here?
Resident I: Oh boy, you listening to yourself? Why wouldn't I be here?
Resident I: It's my daughter's wedding day!
Argus: Huh? W-Well, congratulations.
She finally catches on.
Argus: But, you really shouldn't be here.
Argus: Don't you remember? Three years ago, your daughter ran away from home.
Argus: She left a letter and then went with Mr. Shaffer to a city in the northeast, Detroit, I think? I don't quite remember.
Resident I: Oh, come on, quit fooling around.
Argus: After three months of searching, I found her, but she refused to come back with me. So, you went to Detroit yourself.
Argus: And then, you ...
Her words drift off.
Dennis died in Detroit while looking for his daughter. At least, that's what she remembers.
DENNIS
(1938–1987)
R.I.P.
But, how can that be? He's right here, standing in front of her.
Argus: In any case, I'm sorry I couldn't bring her back.
Resident I: What're you talking about, Argus?
Resident I: You must be tired from working on all those requests that the townsfolk have pushed upon you. I've told them so many times to go easy on you!
Resident I: That said, I have a request for you myself!
Argus: What is it? Did you lose some livestock or—
The townsman winks and hands her an invitation.
Resident I: Come to Alice's wedding!
Resident I: We've prepared plenty of food and beer. And we've got the chapel choir together. Don't miss out, missy!
Argus: ...
Argus: Sorry, I won't be there.
Resident I: Why?
Why, Argus?
Argus: I-I need to deliver a letter to, to Mrs. Mary's husband. She can't go herself because of her bad legs, you see.
Resident II: Hey, Argus. I didn't ask you to deliver any letters.
Argus: Mrs. Mary, didn't you ...?
Mary passed away in 1989. Argus saw her coffin being lowered into the ground.
MARY
(1945–1989)
R.I.P.
Another person declared dead is now standing before her, smiling brightly.
Argus: You're still alive?
Resident II: What kind of nonsense are you spouting?! You really ought to take a proper rest.
Resident II: Today's Alice's big day. We should all be at her wedding, don't you think?
Resident II: Oh, my sweet child, why are your hands shaking?
Argus: I ...
Resident II: Are you afraid? Why?
Resident II: Are you afraid of their happiness?
Resident II: Or are you afraid of your failure?
Argus: I'm not a failure!
Resident II: Oh, my sweet child.
Resident I: Argus! Argus! Got a message to send? Go get Argus, your trusted friend!
Resident II: Argus! Argus! Got a cheating spouse to catch? Go get Argus; she's got your back!
???: Argus ... Argus ...
A foreign voice echoes through their mouths and surrounds her.
Argus: Who's there?!
Her surroundings recede like a tide, leaving only a girl in white standing before her.
Wrapped in a half-soiled birth cloth, a lamb lies at her feet. The girl's hands are covered in blood and amniotic fluid. Her smile is as pure as a dove.
Kayla: It's me, Kayla. You haven't forgotten me, have you?
Argus: Kayla ...
Kayla: It's getting dark. We should take them back. Ain't no way they'll make it through the night out here with their mama hurt.
Kayla: And you can't see a thing at night.
Argus: Yeah, we need to go back now. Can't delay any longer.
Kayla: Oh.
Argus: What?
Kayla: Hold on a moment.
The lamb bleats.
Argus: What are you doing?
Kayla: There, there.
She kneels down and gently strokes the lamb's neck. The lamb bows its head and licks her fingertips. They're still wet with amniotic fluid.
Kayla smiles and tightens her grip around the lamb's neck. It lets out a piercing cry, sending a distant flock of birds into the air.
The cry becomes weaker, more strangled, and then silent as the life is squeezed out of its body.
Argus: ...
Kayla: Isn't it better to die a quick death than end up in the belly of a wolf?
Argus: You've got no right to make that decision.
Argus: No living thing is born to simply die. It could've stood up. It could've survived.
The girl gets to her feet.
Kayla: We can go now.
Argus: No, don't go.
The girl smiles as the long grass rustles against her flowing skirt in the breeze.
Kayla: Oh, you've reminded me.
Kayla: There are two problems left unsolved. Those two over there.
Argus looks into the distance. Dennis and Mary are standing and smiling at her.
Kayla: Kill them. It would only take two bullets. Three seconds max.
Kayla: As long as they're alive, they'll come after you just as hard as you hunt the targets of your missions.
Kayla: I'm sure you know that better than I do.
Argus: Why should I kill them?
Kayla: Do you need a reason?
Kayla: Just do as we've always done. I say, and you do. No need to think about it. Isn't that what you pride yourself on?
Kayla: A mindless tool that blindly follows orders. That's all a mercenary needs to be.
Kayla: Isn't that the so-called value of a mercenary that you always talk about?
Argus: No, it ain't true.
Kayla: What's with the hesitation, anyway? It's not like you give a damn about other people's lives.
Kayla: The only reason you can't bring yourself to kill them is because you enjoy how they always praise you and depend on you.
Argus: You ain't Kayla.
Kayla: Seriously? Are you saying I'm a fraud just because I don't meet your expectations of what I'm supposed to be?
The girl gives an inexplicable smile.
Kayla: Fine. If you think I'm not Kayla, then why don't you kill me now?
Kayla: Just shoot me in the chest, and these people will treat you like a hero. They'll gather in the fields, holding torches, and chant your name.
Argus abruptly raises her gun, but her hands are shaking—the barrel trembling.
Kayla: Argus! Argus! She's spineless!
Kayla: Argus! Argus! She's—
*bang*
Argus! Argus!
Argus: ...!
The bullet pierces the girl's soft chest. Her blood splatters on the field, dotting the grass like a smattering of poppies.
It clings to the grass, its weight causing the blades to bend.
Resident I: Oh, Argus! Our great hero!
Resident II: The tales of your heroic deeds will be passed down through generations!
Argus: ...
Argus: She ain't Kayla.
Resident I: Now, now, you're lying to yourself again. Of course she's Kayla!
Argus: It's not possible.
Resident II: Do I need to show you the bullet through her heart for you to believe it, bonehead?!
Argus: Damn it!
She loads a bullet into the chamber with a crisp click.
Vertin: Don't pull the trigger!
An unexpected voice comes from beside her.
Argus: Vertin?
How did she get all the way out here? Where did she come from?
Vertin: Calm down, Argus.
Vertin: Remember, what you see isn't real. You're still inside the motel, at least for now.
...
Resident I: Oh, here comes another little lady.
Resident II: Excellent timing. Come join the party!

Argus: Vertin?
Vertin: I'm here to get you out.
Argus: So, that wasn't Kayla.
She lets out a long sigh of relief.
Argus: Couldn't ask for better news than that, really.
Vertin: No, it wasn't.
Vertin: Let's get out of here.
She reaches out her hand in invitation.
Argus: Okay.
Argus reaches out. She feels like something abominable is chasing after her—that if she stops, the shadow of confusion will come and swallow her whole.
And this hand is her only salvation—her escape from this labyrinth—so she grasps it tightly.
Argus: She ain't Kayla.
She declares this with absolute certainty.