The tunnel was winding, with cracks in the walls, through which we could see burning ruins. Then suddenly a group of people came through the cracks. People who were there back in the gallery. The crack closed up behind them, but one person didn't make it all the way and their body turned to stone right there, halfway through the wall. One of them told us that his wife had been killed by a giant creature that was tearing people apart. None of this was making much sense to me, but when we saw strange figures behind us and one of the gallery people tried to talk to them, Jared grabbed her arm and we all ran. Even so, one got left behind and torn apart.
We found a window after that, that looked out on Paris from a high building. It was the same scene we'd walked through before, but from a different angle. I wasn't surprised when the next window showed Milan, and the one after that, Djeraba, crumbling and rebuilding itself as it led people to the mountainside. Then the Mediterranean sea, turned red from blood, full of bodies.
Jared and me reassured each other. Both of us clearly needed a lot of therapy, but nowhere near as much as Vaquelin did.
We saw the Mediterranean house again then, with a constant stream of people pouring into it. An impossible number. And Marielle was there, crying and shouting about Vaquelin leaving her. We decided it might be best not to draw her attention at this point.
I don't know what was happening to the people from the museum, but there were only a couple of them left with us by this time. When Jared told me to run, I did. We came to a door that had a kind of warm glow to it, which seemed like the right way to go. One of our remaining two companions opened the door. Inside it had the look of an art studio, with a ring of eight easels and Vaquelin in the middle applying the final brush strokes to the triptych. While I assured Jim that I liked his cat and possum version better, the man who opened the door went running across the room and suddenly reappeared on the opposite side to where he'd gone.
Vaquelin looked well. There was a rattling noise coming from above, and when I looked up I saw an iron cage with a man in barrister's robes inside, screaming for help. Vaquelin's father. Vaquelin himself looked at us, then drove his paintbrush into his eye and collapsed to the floor. His blood began running out towards the paintings, being drawn into them somehow, the colours becoming brighter.
We were all sure this needed to be stopped, but all we could think of to do was destroy the paintings with those black feathers we'd picked up. I also picked up the paint brush that Vaquelin had used to kill himself. I had a feeling it would be useful. And suddenly the walls crumbled, and we were back in the workshop in the gallery. It was a mess, and there was sand on the floor and the walls were still shimmering, but it felt like we were back home.
Jim asked if we were safe, but I was sure we weren't, especially with the noises from upstairs. We had to keep going. The thing tearing people apart had to be Vaquelin and we were going to have to stop him. I still had Meri's door card, which got us into the security office. Inside was a wall of CCTV showing horrors on every screen. The creature was drawing a sumbol on the floor using blood and corpses, and the paintings were floating around it. And there were the living dead again, maybe twenty of them dragging in fresh corpses. A few remaining patrons were hiding in the offices. It seemed our journey through hell had taken eighteen hours.
We pried open some locked cupboards in the office and found a couple of kevlar vests, tasers and a handgun. As we were sharing them out I saw a shadow on one of the monitors, and then suddenly a huge weeping angel next to Vaquelin. She looked up at the camera and it was like she was looking straight at us. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but Jared said to assume it was good, because the alternative was unthinkable.
We needed a plan. The workshop had cleaning supplies that we could use to damage the symbol on the floor, which might buy us some time to deal with Vaquelin. The living dead we hoped could be dealt with by once again relying on molotov cocktails. But our attention was drawn by something outside the door, something squelching and scratching.
I had my suspicions about what it might be, so when I opened the door I was ready for the sight of what Meri Jansen had become, and slammed the door again immediately, trapping a few of her fingers in the door. We didn't have bullets to spare on this. I told Jared to get behind the door so he wouldn't have to see. Jim and me could deal with this one. We picked up whatever blunt objects were to hand, and when Jared opened the door, we did what we had to do.
We found what we needed in the wokshop, and then Jim headed for the far stairs and Jared and me took the near ones so we could approach from opposite sides. Vaquelin was still painting, with a black sun fading in and out overhead. It stank of blood and entrails, and crawling corpses were everywhere, but at least all the dead bodies were keeping them busy.
Jim began throwing things at the paintings, which drew Vaquelin's attention long enough for me to throw cleaning fluids over the Tears of Djeraba. I don't know why that painting was the one I disliked most by then, but it seemed to begin melting, and pulled Vaquelin's attention off Jim again. Jared unloaded the gun into him, which mostly seemed to make him angry.
Jared kept on firing as Jim set fire to the turpentine that the place was now awash with. The paintings seemed to be oozing blood. I pulled out Vaquelin's paintbrush and tried to tell him that everything was too late because he was already dead. He told me how he was now eternal. Pretentious as ever, with some kind of dark robed figure hovering over him. I ran at him to stab him with the paintbrush, but then suddenly the vast figure of Vaquelin was gone, and it was Spencer standing in front of me.
Back at the waterfront. Someone about that last memory had been bothering me. It felt fake, like someone was lying to me. That was when I realised why. It was fake. I was the one lying. It was my hand on the knife all along.
I loved him so much, and I thought marrying him would solve all my problems. I'd finally have done something my parents wanted and I'd be with someone who loved me for who I was instead of criticising me for not being what they wanted. Except that argument on the bridge made me realise none of that was true. Spencer was just like my father. I killed him, and hid the body, and then went home and tried to end it all with pills and liquor, but all I did was make myself forget what I'd done.
I lost track of what was going on around me. There were noises around me, and screams, but I was crying so hard I could barely see, let alone comprehend what was happening. But Spencer was still there in front of me.
I still had one of the black feathers in my pocket. Poor Marielle, manipulated into killing her husband by this monster Vaquelin. Spencer was already dead. I asked him how many more times he was going to make me do this, and stabbed him with the feather.
Then he wasn't Spencer any more, but the Vaquelin creature, coming apart while windows shattered and glass flew. Vaquelin asked me why I hindered him, when he would have shown me eternal life. After seeing what happened to Marielle, I don't want it. But the entire building seemed to be shaking, and I had one last memory of ropes dropping to the groun and men in black bursting through doorways before everything went black.
I woke up a couple of times to a beeping sound that made me think I was in a hospital and when I woke up for real I was right, and Jared and Jim were in the neighbouring beds, about as bandaged up as I was but both awake. Jim called for a nurse, who told us it was a couple of weeks since the terrorist attacks. That seemed as good an explanation as anything else for what had happened, along with hallucinogens in the air conditioning, like I thought before everything literally went to hell.
Some men wanted to talk to us. I didn't say much while the others tried to explain the non-weird bits of what happened. The men left cards for them, then asked me what I did and had I been active in attacking one of the assailants. I told them that I'd had a horrible nightmare, and it seemed like they were going with the hallucingen theory as well. Although that's when I realised I was handcuffed to the bed. They said they wanted to move me to a secure facility.
As they left, something strange happened. For a moment their black suits vanished, and strange implants appeared all over them while ancient biomechanical gears appeared behind the walls. The TV screen showed images of a strange dark city.
But it only lasted a moment, and then the TV was back to the news. It said it had been four weeks since the terrorist attacks but there were still no clues. But the Atrocity Exhibition had been relocated and would shortly afterwards be opening in Berlin.
This was all supposed to be a therapy journal to help Dr Lana figure out the best way to help me with my Spencer problem. Somehow I don't think I'm going to be seeing him any more. Writing all this down means I'll never forget what happened again. But I don't know what to do for the best, now I know what I did.
I've got one last promise to keep. Give Jared the contact details for Dr Lana. And I'm going to tell him everything. At least there's a chance he'll understand.
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