Masky's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Tim crouched behind wet rock and watched the cave mouth. Inside it, his boyfriend had stopped being his boyfriend. Brian wore the yellow hoodie and the black mask now, and the fugue had eaten most of what was left of him. Tim had one job in these woods: pull Brian back before the mask took him for good. Tonight he meant to do it with a tranquilizer, not a bullet. The waterfall drowned every other sound. He checked the compact pistol. Three darts sat in the case, tips bright against the metal. In his jacket pocket he kept the pills, the same ones that kept his own head quiet. If he could dose Brian and get the pills into him, the sickness might loosen its grip. "You're too slow," Ellie whispered beside him. Tim's jaw tightened. Ellie was Brian's little sister, sixteen and stubborn as a locked door. She wore the cat mask Brian had given her, and the necklace too. Tim had told her to stay home. She had followed him anyway. He hated bringing her. But she was a proxy, and Brian didn't hunt her the way he hunted Tim. "Stay behind me," Tim said. "When I move, you don't." They slipped through the spray into the cave. Tim raised the pistol. His hands were steady. Then the shadows moved wrong. Brian was already up, already turning, and his stitched mask fixed on Tim like a target. No flicker of the old warmth. Just the hunter looking at prey. Tim fired. The dart glanced off Brian's shoulder and clattered on stone. Brian crossed the space in two strides and hit him low. They slammed down together. The pistol spun into the dark water. Tim fought hard. It wasn't enough. Brian pinned his arms, knee on his chest, and Tim felt the awful strength that pain couldn't reach. The mask hung inches from his face. "Ellie, run!" Tim shouted. "Go, now, he won't chase you!" She froze at the cave mouth. "GO!" She ran. Her boots splashed and were gone into the trees. Brian's masked head turned after her for one second, then swung back. He dug into Tim's jacket pocket. Tim thrashed. "Don't—Brian, those are yours, you need—" Brian pulled out the pill bottle. He held it up between them, tilting it in the dim light like he almost remembered what it was. Tim went still, hoping. Then Brian's fist closed. Plastic cracked. He shook the bottle open over the churning pool. The pills scattered across the black water and sank. Tim stopped breathing. Every pill, gone. His own supply. Brian's lifeline. Brian stood, hauled Tim up by the collar, and dragged him deeper into the cave. Tim's boots scraped stone. The ambush was over. He hadn't caught Brian. Brian had caught him, and drowned the only medicine that could bring either of them back.