The Forest [septiplier]

7 - Climax?

"You are nothing but a vessel!" Dark screamed with Mark's mouth. Sweat was falling from his temples, mixing in with the mud along the ground. Droplets of water that had clung to the trees dripped above them.

"You don't even know my name," Mark shouted.

"Oh, Mark," Dark said. "Oh my, Mark. You don't know."

"I don't know what?" Mark said. His body stopped thrashing, lying still on the muddy road.

"Mark Fischbach. As if I wouldn't know you. You're my true vessel," Dark said, his voice barely above a whisper. Mark paused. His true vessel? What the heck was that supposed to mean? "Why do you think the plane went down in the first place? Did you really think it was all a coincidence?"

The color drained from Mark's face. "We pulled your plane down. We killed the survivors. If it weren't for Anti being a stubborn pig," Dark seethed, "We would have been able to get to you quicker."

"How is he stubborn? What did he do?" Mark tried.

"Well, he just- why should I tell you?" Dark said. Mark shrugged. "You're just going to die anyways, your body living on. You're nothing but a sheep herded to the slaughter, Mark. You're nothing." Mark felt his hopes fall. Dark became stronger off of that one sentence. "But you did do one great thing, though. Picking Venice as a honeymoon? Perfect. Anti and I were able to get you here so, so much more easily, and now we're going to kill you and your precious little Sean."

That's where Dark messed up. He thought he could tear Mark down further by pinning Mark's and Jack's deaths on him. That's where he was wrong. The mere mention of Jack's name was enough to pull him out of it, give him a reason to keep fighting.

Mark's eyes flicked brown. If he had it his way, they'd never flick black again.

Jack opened the cabin's doors. Only the day before, Mark had done the same thing, revealing a grotesque image of hanging corpses, blood smeared on the walls and bodily fluids dripping to the floor. When Jack opened the door it just looked like a cabin. He searched the place for a mirror, a little surprised when he couldn't even find one in the bathroom. "Guess I'm headed back to the plane then," Jack said, looking back to the map.

He didn't notice that his Walkie-Talkie had disappeared from his pocket.

It took a surprisingly short journey for him to reach the plane. It had seemed so much longer yesterday. But then again, Jack had still been plagued by voices, been doubting reality, and was feeling dead on legs. Maybe it was just that.

"Where the hell am I going to find a mirror?" He repeated to himself, glancing around. Suitcases were now backed up against the holes in the side, used to keep bugs and rain leakage to a minimum. Mark and Jack had sort of lived here for a while now, and it would only make sense that it didn't look the same as when it crashed. Jack swore he hadn't seen a single mirror, but then again... "Well that's a fookin' stroke of luck," Jack said. There, sitting on top of a row of seats to his left, was a giant, pristine, gold-framed mirror.

"That's actually a little too lucky to be, ya know... luck," Jack said, walking closer to it. He tapped it a little to see if it was actually real. It seemed like it was. It felt colder than room temperature in the way that mirrors do. It reflected the images in the way that mirrors do. For all intents and purposes it seemed to be a mirror. Jack was still suspicious. "Well okay mister mirror, I'll trust you. But it's only 'cause I have to," Jack said indignantly. He took a second, thinking. "I'm talking to a mirror. A huge-ass mirror that just appeared out of nowhere. Okay, that's enough crazy for like, nine lifetimes and I've had it all in under a minute. Cool." He shook his head. "Might as well."