Standing just inside the gate, Scooter decided that Haven, despite a name suggesting a place of calm and safety, was a place where nightmares were built. What from his vantage point upon the hill looked like a quaint village of small houses, proved to be far more unsettling. The buildings that lined the narrow dirt streets were constructed from monstrous bones upon which large sheets of skin were stretched. Everywhere bones leaned upon each other at awkward angles, suggesting that a misplaced sneeze might prove catastrophic. Construction relied upon the natural landscape, and the dark boulders from his journey figured prominently in the haphazard design of the village. 

The girl nudged him forward toward a large open space between the gate and where the fleshy buildings rose from the ground.  Scooter didn’t resist, but he slowed his walk to a crawl, not wanting to enter the village of flesh and bone. 

“We’ve got one,” she called out again. 

Thru doorways, from dark alleys, over fences, out of open windows, and from beneath the ground itself, a flood of people converged upon the new arrival. The crowd moved without a sound, giving unsettling mystery to their purpose. The villagers encircled Scooter and the girl, and Scooter hoped they arrived not for torment, but to bear witness, or perhaps to sing their welcome. Scooter’s pulsed raced as he saw any trace of escape vanish.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into a Gwar concert.”  In a strange echo of the surrounding village, they were dressed in clothes made from bits and pieces of bloodied materials. 

“Be calm,” the girl said quietly. “Leena’s grork is worse than her bite.” 

Scooter blinked. “Grork? Is that a good thing,” he asked. Scooter’s stomach tied itself in knots as he imagined the worst. 

The circle of onlookers parted, as a young man guided an elderly woman guided into the space. Her posture reminded of Scooter of his Grandma Bea when she was not far from the grave; her head pointed downward as if examining her own feet, the top of her back the tallest part of her body. She was wrapped in the same fleshy garments, and with the exception of a pointy chin, her face remained mostly hidden beneath a hood. Scooter noticed here and there were decorative items made from fabrics and materials he recognized. 

The old woman peeled back her hood, exposing the toothless mouth and weathered face of a woman whose life was behind her. She waved off her escort as one would an insect and approached Scooter with wobbly but determined steps. 

But she did not get far, before she recoiled in fear. She pointed a trembling finger at the huge sword at his side. Her eyes bulged, her mouth trying to speak but no words would come.  “Where…where did you get that sword,” she shrieked. 

Scooter looked at the sword he leaned upon as if just noticing it for the first time. “Oh this? Out there,” he said gesturing beyond the village gate. “It was stuck in a skull-shaped rock. I would have left it there, but GrimLord told me to take it.”

The crowd gasped in horror. 

“He who shalt not be named,” the woman cried out. 

“Who GrimLord?” The crowd wailed once again. “He’s a strange dude. You know, I don’t think he expected me to be able to pull it from the stone.”    

“Shadow Gloom is not for human hands! It is a weapon for the demons,” she cried out to the crowd. Murmurs of agreement washed over the crowd. 

“But what if he is the one we have waited for,” the girl asked. “Look at him. He bears the mark.” 

“Be quiet girl. Your reckless nature is tiresome,” she snapped. The old woman had not taken her eyes off Scooter. 

“But perhaps we should do this elsewhere. Another time.” She looked to the sky. “He is no demon. And harvest is nearly upon us.” 

“Silence, girl. Do not question me. I have lived through more harvests than anyone in this village,” she said. The girl went quiet. “Grimke, come forth!” 

Deep in the crowd there was commotion as people moved away from something. A wide, muscular man entered the empty space snorting like an angry bull. Upon his head he wore a misshapen animal skull with two sharp horns twisting on either side. He carried a sword, nearly as tall as he, crafted from bone. His eyes glowed as squeezed the bone sword in anticipation.  

“Stranger, listen to my words for now the truth is your shield and savior. You must show yourself as a son of mankind, for if I believe you are born of demon, this will be your last living day.” 

A hush fell over the crowd. With all eyes upon him, Scooter felt like the wrong words might result in his head being freed from his shoulders in a flash of the bone sword. 

The old woman came close to Scooter and the odors of old age that followed her brought thoughts of childhood. He and his cousins would spend the summer at Grandma Bea’s home in the country, racing around the wilderness barefoot, chasing each other with branches that they imagined were deadly swords. But here he was now, barefoot in a strange wilderness, carrying an actual sword. But now the danger of wetting himself was far greater than any time in his childhood. 

She ran knobby arthritic hands over him, touching his clothes, tugging on them, flattening them, feeling the texture of the fabric. Scooter protested mildly when the probing hands came dangerously close to his dangly bits. She mumbled words he didn’t understand as she backed away, eyebrows scrunched, arms crossed as if weighing evidence. 

“The garments are true,” she announced to the crowd. A wave of whispers broke the crowd’s silence. 

“What is your name?” Her words were quick and forceful.  

“Scooter.” The answer appeared to have no affect on her. “What’s your name?”

She ignored words that were not the answer. “Where are you from?” 

“You mean originally? New Jersey.” Scooter saw the wrinkles in the old woman’s face deepen, her posture stiffen. Maybe that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “But since I’ve been working for Automatomics, I’ve been living in the Bay Area.” Her face grew dark. “San Fransisco.” He searched for the words that would soften her hard looks. “California. The United States.” He scratched his head. “Earth.” 

She placed a hand deep within the folds of her fleshy robe, and produced a necklace of shiny blue gems. She rubbed her hands over them and began to shake her head side to side rhythmically to unknown, chanted words. As the words grew louder, voices in the crowd joined. First a just a few, but soon the entire group repeated the words, their faces focused on the newcomer. The chant grew louder and the faces darker. Angrier. It was as if their goal was to drive Scooter mad with the the sound of the words. 

Scooter found the girl that escorted him to this place standing not far away. She stared at him with an intensity shared by the crowd. But unlike the others, she was silent. And then it struck him that she watched Scooter not with anger, but with fear. Or perhaps it was sadness. And as he watched her, she mouthed words without speaking, the movement of her mouth so slight as to not give herself away.  It was something she had said to him. 

“The Other Side,” Scooter shouted. “I’m from the Otherside.” 

The old woman ceased her chanting and straightened as much as her body allowed.  She held her hand to the sky and cried out for the crowd to silence. The chanting ended abruptly, and the man wielding the bone sword thrust the sword into the cold ground before him and relaxed. He looked disappointed. But the girl looked relieved. 

The answer transformed the old woman, her wrinkled face divided by a wicked smile. “Join me in my dwelling, Scooter from the Other Side. We have much to discuss.” 

With these words the crowd started to disperse, loosening its choking grip upon him. The daylight visible through the moving figures gave Scooter hope he’d live to see another day. At last Scooter breathed, taking air deep into his lungs, calming his racing heartbeat. His Mindfulness certificate earned online had paid for itself and then some in the last twenty-four hours. 

The old woman swayed unsteadily in place as she waited for her helper to rejoin her. Like Grandma Bea in her last years, Scooter knew she needed help moving her fragile body to its next destination. 

“I know you want me to join you and talk more about whatever is going on, but I’d really like to get back to Auto- I mean the Other Side. A friend needs my help. She told me to hurry. She is probably wondering where I am.”

   “Scooter from the Other Side,” she said finding her balance as her companion offered his shoulder. “I am Leena, daughter of Madrak. The ground calls for my tired bones to return to it, but my mind resists and fights on. I am the Library of Haven, the keeper of secrets passed onto me from generations before. If there are answers, I will have them.”

“GrimLord said to return to the Other Side I must complete his quest,” Scooter said. 

“Yes, completing his quest will send you back. But it is not the only way,” she said. “I often wondered the purpose of such a thing, but I think I now know. It has been kept secret for so long.” 

The words soothed Scooter’s screaming nerves and his mind gradually pulled itself together. As his senses returned he became aware of things unnoticed. Like the stabbing pain in his foot. He flipped his foot over and bent down to look at the blooded sock. He hoped they had tetanus shots in Haven. 

A shadow darkened his view, followed by a crisp gust of wind that stirred his forever bedhead. The air passing over his body felt pleasing, but the screaming startled him. He looked up to see the old woman gripped in bloody talons of a car-sized creature that looked like a fusion of bat and skull. 

“Harvest,” the thunderous sky boomed. 

Slack-jawed, Scooter watched the old woman’s guide shout and leap into the air in a futile attempt to save her. The creature carried the limp woman high into the air, away from Scooter, away from his questions, higher and higher, until there was nothing. 

Somewhere a bell rang out and the villagers cried out. Scooter saw the girl, not running, but shouting to the others. “To the caves! to the caves! Harvest comes early!” 

He tapped the comm button on his shoulder. “Maygan, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you might want to get that kitty litter yourself. I’ve run into a slight delay.”

A shrill screech from behind him made Scooter spin around, sword held into the air. There were hundreds of creatures in the air, heading for Haven.