Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 42: Behind Them

Dylan gently turned her over, his trembling hands sliding under Élisa’s neck. She was hot... too hot. Her forehead burned, her lips moved without sound.

"No no no..." he muttered. "Not now, fuck, not here..."

He brought his ear close to her mouth — she was breathing, barely, panting like a dying animal. But her eyes? Closed. Impossible to tell if she was dreaming... or delirious.

Maggie stood still, on high alert, hands clenched around her weapon. She scanned the clearing; every blade of grass looked suspicious.

"Nothing around. No movement. Not a sound. Dylan... there’s nothing."

But Dylan only heard his own blood pounding in his temples. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts racing.

"Was it the heat? Poisoning? A magical attack?"

He didn’t know her that well, but he knew Élisa wasn’t the type to collapse like this. Even tired, even hurt. She was the grit-your-teeth-and-keep-going type.

He glanced at the half-empty water bottle still in Élisa’s hand.

"No..." he thought. "It can’t be that. Or maybe... shit, it’s this clearing. It’s her."

"Maggie, cover me. If anything moves, shoot, okay?"

She nodded without argument, brows furrowed.

Dylan rifled through the bag in a panic, spilling its contents into the grass. He grabbed one of the last clean rags, soaked a corner in the remaining water, and started dabbing Élisa’s forehead.

"Hey. Stay with us. Come on." His voice cracked, anger lacing his tone.

"Don’t do this. Not you."

He didn’t dare say it aloud, but a deep, gut-level panic clawed at him:

"What the hell’s happening to her?"

And then...

A high-pitched sound cut through the silence.

Criiick. Criiick.

Dylan froze. Maggie slowly turned her head, weapon raised, her body stiffening.

It wasn’t a cricket. Not exactly.

It was too metallic, too rhythmic. Like a mechanism starting up.

Criiick... crick crick crick...

The sound was getting closer.

"You hear that?" Maggie whispered, now with her back to Dylan, slowly turning.

She tried to locate the source, but the sound seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Dylan didn’t answer. He crouched lower over Élisa, instincts on edge, eyes sweeping the clearing.

The wind had stopped. Even the grass had stilled.

And then, a faint vibration. Barely there, but enough for Dylan to feel it through his knees pressed to the earth.

As if... something was coming from far away. Something heavy. Something massive.

He glanced at Maggie.

"Get ready to run."

"To where?" she asked, her voice dry and tense.

He pointed with his chin toward the trees on the horizon, barely visible past the tall grass.

"Over there. We’re not staying in this goddamn clearing if this thing moves."

Then, Élisa jerked. A short, sharp spasm — her fingers clenched.

"She’s back!" Dylan shouted, but his voice was drowned by another sound.

CRICK.

This time louder. Closer.

And this time, it wasn’t alone.

Other noises rose from the grass. Rustling, clicking, heavy thuds.

As if the clearing itself... was breathing.

They didn’t wait long.

Dylan grabbed Élisa like a sack of grain — not gently, just urgently — and hoisted her over his shoulder.

She let out a faint groan, unconscious or maybe barely awake, but Dylan didn’t stop to check.

"We’re out of here!" he yelled.

Maggie didn’t argue. She pivoted, weapon in hand, and ran beside him, lungs burning, legs already aching.

Each step sent dry grass flying around them.

But what chased them...

Crick... CRICK... CRICK CRICK CRICK.

It was following.

Not a creature.

Not footsteps.

Just... sounds.

As if something was crawling through the clearing. Something long. Invisible.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. Nothing.

But the grass... was moving.

In waves.

As if something massive, buried beneath the surface, slithered through the roots.

"Faster!" Dylan shouted, his voice ragged from the effort.

He felt Élisa bouncing on his back, limp like a ragdoll, but he couldn’t let go.

Their only goal: the trees.

The damn trees.

Ironic — not long ago, they were doing everything to avoid them. Now they were running straight for them.

They never seemed to get closer. Each stride drained them more, yet the trees stayed fixed, like part of a different reality.

And just as they thought they were reaching safer ground —

CRACK.

Right in front of them, about ten meters ahead, the grass parted suddenly.

No creature.

No figure.

Just a perfect circle, formed in an instant.

As if the ground had opened for a moment.

Maggie skidded to a stop.

Dylan braked, nearly stumbling.

Silence returned.

Just one breath, deep and not theirs.

They had no choice. They couldn’t just stand there, staring at that bare patch of ground like two rabbits before a pit.

Going straight meant tempting fate. Turning back meant diving into something worse.

The crawling wave behind them. That breath ahead.

They were trapped between things they couldn’t even see.

"Left!" Dylan barked, lungs on fire.

Maggie leapt without hesitation, and they started circling the hole, diving into a denser patch of terrain. The grass here clung to their legs, scratched their calves — like it didn’t want them to leave.

Élisa groaned. A short, muffled sound.

Dylan tightened his grip, ignoring the protests of his back.

Her body burned against his through his clothes.

"Hang in there..." he muttered.

And then, again — Crick... crick crick crick— right behind them.

Closer.

The waves of grass... were speeding up.

Maggie turned her head briefly. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her face said everything: we’re being followed. Really close.

Then a sharper crack.

The sound of wood breaking.

To their right.

A tree.

It had just fallen — alone, without warning.

It collapsed slowly, like pushed by a giant hand, and hit the ground with a dull thud.

Dylan cursed under his breath.

"This is impossible..."

And then, something brushed his foot.

Not a branch.

Not a root.

Something cold. Alive.

He leapt forward, nearly losing his balance.

Maggie saw him stumble.

"You felt that?"

"Yeah... and I don’t wanna know what it was."

They ran again. Faster, despite the pain, despite the weight.

The trees were close now. Really close.

The edge of the clearing was there. Finally. Within reach.

But just before they reached the first root—

A sound. One sound. Louder than all the others.

CRRRRRAAAAAAAAACK.

Behind them.

They didn’t look back.

They didn’t need to.

That sound... stayed behind them.