Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie
#154
#154
9. A Day Trip! The Slaughterhouse Experience
So, there they were, Seojun’s truck rumbling onto a pretty deserted-looking road, tailing the van up ahead. Brown and Luciel were in that one. The sky overhead was a vast, clear blue. A cool morning breeze rustled through the reeds, and every so often, the sweet chirping of birds would sneak past the truck’s windows. To his left, wild grasses, the color of soft barley, swayed gently. To the right, rows of samey-looking buildings blurred past. They all had that worn-down, empty vibe, radiating the kind of distinct loneliness peculiar to abandoned places. It was, ironically, one of those peaceful countryside scenes that could make a guy feel nostalgic for no particular reason at all.
Seojun, lulled by a sleepy sort of calm, kept his grip steady on the wheel.
He’d crashed at the same motel as them last night. It wasn’t much—barely half a day—but it was exactly the breather his aching body had been screaming for.
After leaving the haunted house, Seojun had pretty much just floated along in a daze, trailing Brown wherever he led. His right hand was throbbing again where the wound had decided to reopen, and now that he was finally clear of that cursed place, every single muscle was protesting loudly. Brown had helped him grab a few essentials from a convenience store nearby, and Seojun had barely managed to drag his sorry self into the motel room. He’d washed off the grime and blood, slapped some ointment on, and his body, shaky and worn thin, pretty much just gave out and collapsed onto the bed. Honestly, managing a shower and the ointment felt like a minor miracle. Exhaustion just swallowed him whole, and he was out like a light. His empty stomach didn’t even bother to complain that night. Not a single dream dared to visit.
The next morning, Seojun woke with the sun – or at least, pretty damn early – blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. His good eye, the one that still worked, shimmered with a surprising clarity, bright like morning dew. He gently ran his less banged-up left hand over his blinking eyelid, and a simple thought struck him.
Sleep really is the best medicine.
His body still felt like it was moving through mud, but his mind? Surprisingly sharp. And then another pretty basic truth hit him: people generally need to eat, you know, on time.
He managed to drag himself through a wash-up and a sluggish change of clothes, and just as he was zipping up, there was an almost comically well-timed knock at the door. Luciel. Different outfit, same over-the-top vibe as yesterday. But her hair was something else: perfectly styled, not a single strand daring to misbehave.
She and Brown were there, side-by-side, ready to lead him to the diner next door to the motel. Luciel, naturally, kicked things off with her usual grandeur:
“Until the sun blazes in its glory and the moon reveals its gentle face, you shall follow the divine guidance of none other than I, the Archangel Luciel! Thus, your body shall lack for nothing and remain fortified!”
Brown, ambling alongside her, just leaned in with a shrug and translated:
“Basically, don’t skip meals. We’re gonna be moving all day, so eat up.”
Seojun just blinked between the two of them and managed a slightly bewildered nod.
“Riiight…”
And so, this odd trio settled in for what turned out to be a serious breakfast. Just watching the server scurry back and forth to handle their order was enough to leave Seojun a little wide-eyed. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this… normal, this relaxed. Sipping his water, he actually leaned back in his chair, letting a wave of calm roll over him. There was something quietly amusing about watching Luciel deliver her pronouncements with such theatrical flair, only for Brown to calmly boil it all down to simple, practical requests. That, Seojun figured, was its own little brand of entertainment.
Food arrived soon enough. It wasn’t the spicy Korean stew with perfectly steamed white rice his soul sometimes craved, but after two decades in the States, his stomach wasn’t exactly complaining. No full-blown rice rebellion, at least not yet.
Then again, he mused, isn’t my stomach technically American by now? So, is it my soul that’s still holding out for Korean food?
He chuckled quietly at that one, then spooned up some corn soup. Warm. Simple. Good.
So, while they ate, Seojun and Brown chatted about this and that. They’d gotten the basic intros out of the way yesterday, so today was more about casual stuff and figuring out the day’s agenda. Luciel, meanwhile, was pretty much laser-focused on demolishing her food. Brown leaned in, keeping his voice down.
“Right. So, once we’re done with breakfast, we’ll head over to the Happy Pig Factory. It’s not too far, especially since you’ve got your own wheels. We’ll scope it out this morning, grab a quick lunch somewhere close by, then move on to the next thing. We’ll probably link up with Kira at the abandoned hospital this afternoon. Whoa, Luciel! Careful, you almost sent that flying.”
“Mrrrmmph!”
Luciel made some kind of muffled, chipmunk-esque sound, her cheeks totally puffed out. Brown, clearly no stranger to this, handled it like a pro. Turns out, there was almost a ten-year age gap between them. Brown was actually pushing thirty, making him older than Seojun. Not that Seojun felt any particular urge to play the deferential younger guy; in his head, he always mentally tacked on his past-life years, so bowing and scraping based on age didn’t really click for him.
“So, do occult meetups usually happen in places like that?” Seojun asked, absently tearing off bits of his bread.
Brown, having just mopped up whatever Luciel had nearly launched, shook his head. He glanced down at her, his sea-blue eyes calm.
“Not always. I’d say it’s about fifty-fifty? Sometimes we meet in perfectly normal spots. But then, you get days like today, where we pick places with creepy stories or a bit of a paranormal reputation. Seems like everyone gets a kick out of that.”
“I see. Oh Brown, speaking of which… about getting in touch…”
“Ah yeah, Seojun. I was just about to bring that up myself.”
Brown took a sip of his strong coffee, set the cup down, and fiddled with his phone for a second before looking back at Seojun.
“I did send a message to Kira, just in case. But the thing is, I’ve never actually swapped numbers with her. Luciel’s the only one who has it, and, well… you saw how that whole thing played out yesterday.”
Right on cue, Luciel dramatically threw back a glass of ice-cold water, chugging the whole thing in one go before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“To truly enhance one’s divine gifts,” she declared, “one must sacrifice and relinquish lesser trinkets! My finite universe cannot be cluttered with every insignificant scrawl man dubs ‘knowledge.’ I have forsaken such meaningless codes in pursuit of true enlightenment!”
Translation: Not only had she conveniently left her phone at home, but she also didn’t have Kira’s number properly memorized. Based on her vague, spotty recollection, they’d tried calling what might have been Kira’s number and even shot off a text, just in case.
No luck. The call wouldn’t connect, and the text went unanswered.
Apparently, Kira was the type to keep her phone locked down tighter than your budget the week before payday. Probably even had it set to auto-block any number not already saved in her contacts. Wouldn’t be a huge surprise, honestly. For Seojun, it just felt like another little sprinkle of bad luck.
“Still,” Brown said, trying to sound optimistic, “if she found it the day before yesterday, I doubt she’d just toss it or sell it. I heard Kira actually likes the PipiPepe plush series.” He glanced at Luciel. “Right?”
“A rare instance where Kira’s rather pitiful eyesight served a genuine purpose, yes,” Luciel replied casually, daintily wiping her mouth despite having just annihilated an absurd amount of food. It was as if she hadn’t just delivered the faintest, most backhanded compliment imaginable.
And with that, breakfast was officially a wrap. They checked out of the motel, and since they were heading to that abandoned hospital later in the afternoon, Seojun got behind the wheel of the truck.
“Hmm.”
Seojun stared at the van bumping along ahead of him and cracked his window just a bit. A cool breeze slipped in, whispering past the glass.
“A van, huh…”
The longer he looked at that six-seater, the more his mind, almost against his will, drifted back to that kid. He still had no idea what happened to her, to Leah. But every now and then, something small and ordinary, like this van, would just drag the memory back up. That terrifying cornfield. Her exhausted little face.
It wasn’t even a full memory, more like a flash. And definitely too painful to call nostalgia.
Even with his whole new “live selfishly from now on” resolution, it was hard to stay completely heartless when someone like her just… drifted into his thoughts.
Well… Luciel and Brown don’t really seem like bad people anyway.
Honestly, compared to Leah’s so-called “parents”—that absolute train wreck of a cheating couple—it wasn’t exactly a high bar to clear for looking like decent human beings. For starters, neither of these two had, you know, split anyone’s stomach open. That was already a point in their favor.
Still, if someone were to ask him if Luciel had a firm grip on reality… Seojun wasn’t sure he could answer that with a straight face.
Thankfully, Brown more than made up for the pair of them. The guy had this uncanny ability to translate Luciel’s… unique pronouncements into plain, understandable English. And it wasn’t just that. Brown, just as a person, seemed solid. Patient, grounded, and he actually seemed to give a damn about other people.
Seojun had to admit, he genuinely liked Brown. There was something about his round face and slightly soft belly that reminded him of Stephan, back in Wraithwood. That gentle, rounded shape… it stirred up a faint, almost achy kind of nostalgia for home.
“Still,” Seojun muttered to himself, “this really isn’t the kind of place I ever pictured myself going to…”
Up ahead, the van started to slow. Seojun found a spot for the truck nearby and hopped out with a bit of a sigh. The second he opened the door, the heavy, raw smell of dirt just slammed into him. He wrinkled his nose, casting a visibly unimpressed look around.
The whole factory district was eerily silent, totally deserted. Not a soul in sight. The building they’d pulled up in front of – a rust-colored, rundown thing – was just one in a long line of practically identical structures. As far as Seojun could tell, it was completely unremarkable, blending right in with all the other sad-looking places around here.
But Luciel, who’d practically vaulted out of the van, was standing there with her arms crossed, chin lifted, eyes shining with the fire of divine purpose.
Seojun shot her a sideways glance. She wasn’t sporting the eyepatch today, which somehow made the shine in her gaze even more… blinding. Instead, both her arms and legs were wrapped up in white bandages. She’d been rocking that look since breakfast, which had prompted Seojun to ask if she was hurt. Brown had just kind of laughed and wiped some sweat off his brow, totally dodging the question…
Luciel spun on her heel, addressing Brown with all the drama she could muster:
“Attendant! Am I the first to set foot upon this hallowed ground?”
“Hmm, let’s see…” Brown squinted at his phone. “Dennis and McCullan said they’d be joining us… Oh, looks like they’re almost here, actually?”
No sooner had the words left Brown’s mouth than a deafening roar ripped through the quiet from somewhere down the road. Seojun squinted. What had been a tiny speck on the horizon just a second ago was suddenly ballooning in size. The thing was slicing through the air, moving so fast Seojun could feel the wind it kicked up brushing against his skin.
Then, a flashily painted sports car came tearing down the road towards them, a powerful gust of wind whipping past as it screeched to a halt nearby.
“Hahaha!”
That laugh ripped out from the convertible just as it swerved, way too close for comfort. Like, scrape-the-paint-off-the-truck close. Seojun’s heart did a sickening lurch, and before he could even think to yell, the car was spinning in a wild, yet somehow controlled, half-circle. It skidded across the dirt, kicking up a dramatic plume of dust.
Then, screech! It jerked to a stop, maybe a hand’s breadth from his truck’s bumper. Seriously.
The instant it stopped, the passenger door flew open and some guy practically fell out, legs all wobbly. He stumbled a few steps and then just… collapsed onto the ground. Doubled over, retching and heaving, looking like he was about two seconds from puking his guts out. Meanwhile, the driver? Just sitting there, sunglasses perched on his nose, chuckling like a total jackass.
Brown, cool as a cucumber as always, just raised a hand.
“Dennis! McCullan!”
And just like that, another one of those delightful little realizations hit Seojun, hard:
His surprisingly short-lived streak of good luck? Yeah, that was officially over.