The Regulator (Complete First Draft)

Chapter 70: James - Reflections and Climax

James looked at himself in the mirror, lit only by the dim candle. His face was dirty. Covered in mud mixed with some dry blood he’d tried to wipe away earlier. His hair was longer than he expected, his bangs were down in front of his eyes, but his hair extended pretty far down the back of his head and curled at the end. It surprised him, but at the same time it didn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked in a mirror, it just wasn’t something he did anymore. The cabin’s bathroom didn’t have a mirror, and he almost never used any of the other bathrooms around the camp.

He looked at the small scar under his right eye. He could remember the day he got it. He got hit in the face with a kickball, pretty hard too. He was pretty sure it was Anthony who kicked it, and he remembered him not apologizing. Or maybe he did? James wasn’t entirely sure.

What he did remember for sure was Andrew treating the cut, but James remembered him “treating” it loosely. A cut this bad, bad enough to scar, shouldn’t have just been swabbed and covered with a band aid. What an idiot. Such a stupid counselor, letting James get a cut like this. He should have known Andrew couldn’t protect them. He should have.

But then again, he was only a dumb kid. And it wasn’t like Andrew hadn't been friendly enough during the summer to make James think he could trust him, or be protected by him. He’d been a funny counselor, always making jokes and being sarcastic. He never really lost his temper, when he was frustrated he would speak calmly to James and tell him what he was doing wrong, and he’d rarely ever punish people. He didn’t put up with bullying either, which James saw when it came to Jaxon. In fact, Andrew was pretty good at uniting the group together.

They called themselves “The Samurai’s” and even had a cool looking flag too. Seth got to paint the Samurai on the flag, but James only got to sign his name. That made him a little jealous. He could paint a Samurai too, why did Seth get too do it? Seth’s painting looked more like a Ninja anyway, it was kinda dumb. But, he didn’t say anything, cause Seth was his friend and James didn’t like being mean to people. He didn’t even like being mean to Anthony, no matter how awful Anthony was to everyone else. He was a pretty big bully until Andrew set him straight, he picked on Jaxon the most though. Jaxon had always been kinda the weaker, pudgier, and more emotionally volatile member of the group. James saw him cry on more than one occasion. He was a bit of a baby, if James was being totally honest. But he liked Jaxon. Jaxon was a funny kid, even if he was sensitive, and loved playing games and just having a generally fun time.

It was the same reason James liked Danny. Danny was crazy. Absolutely, off the walls crazy. He’d calmed down a lot since the last good day though. James was pretty sure Danny was only crazy because he felt safe. And since no one felt safe anymore, Danny just couldn’t be as out of control as he normally would have been. It was kinda sad. Danny was really good at cheering up anyone having a bad day, James had even seen him make Andrew crack a smile when he came in looking tired or out of it. Not having Danny as happy or go lucky as normal was a big hit on all of them. And the same went for Niko. Except Niko went from outgoing to simply shutting down. James wasn’t sure what it was, but Niko rarely talked anymore. He kept to himself most of the time. He still played with them, but it was rare to see Niko appear genuinely happy.

They all changed on that first night, so James assumed that was why. The day itself had been scary. It was scary too see all these weird looking people attacking other people. It was scary when to see Andrew start to unwind and lose his cool a little bit, shouting more often than he did and seeming just a bit panicked. It was unsettling seeing Brad round up all the attacked and weird looking people in the barn. And the night time, sitting on the porch of the Shed with the Samurai’s and just listening to screams, explosions, gunfire, and growls throughout the night was terrifying. Every couple of minutes, Andrew would stand up with a baseball bat, and he and a couple other counselors would move onto the main field with flashlights. Sometimes they came back saying it was nothing, other times they found something and would try to wrestle it into the barn as per Brad’s instructions. But as more and more people got chomped and thrown into the barn as a result of that, Andrew told James they were settling for “beating the crazy people unconscious.”

James had just wanted to go home. That whole time he wanted to go home. Andrew had been doing his best to keep him calm, but James truly he didn’t care. He wanted to leave, he wanted to be with his parents, he wanted them to hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. He wanted them to keep him safe from the monsters. He still wanted them to keep him safe from the monsters. He missed them, he missed them so much. He felt a tear start to roll down his cheek as he titled his head down and leaned agains the mirror.

What would they think of him now? He was a dirty survivor. He’d killed monsters, he’d watched his friends die, he’d seen unspeakable horrors and been doused in mud, blood, and sweat for day on end. He was dirty, and felt like he could never be clean. He just wanted a hug. He just wanted to be hugged and told everything was going to be alright. He wanted to open his eyes and see Zach standing behind him, and Logan, and Brad, and Gavin, and his Mom, and his Dad… He wanted to be okay. He wanted to know he’d be okay.

He watched his counselor murder those people. Murder them. Straight up, just kill them. What was he thinking? That’s not something you do. You don’t kill people cause you think they might do something, or because on member of their group did something. What was Andrew thinking? those first couple weeks Andrew was so protective. He never let the kids out of his sight, he negotiated to let them stay with him in a cabin, cause Brad apparently didn’t want that at first. He kept them fed and washed, he taught them to defend themselves, he defended them himself. Where was that nice Andrew? Where had he gone?

Then James remembered again, how they’d all changed. He lifted his head off the glass and looked at himself in the mirror. He had changed as well. He used to be a happy eight year old boy living his life and having a great time at summer camp. Now he wasn’t anything, he was a survivor. That’s it. No other labels. You either survived or died in this world, that’s the message he got from Andrew. The training, the murders. It was live or die. Be one of the living or be one of the dead. And that’s when it clicked.

Andrew was one of the living, Brad was one of the dead. Brad trusted the Drifter, Andrew didn’t. Andrew lived, Brad didn’t. Andrew was protecting the camp, he was trying to make sure they all lived. He was trying so hard, and he’d been through so much. Suddenly, James felt himself no longer blaming Andrew. He’d lost his family, he was taking care of a bunch of kids, he was trying to protect a whole summer camp of people, he had to mercy kill Zach, he was fighting with his best friend, he had a girlfriend to watch out for, he’d killed multiple Zombies, some of whom had been his friends, and he’d been talking to that man. The Bedlam.

The Bedlam… was a scary man. Even up in the dining hall, when he was supposedly on their side, James was afraid of him. There was something sinister and disturbing about him, something unsettling. It was the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he acted. It was all so unsettling, James didn’t like it at all.

He’d called him a sheep. What did he mean by that? James wasn’t a sheep, he was a person. And he called Andrew “The Regulator”? Now seriously, what did that even mean? The Bedlam was scary, hands down. No question about it.

“And what do we have here, one of the sheep has left it’s flock?” The scratchy voice said behind him. James spun around and gasped, grasping on to the sink as The Bedlam appeared ominously in the doorway, blocking the only exit. “Contemplating the world you live in, hm? It’s a good one, believe me. Yet, I don’t see a part for you.” The Bedlam stepped forward into the bathroom.

“Leave me alone!” James said forcefully.

“No, no, on the contrary. I need you, for the blood of the lamb will draw out the true Regulator.”

James didn’t particularly listen to what The Bedlam had said, but the word “blood” was enough to scare him. James quickly drew his pistol and aimed it at The Bedlam’s head. “Stay back.”

The Bedlam stopped for a moment, then titled his head and grinned, “Cute, Lamb”. The Bedlam rushed forward, knocking the gun out of James’ hand before the boy even had a chance to pull the trigger. The Bedlam grabbed James, spun him around, and lifted him by his back with his stomach facing the ceiling. He tabbed James mouth and forced it open, before flipping a knife out of his sleeve and holding to James open mouth, the blading touching both sides, prepared to slice open his cheeks at any moment.

“Now, Lamb.” The Bedlam said in the coldest, most chilling voice James had ever heard, “Scream.”