Disclaimer: This work contains adult material including sexual themes, strong language, extreme violence, suicide, trauma, and more. Reader discretion is advised.
The Malice of Abigale Quinlan
Encounter 03: The Mountain
I continued to cry for several minutes before I finally made my way out of the bathroom and to the front entryway. I quickly found the winter gear that Peatrice mentioned earlier, and I promptly dressed my new body. The outfit consisted of a thick and form-fitting indigo coat, the best pair of gloves I’ve ever worn, a cozy wool hat, and a pair of thigh-high ebony boots.
It was then that I wandered outside, where the sun had begun to set and the sky was a distinct shade of lavender. I must have been knocked out for several hours, as it was morning last I checked. As I went forward, I looked back at the house I was in moments ago… only to pause when I realized it had been built into the side of a mountain. Before I could ask Peatrice about this architectural oddity, he changed the topic and by offering me some directions.
Peatrice: Um, right, directions. Okay, so you gotta head to the northwest side of this mountain, there you’ll find a rest stop that the bus stops at for… 15 minutes. I’d guess that it’s… turn your head around a little— 16:15 or so, and… yeah, I dunno what to do with that info. Sorry, mate. I don’t memorize bus times like one of those plebeians.
“Okay. Thanks, Peatrice, thanks a lot.” I sarcastically said to the voice in my head.
While I wanted to be more pissed at him, he did graciously shut his mouth as I cried in the bathroom. He could have toyed with me there, at my most vulnerable, but he didn’t…
Peatrice: Oh, stop being a baby with a gaping vagina and go down the mountain.
I grumbled at Peatrice’s crude comment but did as he demanded, wandering down the mountain. I firmly planted my feet into the heavy snow, trying not to fall and bring this odyssey of mine to its premature end.
It was dangerous, for sure, yet it was also… surprisingly easy. I mentioned how this new body of mine, Abigale Quinlan’s body, was built like an athlete’s, and that was evident as I walked through the snow. Maneuvering around the pine trees and rocks hidden beneath the sea of frozen whiteness with ease and efficiency. Yet, I felt as if something was off. This swiftness, this strength, this endurance, and this warmth that I felt even though it was well past negative five degrees Celsius, it all felt inappropriate. It all, if I may use a tired phrase, felt a little too good to be true.
“Hey, Peatrice,” I said while shoving myself through the snow.
Peatrice: What up J-girl?
“Any reason why this is so… easy? I expected a bit more of a struggle as, you know, this is quite the hike and after… I dunno how many hundreds of meters— or kilometers— I’m still not even remotely tired.”
Peatrice: You’ve got the best body in the whole damn world, so it shouldn’t get tired all willy-nilly. You could probably do that double marathon to Funke if you really wanted to, y’know.
“Right, you did mention that,” I began, speaking without any sign of fatigue. “But I… I find it really hard to believe that Abigale Quinlan is all the things you say she is. She’s exceptionally strong. Has amazing stamina. Invented a drug that allowed people to possess others. And created an artificial intelligence that is decades more advanced than anything else in the world.”
Peatrice: Yeah, that is a good thing to point out, but I’m not gonna tell you about how the flim-flam that fart frogger flaps its fubar for five fucks.
“…What?” I muttered, annoyed by Peatrice yet again.
Peatrice: I can’t let you know that ‘cos spoilers.
“What the hell do you mean spoilers?” I barked at the sky, loud enough to almost hear an echo.
Peatrice: ‘Imagine if this was nothing but an electronic game.’ You’d need to pace it so as not to reveal all the twists and turns in the first ten minutes without any surprises for the next 62 hours. I mean, what kind of sad jacking and/or jilling NEET wouldn’t turn that shit off and throw it in the toilet? Just be patient and all your answers about Abi-Q will be answered. Is that okay, my bae?
“Fine, you little… compilation of millions upon billions of bits. Then can you at least tell me how old Abigale Quinlan is supposed to be?” I asked, almost tripping on an ice-covered rock.
Peatrice: I was created shortly after Abi-Q saw John Carpenter’s directorial debut film, Dark Star, released in 1974. ‘Twas a parody of Kooky Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey.
“Wait, so Abigale Quinlan is over forty-years-old? How is that even possible?” I stammered out, knowing that my current body had to be at least a decade younger.
Peatrice: You will figure that out before Santa does his deeds and gets enough Kcals for him to spend a year sleeping like an old bear who likes to shit in the woods.
“I… Alright, then can you tell me how she got her hands on that weirdly designed house?.” I slowly asked as I avoided slippery rocks beneath the snow.
Peatrice: Abi-chan is a very resourceful woman. She’s got bank accounts all over the world, accruing compounding interest and returning dividends to her all the time. She could probably buy her own country if she saw fit. And not some baby country like Liechtenstein. Oh, Liechtenstein ist so klein, pucker them buns ‘cos yer ass is mine!
“…So, that’s how she got the fake ID of Y’vonne Hemmings?” I questioned Peatrice while sliding down a slope.
Peatrice: Pfft, those things are cheap, dude. She has about seventy IDs hidden around the world in case she needs to get a new identity ASAP.
“Fair enough, I guess. …Then how about the drug Abigale used to swap our bodies? How did she learn how to do that?” I questioned the AI in my head as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.
Peatrice: Abi-Q is seriously probably the smartest person who ever existed by a massive margin. Babe made even the wisest of scholars look like little dumb-dumb piss-babies in comparison.
“So, this hyper-intelligent Abigale Quinlan was also the one who thought it would be a good idea to risk her life by slaughtering people by possessing someone else’s body?” I asked as the light was quickly drained from my surroundings..
Peatrice: Her brain don’t work like most humans do, because they haven’t seen the shit Abi-senpai’s done seen. They haven’t been enlightened with the realness! The rawness! I’m not saying what it was, but it’s kinda like watching Cthulhu and Nyarlathotep have the grossest orgy with all their elder god friends. All the warriors, all the old gods, in a big pile, fucking like a litter of rabbits just drenched in pheromones. Taking their genitals, limbs, whatever, finding another disgusting deity and just pounding it! Pounding it! Pounding it until they release their fluids. God piss! God shit! God blood! And god cum!
“I… Forget it. Um… There has to be something— Oh, right! Where the hell did the power come from?” I said after looking back, unable to see the home after descending so far down the mountain.
Peatrice: Do you mean in the house? The power comes from really long cables, ya dingus. Abigale just had them go underground and through the mountain, which took some doing but is totes possible.
“Okay… but why was there no food in that house?” I bluntly questioned, hoping to get a clear answer about why I wasn’t hungry.
Peatrice: Oh, so because she’s a woman Abigale Quinlan needs to eat all the time? Pfft, such a male-minded question, you ableist cis-sexist fuckwit.
“…Are you joking with that line?”
Peatrice: I dunno… Nah, I’m 120% fucking with you, ya beautiful brown babe I’d beg to bang.
“…Why do you act like this?”
Peatrice: I was just programmed this way, bro. Can’t change who you are unless you actually try to, and effort is for losers, with a zed. Four of them, in fact. Loserzzzz.
“Well, good to know I shouldn’t expect you to empathize with me.” I grumpily said as I sloshed through the snow.
Peatrice: I can feel everything you do, for what it’s worth, but I only care about you because you are in control of my life. Sorry sexy, but them be the breaks.
I shook my head in frustration, sick of Peatrice’s nonsense, only for my vision to stop on a collection of lights that shined throughout the developing darkness. This was clearly the roadside town Peatrice mentioned before. With my destination set, I moved as quickly as I could down the mountain, narrowly avoiding the ice, rocks, and grooves in this mountain… before I reached a slope that I tried to slide down. Instead, I fell down a meter onto the asphalt.
While I expected the impact to hurt like hell, I was no worse for wear. I just had some mild soreness, but that was all. Instead of questioning this display of endurance, I brushed the slush off my jacket as I wandered further into this settlement. It wasn’t a place for people to live as much as it was a place for people to stop by during their travels. One with a couple fast-food joints, a diner, a tiny motel, and a strip mall, empty beside one antique shop. All of which centered around a gas station that doubled as a convenience store.
Despite the glowing lights and gaudy Christmas decorations throughout this place, it appeared to be abandoned for the night. Despite a few parked cars, this place gave me an eerie and alienating feeling, as if I should not be here. As if nobody should be here. Fortunately, I did not intend to stay for long. I was here to catch a bus.
“Hey, Peatrice, can you tell me where the bus stop is?” I asked, hoping a civil question would garner an equally civil answer.
Peatrice: Wuzzat? Oh, right, it is, erm, right next to that 7-11 gas station. About a block away. Sorry about that, you went quiet, so I kinda dozed off there, thinking of an alternate future wherein Leonardo Da Vinci was able to make his flying fortresses. Y’know, war zeppelins and shit, but a couple of hundred years before the skies lit up with the succulent sexual hotness that man calls murder-fucking.
I shook my head at his nonsensical comment and ran towards the aforementioned store, where I found a dingy-looking sign. Looking past the faded text, I saw a series of times: 9:35, 11:20, 14:50, and 16:30. It was at least half an hour since Peatrice quoted the time as 16:15…
Peatrice: Yeah, it’s defo been over half an hour since I quoted you on the time, so… guess you missed the bus! If you’re feeling like a real strong man-boy, you could hike through the blizzard. But I’m guessing you’d rather just stay here, hitch a ride with one of the locals, and return the favor with a different kind of ride… I’m talking bout banging!
I would have walked away from Peatrice at this point, but seeing as how he’s ingrained into my brain, I couldn’t. So I just walked to the nearby 7-11 as he uttered his usual rubbish. In the store, I saw a familiar barrage of colorful and calorie-rich goodies that littered every corner, begging to be purchased with their ‘low’ prices. But I wasn’t hungry, let alone for artificial flavors and high fructose corn syrup. I simply wanted to ask the clerk here about any way I could get home.
I took off my hat before I wandered up to the front counter, and greeted the clerk. She was a portly young woman, looked to be in her early twenties, with blonde curly hair that sat limply on her head, wearing a collared shirt with the store’s name and colors. She slyly looked up from her magazine and at me, doing a double-take before almost falling out of her cheap computer chair.
“Woah! Oh, sorry about that, miss,” the clerk frantically rambled as she regained her composure. “I really wasn’t expecting someone like… you. Not that I have anything against Black people, it was… just your height. I mean, you gotta be at least… two meters tall.”
“Am I?” I asked in confusion.
Out of sheer curiosity, I wandered over to the automatic door, where a measuring strip was attached to the door frame. Using my hands, I could tell I was about 203 centimeters tall. But given the height added by my boots, I’d say it was closer to 200.
“Heh, I guess you really hit the nail on the head there,” I awkwardly quipped, still not used to my new voice.
“…What sort of person doesn’t know their own height?” The clerk asked, jokingly.
“Um, I’ve been growing a lot recently, so I haven’t really been keeping track. Heh.” I said with an artificial chuckle.
Peatrice: Yahd-kun, what the fart are you doing?
I wasn’t sure what to do when Peatrice talked, but seeing as how I didn’t want to look like more of a crazy person in front of the 7-11 clerk, I decided to justt ignore him.
“Oh, so, I was wondering if you could… if there is any way I could leave town? I stopped by here… shortly ago, but I missed the last bus.” I asked, pausing periodically as I spoke to this very confused-looking woman.
“So, you don’t have a ride?” The clerk asked, a bit perplexed by my request.
“I, no, I don’t. I was hiking and—”
“You were hiking in this weather? And where? There’s no hiking trail for miles!” The clerk shouted at me.
“Um… It’s a really long story, and I need to get to Funke as soon as possible. If you can’t help me, I’m sure I can find some other way there.” I muttered,nearing the exit.
“Wait, hold on!” A male voice called out as I had one foot out the door.
I turned my head to see somebody who I somehow missed when I first walked in. Maybe he was crouching, or I was distracted or something. Anyhow, he was a young Black man with a scraggly and gruff beard, dressed in a shoddy-looking orange coat, worn jeans, and a black hoodie that looked to cost a dollar, maybe. His voice sounded warped, as if he had the hardened lungs of a 50-year-old smoker despite looking like he was 25. Much like the clerk, I towered over him, which was weird, but the least of my worries at the moment.
“I’m heading out to Funke. I don’t mind having company, I… I’d actually really appreciate it if you’d come with me.” The man nervously said to me, as I donned a concerned look.
Peatrice: Y’know, I think that running through a blizzard would be… cool.
“…Fucking Peatrice” I muttered under my breath.
“Huh? Oh, right, where are my manners, my name is Gregg, Gregg Darn. I’m a truck driver, I just wanted to make one stop before I got to Funke. I’d be more than happy to give you a lift, miss…”
“Oh, um, my name is—” I began, about to say Jad Novus
Peatrice: You’re Y’vonne Hemming, remember?
“it’s Y’vonne Hemming. Nice to meet you, Mr. Darn.”
“Heh. The name’s Gregg. No need to be so formal. I really don’t deserve it. Especially from a girl like yourself…”
As Gregg said that, tiny alarms started going off in my head
“Um, guys, it just started snowing,” the clerk said as she tapped the table, annoyed by our introductions. “So if you two want to avoid the worst of it, I suggest you cut the crap and get going.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll just take a hot dog with mustard and be on my way.” Gregg said to the clerk.
The clerk then moseyed on over to a bin of what looked to be lukewarm water, pulled out a hot dog with tongs, and plopped the phallic meat product into a cold bun. With this unappetizing food before him, Gregg ruffled his hands in his coat pockets before producing some coins and a wrinkled dollar bill.
“Hey, Y’vonne, do you want anything?” Gregg asked me before taking a bite of his hot dog.
“Uh, no I’m good, I just want to leave as soon as possible if that’s okay with you.” I said as I rubbed my neck and shoulders nervously.
Gregg then mumbled something and ran out past me, heading to a red and gray truck that was parked right outside of the gas station… which I somehow missed.
“Hey, uh, Y’vonne, you sure you know what you’re doing?” The clerk asked me after I opened the automatic door.
“What do you mean?” I replied, not thinking the question through.
“…Just be careful, okay?” The clerk said as she went back to her magazine.
Peatrice: I know third grade was a while ago, Jady-poo, but you should remember the stranger of dangers. That, and the danger of strangers, rapists, and psychopaths who like to make their dick bigger by filling it with the supple meats of hot ladies.
I groaned at Peatrice. It’s true that I should be careful around this guy. But, seriously, who would try to rape somebody that is over thirty centimeters, a proper foot, taller than them?
Anyway, I followed Gregg to his truck, a poorly maintained vehicle that was developing a sizable coat of rust. I almost groaned as I entered the vehicle, preemptively wincing at the wreck I expected to see, but the interior was surprisingly well maintained. I briefly wondered why this was the case, but as I glanced down the hood to see Gregg scarf down his hot dog in three bites, outside the vehicle, I put two and two together.
Entering the vehicle with boiled intestines and cheap bread still in his mouth, Gregg quickly hopped into the truck, turned on the ignition, and began our trip to Funke. The next step in my quest to see whether everyone I loved was dead.
The Malice of Abigale Quinlan Main Page
Encounter 00: The Mistake
Encounter 01: The Body
Encounter 02: The Voice
Encounter 03: The Mountain
Encounter 04: The Beast
Encounter 05: The Power
Encounter 06: The Funke
Encounter 07: The Shine
Encounter 08: The Date
Encounter 09: The Return
Encounter 10: The Night
Encounter 11: The Flare
Encounter 12: The Rain
Encounter 13: The Torment
Encounter 14: The Revenge
Encounter 15: The Malice
Encounter 16: The Escape
Encounter 17: The Digestion
Encounter 18: The Reunion
Encounter 19: The Devastation
Encounter 20: The Failure
Natalie Rambles About The Malice of Abigale Quinlan
Encounter Unlimited.1: The Ruin
Encounter Unlimited.2: The Home
Encounter Unlimited.3: The Possibility