Waylon suddenly awoke from his sleep. He had the same dream he had been having for months. Dreaming that he was being courted into bed by someone and happily enjoying the sexual thrill of someone over him. And just as he was about to feel the start of immense pleasure, he woke up. He never knew who exactly courted him—they were always seen as a mysterious, dark blur with a wide grin.

"Another day." Waylon thought, remembering all the progress he had made with his clan. Three years, going on four, of hard work and survival. It seemed to start after Waylon left Eddie impaled in the gym. Waylon had given up escape long ago—after Murkoff set up a massive sniper wall around the asylum. Even traveling to the sniper wall was a mission in and of its self. There were miles of untamed forest that still housed wild animals, like starving grizzly bears. The first few months were hell on earth. Riots and fights were everywhere, but Waylon somehow managed to thrive.

After escaping the asylum, Waylon thought he was free, walking miles away from the hell of Mount Massive. Then, he saw it: a massive wall that filled the only gap between the monstrous mountain ranges. It would put the wall of China to shame.

Waylon still had a little hope that maybe he could dig under it or climb over it. As he got closer, however, gunshots rained out across the wall. It appeared other patients had the same plan, and Murkoff had anticipated it, positioning snipers all down the wall. Waylon lost hope that day.

He stayed out in the wilds for a few days. He was desperate to survive and never go back to Mount Massive, but life had other plans. It was during winter when the riot hit and Waylon had no chance against the frequent snow and ice cold rain storms in the forest. He had to return indoors. Inside, Waylon scavenged, fled from psychopaths, and somehow made himself a home. He hid in the vents with supplies until eventually he ran out of places to scavenge. The food was getting lower and lower each day. A few weeks passed and Waylon became even more desperate for help.

He needed to be saved—to escape—but no one was coming. Waylon finally accepted the fact that no one would come. He had to do something to stay alive. It started with more scavenging, but not for food. He looked for rotten vegetables and berry bushes, taking note of where they grew. He also found a lemon tree in one of the offices and planted it in the courtyard.

Waylon grew more and more nervous when he noticed patients following him. He had to be smart in evading the patients to avoid exposing where his food was growing. Then one day, a patient who was too crippled to be a threat approached Waylon with a tomato plant he managed to grow from a rotten tomato.

The patient had trouble keeping it alive, and begged Waylon to let him join in growing food. Waylon agreed, planting and caring for the tomato plant until it was healthy. In the next few weeks, other patients scavenged for rotting plants, gathered seeds, and brought their findings to Waylon in bags, envelopes, or even in some pots if the patients had a green thumb and managed to grow something.

Waylon quickly realized patients were considering it a payment to be accepted by him into his quickly growing farming group. From all of this, Waylon had been able to grow almost a full plantation of multiple foods. His group grew huge crops of potatoes, blueberries, tomatoes, corn, onions, carrots, lettuce, and even some pineapple that one patient was able to grow. He was amazed at the vast knowledge of growing and caring for things some patients possessed.

After months of hard work and growing, the group grew to twenty people. They had their first full harvest. Waylon had to carefully control the starving patients. They needed to make this a long term plan. If everything was eaten in a day, all their hard would would be destroyed. It took a lot of talking, and even fighting with a few patients, to assert his control. He had to become a leader if this group wanted to live. He was the most sane and least injured. This alone assured his place as leader. No one had the strength to challenge him.

After all the talking and fighting, Waylon convinced patients to gather their self control and wait. He got together with the patients that were most experienced in growing and planting. Waylon worked with them to harvest the food, and carefully extract the fresh seeds from a few to get a good supply of them for another harvest.

Only after that did Waylon allow the food to be eaten in small rations for it to last a little while. After this, things began to spiral out of control. More and more patients joined the group. The planting of food became less organized and some crops failed from lack of care. The large group was having a civil war between people stealing and fighting over food. Some of the more aggressive patients began attacking the weak.

Waylon stepped aside and took a deep breath. He had to make a difficult decision. Later in the afternoon he gathered the then two hundred patients in his group.

"I am sorry." Waylon said repeatedly when speaking to the group, cut down to only fifty members. Waylon had just announced he was cutting people off, and kicking them out of the clan. Waylon knew it was brutal, but survival was never kind. If he didn't do something drastic, they would all starve or kill each other over scraps.

Anyone that was not skilled at growing, planting, cooking, scavenging, or strong enough to simply protect the group, had to leave, or stick around until they starved from lack of food. Those cut were furious and incited a riot. They destroyed things, stole food from the mostly dead harvest, and even tried to harm Waylon. He had planned far ahead for this and was able to prepare early before the announcement.

The saved patients knew the news far ahead of the cut ones. Waylon gathered them together in the night, telling them what was to happen and how to prepare. They gathered the most important materials all night, hiding them away. They also gathered some of the harvest to grow a supply of both food and seeds to last them. The strongest were set up with a makeshift amour from materials lying around. They were also given weapons such as knives or spears crafted from a mix of scissors and duct tape attached to long broken pipes. They were all prepared in the morning to drive off the most violent and protect themselves.

"Now for phase two." Waylon said to his small group. Once the clan's structure was secure, they needed a properly secured home. They began immediately, carefully migrating to a massive hall next to the largest courtyard. They blocked all the main entrances, turned offices into bedrooms, fixed up the kitchens, and cleaned the courtyard of debris. The building was officially secure. Now they quickly moved their supplies, being delicate with the seeds and the last of the food.

It took a full week to fix and secure every thing. Everyone was exhausted after it all. The night everything was moved, Waylon worked with his cooks to make a huge dinner of vegetable soup with corn bred, despite no milk available. Everyone ate well that night and were actually full for the first time. Things turned around after the initial chaos. The protected large courtyard made a perfect space to grow the fresh harvest. The fountain in the middle made a good well for quick plant watering in the dry season. Of course everyone was smart not to drink directly from it. Water was gathered, boiled and stored in water jugs collected from old employee lounges.

Months passed and Waylon began craving more in his diet. Despite all the disgusting gore he experienced, he still desired a large juicy steak, fresh crispy bacon, or even some eggs. His mouth became a waterfall when he thought of them. A lot of the cooks felt the same. Waylon gathered together five strong patients with spears and carefully crafted bows with arrows. They traveled outside the barrier through a gate they managed to unlock with a key they scavenged from a security guard. Out in the wild, they hunted all day. It was difficult, but they managed to kill two deer and some geese at a nearby pond.

After coming back with the hunting party carrying fresh kill, Waylon discovered that a quarter of his group had become full vegetarians, or at least would not eat anything that resembled human meat. Waylon didn't blame them and learned that fish or eggs were preferred over deer or fowl. Over time, they learned to make cages and catch live geese and ducks, keeping them to be harvested later, or to just collect whatever eggs they laid. Because it was difficult to obtain eggs, they were strictly given to those with difficulty eating meat. Waylon wanted everyone to have a full diet of basic food groups to make sure his clan was healthy. If they got extremely lucky, they could hunt down some boar for bacon in the mornings.

As the food supplies grew and Waylon's clan prospered, other clans also formed. More or less they each prospered enough to survive longer then usual. There were many clans and groups formed, but only four main groups that Waylon knew of that lived close. The most dangerous were the cannibals, ruled by a intelligent aggressive that killed and ate the last leader. Somehow their clan had gathered many members. The next group was called the desperate and it was made up of the patients who were unable to organize themselves. They hadn't resorted to cannibalism, but killed and ate raw whatever animal they happen to catch, resulting in rampant disease. Most of their territory was taken over in a day by an aggressive coming in through a collapsed wall.

The third clan Waylon knew was the battlers. Besides Waylon's own clan, they were the most organized. They used the stolen harvest after the cut to grow their own harvest. The two clans were on slightly good terms, trading between each other, but not interested in merging. Their clan was still mildly unorganized and followed more of a hierarchy then working together. The strongest got the most food and first dibs, and the weaker suffered from harassment. Weaker members were the most desperate to leave, asking Waylon constantly if they could join his clan.

The last clan, which was also a bit hostile, was the deluded worshiping clan that believed the Walrider project to be a god. They did sacrifices when ever they caught a non-clan member, and survived off hunting alone, using animal blood in rituals. Rotting animal corpses were strung across the walls and decorated the floors to "bless" their territory.

Very rarely, Waylon would select a few new members to join if they could bring something to the group and prove they would not end up as dead weight once inside. Some things got you immediately accepted, like a new plant or seeds the clan could grow. Waylon's clan had gotten beans that way, along with a few apple trees a patient grew ahead of time to be accepted. The other items were anything medical related. Patients arrived with small bags of bandages, antibiotics, alcohol, to offer in exchange for being accepted.

After three years, Waylon's clan was at ninety-seven patients. The clan was able to fully support and protect all of them. It was a large change from the original two hundred, barely surviving with many dead weight patients and those who stole from the harvest. Despite the massive progress, disasters could still strike. Aggressive patients that had once hunted everyone were trapped in the blocked of main buildings. Cell blocks labeled A-C, for simplicity's sake, were considered a death zone. If anyone entered the zone, it was a death sentence. Aggressives would get desperate, stalking the outer barriers for fresh meat to kill. The smart ones were the worst. They would trick the clan members, or sneak in through the barrier in the night to kill someone in there sleep like a fox in a rabbit hole. The twins were the worst and most skilled at this method, usually sneaking into the cannibal clan and picking off multiple members who got too close in an attempt to convert them. Thankfully, Waylon had night guards at all times, and had not experienced these attacks. The most aggressive break-ins were taken care of quickly, and the smarter ones realized what a mistake it was and retreated.

Waylon sighed with satisfaction with how far they had all come in surviving the horrors. He woke up with a stretch and dressed himself with clothes that still has old blood stains. They weren't his original clothes. Most clothes patients wore were from cadavers, washed first of course. The original clothes weren't well liked with their prisoner or experiment theme. Patients preferred the regular outfits that were in better condition despite the blood and gore possibly staining them.

Waylon grabbed his faithful spear before heading out the door on early patrol. His spear was made of a broken pipe, duct tape, and a large thick piece of jagged broken metal. He walked around the crops looking for any infesting bugs or missing plants. Then he inspected the barricades for any weak spots or holes, greeting the guards patrolling the halls or watching the main barricades.

The day went about normally with no issues. Dinner was nicely cooked stuffed boar stomach with baked fries. Soon the day was over. Waylon slept soundly, for a few hours, before the strange yet small feeling he had all day grew into a nagging urge. Something was horribly wrong. Waylon knew to trust his gut.

Waylon quickly got up, dressed, and walked out the door with his spear. He cautiously and quietly patrolled the halls until he saw a suspicious group of guards talking by the west barricade. They didn't immediately notice Waylon, allowing him to listen in.

"We have to tell him now." one spoke nervously.

"We're not even sure. We have to be sure about this first."

"Who else could he possibly be?! It has to be him." one replied to the other. Waylon was getting agitated by the suspicious whispering behind his back.

"Hey, whats going on?! What are you all talking about?" Waylon demanded to know. The guards silently looked at each other before one spoke.

"An aggressive is wandering the neighboring desperate clan's hall. He has been there the past two days." the guard said. The news wasn't the strangest thing. It had happened before. Why they were trying to hide the information was what Waylon wanted to know. Waylon gave them a look that pressed for more information. The guard continued.

"We all know the other groups have been getting more aggressive lately with attacks at the barriers." the first one said.

"We were thinking that ..." another spoke. They all nervously looked at each other, as if asking each other who should say the next words.

"... maybe we could have him work for us." one managed to finish. Waylon's eyes went wide in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"Are you insane!" Waylon snapped.

"He seemed mostly sane." one quickly spoke in defense.

"He was able to keep a steady, calm conversation with us for a bit."

"You talked with it?!" Waylon snapped.

"Please Waylon, you know we need more guards." one pleaded.

Waylon growled and let out a sigh. It was very rare to meet an aggressive that could talk calmly and clearly, however those were the most dangerous. Waylon took a deep breath to avoid obtaining a headache.

Maybe, just maybe, they could accept an aggressive. It all depended on which one it was. Some aggressive seemed to suddenly calm down after a few weeks, as though the engine effects finally wore off, leaving them confused and sometimes unaware of where or who they were. Waylon had seen that case a few times. One was incredibly memorable when he ran into Frank Manera while he was out with a hunting party. Frank had no idea where he was, staring off into space a lot, and barely able to focus on a conversation for long. He didn't even realize he was covered in the blood and gore of his past victims until it was pointed out to him. After Waylon confirmed to Frank that he ate people, Frank became hysterical and killed himself by jumping of a steep cliff edge.

"Okay, maybe, maybe we can. Do you know who it is at least?" Waylon asked with a breath. The guards hesitated in answering. The silence prepared Waylon for news he was likely to hate. One guard swallowed before speaking nervously.

"We … we think it's Gluskin." the guard answered nervously.

Suddenly the world collapsed around Waylon. Eddie being here was impossible. He was last seen impaled on a pipe over three years ago.

"No,no,no! He cant be, he's dead. Impaled in the gym." Waylon said in denial.

"We're pretty sure. He had a vest on, and even the wounds you described in the correct places." a guard confirmed.

"Through the side and another on the back under the shoulder blade on the left side." a guard added. Waylon swallowed. It did sound like Gluskin.

"What did he ask about me?" Waylon asked.

"Nothing. We don't think he knows you're here." one guard answered.

"We also made sure not to mention you to him." a guard added.

"Okay, good." Waylon said, trying to think of what to do. They couldn't let any aggressive wander into another weaker clan's territory. They would have to deal with him.

"... I'll go talk with him. See how he is and what he will do. If he reacts badly, I'll end him. If not, I'll bring him in. Stay here and wait. If I don't return in ten minutes, something happened to me."

The guards nodded as they helped Waylon through the barricade to confront Eddie, alone. Becoming a leader had changed Waylon so much. He went from a helpless person barely able to fight one patient, to being brave enough to confront the worst patient he had ever met, alone.

Waylon walked cautiously through the dark halls, listening carefully for Eddie. As he wandered deeper and deeper he grew afraid that maybe he had passed Eddie. Then his gut told him to stop.

He froze in place, spear up and ready. He gazed across the darkness, stopping at a strange outline. It didn't seem human and Waylon assumed that it wasn't—possibly some sort of junk or debris. He had to make sure though, or else his gut would not stop screaming for him to check.

Waylon took a deep breath before speaking.

"Eddie?" Waylon spoke to the dark shape. He didn't expect a reaction, thinking it was just debris and his eyes were mistaken.

His assumption was destroyed when the shadow's head whipped around to look at him. The movement exposed the person's shape and almost made Waylon jump out of his skin. Waylon was at first relieved with fully seeing the silhouette of a person. It was too different from Eddie's structure to be him. Then he was corrected when the shadow grinned and spoke.

"Hello, darling." Eddie spoke in his calm, smooth voice. Waylon froze, raising his spear up to fight.

please leave a comment =]

thanks to justapegacorn for beta-ing. theres also a in detail map of the whole area.

reddog-f6 at deviantart. Courtyard society Map