(Unedited)
He didn't know how long he sat there for minutes, or maybe hours. When he heard it, a faint crash echoing from below, the basement. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. His body felt hollow, numb, like grief had scooped out everything inside him and left only a shell behind.
Mason only counted eight, Miss Anne and seven kids; that means one is missing.
He blinked, mind sluggish at first… then sharpening. Looking at what used to be his family, Mason easily finds out which one is missing, and a faint hope blooms in his chest weak, but real.
"Samantha," he half-yells, half-says, voice cracking at the edges.
His legs move before he fully realises it, pushing him to his feet. He grabs his gun in one trembling hand and rushes to the basement door. The metal knob rattles uselessly when he twists it, it's locked.
He pounds on the door with his fist, not caring how loud he is.
"Sam! Samantha!"
Silence.
When the faintest creak from the other side of the door. Mason's breath stops in his chest. "Sam… it's me. It's Mason. Open the door if you can!"
More shifting. Something light dragging across the floor. A pause. Then a tiny, shaky voice so small he almost convinced himself he imagined it.
"…M-Mason?"
His knees go weak.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. I'm here. I'm right here."
There's a rustle, the sound of something metallic turning, and then the lock clicks. The door cracks open just an inch, just enough for one wide brown eye to peek through.
The door swings open the rest of the way.
Samantha stands there, dusty, shaking, her hair tangled, her face streaked with dried tears. She's clutching a metal baseball bat like it's the only thing keeping her upright. She looked older somehow, like the last few days stretched her into someone who had to grow up too fast.
But she's alive.
A sob escapes Mason before he can stop it. He drops to his knees and pulls her into his arms. She lets out a broken gasp and clings to him so hard it almost hurts.
"I thought… I thought you weren't coming," she whispers into his shoulder. "I thought everybody was gone."
"I'm here," he murmured, voice rough, trembling. He cups the back of her head. "I'm here now. You're safe, you hear me? You're safe."
Samantha shudders against him, letting out a sound that's somewhere between crying and breathing again for the first time.
For a long moment, they just stay like that. Mason holds her as if letting go might make her vanish, like she's another nightmare he hasn't woken from yet.
Eventually, she pulls back just enough to look up at him.
"Miss Anne… the others…" Her voice falters. She doesn't ask the question, but it hangs there between them anyway.
Mason swallows, his throat burning.
"I know," he says softly. "I saw."
Samantha's eyes well up, her lower lip trembling.
"I hid down here. Miss Anne told me to. She locked the door and told me not to open it for anyone… anyone except you."
That hits him harder than any Roamer ever could. He closes his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, breathing through the ache.
"She did good," Mason whispers. "She saved you."
Samantha nods, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I heard… noises. Screaming. And I wanted to open the door but… I couldn't. I was scared."
"You did the right thing," Mason says, touching her cheek. "You're here because you listened."
The words feel like they're tearing him apart inside, because a part of him wishes he'd been there to stop all of it, to save every one of them. But he couldn't. And this girl, this last piece of that family, she's the only thing he has left to protect.
He stands, gently pulling her up with him.
"Come on," he says quietly. "We… we need to get ready. I have something I gotta do."
Samantha sniffles and nods, gripping his hand tightly with both of hers, as if afraid he might disappear if she lets go.
Mason glances toward the kitchen doorway, where the house has gone quiet again. The weight of what waits there presses into him like concrete, but for the first time since he walked into this place, he has something steady to stand on.
Hope. Responsibility. Determination. Samantha is alive.
And because she's alive, he can stand. He can face whatever comes next. He squeezes her hand. "Stay close," he murmurs, voice low and steady. "We're gonna head to your room. You'll need some clothes if you're to stay with me"
Samantha nods shakily giving a small smile, "Okay" is all she says, it's like a whisper almost to faint to hear.
Mason settles Sam, in her room giving her a schoolbag telling her to "Put whatever she wants in it, I'll be just downstairs"
Stepping into the doorway, Mason just stared at what used to be his family. He couldn't leave them like this. Not here. Not to rot in the dark.
He found some old blankets in the closet, faded colours, these are the ones Miss Anne used to drape over the kids during winter. He laid them gently over each body, wrapping them up slightly so all of them were completely covered.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the small figures that are now covered. "You deserved better," he said quietly. "All of you."
He turned toward the back door, pushing it open. The air outside was cool now, the sky starting to dim. Cheshire trotted up to him, tail low, eyes fixed on his face. Mason knelt, running a hand through her fur.
"They're gone," he said, barely above a whisper. "All of them. Only Samantha left"
Mason stood and looked back at the building, the home that had raised him, protected him. The door still hung open, the smell of death drifting faintly out. He clenched his jaw.
He couldn't let that be the end. Not for them.
He walked to the old shed at the edge of the yard, the one he and the kids used to sneak into for tools and mischief. Inside, under a thick layer of dust, he found what he needed a shovel. The wooden handle was splintered, the metal dull, but it would do.
He carried it back toward the yard, stopping at the patch of earth beneath the oak tree, the one where Miss Anne used to read to the kids in the summer. The grass was long and overgrown.
Cheshire sat nearby, silent and watchful, as Mason set the shovel's edge into the dirt and pushed down with his boot. The sound of soil breaking filled the air steady, rhythmic, and final.
Each scoop of earth was heavy, but he didn't stop. Not even when his arms trembled, not even when the sweat mixed with tears on his face. He kept digging because it was all he could do. Because they deserved that much.
"I'll make sure you're remembered."
He lifted the shovel again, the motion slower but certain.
"Mason?"
Mason looks up to see Samantha now standing in front of him; he manages to give her a smile. "Hey kid all packed up?"
She doesn't answer just looks down at the hole he's digging, "Can i help?"
His first instinct was to immediately say no, but she needs this just like he does. "Yeah, Sam you can help, grab a shovel"
The rest of the hole is done in silence, it wasn't to deep but with was wide enough to fit their entire family in. So even in death they'll all be together.
He stood beside Samantha, looking at the shrouded shapes, eight bodies, small and still. Miss Anne. Seven kids. His family.
Mason swallowed, throat raw.
"You ready?" He whispered.
Samantha didn't answer at first. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, eyes red but steady. "Yeah" she murmured.
Mason nodded.
One by one, they lifted each body gently and carefully then lowered it into the grave. Samantha helped where she could, though her hands trembled every time she touched the sheets.
Mason worked slow, treating every body like it might wake up if he wasn't careful. He whispered small apologies under his breath. When Miss Anne's body was the last one left, Samantha stood a little closer to him.
Mason placed his hand on the shroud, breathing in deeply.
"She… she took care of us," he said, voice cracking. "When nobody else would. She kept this place together when the whole world was comin' apart. She saved lives. She saved mine… and she saved Sam's. She didn't deserve any of this."
His vision blurred. He cleared his throat roughly and kept going.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here. I really am. But I'm gonna keep going. I'm gonna look after what's left. You hear me? I ain't quittin'. Not ever."
He looked at Samantha.
"Wanna say somethin'?"
Samantha hesitated… then stepped forward.
"Miss Anne used to… hum to me, when I couldn't sleep." Her voice shook. "And… and she always said we were a family. Not by blood. But because we cared." She sniffed hard, pressing her sleeve to her face. "I don't wanna forget her. Or the others"
Mason rested a hand on her shoulder. "They won't be."
Together, they lowered Miss Anne into the grave.
~End