Single pitch shed

Part 6
Kathy Evenson, Profe-Oh Shit!
Somewhere in the ruins of an ancient city in the Seventh World
"Run!" Kells shouted as the massive creature rose to its full height. Kathy turned and followed, operating mostly by dint of her instinctive reaction to the authority in his barked command. Kells didn't hesitate, taking off in the opposite direction from the thing, only glancing over his shoulder to ensure that Kathy was on his heels as he sheathed his weapons.
That didn't last long. With the magically-wrought enhancements to her body, she quickly overtook him and then slowed to keep pace. As they ran, she kept thinking 'you don't have to outrun the bear, you only have to outrun the other guy.'
The thoughts made her mad. Mostly at herself, for having them. She had been trained to be mercenary by The Company, but she had never abandoned her morals entirely. She had seen with her own eyes, countless times, that Jerry was able to stick to his morals, and still be one of the most powerful forces in the world. She was bound and determined to follow that example. It was the very reason she admired him in the first place.
The creature behind them made strange, high-pitched groans as it shook off rubble and gave chase to the prey that had disturbed its slumber. Something about the sounds triggered some recognition, but she was too busy escaping to spend much effort recalling where she'd heard them before.
They ran down a small street, then at her urging, turned between two dilapidated, multistory, wood-framed house whose wooden fence had long since collapsed and rotted away, following it into an alley that ran perpendicular to the road.
"Why?" Kells panted as they turned onto the alley.
"I doubt we can outrun it!" Kathy shouted back. "Better to try and lose it!" She kept an eye open for another chance to change their vector, and found it in the form of a three-story brick building that was still mostly intact. She turned right again, and then left at the next street.
Thunderous footsteps sounded behind them, causing Kells to put on a burst of speed. Kathy easily kept up, her mind racing, searching for options. She had just about decided to try and get some distance, and then try Jerry's Magic Bullet spell on the thing. It would mean a world of pain for her, but she figured that if it could kills a primordial, it could kill a giant, zombie spider.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a massive foot slamming into the ground just a few dozen feet behind them. The thunk of impact shook the ground, almost enough to make them both stumble. Acting, again on instinct, she eyed a point several hundred yards up the road and reached out, snatching Kells' arm and then teleporting them there.
"What in creation were that?!" Kells exclaimed as the whole world shifted abruptly around him. She hadn't gotten the elevation quite right, and they appeared a few inches off the ground, breaking their momentum. Both of them stumbled and scrambled to regain their balance.
"I teleported us further away!" Kathy shouted back.
"Teleported?!" Kells balked as they finally got their feet moving again.
"Yeah, you know!" Kathy explained. "One second we're here, the next, there!"
"Well teleport us back t'town, then!"
Kathy laughed. "Where's the fun in that!"
"Kath, I swear by all th'gods, I'll strip nekked and let ye ride me aroun' th'town like a pony, iffen ye jest bring us back there!"
Kathy laughed again. "You're a dirty old man, Kells!"
"Dirty, aye, but I'm still young!" he protested. "But I'd like to be old one day! So bring us back!"
Kathy slowed and turned, instead.
She could see the walker clearly now. And she understood why she'd recognized those noises. She'd only ever heard them in movies, but it seems the movies had been right.
Instead of the giant, zombified spider that Kells had described, she was looking at an enormous, steampunk, robot spider, draped in junk that resembled torn skin and severed sinews and veins. Tarps and tents were draped over its rusting, metal frame. Tubes that had once carried hydraulic fluids now flopped around, severed, dripping red liquids. Oils and dirt had stained it, resembling sores.
As she watched, the thing spotted them, a pair of obvious camera lenses turning towards them on its massive head and spinning to bring them into focus. Where its mouth should have been was a dense forest of protuberences, tubes, antennae and other equipment. Some of that equipment began to move, and Kathy recognized the pre-spin of miniguns.
"Cover!" she shouted, shoving Kells towards the closest tumble of fallen structure, a large and uneven mass of bricks. They had barely gotten behind it when the guns opened up, a ripping roar that thundered through the air and tore up the street where they'd been standing.
"Stars an' stones!" Kells swore.
"I wonder how much ammo it has left," Kathy mumbled to herself. But it was kind of a moot question. It clearly had some ammo left, and her only real plan to deal with it didn't involve fighting a war of attrition.
"I need you to distract it," she told Kells.
"Ye need t'get yer head checked!" he shot back. "We're both dead, Kath! I've ne'er even heard o' one who faced a walker an' lived t'tell the tale!"
"Then what difference does it make whether you distract it or not?!" Kathy demanded. Kells opened his mouth to argue, then paused, tilted his head thoughtfully to one side and closed his mouth. After a second, he shrugged at the same moment that the guns stopped firing.
"What d'ye need me to do?"
"Just run for it. I'll find you after I kill this thing."
Kells nodded, then stopped, his eyes widening yet again. "Kill it? Are ye daft?"
Kathy winked at him. "Yes, but that's beside the point. I hope you have a kink for strong women, otherwise you're about to feel real self conscious."
Kells stared, shaking his head sadly. "Well," he said philosophically after a moment. "Iffen I'm t'die today, at least y'seem like to entertain me." He started to straighten up, then paused.
"Yer sure ye dinnae want t'jest teleport us home?" he asked.
"If this doesn't work, that's plan B," Kathy assured him. Kells shook his head again, then stood.
"Hoy, ye attercop!" Kells shouted, jumping up and down, waving his arms. "Ye lazy lob! Blasted crazy cob! Come an' get me, ye old tomnoddy!"
Kathy peeked over the pile of bricks to see the beast turn its cameras towards Kells. "Oh shite," he muttered, turning and running as fast as he could down the road, away from the walker. Massive, spider-like legs began to stomp, the thing rushing forward with incredible speed.
Kathy drew in the magics she would need, her mind recalling the instructions Jerry had given her. Magical capacitors came first, and then she set up streamers of energy to charge them. More magic flowed into her, forming crawling, multicolored arcs of energy across her skin. Her skin began to glow with an intense, golden light.
She pushed and pushed, hoping Kells would survive long enough. It took her longer than it would have taken Jerry, because she had fewer wells. But she had great control over those wells, having studied at the elbow of the greatest wizard in the world, so she knew it could be done.
She formed the magic into a dense, impenetrable shell around her. Denser than lead, it pulled her body out with its mass, and caused the rubble to shift and roll towards her, purely from the gravity of it.
When she felt she was close, she rose into the air, letting the relatively minuscule expenditure of energy it took to do it come from the magic she was drawing in. She rose like a shining star, casting a golden and multicolored glow across the ruined landscape around her. She could see Kells, a hundred yards away, as he stopped, turned and stared in awe.
"All right," she said. "Time for the cosmic money shot."
She angled herself at the beast and released the capacitors, which had been charging the whole time. She braced herself against the inner walls of her magic as she shot off at incredible speed. The impact was almost unnoticeable at first, but she felt the pain as her own body tore through the giant robotics, breaking steel and wood and leather, ripping rubber hoses and sending debris rocketing away from her with the force.
She cried out as the beast exploded, the agony reaching throughout her own body. She lost control, tumbling and falling, striking the ground in a powerful impact as broken pieces rained down around her. She tumbled, skin tearing against the rough ground, bones snapping as she struck rock after rock.
Finally, she came to a halt. She lay there, on her back, staring up at the sky. She simply breathed, great gasping breaths as her body began the laborious process of stitching itself back together.
----
Kells, A Man of Good Mores and a Solid Caravaner
Somewhere in the ruins of an ancient city in the Seventh World
Kells ran for his life as the walker began to stomp after him. Behind him, where he had left Kath, he heard a strange crackling sound, but he did not dare to take his eyes off the ground in front of him. It was only as the crackling sound got louder and louder that he realized it didn't matter. He was dead, no matter what. He might as well satisfy his curiosity about how Kath thought she could hurt the beast.
He turned, and the first thing he noticed was the light. It trended towards a golden light, but it changed colors a lot. It was coming from the little alley where he and Kath had hidden from the fire the walker had spat at them, and it played out over the nearby ruins.
Kells slowed and stopped, his attention grabbed by this curious phenomenon. As he watched, the light rose, and then Kath appeared, floating up above the ruins. She was the source of the light. Her skin and clothes glowed with a brilliant golden light as rainbow-colored lightning crackled all around her. Kells felt his jaw drop.
He'd never seen anything like this before. He'd seen a few wizards conjure fire, or vanish into mid-air before. But he'd seen fire and empty space. This glow and the lightning... He began to wonder how much power it took to be so showy with magic.
She spoke after a few seconds. "All right. Time for the cosmic money shot," she said, words that echoed through the ruins in a reverberation of power. Kells barely had time to wonder what they meant when she rocketed off towards the walker at a speed that boggled his mind.
The creature simply exploded. Kells watched in slack-jawed amazement as the golden glow lanced through the beast, causing its torso to balloon and the disintegrate. Chunks of the beast, bleeding black and red blood, flew everywhere.
As they began to rain down, Kells realized that it wasn't bloody flesh, but metal and wood and that strange, dark material that had survived so well from the time of the ancestors. He picked up a piece, still hot from the explosion as the walker's body fell in three pieces, crashing to the ground.
It was some sort of device. He couldn't make heads or tails of it, but it was not flesh and blood, that much was certain. He wondered if that was what gave the walkers their strength. They were made out of sterner stuff.
After a few moments of examining the piece, he dropped it. He had seen the glow rocket through the walker, and then arc down to the ground, so he began moving to that point. He'd made quite a good clip, running in terror. Now, guided by awe and disbelief, he took his time, walking. It took a few minutes, but he found the point.
It was a crater, smashed into the ground. In the distance, he saw another crater, then a third, all in a straight line. Wondering if Kath had survived left a sinking feeling in his stomach, but if she had, he would not be the one to abandon her here. He followed the line of craters.
They grew closer and closer together, until finally, they turned into a groove, blasted into the ground. It ran for almost four hundred feet before it finally stopped at a building with thick walls.
She was there. Laying flat on her back, her chest heaving. Her clothes were torn and shredded, her flesh covered in thin trails of blood, as if she'd been injured, though he saw no signs of any wounds.
"K-Kath?" he asked tentatively. A pained groan greeted him. After a second, she raised her head and met his eyes.
"That sucked so much," she said. Kells couldn't help himself. He began to laugh. She joined him, wincing as she chuckled.
----
Sookie, Still Sad-ish
TacFab Showroom, Denver, CO "Take PRIDE in Your Tactical Gear!"
"It's a little tight," Sookie said, eyeing the plastic buckles on her shoulders and at either side of the front.
"That's a good thing," Linda replied, though she adjusted the velcro at Sookie's back to loosen it some. "You don't want it to be shifting around when you're moving. Turn around, let me see."
Sookie raised her arms and did a slow pirouette. Linda nodded thoughtfully, the elbow of one arm propped in her other hand, one finger tapping at her chin.
"That's good. Now, we gotta find plates."
"Aren't they all the same?" Sookie asked.
"No way, girl. There's a whole rainbow of choices." Linda took her hand and led her to a glass counter with a series of various home-plate-shaped things in it.
"Okay, so we've got soft armor, which is a mix of ballistic cloth, silk, PVC and other stuff. Then you've got steel, ceramic, arkanite alloy and spiritbone. They're graded on a scale that's kinda confusing. Three-A is the soft armor. It can usually stop any handgun round, except for the armor-penetrating ones. Then there's level three, which is better, and can stop some rifle rounds, up to about a full-size rifle round, like a three-oh-eight. There's level three-plus, which isn't an official term, but it means it can stop most full-size rifle rounds, except for AP stuff. Then there's the level four stuff, which will stop almost anything except for the biggest AP rounds. Finally, there's the M stamp, which means it's resistant to magic. The M comes with a number from one to ten, with a one meaning that anyone trying to cast a spell on the armor itself will fail. A ten means that it'll defeat most any magic cast on you, while you're wearing it."
"Uhh," Sookie said. That was a lot to take in. Linda smiled.
"I got you, girl. What you're gonna want is what I call a triple-stack. Get an arkanite-alloy level four-M-nine plate, then layer level three-A-M-two soft armor over top. Together, it's about a half-inch thick. Then you add a trauma pad behind it and you're about as protected as you can get."
"Okay," Sookie said. She still didn't know what it all meant, but the process of shopping for armor was getting to her. She was thinking about armor ratings and fits and kevlar and arkanite alloys, instead of thinking about him.
"Right here," Linda said, pointing to one that looked like an elongated baseball home plate. "That's a swimmer's cut, which you'll want to maintain as much movement as possible. I know you have that mace and stuff you sometimes use. This'll keep the armor from getting in your way."
A clerk approached. "Good morning, ladies. Something I can help you with?"
Linda pointed to the plate again. "That's a four-M-nine, right?" The clerk glanced down.
"Yes, it is. That's the Steel Series five-oh-two, it's actually on sale right now... One second." He walked over to one of the registers behind the counter and tapped the screen a few times before beaming a broad salesman's smile at them. "It's thirty-five percent off."
"We'll take two," Linda said. "One multicurved swimmer's cut, one single-curved flat cut. Plus matching three-A-M-two soft plates and trauma plates."
"Of course!" the clerk said, scurrying to gather it all up. "Will you be needing side plates? That Spartan series carrier you're wearing accepts them."
"Yup," Linda confirmed. "Same mix for those, too."
The clerk happily complied, no doubt imagining the commission he would make off the purchase of a full set of body armor. Once he had everything, Linda had Sookie take off the vest, and then began stuffing the plates inside the pockets. When she was done, she handed the whole affair back.
Sookie took it, immediately feeling the weight as it dragged her arms down. "Wow, that's heavy," she said. "Isn't this going to tire me out really quickly?"
"It's extra weight, so it will tire you out some more, but it's a lot easier to carry once you get it on. Let me help you..."
Linda showed her how to use the quick-release buckles on the sides and shoulders to quickly get in. Once the weight settled in on her shoulders, Sookie found it to be a lot more manageable than when she was holding it up with her arms.
"What do you think now?" Linda asked. Sookie windmilled her arms, twisted her hips, and stretched out in a few different ways.
"It's actually pretty comfortable," she said. "You loosened it earlier to make room for the plates, right?"
"That's right," Linda said, eyeing her. "It's sitting very nicely."
"So is that it?" Sookie asked, actually feeling a little disappointed that the shopping trip would be over so soon.
Linda laughed. "Not even close. We need to get you an IFAK, an assault pack, an admin pouch and the most important thing of all: morale patches."
"Morale patches?" Sookie asked. Linda grinned. "Yeah, you're gonna love that part."
----
Emily Windham, Wizard, Artificer... And War-Wizard
The Divine Crisis Management Group Regional Headquarters, Denver, CO
Emily looked at the forms on her tablet for a long moment. Specifically, the bottom line.
"...the opinion of the test-giver that Miss Windham has all of the necessary qualities to be an excellent war-wizard. My recommendation is to quickly deploy her, so as to allow her to get some experience in the role."
Her first ready shift had started twenty minutes ago. She glanced around the room. All of the security troops in the QRF were kitted out the same as she was. Armor, camo uniforms, rank insignia on her sleeve and chest, a rifle danging from a sling between her seated legs. Kneepads, thick boots.
It was deliberate, she had learned. The troopers and the war wizards dressed alike, to keep the wizards from being easily identified by the enemy. Just as in Dungeons & Dragons, killing the wizard was often a priority in a fight.
She recalled the training Greg had subjected her to. Learning to cast with a minimum of movement and words. Learning to cast under pressure, when scared or stressed or both. Learning to cast in adverse conditions, such as while being bombarded by a massive sandstorm, or while being dragged underwater by weights attached to her ankles.
She had felt like she barely scraped by, but Greg and the other instructors had praised her. Called her a natural. Assured her that she would go far. Emily wasn't so sure, but she had long ago learned to simply accept the compliments and keep doing her best. That was the way to not disappoint people.
She was still getting used to the idea. The unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar men and women around her, the unfamiliar uniform and gear... She didn't know that she was, actually, ready. But everyone else seemed to think so.
When the alarm sounded, it startled her. She dropped the tablet, then bent down to pick it up with fumbling hands. She stood, stuffing it into one of the pockets on the side of her pants as the troopers rushed around her, doing their final preparations to deploy. Emily looked around, unsure of what to do, until one of the troopers stopped and put a hand on her shoulder.
"First deployment, right?" he asked, his voice gentle. Emily nodded.
"Are you all set? You have all the components you'll need? Your armor's squared away, your mag pouches all loaded, your gun has a round in the chamber?"
Emily checked her gun. The 'press check', they'd called it, where she pulled the charging handle back just a little, until she saw brass inside the chamber. She released it, then patted her pouches with her hands, assuring herself that they are all loaded.
"Yes," she said. She already knew she had all the magical components she'd need. She didn't need a lot, and most were 'just in case' grabs.
"Then go read the deployment orders," the trooper said, pointing to the large TV on the wall, currently showing a black page with white text on it. A few photos were at the bottom.
Emily nodded and turned to go, but then he tightened his hand on her shoulder, so she turned back. He smiled, and she glanced down to see 'Carmichael' on his nametape. She recognized the name, if not the face, from her tasking against the trolls, a few weeks ago. It had been hard to keep track of their faces, with the helmets they all wore.
"You got this," he said, his voice calm and assured. Emily flashed him an uncertain smile, and he gave her a big, confident smile right back. "You got this," he said again and let her go.
Emily walked over to the screen and began to read.

I can't quite tell if this is a problem on my part - misunderstanding the game's pitch or just not playing it properly - but my original impression was that DF supposedly simulates an entire world. I would constantly be seeing folks all over raving about the monumental level of depth and detail. Yet the more I actually play it and find out about the game, the more disappointed I get.
I regularly see comments across the internet to the effect of "DF is the most in-depth simulation ever put to code." Which in many ways might be true. I can't offhand think of another game that boasts this level of depth. Yet I feel like that's just cleverly worded click-bait, bending the truth. And things like IGN giving it a perfect 10/10 right on launch, when there were still a host of serious issues, and adventure mode wasn't even in yet, further prove my point.
I wish I could have just gone in with the expectation that this was, say, Angband on every single steroid. Because the game itself is fantastic, I love it. But it gets so massively overhyped, to the point that you'd think it's a full blown virtual reality. Then you actually sit down to play it and find out the AI is borderline non-existent and "towns" are just collections of empty sheds. And you wonder if you've been lied to, or if you're just playing the game entirely wrong. But then latter on you realize it is actually simulating everything, at least on some level.
It's just such a weird mixed bag of massive expectations, underwhelming disappointments, and then amazing moments that haphazardly leave your jaw on the floor. The game is wildly impressive on its own, and I feel like the way it gets overhyped by the internet does far more damage to DF's image than good. Now, the more I found out about the game, the less impressed I am about it. It should be the other way around. Or am I just a complete dumbass?
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What I want to put in the space is about $10-11K. 10X14 single pitched shed with polycarbonate roofing and lots of windows, uninsulated, with vents and fans, in Austin, TX zone 9-10 I think. 3rd year into gardening and this year started with seeds. I only see the usefullness as a place to start seeds and the badly needed storage. Worst case it will wind up being a nice shed if re-roofed?

In a lot of sci-fi, people often dismiss surface defenses, or make them overpowered or ridiculous. And in another direction, orbital bombardment's effectiveness is quite overstated when we look at the history of warfare. In particular for surface defenses though, wet navies at sea get overlooked. Certain writers will fight tooth and nail to keep infantry, tanks, planes, and artillery in a story, even with fleets of starships, then laugh at the idea of a space marine ever setting foot in water. But why? Submarines are naturally stealthy, and theoretically can avoid getting shot from orbit by diving. Yet they'll be dismissed or ignored. A surface vessel has 71% of the globe to maneuver in, potentially more on another planet, and it can carry a large reactor and plenty of weapons of any kind. Yet it is generally taken for granted that all surface vessels would be sunk immediately in any conflict, and are worthless. Other criticisms abound, yet the most common threads are presumption or omission. There is an undercurrent that consistently believes the ability to destroy a planet will make all enemies submit, when that hasn't stopped us since Trinity. I submit that naval vessels are underutilized, and could be more useful than expected, as a mobile source of energy and firepower that's bigger than anything ever put on land, and through their maneuverability have an advantage no stationary installation can match in terms of survivability and strategic deployment.
The arguments generally made against naval vessels are that a wet navy ship can't hide. You can't throw a tarp over it like you can infantry, tanks, or planes. Critics will insist that a seagoing vessel will be instantly lit up, it will be a target that will immediately be destroyed. If a submarine pops up to fire, they'll get nuclear depth charge'd or shot with a laser. Here's a few questions; what's the difference between that and infantry? Why have ground forces at all? Some critics will ask that exact question. In some circles it's presumed that space warfare makes all other kinds of conflict obsolete, or that significant firepower does the same thing. The ability to destroy a planet has done nothing to dissuade us from having conventional war. But that's what we've always said with any new weapon. The Templin Institute video on planetary invasion had a great description of this.
https://youtu.be/XgN5yq362_s
Before WWII, strategic bombing was seen as a game ender. It's effects on breaking the enemy's will to fight is dubious at best. Strategic bombing and nuclear weapons did nothing to end war, or force the enemy to surrender. Even with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, that was a country at its breaking point after fifteen years of near-constant conflict, and five years of a global war. And still, some holdouts tried to stage a coup to prevent the emperor from surrendering.
After WWII, there were those who believed the nuclear age put an end to conventional war. The air force insisted the Navy and Marines were obsolete. This was part of a conflict that would be known as the Revolt of the Admirals. Air Force General Frank A Armstrong was quoted in Nathan Miller's "The US Navy: A History":
"You gentlemen had better understand that the Army Air Force is tired of being a subordinate outfit. It was a predominant force during the war, and it is going to be a predominant force during the peace, and you might as well make up your minds whether you like it or not, and we do not care whether you like it or not. The Army Air Force is going to run the show. You, the Navy, are not going to have anything but a couple of carriers that are ineffective anyway, and they will probably be sunk in the first battle. Now as for the Marines, you know what the Marines are, a small bitched-up army talking Navy lingo. We are going to put those Marines in the Regular Army and make efficient soldiers out of them."
This was accompanied by:
"In the age of atomic warfare, the fast carrier task force was regarded as an anachronism, and such a massive concentration of ships was seen as being more vulnerable to the bomb than any other weapon system...some strategists doubted that the navy would have an important part to play in the future...Admiral Nimitz, then chief of naval operations, pointed out the same thing had been said about the navy when the submarine, the torpedo, and the airplane were introduced. 'While the prophets of naval doom are shouting themselves hoarse, the Navy will be at work to make the changes needed to accommodate American sea power to the new weapons,' he declared..."
They can't think of a war without nuclear weapons. Then the very first war we came across after WWII, Korea, they could not use nuclear weapons at all. Political, economic, or military reasons could all make orbital bombardment less than desirable in certain situations. The situation might prevent it politically. There's limited wars, there's rules of engagement, there's resources you need, there's stuff you want. On the other side of the equation the weapons might not show the results you expect. They might not be accurate, they might be affected by some new flaw, they're just not what you hoped. Or the enemy is more capable than you expect.
Heinlein said in Starship Troopers that "War is not violence and killing, pure and simple; war is controlled violence, for a purpose." Clausewitz once said that "War is a mere continuation of policy by other means". And I say that the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of "why on earth would you do that". If your goal is to conquer a planet, simply glassing it won't get you anything. If you wish to conquer and seize land, you need to send troops. You need someone to hold it and die for it.
So why in the world must this apply to everything but the wet navy? You will see people with big garrisons, you'll see Bolo cybertanks with megaton-per-second firepower, you'll see infantry doing guerilla warfare, you'll even see aircraft. Why is the wet navy seen as so obsolete in sci-fi circles? The largest vehicle ever built in the real world is the ship Seawise Giant, nearly twice the size of the Hindenburg, the largest flying machine ever built, and longer than the largest aircraft carriers ever. This means that a future battleship, carrier, or other vessel could be just as big and carry enormous weapons. Yet still folks insist that because surface ships can't throw a tarp over themselves, that they'll be sitting ducks.
Submarines I've noticed in some circles are a solution. They are small, sneaky, and can use lasers as much as missiles. Others say that they're vulnerable when launching, hence the laser idea. One cool idea I've seen is a boat that extends out big laser arrays on the surface connected by a tether to the sub hiding deep underwater, so that if the laser is shot the submarine is safe beneath the waves. Yet just as often when this idea is proposed, it is claimed that if a submarine pops up, they'll be bombed, insisting that satellites have advanced too far. I don't know enough to speak to that, but there's a lot of ocean. What do you gain by wasting ammo dropping rocks on 71% of the planet just to be sure they don't have a submarine hiding? Wouldn't that be an excellent reason to have submarines, just so the enemy has to waste ships patrolling and not hitting the land targets? That would mean fewer ships to the front line, if the defender has multiple planets, and force the enemy to expend resources.
The arguments eventually circle around to "we can nuke it". First of all, the ocean is big and it is deep. You'd trash the environment, including things you might want to conquer, if you vaporized thousands of square kilometers of sea water to kill a single hundred-meter sub. As I must repeat, the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of "why on earth would you do that?" During the Cold War, despite having the ability to glass the planet, we still built tanks, ships, and artillery, because there are certain kinds of war, certain modes of operation, certain things that don't involve total annihilation, because so often that's not what war is about. If you want to conquer a planet, you have to take it. The Soviets being able to annihilate Washington didn't magically alter the fact that they didn't have the ships to move any troops to hold it.
A submarine is one thing. If that can survive, why not a surface ship? Again, that tarp thing would be the answer. "They're sitting ducks!" One must ask why? During the Cold War, carriers were vulnerable, sure, but we still built them, and they can carry nukes too. And they can do a lot more things than a battleship can, from disaster relief to moving the crew's cars. A surface ship can be stealthy, just not as much as a sub. They can carry larger weapons than a sub, with more power to put through them.
While it's said a surface ship can't hide, neither can a starship, it's sitting up there shedding heat like mad. A surface ship has the whole planet to play with.
http://www.rocketpunk-manifesto.com/2009/06/space-warfare-i-gravity-well.html
One scenario pitched to me recently is a bunch of corvettes and frigates loaded down with missiles and lasers that shoot their wad in the opening salvos like a lot of Cold War plans. But does it have to be that small?
Let me be clear. Current generations of naval vessels likely wouldn't stand a chance. But they create an interesting precedent, because there exist multiple anti-satellite(ASAT) weapon projects that we could extrapolate for use on a surface vessel. We have a ton of projects, from the MIRACL directed-energy weapon, to the ASM-135 air-launched missile, the YAL-1 Airborne Laser(ABL), to the RIM-161 Standard Missile 3(not technically anti-satellite, it's an anti-ballistic missile that has been used in ASAT roles). These are ground-based, air-launched, and sea-based. We also can think about space guns, i.e. weapons used to launch projectiles into space. Project HARP in the 1960s used modified 16-inch naval guns to launch projectiles high into space. They succeeded, and a mass driverailgun would likely be able to get the same performance out of a smaller package. Keep in mind, these weapons don't need to achieve orbit, they just need to hit something in orbit, so they can be much smaller. They were flawed, and less than accurate, but they do exist. So this means that we can speculate on the future of these weapons if they were more mature. And all of these could be mounted on relatively conventional platforms. Size isn't everything, yet a war machine's power isn't in just its armor, but in its ability to deliver offensive power as much as defensive power.
The MIRACL was ground-based, and not mobile; they tried to use it to shoot at a satellite. It didn't work well, they ended up using a smaller less powerful weapon for the job. The YAL-1 ABL was a 747 modified with a weapon of the same output as the MIRACL, only airborne. The ASM-135 was attached to a squadron of unmodified F-15s that would go into supersonic zoom climbs to launch the missiles. The RIM-161 is an anti-ballistic missile mounted on standard AEGIS VLS cells that has successfully intercepted satellites. 16-inch guns have been used on battleships for years. And with newer technologies, you don't need anything that dramatic, or that big. In the 1970s, the US experimented with an eight-inch gun mounted on a destroyer. That project didn't go very far, but it did function, and it means big guns can be mounted on small ships.
So, let me lay it out. F-15s(which people have considered using for aircraft carriers), conventional VLS cells, and cannons have precedent for being able to intercept spacecraft. Modern stealth systems do exist even for surface vessels, they can't hide as well, but they can carry a larger variety of weapons, and more powerful reactors than a sub. This creates precedent that modern destroyers, or something similar, and aircraft carriers, could serve a role in space warfare. As for surviving orbital bombardment? Super-cavitation is a process for reducing drag on a ship or a weapon's hull as it travels through the water. We also have hydrojets, hydrofoils, and other technologies that are deployed or in the works. Increasing the speed of a surface ship could be the difference between life and death for it.
A futuristic carrier group might consist of a carrier, smaller than ours perhaps, equipped with futuristic air-breathing aircraft, protected by destroyers and submarines. These destroyers are armed with energy weapons, missiles, and cannons capable of firing at targets in orbit. The submarines can do the same thing. The carrier can provide air support to land-based units and fire at the enemy in space without having to worry about needing specialized runways or that they might get hit in a first strike. The escorts can shoot at the enemy, provide gunfire support when needed, and light out at a hundred knots to escape the blast of an orbital bomb.
Now, there are certainly challenges. What warrants posting a large force like this on a planet that might not have any fighting? I'm not sure that is easy to answer, though one thought is to ask what's the point of the Kansas National Guard? They're not likely to see any combat anytime soon. On the other hand, navies in our world exist to fight potential threats. Depending on a setting, your colony world might only have one faction there. Having a trained naval force might be very useful for disaster relief and keeping the peace. EDIT: this could be useful to factions who don't have many ships, or are prepared for an eventuality where they are caught with their orbital defenses destroyed or driven away.
There's also reason for water-based Marines, with amphibious assault ships and all the bells and whistles therein; big transports, air cushion landing craft, helicopters, etc. What if the enemy lands across the continent? Or across an ocean? Might you need sea transportation? Imagine if you didn't have surface defenses. You have militia to play guerilla, and orbital defenses, and your colony only settled on one of two continents on the planet. The enemy blows up your orbital defenses, then steals some mining equipment and sets up a whole operation on the other side, eating up your planet's resources, sending them off to the war effort, while you're completely helpless because the biggest boat you have is a yacht. You can't fight back without being bombed, but you can't even fight back without that because you don't have any missiles, lasers, or any other weapons capable of hitting their ships, and more than that, you can't even get your four thousand militia over there to destroy the mine. A futuristic carrier group would make all the difference here, with access to amphibious assault equipment and other gear that can move in one go what could take months by helicopter.
One thing that keeps coming back in this debate is "but they could get bombed, why bother investing in them?" In the Cold War, trillions were invested in technologies they knew would get annihilated in any conflict. That a first strike could wipe out all our bombers and missiles in one stroke. And that is what second strike capability is about, the ability to hit back even if they hit you first. No matter how much you destroyed, no matter how many ships you sank, missiles you found, or bombers you shot, you could never ever be sure the enemy couldn't drop a hundred more nukes on you hidden somewhere. If even a single plane, a single fighter jet, with a single pilot, got through, millions would die. So much of modern warfare is based on the idea that this advanced weapon could easily be wiped out in a master stroke. EDIT: A surface navy could be used in an environment where friendly space vessels have been drawn away or otherwise incapacitated.
I submit that wet naval vessels are underutilized in sci-fi circles and could be more useful than expected even to factions who utilize starships, as a mobile source of energy and firepower that's bigger than anything ever put on land, and demonstrate strategic mobility and survivability their maneuverability have an advantage no stationary installation can match. They can respond to threats all over a planet, and engage with the enemy in space. Like how nuclear weapons didn't end the age of the carrier, I doubt orbital bombardment would put an end to the sea.
Let me know your thoughts, or suggestions you have for using sea vessels in the context of space warfare!

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

This is my Aunt's story which happened to her when she was fifteen, back in the early 2000s.
My family are from London but we are ethnically Bengali. This story starts when my Aunt and her family all went for a trip back to our ancestral country of Bangladesh.
They visited her father's village, or I should say my grandfather's village. It was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by endless paddy fields. The village consisted of a few really old houses, dating back to the days of colonial Britain, all built around a big pond. There was a small mosque nearby and further away from the mosque, was a small forest. My Aunt and her siblings were told by the village elders not to venture into the forest, where there was an old banyan tree. According to them, that specific banyan tree was supposedly haunted.
One evening my Aunt and her siblings along with some of the village children went into the forest to play, despite being warned not to go over there. The village children assured that they played in the forest many times and nothing happened to them, as long as they didn't go near that tree. The children showed my Aunt and her siblings the infamous tree and they all agreed to stay away.
The tree looked very old and creepy with its trunk twisted and its branches protruding far and wide. Despite its appearance, my Aunt was not so gullible, as being one of the older children in her family. She found all this talk of haunted trees to be silly and just a tall tale told by the elders of the village to scare the children. However she agreed to stay away.
My Aunt wasn't playing as she felt that she was too old for such childish games and was only there to supervise the youngsters. The kids started playing 'It' then afterwards played 'Hide and Seek'. The village children started begging my Aunt to play with them and to be the seeker. After a while of persuading, she agreed and reluctantly started to count as the kids started to run and look for the best places to hide. Once she was done counting, she went on the hunt to look for them. She managed to find a few of the kids quick enough, mainly the younger ones, but a few were left yet to be found deeper in the forest.
My Aunt walked further in and shortly after she happened to stumble upon the banyan tree. She smirked and decided to caress the ancient bark of the tree, going against her promise. She saw that one of the tree's boughs hung low and thought it would be a nice spot to sit for a while and take in the scenery. After the short respite, she pressed on. When she found all the kids, they all decided to finish the game as it was dusk and the forest was growing dark. Everyone heard the call to prayer from the mosque nearby, so they all proceeded to walk out of the forest and back home.
That night, my Aunt awoke mid sleep due to the heat. In the village there were no street lights so everything was pitch black and all you could hear were the sounds of crickets and frogs from the pond. She tossed and turned as she tried to go back to sleep but started hearing a peculiar noise outside her open window. It was a metallic clinking sound. The sound grew persistant, clinking every second. She looked through the grate of the window and saw nothing but the night staring back at her. She decided to call out quietly hoping for a response, but nothing. Shortly after, the sound stopped so my Aunt brushed it off thinking nothing of it and went back to sleep.
After a few days, the family left my grandfather's village and were heading back to the city airport. Their trip had come to an end and it was time to return home, back to the UK. While they were saying farewell to everyone my Aunt saw a woman further behind from everyone else, staring at her. My Aunt never seen that woman before during their stay. She thought why no one had introduced her to the woman as the village was all family orientated. What was very strange was that the woman was dressed in a traditional red bridal saree with a garland around her neck, golden bangles on her wrists and a headpiece hanging down her forehead. My Aunt asked one of her sisters who that bride was but her sister couldn't give her an answer due to the commotion.
When they were at the airport and lining up to be boarded, my Aunt's eyes wondered around. Nothing but families all seated and waiting for their respective flights. She then caught a glimpse of a woman in a peculiar red saree. She realised it was that same woman from the village. The woman was further away from the waiting line, just standing in one place and looking at people walk past her. My Aunt found it odd that she was at the same airport as them despite being seen at the village earlier. Also what was strange was that the woman was in a bride's attire in the middle of a busy airport, which would be completely unheard of over there. She had no luggage with her or anyone accompanying her.
On board the plane, my Aunt was coming back from the bathroom and was suprised to see the woman again, sitting alone and staring out of the window. She asked my grandmother that she had seen the woman in the village and asked who she was. My grandmother was too tired to answer and dismissed her question. My Aunt concluded that the woman must have been from one of the nearby villages and was passing through their's as she was also heading towards the airport. She then tried to forget all about it.
Back home in London, after a good few days, my Aunt and her family all went to visit another one of my uncles' house. It was tradition to visit relatives when returning home, back from a visit to Bangladesh. When they all entered the living room and greeted everyone, my Aunt was absolutely shocked to see the same familiar woman in the red saree from the village and the plane. My Aunt was very puzzled but thought that the woman must have been related to the family. This was proof.
Everyone was talking and my grandfather was recounting their time in the old country. My Aunt was watching the woman and found it weird that she was just standing in the corner just listening to the conversation. My Aunt also realised that the woman never spoke a single word and couldn't recall anyone ever speaking to her since they entered the house. She wondered why the woman was still dressed up as a bride and found it very bizarre.
When it was time to eat, everyone was getting ready to sit down at the table. My Aunt was one of the last ones to get up but realised the woman was staring at her and smiling. She decided to say hello to the woman and ask her who she was in Bengali. The woman didn't respond, she just continued to smile at my Aunt. She thought the woman was just shy as that was quite normal behaviour for village women in Bangladesh. She felt abit awkward and started complimenting on the woman's attire and her payal anklets. "Who are you speaking to?" My uncle said across the room in Bengali. The room was silent and everyone was staring at my Aunt in confusion. My Aunt pointed at the woman, bewildered by my uncle's question. "What? There's no one there." My Aunt's sister responded. My Aunt thought everyone was playing a joke on her but shortly after realised they were all being serious. She started to freak out. She kept saying that there was a woman in the room but everyone kept insisting that there wasn't anyone there. Everyone started worrying as my Aunt was hyperventilating at the sight of the mysterious red figure smiling back at her. She eventually passed out.
A while later, my Aunt came around and found herself lying on the couch, resting her head on my grandmother's lap and her sisters all huddled beside her. My Aunt didn't see the woman anymore where she had been previously standing. My Aunt darted her eyes around the room to double check if the woman was still there. She wasn't.
On the opposite couch, there was an imam from the local mosque. He was a family friend and a respected community leader called over by my uncle. The imam asked my Aunt what happened and she explained that she saw the woman first in the village and kept seeing her until that very day and only she was able to see her, as confirmed by everyone else. After careful consideration, the imam said it sounded like some nefarious entity had followed her from the village and latched itself on to her.
My grandfather started to interrogate my Aunt about the forest and the old banyan tree and eventually she admitted to everyone that she sat on the bough of the tree. When my grandfather heard that, he got very angry and scolded her. He repeated that tree was haunted and questioned why she didn't listen to the village elders. My Aunt explained that she thought it was all a joke. When the imam asked why my grandfather had thought that the tree was haunted, my grandfather never gave an explanation and said that he would tell him afterwards in private.
The imam recited some prayers and blew on my Aunt. My Aunt couldn't remember most of that encounter as she blacked out again however, according to everyone present in the room, she started to freak out and started to act manic when she heard the prayers. She started growling and her eyes looked like they were about to burst from their sockets. She attempted to lunge at the imam, but everyone held her down. A while later, the imam left the house and eventually returned back and gave her special water to drink daily and oil to rub her body with after everytime she bathed. This was all part of a long exorcism process known as 'ruqya', in arabic.
That night, my Aunt was too afraid to sleep so my grandmother slept in the same bed next to her while one of her sisters slept on the top bunk. My Aunt awoke after a long slumber. Her eyes started slowly adjusting to the darkness but she was still in a sleepy haze. She realised she could hear a clinking sound to her right towards the window. She thought it was her sister causing a racket so she groggily told her to be quiet. When the noise didn't relent, my Aunt turned and looked towards the window. It wasn't her sister. To her absolute horror my Aunt saw a dark figure sitting on the windowsill. She quickly realised that the metallic sound were the sounds of bangles and anklets being played with. My Aunt's eyes fully adjusted to the dark and it became evident that the figure was indeed that of the woman. My Aunt screamed her lungs out and the whole house awoke.
The second visit from the imam explained to my Aunt that whatever she kept seeing would not go away on its own. She would continue to see it unless she completed her religious treatment which he reminded her, was a very long process. My Aunt's family was certain that it was a spiritual matter and not a psychological one. My Aunt never displayed any signs of mental illness in the past.
Days passed and my Aunt saw the woman everywhere, though she did get occasional respites from the woman. The woman would show up one day and might follow my Aunt wherever she went, but the next couple of days would not be seen at all.
She would see the woman at school standing by the whiteboard in her classroom, looking at the pupils like she was teaching the lesson. The woman would be seen when my Aunt was hanging out with her mates in the park after school, just watching them from the trees. When my Aunt would go shopping in the supermarket with her family, the woman was there waiting for her at the aisles and always followed them far behind as they shopped. Someday it would be in the same room as my Aunt, other days it would be seen through the window on the street. Some nights when my Aunt was laying in bed, she would hear the slow clinking sound of the woman's anklets going up the stairs. The sound would stop whenever it reached my Aunt's bedroom door, as if the figure was waiting to be let in. The woman once was encountered when the family were all sitting at the table to eat and my Aunt found her sitting under the table with her forehead resting on her knees. She screamed surprisingly but quickly disregarded the matter in order to not scare her family.
The ominous figure never spoke. It never harmed my Aunt directly or made any threatening acts towards her. The woman just smiled that eerie smile. My Aunt continued her religious treatment which in turn made her very weak and sapped her spirit. The imam would visit her often and she would have many more exorcism rituals carried out on her, all she could never recount.
My Aunt tried her best to get on with her life and started to get used to the figure always being around that she stopped feeling afraid of it. She even started to talk to it. She used to talk about random things and the woman just responded with silence. Although she got close to the figure at times, my Aunt never dared to touch it.
A couple of years passed and the mysterious woman would appear less frequently, like only a couple of times a month. Eventually she stopped appearing altogether and was gone for good. My Aunt completed her years long spiritual treatment. She felt a huge relief but at the same time in a very bizarre and twisted way, she felt sad and empty. That figure was in her life for so long that she grew so accustomed to it and saw it as normal. For her not seeing the woman anymore was a huge change in reality. This whole ordeal did take a huge mental toll on her throughout the couple of years and my Aunt was never truly the same after that.
One afternoon my grandfather decided to shed some light into the past as he felt like it was the right time for my Aunt to learn the truth. He showed her a very old black and white photograph dating back to the 50s. It was him and his parents and siblings all in a family portrait. My Aunt`s eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she saw an old familiar face in the centre of the photo. It was her. The woman in the bridal saree. Garland, bangles, everything. She was next to a man dressed as a groom.
My grandfather explained to her that long ago, he had a sister. That photo was from her wedding day. The story was that she was married to a man from the neighbouring village but she did not want to get married to him. My grandfather's sister was at first promised to another suitor since they were children. A good, kind man from another nearby village. She grew up with the idea that she would marry that man when she came of age. However the man she actually ended up marriying offered a larger dowry and so her father then changed his mind and instead accepted that man to take his daughter's hand despite the previous arrangement and his daughter's protest. In Bangladesh it's the father's word over his daughter`s wishes and she was doomed to spend her entire life with a man she did not desire. So in the night, after the marriage ceremony was completed, she was due to move in with the groom and his family and relocate to the other village. My grandfather's sister did not hesitate and ran off in a frenzy in the dark, never to be seen again on her wedding night. The next morning when she was found, it was deep in the forest, and hanging by her neck from a branch of the old banyan tree. My Aunt could not believe it while she heard the story as her eyes welled up with tears.
When the imam visited the house one day he clarified that, what my Aunt encountered was not my grandfather's sister. It was a jinn who took the form of her and followed my Aunt back home to London. For those who don't know, jinns are demons in the Islamic world. In Islam, there is no notion of ghosts being trapped in their last moments of life. There's only the jinn that imitate the deceased person and prey upon people.
The reason why the old banyan tree was perceived as haunted by the villagers was not only because of my grandaunt's tragic demise. A few other horrific events happened revolving that tree in the past. Once a passing traveler was caught stealing jewellery from the village and was chased by the villagers into the forest and was hacked to death with machetes. The thief's body was slumped down resting on the trunk of the banyan tree with his blood painting the bark red. Another story was that a witch was caught doing black magic deep in the forest where bloody menstrual rags and torn up pages of the qur'an with black markings and grids scribbled all over, were found hanging from the tree.
Whoever interacted with that tree always reported to experience some sort of supernatural activity one way or another. That day, when my Aunt first explained to everyone about the woman, my grandfather had a strong feeling that she was talking about his deceased sister.
I didn't remember this whole ordeal when it happened at the time because I was very young, but the story was told to me by various family members when I was older. It was only recently that my Aunt and I were talking at a family function and she retold her story to me herself in the utmost detail. Her story was always the focal point whenever the subject of the paranormal arose during family conversations.
A couple of people think my Aunt was just suffering from mental illness during that time, although this doesn't make any sense. My Aunt never knew of my grandfather's sister before that revelation. My grandfather never once mentioned or showed a picture of his sister to either my Aunt or her siblings while they were growing up, neither did my grandmother. It was a painful, touchy subject and it was never heard or mentioned. I believe my Aunt and this was very real to her and it greatly impacted her life growing up as it permanently left a mark on her. I'm just glad that she is back to normal and that the woman in the red saree was gone for good.
I have more scary stories which happened to other family members so if you would like to hear them, let me know.

Based on a poem (that I wrote several years prior) titled, "The Dead Birds in My Garden" which goes as follows:
>It’s hard to see the death, it's hard to look at. You’d think the garden would make it easier. You’d think the green twine that is interposed with the colored irises and black pupils would shed beauty on the thing. These eyes that watch as the spiral swirls, only they know the truth. I wonder what they thought when they saw the three black birds that lay lifeless in my bed of hydrangeas. I wonder if they wonder. If they could speak, would they tell me the cause of this oh-so-terrible tragedy that took place in my garden? Would they tell me or would they just laugh, reveling in their unrequited knowledge?
The gardener woke to the sound of fewer and fewer birds chirping in the morning wind. Every morning he was delighted with the welcoming song of the starlings that perched outside his window, but with each morning this spring, he noticed the diminished call. Deciding it was not worth it to dwell on he wiped the sleep from his eyes and started downstairs to brew his dark roast. He fried himself a few eggs and set off to work away under the freshly blue sky.
Fashioning his faded denim overalls and brown leather boots, he trudged down the garden path and was immediately made aware of a wretched smell. The putrid sharp odor clung in the air like a dark aura. The smell was familiar to the man, as he was no stranger to it. He made his way to his bed of hydrangeas. They bloomed beautifully this spring and dripped a cotton candy mixture of deep purples and bright blues, but something was off about the way they swayed in the wind. They seemed to rip through the air creating a roaring buzz.
*Wait no, that noise.* He followed his ears somewhat dazed and pulled back the foliage. He immediately revealed a sight that he at first did not understand. He whipped back, startled. *Surely his eyes deceived him, for it could not have been.* Yet when he went back, slowly moving his hand into the bushel of flowers, peeling them to the side, his horrors had been confirmed. What lay before him were three dead birds swarmed with yellow jackets. The brown and yellow mass of them writhing away covering almost every square inch of the poor creatures. The sound was horrifying; just a steady hum, all registering a single unbroken note.
The sound drew him in like a trance. He kneeled transfixed at the sight, unaware of time, simply staring. It did not take long, however, for the bees to take notice of him. They began to climb from green leaf to green stem until they met flesh. As he felt them crawl up his skin, his trance was broken, and he broke into a sudden panic. The man frantically swiped and swatted and the yellow-brown haze formed around him. The air felt thick, and he could feel tens of needle-like pin-pricks piercing his skin. The horrible buzz was drowned out by his panic until he noticed something. The hum coming from the swarm started to oscillate; with more, and more tonation, until a frequency was found. The voice, *no, it couldn't be*; Yes, the distorted voice radiated out from the swarm and surrounded him in an all-encompassing domain of fear and anguish. The humming melody raged out into laughter, a horrific, hysterical laughter.
And all at once, the buzzing stopped. The only sound that the Gardener could hear was the flapping of his clothes as he flailed. Broken, the man fell to his knees in an attempt to pray to whatever was above; but what was above him, was not God. Instead, there were thousands upon thousands of bees steadily floating in the air, as if time had stopped.
Eyes wide, mouth agape, with his lips, curled back revealing his teeth, he yelled, "DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS?!"
And what he got in return was a sharp darting of the yellow-brown mass, first going left, then up, then right, bouncing around every which way. The swarm began to laugh again; slowly tightening, becoming so dense, that it was no longer a swarm, but a black mass. That black mass floated down to the ground in the shape of a man, white as snow and in robes as black as midnight.
His face was inhuman; distorted, as if he had been dead for ages, but was not unable to rot, and he spoke thus, "The spiral must spin." in a sing-songy, high-pitched voice.
That was all he said before exploding into a cloud of bees, and this time, the bees did not sting when they landed on the man, they consumed.

Note: I was going to put this in the shortscarystories sub but they have a strict 500-word count, and this goes over that. Still wanting to share this and maybe get some feedback I decided this was probably the second best place, as I am a pretty big King fan. Also, I took a bit of inspiration from "The Man in the Black Suit" from everything eventual so I hope you enjoy.
​
Based on a poem (that I wrote several years prior) titled, "The Dead Birds in My Garden" which goes as follows:
​
It’s hard to see the death, it's hard to look at. You’d think the garden would make it easier. You’d think the green twine that is interposed with the colored irises and black pupils would shed beauty on the thing. These eyes that watch as the spiral swirls, only they know the truth. I wonder what they thought when they saw the three black birds that lay lifeless in my bed of hydrangeas. I wonder if they wonder. If they could speak, would they tell me the cause of this oh-so-terrible tragedy that took place in my garden? Would they tell me or would they just laugh, reveling in their unrequited knowledge?
​
The gardener woke to the sound of fewer and fewer birds chirping in the morning wind. Every morning he was delighted with the welcoming song of the starlings that perched outside his window, but with each morning this spring, he noticed the diminished call. Deciding it was not worth it to dwell on he wiped the sleep from his eyes and started downstairs to brew his dark roast. He fried himself a few eggs and set off to work away under the freshly blue sky.
Fashioning his faded denim overalls and brown leather boots, he trudged down the garden path and was immediately made aware of a wretched smell. The putrid sharp odor clung in the air like a dark aura. The smell was familiar to the man, as he was no stranger to it. He made his way to his bed of hydrangeas. They bloomed beautifully this spring and dripped a cotton candy mixture of deep purples and bright blues, but something was off about the way they swayed in the wind. They seemed to rip through the air creating a roaring buzz.
*Wait no, that noise.* He followed his ears somewhat dazed and pulled back the foliage. He immediately revealed a sight that he at first did not understand. He whipped back, startled. *Surely his eyes deceived him, for it could not have been.* Yet when he went back, slowly moving his hand into the bushel of flowers, peeling them to the side, his horrors had been confirmed. What lay before him were three dead birds swarmed with yellow jackets. The brown and yellow mass of them writhing away covering almost every square inch of the poor creatures. The sound was horrifying; just a steady hum, all registering a single unbroken note.
The sound drew him in like a trance. He kneeled transfixed at the sight, unaware of time, simply staring. It did not take long, however, for the bees to take notice of him. They began to climb from green leaf to green stem until they met flesh. As he felt them crawl up his skin, his trance was broken, and he broke into a sudden panic. The man frantically swiped and swatted and the yellow-brown haze formed around him. The air felt thick, and he could feel tens of needle-like pin-pricks piercing his skin. The horrible buzz was drowned out by his panic until he noticed something. The hum coming from the swarm started to oscillate; with more, and more tonation, until a frequency was found. The voice, *no, it couldn't be*; Yes, the distorted voice radiated out from the swarm and surrounded him in an all-encompassing domain of fear and anguish. The humming melody raged out into laughter, a horrific, hysterical laughter.
And all at once, the buzzing stopped. The only sound that the Gardener could hear was the flapping of his clothes as he flailed. Broken, the man fell to his knees in an attempt to pray to whatever was above; but what was above him, was not God. Instead, there were thousands upon thousands of bees steadily floating in the air, as if time had stopped.
Eyes wide, mouth agape, with his lips, curled back revealing his teeth, he yelled, "DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS?!"
And what he got in return was a sharp darting of the yellow-brown mass, first going left, then up, then right, bouncing around every which way. The swarm began to laugh again; slowly tightening, becoming so dense, that it was no longer a swarm, but a black mass. That black mass floated down to the ground in the shape of a man, white as snow and in robes as black as midnight.
His face was inhuman; distorted, as if he had been dead for ages, but was not unable to rot, and he spoke thus, "The spiral must spin." in a sing-songy, high-pitched voice.
That was all he said before exploding into a cloud of bees, and this time, the bees did not sting when they landed on the man, they consumed.

When I was ten, I formed a junior detective squad.
Mom bought me the entire box set of What's New Scooby Doo, and I was inspired to start my very own detective gang. I held auditions outside the gymnasium at recess (serious enquiries only) after a number of kids tried to apply for the role of Scooby Doo despite me reiterating I was not interested in playing make believe.
When I was laughed at in class, I made posters strictly asking for SERIOUS wannabe detectives, even going as far as using my Mom’s printer to make flyers, sticking them all over the school.
Auditions were simple. I asked them to solve a simple riddle.
Whoever impressed me got to sign their name down, and I’d get back to them.
I spent three days sifting through kids who definitely had charm, but they lacked the intelligence of a junior detective. Most kids were only auditioning to make fun of me, anyway.
Still, though, I didn't give up.
My flyers had five requirements:
1). You had to be smart.
2). You were not allowed to be a scaredy cat.
3). You had to accept your inevitable death at the hands of our town’s evil villains.
4). You had to have a fully registered driving licence (I quickly changed this to a bike).
5). You cannot have a criminal record.
(I later scribbled this one out, writing over it. *“You cannot have any tardies.”
Narrowing the applicants down to three kids, all of whom failed to share my enthusiasm for solving cases. The kids I picked didn't even know how to make plans, and when I invited them to my house, they stole my Mom’s necklace.
I didn't even need to solve the mystery of who stole Mom’s necklace. The girl was wearing it at school. I punched her in the face, and was immediately sent to the principal’s office. When I was being given the mother all lectures, the door quietly opened, a head peeking through.
It was Ben Callows, a freckly kid with overgrown brown hair hanging in his eyes. Ben really needed a haircut.
He was always wearing the exact same baseball cap, and I found myself wondering if it was permanently glued to his head, stuck on top of unruly brown curls practically matted to his forehead.
In class, Ben was also known as Bloody Ben. In the second grade, the boy had a nosebleed in the middle of a spelling test, bleeding all over his paper.
It's not like he didn't try and detach himself from the name.
Ben brought in Digimon cards, so kids would call him Digimon Ben instead.
Then he “accidentally” spilled yoghurt down his shirt in hopes we would call him Yoghurt Ben. But no. The kids in our class were relentless in reminding him of his name. No matter what he did, he was still Bloody Ben, and when anything related to blood came up in class, fifteen pairs of eyes would swivel to him, like he had invented the concept of bleeding.
I feared the nickname would follow him to junior high.
Ben didn't wait to be let in. He didn't even knock, striding in with his arms folded. Over the years, Bloody Ben, had definitely soured his personality.
He smiled rarely, and when he did smile, someone was falling over or hurting themselves.
Which definitely strengthened the claims of him being a sociopath.
The rumor mill was churning, with the latest claiming Bloody Ben killed his cat. That wasn't true. Ben’s cat was seventeen with cancer, and that was why he was sobbing all the way through reading time.
According to Ellie Daly, however, Ben had killed and dissected his kitty, and buried her in his Mom’s flowers.
Now, my principal did not like being interrupted, especially when she was in the middle of screaming at me.
Principal Marrow was old old (like, thirty, in my ten year old mind) stick thin like a pencil, and always wore the same stained sweater.
She used to be pretty, but I was convinced she had kissed a frog and been cursed. After our old principal suffered a stroke, she stepped in as a temporary replacement, and since becoming principal, had banned my favorite book series, colored shoe laces, and hamburger helper, even officiating a uniform.
(vomit green shorts and a tee, and plain white sneakers).
Kids were convinced she was a witch, and I kind of believed it.
Principal Marrow’s whole existence was built on sucking the fun out of school.
I was already reprimanded for my mystery gang flyers.
Her office smelled of peppermint and she was definitely sneaking sips of whisky in her coffee cup. I could see the bottle sticking out of the trash.
She straightened up, folding her arms across her chest, squinty eyes narrowing at the boy. I had spent the whole time she was lecturing me trying not to cry, my fists bunched in my lap.
I took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to swipe at my eyes, allowing myself to breathe.
Ben Callows was her victim now.
I was right. The woman's voice was like a thunderclap in my ears.
“You better have a good reason for not knocking, young man.”
Ben wasn't fazed by her tone. “You took my Switch two weeks ago,” he said, “I want it back, or I’m telling my Mom.”
At first, I thought I'd misheard him.
No, I was pretty sure he'd threatened our principal.
I swore I heard all of the breath sucked from the room.
“I'm sorry,” Principal Marrow cleared her throat. Her soft tone was dangerous.
She wasn't being nice. The lady was about to explode.
I could see visible veins straining in her temples, her right eye twitching.
It was straight out of a cartoon.
“Did you forget something, Ben?”
Ben sighed, like she was inconveniencing him.
He held out his hand. “Please can I have my Switch back? It counts as stolen property. Give it back, or I'm telling my Mom.”
The kid put so much emphasis on the word please, I couldn't resist a smile.
I think our principal was too shocked to get angry.
“Get out.” She said, firmly. “I don't have your gaming device.”
“It's in your drawer.” Ben nodded to her desk, “Under your divorce papers and the restraining order ordered by Jake Willow, the seventeen year old boy you've been having math ‘tutoring sessions’ with.” He quoted the air, his gaze lazily rolling to me. “Tutoring”
Principal Marrow went deathly pale, her eyes darkening.
“Benjamin Callows–”
“The school already knows about the restraining order, but your uncle is the head of the Board of Education, so all you get is a slap on the wrist and a warning to leave the boy alone."
Ben continued, and I found myself mesmerised by his words. He was a natural, his expression stoic, mouth curved with satisfaction that wasn't quite a smile. “However.” He held up his phone, pulling it away at the exact moment the teacher attempted to grab it. “You were outside Jake Willow’s house at 6:12am, drunk, and trying to climb through his window, which, I think violates the restraining order, does it not?”
Ben pretended to think real hard, his gaze flicking to the ceiling.
“I mean, I'm just a kid, right?” His mouth curled into the hint of a smirk
“What do I know, huh?”
Principal Marrow’s expression twisted, her lip wobbling.
“Mr Callows, remove yourself from my office, or I am calling your father.”
Leaning comfortably against the door, Ben’s lip twitched.
“Why? Are you planning on telling my Dad about your relations with a teenage boy, or will I have to tell him instead?”
I was enthralled, and fully disgusted, making a move to inch away from the woman.
“But it doesn't end there.” Ben continued. He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards the woman's desk. “You don't even want Jake, do you? Because, once upon a time, you were in love with his father. Jason Willow. You despised him for rejecting you, so you decided to defile his son.” Ben leaned over the principal’s desk, slipping his hand into the drawer, and pulling out his switch.
Painfully slowly.
She stood there, speechless, her shoulders trembling.
Ben smiled, and I found myself liking it.
“Thank you!” He said, waving the console in her face. Ben mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
“My lips are sealed.”
Ben’s half lidded eyes found mine. “Are ya coming, Panda?”
I forgot my own nickname.
Panda.
I wore my Mom’s eyeliner because I thought it looked cool.
It did not.
Finding my breath, I snapped out of it.
Jumping up, I followed him out of the office, and when the two of us were safely on the hallway, I burst into hysterical giggles. “How did you know all of that?!” I whisper- shrieked.
Ben surprised me with a splutter. “Wait. You believed me?”
Something very cold trickled down my spine.
I stopped walking. “You lied?”
He shrugged. “I had a dig around her office before she caught me a few days ago,” Ben swung his arms, a smile curling on his mouth. “There's no restraining order, but there is prescription anti-psychosis medicine, and an extremely detailed story on her laptop about a teachestudent romance, which I presume is a self insert.”
Ben shot me a sickly grin. “The school refused to make her condition public.”
He prodded at his own cotton shirt embroidered with the school emblem.
“Why do you think she's made all these dumb rules? The woman is a certified Looney Tune.”
I nodded slowly. “Wait. What about Jake and his dad?”
“I made them up.”
I choked out a laugh. “And… the video?”
Ben walked faster, pulling out his phone and shoving it in my face. The video was real. Principal Marrow was walking around in circles, draped in her nightgown. “It's her own house,” he explained. “She locked herself out.”
Nodding slowly, I was in awe. Bloody Ben was kind of fucking amazing.
“But the restraining order isn't real.”
Ben raised a brow, coming to an abrupt halt. It was his smile that cemented his place in my gang. His lack of empathy for a woman he had gaslit into being a disgusting human being. Ben Callows wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but he fascinated me. Maybe for the wrong reasons. “Her filing cabinets are filled with tinned cat food, Panda,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m not psychic, but I thiiiiink we’ll be okay.”
I turned to him, unable to stop myself jumping up and down with excitement.
“Will you be my first?!”
Ben inclined his head. “Will I be your what?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I mean, will you join my mystery gang?”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and I shoved him playfully.
“To solve real cases,” I corrected myself. “Not make them up.”
Ben wore a real, proper smile. But there was something in his eyes, a darkness that was so hollow and polluted and wrong, I pretended not to see it for the sake of his smarts and intellect. “Well, if you insist, sure!” Ben held out his hand, and I shook it. I'll be your first.”
We found our second member, who was, ironically, looking for her glasses under the table in class. Lucy Prescott, the quiet girl, was born to be with us.
The class eraser went missing, and she found it in the blink of an eye.
When questioned, Lucy’s face turned as red as her hair. “I asked everyone in the class and followed the clues to the last person who had it,” she pointed to Chase Simpson. “Which was Chase, who was throwing it at Marcus Calvin.”
Twisting around in my chair, I aimed to get Ben’s attention. But he was already looking at me, chin resting on his fist, eyes ignited with excitement.
The two of us cornered Lucy after class, and when she motioned for us to get back, I dragged Ben (who was a little too excited) to my side.
Lucy looked mildly horrified when I said, dangerous cases, though her expression pricked with intrigue.
She agreed, her gaze lingering on Ben, cheeks smouldering.
Our last two members were a surprise.
Violet Evergreen was what you would call popular on the middle school hierarchy. Not just because her mother was the mayor, but because Violet could get away with murder. The girl refused to wear the school uniform, coloring a single purple streak in her hair to cement herself as the it girl.
She was also one of the girls who started the Bloody Ben rumor.
Ben, Lucy, and I were sitting on the grass during recess, trying to come up with a name for our detective service, when Violet came storming over, hands planted on her hips. She was copying how her mother held herself during town meetings.
“What are you doing?” Violet demanded.
Lucy opened her mouth to answer, Ben nudging her to shut up.
“Making a mystery gang.” I told her. “Why?”
Violet inclined her head. “Oh.” She folded her arms. “Well, can I join?”
Ben stood up, stepping in front of the girl. Violet didn't move, stubbornly standing her ground. “Sure.” Ben flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his smile widening. “If you can pass the test.”
Violet’s lip curled. She took a single step back. “What kind of test?”
Ben nodded to me. “Meet us at the swimming pool at 8pm.”
To my surprise, Violet nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope!”
8pm. The four of us met outside the local swimming pool.
Violet was already on the other side of the fence, waving.
“Hey guys!”
I noticed Ben’s expression, his eyes darkening, lip curling.
Still though, he maintained positivity, vaulting over the fence.
“You made it!”
I followed him, helping Lucy, who was immediately freaking out. I didn't blame her. The pool looked cold and dark, a hollow oblivion carved into the ground.
Ben and Violet stood on the edge, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.
Violet Evergreen was braver than I thought.
Standing with her arms at her sides, Violet's hands clenched into fists.
“What's the test?” Violet said, her gaze glued to bleeding black depths.
“I don't know,” Ben murmured, his voice teetering on a giggle. He leaned forwards, arms spread out. “I didn't think you'd actually come meet us.”
Violet hummed, stretching out her leg, teasing it across the surface. “Was that the test?”
The boy leaned back. I caught the glint of a grin under the floodlights. “Nah.”
Before I knew what was happening, he shoved Violet into the pool. The girl didn't scream or shriek, she just hit the surface, sinking into pitch dark nothing.
“Sink or swim,” Ben said in a low murmur, when Violet’s head bobbed under water. I could see her shadow under the surface, imagining the freezing cold depths pulling her down.
“Drown, and you can't join us.”
It was so quiet, suddenly. The three of us staring into rippling water.
A minute passed, and my tummy started to twist.
“Fuck.” Ben’s expression stayed stoic. I wasn't expecting him to say a bad word.
He cocked his head. “I thought she could swim.”
I hit him, holding in a cry. “You need to get our parents!”
But he didn't listen to me, taking a single step, and dropping into the pool.
I fell to my knees, scanning the water.
Lucy was crying. “Are they dead?!” she shrieked.
“Shhh!” I was watching two shadows lingering under the water.
Violet broke through. I expected her to be crying, but her expression was unwavering. She was silent. I thought the splashing underneath her was her legs trying and struggling to tread water, before Lucy shoved me. Hard.
“Panda! What do we do?!”
Looking closer, Violet was perfectly still, her gaze on the sky.
While she shoved Ben under the water, drowning him.
Violet’s eyes sparkled, and somehow, I knew she belonged in my gang.
Her gaze found mine, glinting with that darkness, that poisonous streak I found myself drawn to. It was a starving, insatiable need to understand a fractured mind. Know your enemy.
“Do you want to see if Ben’s a witch?” Violet asked me, her tone something else entirely. This girl did not make sense, using barely her finger to drown Ben Callows. I knew she was wrong.
I knew there was something loose, something unlocked and unbridled and drowning inside her mind and heart.
But I wanted more of her. I wanted Violet Evergreen in my detective gang.
I think that is why I stood there, frozen.
When the thrashing stopped, Ben broke through.
He wasn't coughing or spluttering, his head inclined. “You didn't drown.”
Violet climbed out of the pool, offering her hand. “And you're not a witch.”
He declined her hand, taking the steps instead.
I asked Violet in a shaky voice. I was trembling with terror, but I was excited.
Exhilarated.
“Violet, will you join my gang?”
She didn't answer me until we were sharing hot cocoa in my house.
I told Mom we fell in the pool, and she believed me. I should have told her that my friends were sociopaths, and I was kind of maybe in love. Violet sipped her cocoa, nodding with a smile I didn't recognise. Violet never smiled at school.
Well, she did. But it was always the prick of a cruel smirk.
I don't think her smile was genuine, but she was definitely enjoying herself.
Our last member came to us, instead of finding him.
Jules Howell, a straggly brunette pushed his way in front of me in the lunch line. I didn't really know the kid.
He sat at the back of the classroom and slept through most of class. I did like his accent though.
Jules had moved from Melbourne in the second grade. He didn't talk much.
When he did, I found myself enveloped in his voice, which sounded like water to me, a bleeding cadence to his tone.
Jules piled his plate with fries, smiling widely at the lunch ladies.
“I saw you last night.” He murmured through that perfectly moulded grin.
“Saw me where?”
“At the pool,” Jules said. “You, Bloody Ben, Violet Evergreen, and that Lucy girl. You were doing a suiciding pact.”
“That's not what we were doing.” I said, “What's a suiciding pact?”
“When you kill yourself together.” Jules said. “I saw it in a scary movie my Mom was watching.”
I grabbed a fork. “We weren't doing that.”
His eyes were strange when I took the time to notice them. The excited gleam had fizzled out. Jules’s hands tightened around his tray. “Then what were you doing?”
I didn't reply, making my way over to our usual table. Ben was already waving me over, Violet and Lucy holding up the flyers we were making.
THE REDBLOOD DETECTIVES.”
Do YOU need our help? We can find/solve anything! Contact us on the number below. (We take donations!)
When I bothered turning around, Jules was lost in the crowd of kids.
We were on our first official case, searching for Mrs Lake’s missing mail, when Jules appeared seemingly out of nowhere. And with him, a golden retriever puppy he introduced as Arlo.
It took a dog jumping up at them for Violet and Ben to find their real smiles, their real selves slowly seeping through these facades they had built around themselves. Ben dropped to a crouch, ruffling the dog's ears, his smile faint.
“Who's a good boy?” He chuckled.
Arlo didn't move, tail wagging, eyes bright.
Ben motioned the dog towards him, but Arlo stayed put.
Jules joined us…quietly.
I don't remember asking him, or even him asking me.
He just became part of us, side by side with Arlo.
We soon came to quickly realize that our town was boring.
There were no monsters or thieves, or soul sucking demons. No criminals or serial killers. Not even one missing person. We did, however, get calls about missing cats. I turned eleven years old, patiently waiting for a murder or a kid going missing. But there was nothing.
All we did was chase cats, and the occasional dog. Maybe a budgie if we were lucky. Twelve years old, our detective club became a joke.
The five of us (and Arlo hiding under the table) were trying to pinpoint Mrs Tracy's lost hamster, when three girls came over, dumping their soda all over us.
We watched crime shows for inspiration on catching killers.
Ben’s favorite crime was one that happened in the 80’s in our town.
2 girls murdered.
Their intestines stuffed into envelopes and mailed to family members.
“That's what we should be solving,” he told me one night, “Not missing cats.”
Thirteen years old, we lay in Violet’s backyard under the cruel glare of the summer sun. We called it working and didn't like to admit it was hanging out, or that we were even friends. However.
That didn't stop us growing closer.
Even if it wasn't quite the way I’d expected.
I proposed a plan, standing up, wobbling a little off balance.
“I've got it.” I said, my voice kinda slurry from Violet’s special summer cocktail, which was just random alcoholic beverages we found, thrown into a blender, and diluted with water.
The town wasn't taking us seriously.
So, we were going to make our own mysteries.
I ordered a full-scale assault on our small town. One that they could not ignore. Ben stamped on Mrs Mason’s flowers, and Lucy threw mud pies at people's cars. Jules trashed the high school gym, and Violet and I spray painted threats and warnings on every store window. Now, this did cause panic, but also an official curfew.
Thirty minutes before curfew, we met in our usual spot, deep in the forest near the lake. Ben yelled at me when I was three minutes late. He was real passionate about finding a real mystery.
“You're late.” Ben was sitting on a rock waving a stick in Arlo’s face.
The dog still wasn't going near him, whining softly.
I took my place, muttering an apology. “I had to lie to my Mom.”
Violet, sitting with her legs crossed, idly digging her manicure into the dirt, suggested we buy mannequins and masquerade them as dead bodies, hanging them from the school rafters.
Lucy, who had slowly grown out of her shell, becoming a lot more outspoken, nudged her. “That's a stupid idea.”
The girl groaned, leaning into her. “Urgh. You're right.”
Jules was the only energetic one, standing on the tireswing.
He jumped down, definitely twisting his ankle.
But his smile only widened, kind of like he enjoyed being in pain.
“Why don't we pretend to be kidnapped?” He said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over blondish curls growing out. Jules did a dramatic spin, his eyes shining. “We can ‘go missing’ for like a week, and then when our parents are really scared, we can turn up, and tell them we escaped a kidnapping.” His lips split into a grin.
“And then we solve our own kidnapping!”
Ben awkwardly patted Arlos head, only for the dog to pull away with a snort.
“I like it,” he murmured. “I'm in.”
Jules’s idea was stupid.
But.
It was worth a shot.
The five of us agreed to meet the morning after with enough food and supplies for a week. Then we were going to hike to the next town, and hide out for a week. It was an almost perfect plan, using ourselves as victims of our own mystery.
Packing as much as I could, I kissed my mother goodbye (I told her my pack was for a picnic) and set off to the rendezvous we agreed on.
When I arrived, I was the first one there. I checked and re-checked my pack.
I waited ten minutes, unable to contain my excitement.
Then 20 minutes.
It was getting kind of cold.
One hour.
I sat on a rock for enough time to watch the sky change color.
When the clouds were orange, I stood up and stumbled back home. They had gone without me. Mom lectured me when I got home, and I stuck to the plan of pretending my friends had gone missing, even if I they had betrayed me.
Ben said he'd text me when he arrived at the redervous. I at least expected him to text an explanation, but there was nothing. I was in the dark, and after three days of nothing, our town finally began to take us seriously.
“Our children have been kidnapped!” The adults were screaming.
Mom was crying in the kitchen, praying to a god I knew she didn't believe in that I wasn't taken next. I was interviewed and stuck with the exact same story I came up with when I was with the others. Our plan was to return after a week, claiming to be locked up in a dark room with a masked man.
I told my Mother and the other parents that I didn't know where my friends were, repeating the same thing over and over again until I was tongue tied.
“I saw them the day before they went missing, and… yes, everything seemed okay.” I slowly sipped my glass of milk provided, looking the sheriff directly in the eyes.
“No, I didn't notice anything suspicious, sheriff. Yes, I'm sure, sir. No, they didn't tell me anything.”
It was Ben’s mother who shattered my mask.
“Did I know about… what?” I whispered.
Something warm filled the back of my mouth, foul tasting milk erupting up my throat. I leaned forward, trying to look Mrs Callows in the eye. “No, I… I didn't know about Ben’s…condition.”
Mrs Callows was screaming at me about her son’s troubled past when I barfed all over myself, my eyes burning.
In the privacy of my own room, I sobbed until I couldn't breathe.
I tried to tell Mom, but we had come so close.
One more day, and the others would be back.
But that day came. I sat cross legged at our usual spot, which was now covered in police tape. I waited for their thudding footsteps, their laughter congratulating each other for coming up with a great plan. I waited, my face buried in my knees, for my friends.
It was dark when my phone vibrated, and I'd fallen asleep.
I wasn't scared, forcing myself to my feet.
“Where are you?” Mom yelled down the phone.
“Coming home now.” I muttered.
“Sorry.” I paused, holding my breath against a cry. “Mom.” I broke down, forcing my fist into my mouth to hide my squeak. “Mommy, did they come back?”
Mom didn't reply for a moment.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” She whispered, ending the call.
I took my time walking home that night.
There were no stars in the sky.
When a hand clamped over my mouth, I could smell him.
When he dragged me back, stabbing a kitchen knife into my throat, I stared at the sky and looked for stars. His arms were warm around me, violently pulling me into the back of a pickup truck. The pickup truck he'd said he was bringing.
It was his grandfather's, and he could just about drive it.
Hitting the backseat, my body was numb, my thoughts in a whirlwind.
The pickup flew forwards, and I remembered how to move.
I rolled off the seat, my hands pinned behind my back.
Twisting around, blinking in the dim, I could feel something warm, something seeping across upholstery seats. Blood.
It was everywhere, sticky on my hands and wet on my face when I struggled to get up. I was lying in someone's blood.
A scream clawed its way out of my throat.
The pickup flew over a pothole, and something dropped off the seat.
Arlo’s leash.
I screamed again, this time his name gritted between my teeth.
I didn't stop screaming until the jerking movement stopped. The doors opened, pale light hitting me in the face.
Flashlight. Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me from the car, and then, pulling me by my hair, into our old tree house. It was always our secret place, our saving grace on the edge of town.
The flickering candlelight caught me off guard, illuminating my surroundings.
Two bodies slumped over each other, lying in stemming red.
I felt suffocated, like I was going to die. I screamed, and that warm hand cradled my mouth again, gagging my cries.
Violet and Jules.
There was something wrong with them. And it was only when I forced myself to look closer, when I realized their insides had been carved out, heart, stomach, everything, pulled out.
There was paper on the floor.
No, not paper. Envelopes.
Envelopes stuffed with gore, bright red leaking through white.
Shuffling back, my brain was too slow to react, while my body was trying to vault to my feet, only to be violently pulled back by my ponytail.
I felt his fingers twining around my hair, revelling in my screams.
With another tug, my head was forced forwards.
Orange candlelight felt almost homely, this time lighting up a third body.
Lying on their back, curled up, pooling scarlet dried into the floorboards, their wrists restricted with duct-tape.
I could feel blood underneath me, sticky, a congealing paste.
“Do you know what happened on October 3rd, 1987, in our town?”
Lucy Prescott stood over me, her arms folded across her chest.
I managed to shake my head, when she grabbed Ben’s legs, dragging him under the candlelight. I dazedly watched her stroke the blade of a carving knife, the teeth already stained scarlet. “The intestine murders.” Lucy hummed, tracing the knife down the floorboards.
“A man murdered two high school girls, carving out their insides and sending their pieces to their loved ones.”
Lucy's eyes found mine, ignited in a familiar gleam. I saw it in Principal Marrow’s office. Then the swimming pool. The cafeteria. “It was the sheriff's only murder case, Panda. Ever since then, our town has been boring. There's no mysteries to solve. Nothing to find.”
The girl jumped to her feet, retrieving a blood stained envelope.
She held it up, a smile curved on her lips. The girl turned around, and I heard a horrific squelching sound. Lucy held up a bright red sausage, ripped into it, and slipped it into the white paper.
“But I can change that.” she said, in a giggle.
“I can create a real serial killer, who we can hunt down together.”
Lucy stabbed the blade into the floor, laughing.
“Or! I can bring a fan-favorite back! I can bring the intestine killer back from the dead!”
Her gaze flicked to the others. “There are casualties, of course. The story is, I was kidnapped with Ben, Violet, and Jules. The scary intestine killer killed them, and I managed to get away.”
Lucy shuffled over to me, her eyes wide. “Then! He came back and struck again!”
With those words, she shoved me onto my back.
“First he took Violet,” Lucy hummed, tracing the blade down my shirt.
“Then… Jules.” I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling at the restraints around my wrists. “Then Ben.” her breath tickled my cheek. “And finally… Panda.”
Lucy lifted the knife, and I accepted my death.
Until a low rumble in my ears.
Shouting.
Thundering footsteps, followed by the pitter-patter of paws.
“Lucy!” The sheriff was screaming, and the girl stumbled to her feet, the knife slipping from her fingers. Lucy stumbled, tripping over Ben’s body.
“He got away!” she shrieked. “He…he killed them! Oh, god, please help me!”
I don't think Lucy even realised the traces she'd left behind.
The blood slick on her fingers, her manic, grinning smile full of mania.
I was looking for stars when an officer crouched over me.
I couldn't understand what she was saying.
Her voice was white noise.
“Rachel? Hey, try and sit up, honey. You Mom is on her way.”
Instead of listening to her, I curled into myself.
My gaze found Arlo sticking his nose in Ben’s hair, trying to nudge the boy awake.
I didn't fully register the next few days.
They went by in a confusing blur.
Part of me tried to eat, and spent hours with my head pressed against the toilet seat.
I could still see the slithering, scarlet remains of my friends every time I closed my eyes. There was so much red, soaked in that hunting orange light.
Blood that I could still see, a starless sky that stretched on forever.
Weeks went by.
Then months.
I think I turned 14. I wasn't sure. I didn't feel alive anymore.
I stood at my friend’s funerals with a single rose I dropped into their casket.
Violet’s mother was quick to cover the whole thing up.
Lucy's plan didn't work after all.
Our town’s murder cases stayed stagnant at one.
It's been four years since my friends were murdered by our ’Velma’.
Now, at seventeen, Mom asked if I wanted to visit Lucy in juvie.
I'm not even upset or angry anymore.
I want to know why.
Ben picked me up. Arlo was at his side, wagging his tail.
Ben was…different. He'd dumped his baseball cap and gotten a haircut, swapping his old wardrobe of drab colors for an attempt at changing style.
That day, he looked awkward in a short sleeved tee and shorts.
At school, Ben is no longer Bloody Ben.
Now, he is Survivor Ben.
I’m still Panda.
Every time I was with him, I felt like my soul was being sucked out.
Guilt so deep, so fucking painful, I lost my breath.
I live knowing that I immediately assumed it was him that day.
Ben was barely alive when I found him. Lucy had started to carve into him before remembering she needed me.
After admitting it to him, his lips formed a small smile.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He said to me, at sixteen.
"Yeah?"
Whatever he was going to say, Ben never told me.
Presently, I nodded at the dog’s new collar.
“Peppa Pig themed?”
The boy shrugged, ruffling Arlo’s ears. “FYI, he chose it.”
“It's cute.” I said. “Very… chic.”
We didn't speak the whole ride, but Ben did entangle his hand in mine.
We spent half an hour outside the detention centre. I was panicking, and Ben was trying to hide that he was panicking. In the end, we joined hands, and strode through the doors together.
Lucy greeted us with a wide smile. Just as psychotic.
The orange jumpsuit suited her, though I had zero idea why.
“Hey Arlo!” she giggled at the dog, and Ben pulled the pup onto his lap.
“Ben.” She sighed. “I wish I got to finish you. I would have loved to solve the mystery of your gutted corpse.”
Ben’s smile was wry. “Nice to see you too.”
Behind a glass screen, I asked Lucy one simple question.
“Why?”
Lucy didn't reply. Or she did, but it was just nonsensical bullshit.
But there was one thing she said has stuck with me, chilling me to the core.
I am fucking terrified of Lucy. Of what's she's done, and what she's capable of doing.
It was a throwaway line, and I don't even think Ben noticed.
Or he did, and was in denial.
Lucy's smile was wide, her eyes empty pools of nothing.
The exact same glint in Ben’s eyes.
Jules’s eyes.
Violet’s eyes.
Like something was gnawing away at their psyche, twisting and contorting it, filling them with darkness, poison, that was so vast, so endless, I had craved it as a child. I still don't know what it is.
But I'm going to find it.
Lucy's laugh was shrill, and next to me, Ben didn't move a muscle.
“I don't even wear glasses!”

The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes, unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dozed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first attempt was a five-foot deep pit. The buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was on the verge of giving up, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw it aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my bottle I washed the dirt away, scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short, and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up and down and said, “Jack Dempsey, did you cut any more sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “Wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since, the final night not plagued by monsters and nightmares.
I was woken by the first tentative rays of the morning light. The excitement of my find robbed me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was a secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless, only limited by my willingness to imagine.
My idea was simple. If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune.
With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might’ve had. Within moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunderclap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll their way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't divert my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, but there was no storm before and now there is.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I slid into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need for it to beat, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I knew it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the hole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the television.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents about staying up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I want you to know I love you.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my well being. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory, and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke up.
This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff, and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I lay in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide, and I looked up.
I could hardly believe what they saw. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow cast by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it scare me, but at that point I didn’t care. I would have welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal, and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic, so it was no difficulty finding a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of our kitchen table filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. Jonah in the belly of the whale, I suppose. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow cast by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. Panic seized my limbs, threatening to lock them up for good. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin in the middle, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. The coffin against the left wall held my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there, a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart, and as I opened the lid a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile evaporated the moment I looked and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I heard rich laughter echoing down the hallway directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before trying to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to meet me in the dark,” purred Viktor in a smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I’ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. “May I know the name of the person who will be the death of me?” asked the vampire, a cruel smile beginning to form on the pale landscape of his face.
“The name is Jack Dempsey and those people you killed last night were my parents.”
“Ahh, I see. It’s rage that brings you down into my domain. Your anger may have temporarily burned your fear away, but before I am done with you, it will come crawling back. I will make you envious of the stillborn. Your blood will bring me back to full strength,” snarled Viktor.
Mouth running unchecked, I shot back, “I don’t need to be an adult to put a stake through your cowardly heart. After all, I’m not the one who locked himself away, too scared of being bested.”
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him, and my parents were the ones who paid the price. This was my cross to carry. My mess to fix. By God, I was resolved to see this thing through till the end.
Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumph, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mother. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body, and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me, and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck, and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I pleaded for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last moment he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down at the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here, and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing the shadows in the night.

Welcome to The Oblivion Cycle universe, a vast setting spanning all of time and space and so much more. While many stories may shed perspective on this grand cosmic vista, there are also tales of adventure and sacrifice, romance and terror, grimdark corruption and scientific progress. To become immersed in the setting is to let the chaos of creativity flow through you, to let go of what is probable to discover what’s possible. I have created TOC for one reason, to inspire and entertain any who will listen. So please feel free to join me on this great adventure as I push the boundaries of what is possible and expand the limits of our creativity together. For more information on the setting and its lore there is a subreddit for TOC at TheOblivionCycle and a Discord server dedicated to it here [https://discord.gg/uGsYHfdjYf] called ‘The Oblivion Cycle Community Server’. I hope you find the following story entertaining and once more, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
+ E1:P1 + E3:P1 + Previous + Next +
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Continued From E3:P3
Balinski took a few steps down the hall towards the distant exit but stopped as he realised Daryon wasn’t following. He looked at her and the police woman seemed to shrink slightly. “What? What is it? We need to get moving, Daryon.”
He waited another second as she put her weapon away and compiled. She seemed strangely subdued now all of the sudden, as if she were embarrassed to be around him. They walked down the hall, thuds coming from behind them as the barred doors did their job. He reached out towards her but she flinched away slightly. “Okay, what is going on? What’s the issue?”
She walked a few more meters in silence and then spoke softly, “I jusst.. I didn't want you to have to ssee anything like that. Who I usssed to be.”
Balinski shook his head, he didn't care who she used to be in her past. He cared about who she was now. And who she was, was a friend. “Daryon, I don't give a znot’s ass about that asshole or what he said. You are my friend, and I promised that I would watch your back.” he had made the promise in order to calm her down, he didn't mention that he hadn't actually expected to have to cash in on it so soon.
She made a gesture of dejected misery, “I know you did. But you didn’t know who I used to be. What I did.. to ssurvive.” She looked at him and her tone became pleading. “Please don’t think less of me becausse I used to.. do things.”
Balinski shook his head. “Why would I think any less of you, Daryon?” She seemed to look at him in mild confusion, her faceplates cracking open to reveal the pink flesh of her lipless mouth. “I mean it. I have known you for a few months now, but we have been working together on this case for Siyel together for a few weeks now. I feel like we can trust each other with our secrets..” he trailed off, he was about to take a big step in trusting her.
He started hesitantly, now the large insectoid woman’s turn to hear something he didn’t like others to know. “Daryon..” he hesitated again and then took a deep breath. “I am not the hero that people make me out to be. I am simply the one that survived. And not even by being brave.” She looked at him, her head cocking slightly as he spoke. “I was placed on perimeter watch, I never even entered the complex before the destruction. Ima fraud, I never even fired a single shot at the rebels that day.” he stopped talking and slumped slightly himself.
It felt strangely liberating to get it off his chest, even if it was not the whole truth of what had happened in actuality. No, the whole truth was far too dangerous to share. “So now you know. I’m not the war hero who took out the enemies of the Union single handedly. I'm just the scared little boy that the commander of my unit did not trust enough to take into battle. And I have to live with that, the images still haunt me. My comrades shattered bodies, the blood.. The fire..”
He felt a wave of pain crashed through his mind, the memories once more causing the psychic anguish to overwhelm him. He raised his hands to his head and groaned quietly, he felt himself backslide towards that dark personal oblivion that was the pit of his past trauma. He stopped, or rather something stopped him.
He looked up as a voice brought him back to the present, “..can’t help you if I don’t know what’ss wrong, Balinski.”
He shook his head and stood. “I.. sorry. I have an.. a condition.” He finished lamely.
Daryon seemed to look him over without moving. Her bright blue compound eyes were able to see so much without her having to turn her head. She reached out and gave his shoulder a pat. “I get it. I think I do at leasst.”
He had a thousand things he could have said in response ranging from cruel to straight up flirtatious. But he never got to explore any of the options as just then a mighty crash echoed through the hall. This was soon followed up by the sound of distant screams and angry yelling.
He looked at Daryon briefly and then began running down the hall again. They skidded around the corner into the final stretch and up the slight incline towards the exit. Next to the door stood Dunmec and a slightly battered looking Terri, the yeown woman looked to be bleeding from several cuts across her forearms. They looked like they had been made by some manner of sharp objects.
Despite her oozing injuries the woman was beaming, her long pointed ears and wide predatory grin as gleeful as he had ever seen one of the big werewolf-like aliens. As they made their mad dash up towards the exit he also noticed that the tall umraghj was bandaging her wounds, the soft buzz of their synthetic voice echoing through the enclosed space.
“..andeged like this tightly or you may get infected. I don’t know why you had to go and do something like that Terri.” Balinski was able to pick up on the tail end of their muted conversation. “What’s that? Hey, it’s you two! You won’t believe what happened..”
Balinski skidded to a halt, breathing hard. Daryon was only centimeters behind. He saw Terri bristle, her mantle hair standing on end as she stood and whirled to face them. In her haste she scattered the small first aid kit that Dunmec had been using.
As she looked back and forth between them a gleam of recognition flashed in her eyes and she glanced at the umraghj who was busy trying to pick up the scattered debris of her suspicion. “This is the ones?” She seemed at once curious and skeptical.
He gave her a nod and a synthetic grunt as he stood with some difficulty despite the exosuit he wore. The gravity of the planet was nearly a perfect standard G, but the umraghj had evolved on a planet with much lower gravity and thusly had trouble standing unaided under standard gravity.
Balinski nodded to her as he reached them and then gestured towards the door. “We need to get out of here, like right now.”
“Too late, look out!” Daryon yelled as she dodged into the small alcove to the side of the chamber. Balinski twitched as he meant to follow, but in that second of hesitation he realised that Dunmec was entirely out in the open, and the approaching henchmen had drawn their guns.
The fool had gone for the exit, in a second he would likely be riddled with bullets and dead. Balinski stepped towards the man just as the thugs opened fire at him with an AP-6 submachine gun. He threw up an arm to shield his face as he felt a series of impacts against his chest and legs. He grunted in pain as he was thrown backwards by the force of the absorbed impacts. He swore internally as he slammed into the door right next to the cowering Dunmec, that was going to hurt like a bitch in the morning.
Dunmec lowed in fear, the electronic tone of the sound magnified by the distortion of his suit. Balinski coughed as he reached up and grabbed the man right as another flurry of shots flew their way. The umraghj jerked in either fear or pain as Balinski used his body to shield the man while simultaneously dragging him towards cover. He tried to send a mental alert to Caesar for backup but didn’t feel the transmission go. He couldn't be sure that the message had been sent, much less been received.
It looked like they were on their own. A bullet nicked his neck, causing him to jerk. With a last herculean effort he hauled the tall alien into the cover of the alcove while the other three tried to shelter in place. “Daryon, waste these fucks.” he shouted to her, unholstering his ThunderEagle and tossing it to her.
She grabbed it out of the air deftly and gave a grim looking nod, her antennae pressed down her back as she leaned out from cover and fired a shot off. He didn’t see if she hit anything as he was preoccupied with the whimpering Dunmec.
Terri was hovering nearby, her bloody wounds forgotten as the unfinished bandages hung from her arms. “Oh no! Oh-oh no.” the woman muttered as Balinski looked the suited man over. He had a small puncture in the shoulder of his suit, a thick green liquid seeped from the wound. The man’s chlorine based blood stained the fabric of the suit as Balinski checked him for patches.
He pointed to Terri, the woman still looking a little freaked out. “Hey, you.” Her chatoyant blue eyes snapped to his face. “First aid kit, now. I can help him if you help me!” He told her loudly as Daryon fired another two shots.
“Two down!” The vinarfel shouted. “I never sshould have let myssself get dragged in here.” He heard her mutter, as if anything he said or did would have stopped her from entering the building. She opened the revolver’s chamber and asked, “You got reloads?”
Balinski nodded and handed her a handful of bullets, AP, HE and others. He hadn’t looked, he had just grabbed some from his pockets as he lay on the ground wheezing slightly through the pain in his chest. Tarri had grabbed the first aid kit that Dunmec had been rummaging around in and he flung open the lid to see what he was working with. His own medkit he wore on his waist would come in handy if he couldn't find what he needed.
He looked through it as more gunfire erupted from down the hall, it sounded as if the gunmen in the hall had been reinforced. Balinski ignored it, instead focusing on the injured alien. Dunmec was breathing heavy, his eyes just visible through the HUD visor he wore. Balinski placed a hand on the man’s injured shoulder causing him to moan in pain.
“Hey, stay with me kid. This might hurt a bit, but I need to seal the wound. It looks like the bullet is still inside, I am going to have to get it out.” He watched as the man nodded, his breathing taking in a more fearful pitch.
Terri hovered by his side, dancing from foot to foot as she mumbled in some manner of near incoherent babble. He gave her a look, pausing in his work. “Terri, I need space. Most importantly I need you to watch my partner’s back. Here, take this.” He undid his ammo belt, handing it to her he gave her a small smile, “I got this. Don’t worry. I'm a professional.”
The yeown rushed off to help Daryon, now alone with the injured man he reached for the kit and located a small vitatector. He switched the portable MRI detector on and scanned over the wound. The small device beeped and showed an interior scan of the man’s injury. The bullet had been slowed by his suit, it looked like and embedded itself in the bone just next to his shoulder joint. It would be a difficult fix, but he had done this before on the battlefield on several occasions when a designated medic wasn’t available.
Balinski grabbed a small pair of packaged forceps from his own medical pouch. They had been stored in antiseptic fluid that he used to sterilise the wound as he ripped the package open. Dunmec once more cried out in pain as the liquid seeped into the open wound but Balinski sat him up against the wall and held him still with his free hand.
He looked at the man and asked him, “This is going to hurt. I don’t have any anesthetic that will work on you, I recommend that you hold onto my arm and squeeze as hard as you feel the need to.”
The umraghj nodded, their long double jointed arms reached out and his suited hands gripped his free arm. Balinski breathed deep and then pushed the tool into the wound to where the vitatector had told him to. It took a few seconds to find the bullet, in that time the man’s hands tightened down hard enough on his arm to make the allow creak concerningly. He felt the tool slip of the bullet and he swore.
“Luck damned thing! Come one!” He fished for it again and succeeded in getting a grip on it the second time. He had to work it back and forth a few times to loosen the projectile from its death grip. As soon as the projectile was free he dropped the forceps to grab some sterile gauze, he needed to stop the bleeding and didn't have a QTube handy. He needed to requisition more from the precinct when he got the chance.
He checked the man’s waist pouches quickly and found a patch kit. He squirted some basic medical foam into the wound, it would swell and keep pressure on the wound internally. It didn’t have the healing properties of a QTube, but it would keep the man from bleeding out. Balinski used a sterile bandage to clean the suit as best he could before applying the patch to it. Oxygen wasn’t harmful to the man, but it might not be good if the pressurised chlorinated atmosphere from inside the suit got out.
He reached for the first aid kit and closed it before patting the man on his shoulder. He was still lucid, impressive as most non-combat oriented species of the Union would quickly succumb to shocksleep when injured. Dunmec must be tougher than his lanky frame looked at a glance.
Daryon shouted as he stood. “Alright, they just got rushed by club staff it looks like. They are laying down their arms!” She scuttled back into the cover of the alcove as shouting replaced the sound of gunfire in the distance. She handed him his .50 calibre revolver and he replaced it into his shoulder holster as Terri rushed to Dunmec’s side.
She spoke quickly, “Oh.. oh Dunmec.. I’m so sorry. Are you alright? You got shot!” She added, a bit obviously.
The downed alien just coughed lightly and shook his helmeted head while reaching up towards the muscular alien woman. “I feel bad. But not as bad as I did before I met you.” He said the lines in an almost practised way, as if he had been waiting for the opportunity to use them for a while.
Balinski snorted slightly under his breath at the cheesy line causing Daryon to punch him in the shoulder. He gave her a glance as Terri lifted the nearly three meter tall man to his feet. He leaned heavily on her much shorter frame, but she didn't seem to mind. Her powerful muscles easily compensated for the additional strain as she replied to him, “Well, that was before. Now you don’t have to feel bad or scared. I will protect you now. I won't let anyone else hurt you, I promise.” Dunmec just chuckled and then groaned in discomfort.
Balinski stood straight as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, his hand flashed inside of his trench coat. His fingers finding the handgrip of his gun as a quartet of heavily armed people rounded the corner with MR-12s raised.
Daryon automatically raised her hands and after a moment he did as well, relinquishing his grip on the gun reluctantly. A tattooed nerivith female stepped forwards, her face taken up on one side by a flowing vine-like pattern that disappeared into the collar of her suit. She wore a bullet resistant vest over the top of it, very much business-combat attire.
She nodded her horned head to them and shouted loudly, “You two, get on the ground! No funny business or you will find out just how much I care about problem brewers in my establishment.” She stopped as Terri rushed forwards.
The yeown woman’s arms were still wrapped up in the bandages from earlier and spots of bright red blood dripped slowly from at least one of the deep cuts. “Stop! These two saved us, literally. The human took some bullets to save Dunmec, he got shot by those packbreakers.” She spat the last word with considerable venom. Her disdain for the submachine gun wielding men was obvious.
The nerivith woman looked from Terri to Dunmec a few times before stepping closer to Balinski with a suspicious look. “Hands all the way up, move and I’ll give you another orifice to breathe through.” She stepped close and opened his coat, her hand feeling his ballistic vest that had stopped the first burst of automatic fire. She nodded and then stepped back before lowering her gun.
“Don't touch that hand cannon in your shoulder holster, but I think I trust you. Who are you two and what the smeg are you doing antagonising these jerkoffs?” The pink skinned alien demanded as she looked between him and Daryon.
Balinski gave Daryon a glance and she nodded before raising one of her middle arms. “I can ansswer that for you.” She pulled out a physical badge from her back pocket and handed it to the woman.
The club workers' tufted tail flicked as she took it and Balinski watched as her raven colored eyebrows rose. “CPD? What the hel are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Daryon spoke again, the nerivith woman frowning as she laid out the tale in as accurate a fashion as she could without compromising their true agenda. “Well, we were following a lead to a persson of interessst when we were accossted by these men for ssome unfathomable reason. We tried to run and when that didn’t work we defended ourselves to the full legal extent of the law. You may notice that I didn't shoot to kill, at least not on purposse.” She added with a slightly guilty hiss.
Terri let out a small noise as she said it. The woman likely still in some manner of mild shock, despite her species violent natures, death was not always so easy to grasp. The gun-wielding woman turned to the few other club workers that had come with her and commanded, “Tell the boss what happened, call the police. I want this wrapped up as soon as possible. I’m not taking the fall for this one.” She turned back to Balinski and punched him in the chest, not hard enough to be aggressive but still with considerable force. “I think I like you, big man. You got some horns on you, I guess I don't have to ask you to wait for the police to arrive to give a statement do I?”
Balinski chuckled and glanced towards Terri and Dunmec. “No, you don't have to worry. I will be submitting a full report of the events..” He wasn't able to finish as a loud thud echoed from the main door followed by a series of loud percussive noises. Everyone immediately went on high alert but Balinski raised a hand. “No, it's okay, that’s my backup. Fashionably late as usual. Here, let me get the door so she knows it alright.” He looked towards Terri who nodded.
The nerivith woman’s gun was still raised but she nodded too. “Be my guest.” She gestured for him to go ahead. He walked to the door and unlatched it before swinging it open slightly. Before he could say anything, Caesar burst through it as she pushed it out of his grip. He grunted in mild discomfort as she slammed into his legs and landed in a stunned heap.
Chuckling as the embarrassed looking dog stood to her feet, he watched as she shook her triangular head. “You big oaf. Everything is fine now girl, thanks for coming though.” he reached down and gave her head a scrub that made her grumble in annoyance like a put upon teenager.
Daryon scuttled over on her short, pointed legs and Caesar perked up a little. “Oh you brave warrior, you would have ssaved usss for ssure if Balinsski had just taken you with uss.” She gave him a look, her faceplates cracked in her version of a grin. He could only shake his head as the nerivith woman walked up to him once more.
“Alright, I need to get this mess cleaned up. I beg your pardon if I ask you not to come back here on official business again?” He nodded.
He pointed to the door. “It wasn’t my plan to cause such a disruption when I came in here.”
She shook her raven haired head. “It’s all over now. No sense worrying about what did and didn't happen. It just so happens that we have had trouble with these individuals before. So as far as I see it you did us a favour because we now have cause to bar them from ever coming back.” She nodded again as she said it, her smile flashing at him. As she did he noticed that she had several gold teeth.
She turned and stalked away, her tail lashing behind her. Balinski rubbed his chest and then glanced down at Caesar. “Yeah, you did good in coming. If we hadn’t been able to make it out your backup would have been the thing we needed.” She just gave him a little bark and then headbutted his thigh affectionately.
Daryon was talking to Terri and the still slouching Dunmec. Balinski got the feeling he didn’t need the support as much as he was simply enjoying being physically close to the brawny furred alien.
Balinski decided to walk over to them to hear what they were whispering about. He picked up on the conversation as he neared. Terri was speaking, “Yes. She likely will keep trying to force her ideas on me, but I already beat her once and she won't ever be able to forget that. It is an exploitable weakness if we should ever lock claws again. Thank you for your concern.”
The woman looked over at him as he approached, her eyes settling on Caesar. “Oh, what’s that?” She exclaimed.
Caesar tossed her little head and gave him a look as if to say, ‘What? Another one?’ He chuckled and gave her a pat on the head. “This is my erstwhile companion and oldest living friend, Caesar. She is a cybernetically enhanced dog, a Jureillion husky to be precise. She’s got cognitive implants, you can talk to her if you want.” He prompted.
The yeown woman gave him a look that seemed as if she was unsure of herself. Finally she reached out and spoke softly, “Wow, look at you. You kind of look a little like my grandmother, it's uncanny.” Caesar snorted at the comment and then walked over for free head scritches, grumbling contentedly as she received them. “Ok she is so.. I mean, you are so soft. I love her.”
Caesar seemed to be enjoying the attention. Dunmec spoke now, the suited alien’s robotic sounding voice wheezing out from his helmet’s speakers. “I just wanted to thank you again for saving my life, man. Here, take this.” the man handed him something, it was a datachip card. An old style one too. “If you ever want to get a hold of me..” he glanced at Terri and she nodded, “..or Terri. Just call me with the number on that card.”
Balinski had to nod as he heard the faint sound of sirens coming from the still open door. “I will do that. You two take care of each other.”
Terry gave a wide grin, her teeth clinting in the light. “Oh, we will.” Daryon gave her a pat on the back as she followed Balinski out the door. Caesar hot on her tail.
He took a few steps out into the night and then patted his pockets. He grunted in mild delight as he found what he was looking for. It was a small shiny package of pibbles, the small candies one of his favorites. He poured a few out into his open mouth and jerked as he felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced over, it was Daryon.
“Pibble?” he asked her with his mouth full. She seemed to smile slightly and offered a hand into which he poured a few of the colorful candies.
He chewed vigorously on the fruity sugar orbs as he contemplated the massive shitstorm they had just managed to walk out of. Daryon must have been thinking the same thing as she gave a loud sigh, “Wow.. that was. Well, it wassn't good.”
He just nodded silently. They stayed that way for another few seconds before he turned to her. “What did we actually get out of that old skorp? Anything that we can use to track down the one’s behind the attack?”
Daryon walked a few paces away and then returned quickly, the side-to-side scuttling motion of her pacing threw him off a little. “I really don’t know. The trail hasss gone cold, without another major lead I am fearful that we will losse them. That ssimply isn't acceptable to me.” He nodded, she was right.
He would have liked to respond but it was about that time that a series of screeching vehicles covered in flashing lights skidded into view at the end of the alley. He sighed and fished around in his trench coat for his credentials. “Here we go..” He muttered to which Daryon gave an amused hiss.
A series of officers rushed down the alley with guns drawn, shouts directed their way. It took only a few minutes of back and forth with them to convince them that they were in fact officers, or in Balinski’s case, employed by the CPD.
When it was over he gave a statement and almost a whole hour after they had walked down the alley he found himself leaving it. A bit the worse for wear but secure in the knowledge that they had at least put down a dangerous criminal for their trouble.
Daryon scuttled along beside him, “Gee, I ssure hope the club doesn't get into any ssort of trouble for thisss.”
The comment caught him off guard and he chuckled. “Yeah, they seemed like downright decent folk for running a burlesque underground club.” She gave him a pointed look, her antennae shooting up as she looked like she was about to rebuke him. He raised his arms in mock surrender before she could though, “Oh hey, not saying I didn’t like the place. Just that they likely were not excited to see the boys in blue.”
It was a fair point and she conceded. “Yeah, I ssuppose. But I think we sstill got out of there with a halfway decent lead.”
Now it was his turn to look shocked as they crossed the street, weaving between emergency vehicles to get to the opposite side of the gloomy street. The flashing of emergency lights was behind her and it made her eyes glitter like gemstones, he frowned. “What do you mean? That crusty old skorp didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already suspect.”
She raised an arm and pointed to the wall. He looked and noticed the graffiti for the first time. The one in particular she was gesturing to was a gang affiliated symbol for the Sunstarters. “I can ssay with sssome measure of certainty that we might be able to look around for ssome additional cluesss.”
The Sunstarters were known distributors for the Psychosis Division. It stood to reason that if the Pit Vipers had gotten involved with the Psychs then they were likely also involved with the Sunstarters. Balinski clapped his hands together and smiled, they might just have a lead indeed. What had the old skorp said? To follow the source?
They walked into the large parking garage and to his big blue truck, as they climbed back inside he leaned his head back. “That was a bit of a fuckfest. Are you hungry, I’m hungry.” Indeed almost as he said it he felt a small grumble from his middle.
Daryon made an affirmative gesture, her antennae moving excitedly. “Oh yess, where do you want to go for lunch? Ullnek’ss Hut maybe? McDoinkss?”
He folded his arms. He wasn’t really in the mood for greasy burgers or razah’voolian seafood. No, he would have to think about it. “Why don’t we just drive around till we find something interesting? We need to keep an eye out for any good leads too.”
He started the truck as the large insectoid woman gave Caesar a head pat while nodding. “Okay. But if you see a TFDs then we are sstopping immediately, isss that fair?”
Balinski shrugged. He liked fried drebble as much as anything else. Caesar however seemed very excited by the idea of crispy breaded arthropod as she woofed happily. He shook his head and looked back out the window. He would have to keep his eyes peeled for one of the yellow and black spotted stores.
**********
Balinski smacked his lips happily as he took another great bite out of the steaming fried drebbleloaf sandwich. The snallke was fresh and the pickles were crispy, just the way he liked them. Glancing over at the other two revealed similar scenes of personal enjoyment. Caesar was snacking on some popcorn drebble and Daryon was cleaning out a six-piece bucket of BBQ drebble graspers. Her long radula snaked from her lipless mouth between her opened faceplates as he watched, mildly intrigued to watch the alien woman eat.
He took another bite of his sandwich as Daryon sucked the meat off another fried and breaded grasper. Lacking a jaw she was unable to chew but her radula and powerful cheek muscles made up for her lack as she deftly disassembled the meat with the skill of a surgeon.
She waved the de-meated shell and gave a small hissing sigh as another of her ten arms reached out for the Smarkus grape soda sitting in the dash drink-holder. “Ahhh… Yeah, that'ss the sstuff. How’sss your ssandwich?” She looked at him without moving her head, her compound eyes making her constantly aware of her surroundings in a manner that some might describe as unsettling.
He got the feeling she was watching him eat too, his mastication of the sandwich as inherently alien to him as her own strange method of ingestion was to him. As he took another bite her curiosity seemed to get the better of her. He saw her head cock a little as she asked, “Sso, can you feel with your teeth? I know that you can’t tasste with them. I read that much on the hyperweb at leassst.”
He finished chewing and swallowed before giving her a wide smile. She froze, her fascination with his teeth obvious. “Yeah, kind of. I was lucky that I didn't lose them. It's not uncommon for people who go through.. what I did, to have their teeth shatter. And when they go they don’t come back.”
She nodded slightly as she took a loud slurp of her soda. “Yeah, I read that humanss only get a sssingle sset of adult teeth in their life. No wonder they are so hard, you have to keep using them for a hundred yearss.”
He looked out the window, they were driving slowly around the entertainment district looking for anything that might point them in the right direction. He wasn’t really too sure what he was looking for to be honest, but Daryon insisted that she knew what to look for. He nodded towards a distant structure, it rose so high it went out of sight. “What’s that there?”
Daryon made a loud noise as she cleared her throat. “That’ss one of the upper-city sspires. It connectss the people up there to the ones down here, think of it as a vertical metro..” She trailed off before pointing to something in the near distance. Her BBQ bucket forgotten. “Hey.. hey right there.. Sstop. Pull over.” She tapped him on the shoulder with one of her lower arms rapidly and he obliged.
He looked forwards and saw nothing out of the ordinary, a few people walking along the edge of the street. There was a tall human woman leaning against one of the street signs at the corner, she was dressed in some tight fitting dress and high heels but other than that looked as normal as the rest of them.
Daryon put her yellow and black spotted grasper bucket on the dash and cleaned her hands at the same time she undid her seatbelt and straightened her clothing. She stopped fussing after a moment and then pulled a soft cloth out of one of the inner pockets of her overcoat and used it to polish her eyes. She replaced it and then held out her arms, “Well, how do I look?”
Balinski took the opportunity to give her a completely unabashed once over. He shrugged, “You look like you. What can I say?”
She seemed to smirk. “Alright, good enough. You know you have a way with words Balinski, any girl would just swoon to hear such things.” He frowned but didn't get to reply as she continued, “I’ll be right back. Sstay there and try not to look too harmlesss. This will only take a ssecond.
She slithered out of the truck and he kept his eyes firmly forwards this time as she closed it and sauntered off, well as much as the fifty-two legged alien was able too. He noticed that she had once more adopted that somewhat provocative side to side sway in her stride as she walked away from him. He just shook his head, she was doing it again.
Continued In E3:P5
==End of transmission==

Previous case.
What should have been a normal bug infestation turned into one of the most bizarre atypical cases I'd ever seen.
(If you're not familiar with what Orion Pest Control's services are, it may help to start here.)
The client called with complaints of encountering centipedes frequently in his home. While a lot of people find centipedes creepy, they're generally harmless. First thing we had to do was an inspection. Find out how the centipedes were getting in. See if there is something such as a water leak that could be causing excessive moisture in the client's home. Centipedes love dark, damp places, which is why you'll often find them in basements, shower drains, and crawlspaces. Once we had a chance to scope out the situation, we could develop a treatment plan from there.
Armed with insecticides, Reyna and I arrived to combat the invasion. The first thing I noticed when the client answered the door was that he looked sickly. He apologized, saying that he had food poisoning, so he was going to keep his distance from us.
“Where have you been finding the centipedes the most?” I questioned.
“Bedroom.” He said as he weakly settled down onto the couch. “That's why I'm camped out here. Those things freak me out.”
“How about the basement? Bathrooms?”
He shook his head. I thought that the location of the infestation was somewhat unusual, but otherwise I didn't think much of it.
We inspected the bedroom, starting under the bed. Sure enough, I found two common house centipedes squirming under a pile of old yearbooks. They got a lovely dose of insecticide. During the inspection, I noticed the windows didn’t have the best seal. That was probably how they were getting in.
The client began to cough from the other room, which turned into wretching.
That doesn't sound good. When I approached him to see if he was alright, he doubled over his garbage can. Instead of vomit, the long, leggy body of a centipede wriggled out of his mouth. He suddenly clutched his nose, wailing as he pulled another squirming bug from his right nostril. It took all of my willpower not to flinch at the sight.
The centipedes weren't coming from outside, after all.
As I rushed to his side, Reyna told me then that she knew what this was. Good. That was why we hired her. I told her to get whatever she needed while I watched over the client.
Before she hurried off with the company truck, she paused to say, “If you can, look for a white centipede. Trap it, but don't kill it.”
Naturally, the client was inconsolable. I think anyone would be, in his situation.
“Why is this happening to me?” He whimpered.
I tried to be comforting, “My coworker is knowledgeable when it comes to human infestations, so once she comes back, we'll take care of it, alright?”
“I'll try anything! I can…” The client shuddered, his hands clutching at his gut. “I can feel them crawling in my stomach! Their legs-”
I rubbed his back as he bent over the garbage can again. Jesus. I hoped that Reyna could help him, and soon.
Once he was done, he trembled as he watched the centipedes writhe at the bottom of his trash can. I asked him if he’d be okay if I left him for a second. He nodded. While he sobbed on the couch, I doused the bugs that he’d thrown up with a hefty dose of insecticide, then the hunt for the white centipede was on. At first, I tried not to tear the bedroom apart too much, but then I figured that the client would rather have to do some cleaning than have more bugs crawling around his insides.
It wasn't under the bed. Or under the dresser. The closet? Three regular, brown centipedes scurried away as I swung the door open. I stomped on one, but lost track of the other. I'd get it later. I moved some boxes of old comics that he had on the floor around. Not there. Possibly somewhere else in the house.
I went to the kitchen next. Nothing under the counters besides some sizable dust bunnies.
While I was there, the client asked for a glass of water, telling me that he had cups in the cabinet by the sink. That's where I found the white centipede.
It reared up on its hind legs, staring at me as its long body swayed from side to side. Something stringy was tied around one of its segments in a small bow. Hair? I quickly seized a glass and placed it over the white centipede to trap it. It kept looking at me. When I glanced between the client and the hair wrapped around the white centipede, I saw that the color and texture of the hair matched his.
Reyna burst through the door with a plastic bag on her arm. I don't know what I expected her to pull out, but it wasn't fruit and extra virgin olive oil. I didn't recognize the fruit, even after she started hurriedly chopping it; it looked like some sort of cross between a lime and an orange.
Seeing my expression, she muttered, “I know this probably looks ridiculous, but just… trust me, okay?”
I nodded slowly. I then informed her that I'd caught the white centipede.
She seemed relieved. “Okay, perfect. Can you put some of this oil on the stove for me on like… medium heat?”
Despite my confusion, I did as she asked. After she was done cutting, she slid the slices of mystery fruit into the oiled pan with a loud sizzle. What was interesting was that during this process, the white centipede had become frantic in its glass prison. It ran in circles, its legs clinking against the cup, desperate for an escape.
After the fruit-oil mixture became a jelly-like goop, Reyna poured most of it into a mug, announcing that once it cooled off, it would be ready.
When presented with the mixture, the client drank it without question. I think he was so desperate for some sort of relief that he'd truly meant it when he'd said that he was willing to try anything.
As he sipped at it, Reyna motioned for me to follow her back into the kitchen.
“Next, we need to submerge the centipede.” She explained. “That'll redirect the curse onto the person that originally cast it.”
“Alright, sounds good.” I replied, using a plate to keep the white centipede trapped within its glass prison as I picked it up. “You've seen this before, I take it?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but normally, it's beetles instead of centipedes. The calamansi mixture I gave him will keep the nasty little shits from eating our client from the inside out.”
I swear, the white centipede screamed as we poured the calamansi stuff over it. Centipedes aren't normally capable of vocalizing. It twitched as its legs got stuck in the goopy fruit mixture. Its struggles eventually died down, becoming slower and slower until the white centipede finally went still.
After confirming that the white centipede was dead, we checked on the client. He looked relieved to report that he couldn't feel anything squirming in his stomach anymore.
Reyna gently informed the client that the curse was brought about by jealousy. There was someone out there that envied him enough to want him dead, and in a gruesome manner, at that. If we had gotten to him a day later, the centipedes would've tunneled their way out of his body from every orifice. Lovely, right?
“The calamansi mixture acts as a ‘return to sender.’” She explained. “The person who did this to you will experience everything that you just went through until they put a stop to the curse. In the meantime, be careful. I'll return later with a charm that should help protect you.”
While Victor and I are well-versed in infestations affecting homes and business, we still have a lot to learn about atypical parasites such as the one that this client dealt with. That's where Reyna comes in. I'm not entirely sure what the best word to describe her title is, since she resents the term ‘spiritual healer' and others like it due to their associations with quack medicine.
In summary, at Orion, we’ve all been learning from each other.
Speaking of Victor, on the drive back to the office, Reyna and I discussed the changes we'd noticed in him. Neither of us have seen him eat anything since he showed up looking like hell.
“My vote's still for vampire.” She said. “Just a different flavor of vampire than the ones my lola told me about to scare me into going to bed on time. Jokes on her though: her stories made me afraid of the dark, so I didn't sleep anyway!”
I wasn't convinced. Victor had witnessed me managing to cut myself with a tape dispenser the other day and had no reaction to the blood beyond cracking wise at me.
He was in his office when we returned, looking like he wanted to strangle whoever he was on the phone with. That wasn't uncommon. The boss isn't the best with people, which is why I end up handling most of the customer service duties.
After Victor hung up, he informed us that it was the department of wildlife. I guess the worms were going around the local deer population, so they wanted us to keep an eye out and let them know if we notice any other species of animals showing symptoms. That made my stomach drop. That was the absolute last thing I wanted to hear.
After that wonderful news, Reyna went to take her lunch break, leaving Victor and I alone.
Before speaking, he gave me a pointed stare, “Listen. Nessa, I get you're concerned about me, but you need to back off.”
That took me aback, but before I could respond, he continued, “I don't want to see you following me anywhere, alright? Just stick to doing your job.”
Following him? Oh. Oh.
“I understand.” I muttered.
There had to be a reason why he couldn't talk to me outright. Something was up. His message was clear: he wanted me to follow him, but make sure that I wasn't seen, even by him.
After the office closed, I left first, pulling my car behind a dilapidated barn spray painted with ‘JESUS SAVES! REPENT!’ It was just down the road from where he lived, close enough to his apartment that I could see him pull in, but far enough away that my little G6 wouldn't be noticeable. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, his battered truck passed by.
I couldn't help but feel creepy, like I was doing something wrong. I was stalking him, after all. But was it really stalking if the person asked you to do it? For about twenty minutes after he went inside, nothing happened. I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to be looking for. Maybe I'd already missed something important.
His front door opened. Victor exited, circling around to enter the forest surrounding his apartment.
Quickly, I drove over, abandoned my car in visitor's parking, and followed him past the treeline, hoping that I didn't lose him. I made sure to bring my toolbelt with me. Like hell was I going into this unprepared.
Unfortunately, I had arrived somewhat late. He wasn't in sight. Shit. Hold on. I examined the forest floor, finding fresh boot prints in the dirt, damp from the rain earlier that day. I followed them deeper into the woods, doing my best to stay silent as I avoided fallen branches as best as I could.
As I went deeper and deeper into the woods, I heard whispering. It was incredibly faint, almost imperceptible. It would have been easy to dismiss as nothing more than the rustling of leaves. I was pretty sure that it wasn't Victor's voice. I looked around, trying to find the source of it, but from what I could see, I was alone.
Cautiously, I continued following Victor's boot prints, hand poised over my container of salt. I knew better than to brush something like that off as my imagination or ‘just the wind.’
The whispers suddenly became more urgent, louder, yet I still couldn't make out what they were saying. It might've been a man's voice. They were coming from the right, veering away from the boss’ tracks.
When I tried to focus on what was being said, I suddenly found myself off of the path. How did I get here? I glanced around, seeing my own footprints behind me. I didn't remember walking this way.
Something out there was messing with my head.
I got my bearings and went back the way I came. The whispers were at my back. Stomach in a knot, I ignored them. I found Victor's trail again.
The whispers were suddenly close. Very close, as if the speaker was right next to me. It took most of my concentration to shut out what they were saying. I clenched my jaw, trying to give myself something else to focus on. It was becoming harder and harder to follow Victor, but I couldn't let myself get led astray again. I didn't want to know where the whispers would take me if I focused on them for too long.
There was a clearing up ahead. The whispers were aggressive, now, my right ear ringing. My mind felt fuzzy, as if filled with TV static. But I still didn't listen to them, using every once of will left to reach the clearing. I even went so far as to plug my ears with my fingers.
All at once, the whispering stopped.
I glanced around the clearing, too afraid to uncover my ears. One of the trees caught my eye. Warily, I got closer. Encased within the bark was a human skull. The trunk had grown around the cranium so that the gaping mouth and eye sockets were the only things visible.
Another tree nearby. The roots twisted around a set of rib bones. The trunk was smaller than the one next to it, as the tree was younger. It grew from the broken jaws of another person’s skull. I also couldn't help but notice that the bones weren't as eroded as the ones I found stuck in the other tree.
I'm not supposed to be here.
A voice made me jump, “What brings you out here, stranger?”
I whirled around, seeing that the mechanic lounged in a folding chair, gently strumming a banjo. The face of the instrument was adorned with black dragonflies flitting about, the wooden neck accented with swirls of gold. I'd bet money that it was hand painted. He looked as if he'd been there for hours, but he definitely was not there before.
My heart raced as the phone call with that kid from three years ago played on a loop in my mind. The blood soaked petals of the hawthorn tree.
I swallowed nervously, trying to keep a tremble from my voice, making sure to avoid his eyes, “I'm looking for someone.”
The mechanic smiled, “Fancy that! I'm lookin’ for someone, too.”
“I'm following a trail. I don't want it to go cold, so if you please would excuse me-”
He cheerily ignored me, “You wouldn't happen to be lookin’ for ol’ blue eyes, wouldya?”
Fuck. What did the mechanic want with Victor?
Something crucial that yinz need to know if you ever encounter the Neighbors is to never lie to them. They will know it. You can, however, conceal the truth, as long as you're clever about it.
“I'm seeking answers.” I said vaguely.
The mechanic continued his soft tune as he gave me a mysterious look, “You think following that trail will get you to him? It ends right in front of you.”
My heart sank as I saw that he was right.
The mechanic then said, “You wanna find him, you're gonna need some help.”
Another thing about the Neighbors is that they take debts seriously. I'd compared them to the Mafia once before, and it's not an exaggeration. An unfulfilled deal with a Neighbor would make cement shoes seem like a peaceful way to go.
I tried to be polite, “I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid that I must decline.”
The mechanic chuckled, the sound chilling me to the marrow. “Nah, you're getting my help, whether you like it or not. You can either accept it graciously, or… well. Either way, you will be finding him for me. Simple as.”
I swallowed again, mind racing to try to find a way out of this. I couldn't decide which option terrified me more: being indebted to the mechanic or angering him.
I made sure not to meet his gaze as he watched me deliberate. The song he played was different than the one I'd heard over the phone years ago. The tune he played now was calming, like a lullaby.
I regret the answer that I gave him, but at the time, I'd thought it was reasonable. I was stupid. Please learn from my mistakes. “Your offer is gracious and appreciated, but I must respectfully refuse. I'm afraid that the cost-”
The mechanic sighed, sounding frustrated, “Anyone ever tell you it's rude not to look people in the eyes when you speak to ‘em?”
Shit. I fucked up. I fucked up! I backpeddled, “I meant no offense-”
The peaceful melody stopped as he gave the strings of the instrument one quick strum. It felt like someone took a sledgehammer to both of my kneecaps at once. Pitching forward, I gasped for air, unable to cry out. Another strum. My fingers clenched into fists involuntarily. There was a sharp sensation under my fingernails as if they were being pried off. Still, I couldn't find the breath to scream. From the fog of agony, I heard another flick of the banjo's strings. With it, my spine twisted and my vision went dark.
I'd thought that was it. That he'd broken my bones with nothing but a swipe of his fingers and left me for dead. I was wrong.
When my eyes opened, I was still in the forest. The mechanic had stayed in his chair, arms bent behind his head, eyes closed as he basked in the golden glow of the setting sun. He'd propped the banjo against his chair. I now feared that instrument more than any weapon made by man.
My fingernails lied on the ground in front of me, a brown liquid covering them. Blood. Why did my blood look like that? What at first looked like pale, shiny stones turned out to be teeth upon closer examination. Everything looked… strange now. Muted, as if most of the color had drained from the world.
Numbly, I noticed that there was something taking up the bottom of my vision. Long and white, tipped with black. No… no way. I tilted my head, looking down to see white paws instead of hands. I opened my mouth to swear, but all that came out was a high-pitched yelp.
The mechanic opened his eyes, grinning at me as he taunted, “You just had to be stubborn.”
I slowly stood, disoriented over how small I felt. The forest was now entirely too loud. The cacophony of smells overwhelmed me. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a bark.
The mechanic sat up, deceptively boyish grin still in place, “You know, I respect you, puppydog. Know why? All your bones broke as your body remolded itself, your flesh stretched out like fuckin’ silly putty, and all your little teeth and nails got yanked out. But through all that, you didn't scream. Not even once.”
I couldn't do anything but watch him, my whole body shaking from fear and the ache I felt in every cell of my being that came from my forced transformation. It hadn't been bravery that had kept me from crying out.
He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, “So here's the deal: you find ol’ blue eyes for me, and you'll be back on two legs again. But if you take too long, you’ll begin to forget that you were ever human to begin with. You understandin’ me, puppydog?”
The mechanic picked up his instrument again. Frozen, I resisted the urge to flinch as his fingers grazed the strings. My ears were so sensitive now that I could hear every groove of his fingerprints as they softly touched the instrument. Not bothering to look up at me, he said, “You’ve got until tomorrow's sunrise. You might wanna get a wiggle on.”
I wanted to run, fast and far, but I couldn't. It took everything that I had not to devolve into utter panic. I had to find Victor. The mechanic had said he was going to help me, whether I liked it or not. How the hell was turning me into a dog helpful?
Okay. I had to think. Stop being afraid and think. I closed my eyes, trying not to stare at my snout anymore. I inhaled deeply, the scents of fresh leaves and wet dirt heavy in my nose. And something else.
Opening my eyes, I followed the scent. Victor's bootprints. Why did I smell death on him? The rotting, pungent smell of carrion was faint, but enough that I could follow it.
I padded forward, allowing my nose to guide me. God, I was so small. Or maybe the world just felt so much bigger.
The scent trail lead me past a pond. Even though my mind felt like it was about to break, I was morbidly curious about what I looked like. When I stared at my reflection, a white, floppy-eared pitbull stared back at me. Little black spots like freckles speckled my face. As stupid as it sounds, one of my first thoughts was, ‘At least he didn't turn me into some yappy little ankle biter.’
I shuddered as the dog in the pond and I retreated from each other. When I felt that hopeless feeling creeping up again, I reminded myself that I had plenty of time to find the boss. I would be human again. With another deep breath through my nose, I kept following the smell of decay.
The creaks of branches sounded like the earth shattering. The songs of birds were tinny and sharp, making a whimper rise from my throat. From far off, something’s teeth ground together nauseatingly as it chewed. God, how do dogs not go insane hearing so much all the time?
I tried to simply focus on following the trail. A woodpecker sounded like a jackhammer, making me jump. Every sound put me on edge. It all seemed so close, as if I were surrounded, caged by the trees around me.
Even though the sun went all the way down, I could still navigate through the trees pretty well. The scent was starting to get stronger. I hoped that meant that I was getting closer.
The trail led me to a shed in the middle of a field. From where I stood at the edge of the woods, I could smell blood yet again. It looked like a butcher's shed. Why would Victor be here?
I approached the shed, ears pricked for any indication of what I would find inside. The shed was completely silent. Steeling myself, I stalked towards the entrance, finding that the door was cracked open. I nudged it open, seeing Victor bent over a counter, a partially processed deer in front of him. It looked like chunks had been taken out of its torso. A knife sat near to him and a pair of discarded rubber gloves.
With how good my hearing was, I should've heard his heartbeat. Why didn't I?
He turned his head when the door creaked open. Ordinarily, we were at the same eye level. It felt strange having to look up at him.
It was even stranger to have him coo at me, “Oh, hey there, puppy!”
I didn't realize his voice could go that high. Oh God, that was far too weird. A drawn out whine exited my mouth: it was the only way to express how weirded out I was.
“What's wrong?” The boss asked, crouching down, hand outstretched. “It's okay. I'm nice.”
Great. I'd found him, but how was I going to get him to know who I really was? I tapped my nose against his palm, then circled towards the door, staring at him, willing him to follow me. I whined again, trying to look pathetic. It wasn't hard. I certainly felt it.
The boss rose back up, approaching me like he was afraid to startle me. I padded out the door, turning back to see if he followed. I may not have been able to speak, but I still knew how to write. I used the claws of my right paw to dig at the dirt, making an ‘H.’ The floor creaked as he left the shed to see what I was doing. I kept pawing at the dirt until I spelled out, ‘HELP.’
His brows furrowed, glancing between me and the message. I whined again, head down, wishing that I could cry. Victor's hand delicately went under my jaw, gently urging me to look up at him. He examined my face intently, searching for something.
He must have found it. His eyes widened as he breathed, “Nessa?”
I whimpered again, trembling as he held my chin. Victor's other hand stroked my head, trying to comfort me.
“What did this?” He asked.
I raised my head, leading him back towards the mechanic's clearing. The journey back felt like an eternity. Victor was silent, his expression grave for the duration of the hike. The smell of blood, meat, and rot lingered with him.
What had he been doing in that shed?
The mechanic had started a fire and acquired a case of beer, at some point. The fucker was roasting a marshmallow when we arrived. It caught on fire.
“People say I'm weird for liking my marshmallows burnt.” He commented before he blew it out. “Not sure why. It's the best way to do it!”
Victor ignored him, “You wanted me, you got me. Now will you please change her back?”
The mechanic twirled the stick between his fingers, the firelight making his smile look sinister, “I'll get to that.”
How much time did I have before sunrise? It was hard to tell with the way my vision had changed. It still looked pretty dark, but that didn't stop me from becoming even more nervous than I already was. What if he just stalled until sunrise, even though I'd done what I was supposed to? Could he do that?
I glanced up at Victor, the terror probably apparent in my eyes. He was smart enough not to push it, though I could tell he wanted to, most likely thinking the same thing as I was.
“Why did you want me?” Victor asked, the tightness in his eyes the only evidence I could see of his growing rage.
The mechanic didn't seem bothered by it, trapping his burnt marshmallow between a pair of graham crackers and a sliver of chocolate. “Do you know who I am, blue eyes?”
“I have my suspicions.” Victor all but growled.
“Then you know very well why I brought you here and what your options are.”
Victor didn't say anything for a moment, looking even more pale in the flickers of the flames in front of him as he watched the mechanic devour his burnt s'more. The boss’ heart still wasn't beating.
I began to wonder how long Victor had been dead. And with that, how long I'd been a complete idiot and not known.
Victor eventually said, “Please, turn my colleague back into a person. I'll make my choice then.”
The mechanic laughed, shaking his head, “You got some nerve, boy!”
I pawed at Victor's leg. I wished I could tell him not to push his luck with the mechanic, like I had.
The mechanic then said, “We’ve had a good working relationship over the years, what with the truck and whatnot. I’m giving you a choice outta the kindness of my heart. Normally, I just take the ones I want without a second thought. But you've been a valued customer over the years. Figure this was the least I could do.”
Victor's icy gaze didn't thaw any, but I could tell that beneath the fury, he was afraid. I didn't know what his choices were, but I'm sure that it was a similar ‘damned if you do, damned if you don't’ deal to what I got.
Victor swallowed before taking a deep breath in. He finally answered, “If I agree, what happens?”
The mechanic took a swig from his beer bottle, then replied “You just keep on managing Orion, same as usual. All that's gonna happen is that you'll have some extra calls from time to time. Calls that only you will answer. You will have no longer than two days to complete each one. And you will not be able to refuse anything assigned to you.”
I had a feeling that the mechanic wasn't referring to some hornet nests. What would a Neighbor consider a pest? With a chill, I came up with the answer myself: us. Humans. They were here before us. We cut down their forests. Poison their water.
For Victor's sake, and for the sakes of nameless others, I hoped that I was wrong. I’d taken lives in Afghanistan and I regret every single one. They still haunt my nightmares to this day, no matter how long it's been since I was discharged. I think they'll always be there.
I caught Victor eyeballing the trees nearby. Another skull leered at us from the truck, the firelight making it look like it was trying to speak.
Seemingly transfixed by the skeleton, Victor eventually let out a shuddering breath before saying, “I’ll do it.”
The mechanic smirked at him, “Good choice, blue eyes.”
When he reached for the banjo, it took everything I had not to cower from it.
The mechanic smiled at me, “Since you did such a good job, I’ll be a bit nicer.”
The melody he played was hypnotic, slow, enchanting. I blinked as my head suddenly felt… cloudy, is the best word I could think of for it. Pleasantly cloudy. And I was tired. So tired. It became harder and harder to keep my eyes open. The grass felt softer than any mattress I'd ever laid upon. I curled up in it, the fresh smell of it relaxing me even further as I let my eyes drift closed.
Then I woke up in my bed, groggy. Why was I awake? I wanted to keep sleeping. I reached up to rub my eyes. A hand. I was me again. I was sore all over, as if I'd done a hundred crunches on hardwood floor. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I bawled like a fucking baby.
I'm taking the next few days off to recover. The boss was the one to suggest it. I need it. He apologized for leading me there. He hadn't anticipated the mechanic finding me. I didn't blame him. It wasn't his fault.
I encourage all of you to learn from my mistakes. If a Neighbor gives you an offer you can't refuse, take the choice that gets you out as unscathed as possible. I got off lightly. Don't mess around with them. Be smart. Be careful.
Update: Victor has been officially diagnosed.

Anyone found the above novel anywhere not worth a kidney.
Getting even "Your husband is screwing his secretary!" Erica winced at the pain of those words. "And you're planning on playing the dutiful wife by entertaining his guests?" Every moment brought her closer to succumbing to the immense pain in her heart that threatened to break her. But if she allowed herself a moment of grief, Alex had won. Despite all of her pain, and all of her heartache, Erica was angry. "... And I just think you should cancel and let him have it!" Erica forced herself to focus on Lottie's rant, taking a slow breath. "You're just letting him get away with it, Eri. How can you do that?" "Oh, Lottie. Who said anything about him getting away with it?"
Dumping the mail on the counter, she left her purchases in the hallway. No doubt by the time she finished her coffee, Gloria would have taken care of her bags too, and Erica could relax for the day before Alex came home. With a happy sigh, Erica settled with her coffee and pulled the letters towards her once more. Bill. Junk. Pushy sales pitch. Bills. More junk, another bill, and... Her fingers paused over the handwritten envelope. No stamp or address, just her name. It may have got mixed up with her regular mail, but this was clearly not a regular letter. Whoever sent it, had delivered it by hand. Trying to place the handwriting, she opened the letter with a touch of excitement. She loved receiving mail. Even if most of it was nonsense. Tearing the contents from the envelope, her smile froze in place as she unfolded the sheets and read the first few lines. Tears blurred her eyes before she could even process she was crying, a whooshing sound in her ears while her hands shook as she tried to make sense of the scribbled words. The pages fell from her frozen fingers, floating gently to the kitchen floor, as her entire body shivered as though she had been plunged in ice. She took a breath. And then another. She felt it rattled in her chest as she heard a gasping sound from the distance. It was only when she felt the tightness in her heart that she realised the rasping sound was coming from inside of her and she was hurtling her way towards a panic attack. She rested her head on the kitchen counter, letting the coolness soothe her clammy forehead, forcing herself to count slowly to ten. Once she finally had control of herself, she straightened up, her hands firm on the counter to steady herself. There had to be a mistake. No way this letter was meant for her. No way. Because if it was, it meant her entire life was a lie. That everything she believed in and trusted was nothing but a facade. She reached for the envelope, turning it over in her hands. Mrs Carr. Well. Okay, so it was addressed to her, but perhaps she had misread something. Maybe she had the wrong end of the stick. She forced herself to retrieve the letter off the floor, taking a slow and shuddering breath. Maybe everything would be okay. Or maybe, just maybe, every single word was the truth and Erica was about to lose everything. Whispering the words, she read them out loud. "You don't know me, and I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your husband is sleeping with my wife." You don't know me, and I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your husband is sleeping with my wife. You have absolutely no reason to believe me, I know, so let me introduce myself. My name is Marcus Copeland, and if my name sounds familiar, it's because I share a surname with Alex's secretary. Cliché isn't it? The CEO has a movie-like affair with the receptionist. Unfortunately, in our case, this is our reality. Sophie is my wife and we've been married for just over a year. I have agonised over this letter for the past few days, trying to find the right words, debating whether I should even tell you at all. Sophie doesn't know I know. She doesn't have a clue that our marriage is done, and I'm about to screw up her entire world like she did to me. That's what ultimately made me decide, by the way. Just so you know, I'm pissed off at Sophie and this letter isn't about getting back at the guy who slept my wife. In the end, Alex doesn't owe me anything, and if he's the type of scum to sleep with a married woman, that's his problem. Sophie is the one who promised herself to me, who took those vows with me, so she's the one that I'm angry at. But with that thought in mind, Alex may not owe me anything, but I'm certain he made the same promises to you that Sophie did to me. Therefore, I think it's only right if you know the truth so you can make your own (informed) decision. I'm only sorry that the truth is so hideously screwed up and is likely to hurt you. Oh, I suppose I should say how I know about the affair and if I have any proof. After all, I could be anyone, and why should you believe me over your husband? To clarify, yes, I have proof. There are copies of some messages sent back and forth between them, which I'll share with you. I wasn't digging for these messages, by the way. I was living in blissful ignorance until Sophie left herself signed in on my laptop - she had borrowed it to do some work. I don't know what you plan to do with this letter, or if you want to contact me further, but just in case, I'll attach my number and email address. If I don't hear from you, I wish you luck and hope you can find some peace. Please, believe me, I didn't want to send this letter. But I couldn't, in good conscience, sit on this information without saying something. I'm sorry again. Best wishes, Marcus. Erica met her sister's gaze as she finally finished reading the contents of Marcus' letter. Lottie had rushed around after a panicked phone call from Erica and had spent the past ten minutes getting caught up to speed. "Do you believe this guy?" "Yes." Erica nodded as she lit another smoking - her third since Lottie had arrived. "I spoke to him after I called you and-." "You spoke to him?" Erica resisted the urge to laugh at the shock on her sister's face. "Of course I spoke to him, Charlotte. You don't get a letter like that and ignore it!" "Well, no. I suppose not." Lottie reached for her smoking, burned away to nothing in the ashtray, and tutted. "But still, I can't believe you contacted him. What did you say? Did you lose your mind?" "No," Erica said, shaking her head. "No, I thanked him for his letter, and-." "You thanked him?" "Lottie, if you interrupt one more time, I swear." "Okay, okay. So you thanked him for the letter, and then what?" Erica finally stubbed out the smoking. Alex for pushing her back to smoking. She had been doing so well. "Well, then I asked him to meet me." "Hello?" Erica was a bit surprised by the deep manly voice on the other end of the line, although she had no clue why. Her heart pounded with nerves, her tongue feeling about ten times too big for her mouth. Just. Say. Hello. "Am I speaking to Marcus Copeland?" Silence. And then he cleared his throat. "Mrs Carr?" "Yes, hi." God, this was painful. Silence stretched between them as she figured out what to say next. Erica was usually so sure of herself and it was a rare occasion she couldn't find something to say. "I'm sorry Mrs Carr-." "Erica, please." "Erica. Okay. Well, Erica, I'm sorry you're having to make this phone call and that circumstances have forced us into this awkward conversation." "There's nothing for you to apologise for." She chewed her lip. Did she mean that? "Although I feel the need to apologise to you also, so I guess we're even." "Whatever should you apologise for?" His tone gave away his surprise. She hated everything about this. The formal way of speaking, the repetitive words. The constant apologies. It was enough. "I shouldn't apologise, Alex should. But since he won't... I'm sorry my cheating scum of a husband stuck his shaft in your wife." Silence. "Well, I wouldn't put it quite that way." Was she crazy, or did she heat a hint of amusement in his tone? "But I accept your apology. I'm sorry my cheating bimbo of a wife let him stick his shaft in her." Erica felt herself relax as he matched her tone and dropped the formalities. "Did she let her?" She asked, clearing her throat. "I mean, is that what the messages imply?" "Are you asking who came on to whom?" Marcus asked, sighing. It was the sound of a broken man, and it told Erica everything she needed to know. "I think from what I read, Sophie did the chasing." "And Alex allowed himself to be caught." Silence again. Different this time. More relaxed. Contemplative. "How much did you actually read?" "Not as much as I'd like," Marcus said. Another sigh. "Once I realised what I was reading, I signed her out of my laptop as though that made it all go away. I don't know why. I just remember my heart sinking and the thought 'I shouldn't be reading this' going through my head." "Almost like you stumbled on a stranger's conversation?" "Yes! Yes, exactly like that. How did you know?" "That's how I felt reading your letter." Erica glanced over at the pages still littered on the kitchen counter. "My heart sank at first. I could feel my face flaming. And then I felt almost embarrassed. Because I couldn't believe I was reading about Alex. My Alex." "I'm sorry." "Yeah." Silence once more. "Erica-." "Marcus-." "Go on," he said, cutting her off before she could offer the same courtesy. "I was only going to repeat myself." "Okay." She took a slow, calming breath. "I just wanted to thank you, Marcus. I know it can't have been easy thinking about someone else when your entire world was crumbling. And I just... I really appreciate you telling me everything." "You're welcome. I'm surprised at your reaction, but you're welcome." "Surprised why?" "You haven't questioned me once. You haven't demanded proof. Why not?" Erica took a moment to gather her thoughts. The truth was, once she heard the pain in his voice, there was no doubt in her mind Marcus was telling the truth. A small part of her still held onto the hope that someone had made a mistake - that it wasn't her Alex who had exchanged those texts with Sophie. Perhaps it was another Alex. Or a fake profile posing as her husband. She'd rationalised it a million different ways before she even picked up the phone. But none of those possibilities mattered now. For Marcus, there was no denying his wife had broken their vows. Even if her little shred of hope blossomed into reality, it felt like rubbing salt into the wound. A gotcha moment. Haha, my marriage isn't over after all. She couldn't be that person. Not when she could hear how utterly broken Marcus was. "I believe you," she said simply. "Do I hope that there's been a mistake? Of course. But given how dejected you sound, I doubt a decent person would make another feel the same way." A last moment of silence. "Thank you for that, Erica. I'm grateful you see it like that." "This might seem a bit unorthodox," Erica replied, her heart racing. "But would you like to get coffee?" You invited him for coffee? Honey, are you okay?" Erica couldn't hold back her laughter this time. What a ridiculous question to ask. "Okay, I know you're not okay, I just meant-." "I know what you meant, Charlotte," Erica said, taking the letter from her and neatly folding it back into the envelope. "I may have a scumbag for a husband, but I'm not losing my marbles." "No? What would you call meeting a perfect stranger?" "A Tinder date?" Erica laughed at her own joke, leaving the room and heading to her bedroom. "You watch too many crime shows, sis." "And apparently you don't watch enough," Lottie said, rushing after her. "Honestly, Eri, just think about this. How do you know he's telling the truth? He could be any old creep just waiting for an opportunity." "You can't fake that kind of hurt. You just can't." Erica pulled her arm gently from Lottie's grasp, walking through the double doors to her bedroom. Grabbing her purchases from earlier, she hung her dress on the back of the door and sat at her vanity table. "I could hear it in every word he said, Lottie. And at the moment, he's the only person in the room who understands what I'm going through." Looking in the mirror, she met her sister's eyes as Lottie sank onto the bed. "Well, I can understand that," Lottie said, scrunching her nose. "Just. Give me his number before you go meet him. That way, if you end up missing, I have a lead to give the cops." Erica chuckled despite her low mood, nodding in response to Lottie's request. It wasn't unreasonable, but in her gut, she knew Marcus was no danger to her. He was just another broken heart who was the only person in the world who had a chance of understanding how she felt. Putting her meeting with Marcus to the back of her mind, Erica turned her attention to her reflection, starting her usual skincare routine. As Lottie watched with a judging eye, Erica cleansed, exfoliated and moisturised, focusing on the task at hand so her mind wouldn't wander and she wouldn't succumb to her hurt. "What are you doing?" Lottie asked, sitting up and perching on the edge of the bed. "Moisturising currently. I'd have thought that was obvious." Lottie rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes," she said. "I know you're moisturising. But why?" "Skin care is important, little sister." "Erica! Stop with the nonsense, you know what I mean!" Erica smirked at her through the mirror, finding enjoyment in her frustration. Moments like this with Lottie reminded her of those precious years sharing a bedroom as teenagers. She'd hated it at the time, but now she would give anything to be fifteen again and arguing over lip gloss. "We have guests tonight," she said, reaching for her make-up bag. "And if I don't get a move on, I'll never be ready in time." "You can't be serious, Eri." "What is it this time?" The smile she gave her sister was a little strained this time. Lottie had done nothing but question her this whole time. "Your husband is screwing his secretary!" Erica winced at the pain of those words. "And you're planning on playing the dutiful wife by entertaining his guests?" Erica shrugged and applied her base coat. The truth was, she wanted nothing more than an endless tub of Ben and Jerry's and a collection of tear-jerker movies to drown her sorrows in. She wished she could put on her ratty old clothes and climb under a duvet, only resurfacing for more ice cream. Every moment brought her closer to succumbing to the immense pain in her heart that threatened to break her. But if she allowed herself a moment of grief, Alex had won. Despite all of her pain, and all of her heartache, Erica was angry. "... And I just think you should cancel and let him have it!" Erica forced herself to focus on Lottie's rant, taking a slow breath. "You're just letting him get away with it, Eri. How can you do that?" "Oh, Lottie. Who said anything about him getting away with it?" "I still can't believe you banged her in the office." Alex tightened his hands on the steering wheel and held his tongue. His head had been pounding all day, and he was positive Sophie's nagging was the culprit. "Did you not think about me at all or how it would make me feel?" Huh. Well, that question was a toughie. Did he think about his side piece while screwing his wife? No. No, of course, he didn't. Why would he? And more importantly, how would Sophie feel if he thought about Erica while screwing her? He couldn't help but imagine her expression. But given her current mood, he didn't want to test her reaction. Still. The thought was amusing. "Alex? Are you even listening?" Holding back a sigh, Alex glanced in Sophie's direction. She was a beautiful girl, it had to be said. With the youthful glow of someone closer to twenty than thirty, she effortlessly captured attention. Lustrous blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder and framed her lovely face, perfectly complimenting her warm and sun-pecked skin. Beautiful long lashes framed the deepest of blue eyes, enticing and enchanting all at once. She was slender, but there was a softness to her that was undeniably alluring. With full, kissable lips, she was a dream come true. She was also crazy. "Yes, I'm listening," he said finally. "I just don't know what you want me to say." "I want you to explain why you'd do that to me?" "Sophie..." He paused, planning his words carefully. "You understand that Erica is my wife?" "I don't see why that's important," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're not the only one married here." "You're telling me you don't sleep with Marcus?" The thought made his groin tighten, though he wasn't going to let her know that. "I haven't slept with him since that first time..." she bit her lip and Alex forced himself to focus on the road. For reasons he couldn't explain, that really turned him on. "Well, I didn't ask you to do that, Sophie. Honestly, I'm surprised he's not suspicious." "You want me to sleep him then, throw him off the scent?" Absolutely not. "What you do with your husband is none of my business." "No?" Her voice had softened, her tone meant to seduce. "You wouldn't mind him running his hands all over my body? Grabbing my cherry... playing with my private part?" Alex shifted in his seat, forcing himself not to react. "You want him to slide his hard shaft deep inside me, make me moan for him as I get wetter and wetter? You'd be okay with me screaming his name, and-." "Enough, Sophie." Alex hardened his tone, stopping her in her tracks. He wasn't a jealous man, but he was a possessive one. It didn't matter to him that Sophie was married. In fact, the happier she was in her marriage, the better it was for him. All he wanted from her was nasty, uncomplicated intercourse. But he couldn't help but get off on the idea that he was taking another man's wife and leaving him with blue balls. It was selfish, he knew. But he was a selfish man. The problem was, it seemed Sophie did not get the causal encounter memo. With her bimboing and whining, it was becoming more and more clear that, for her at least, this was becoming something more than intercourse. Unacceptable. And quite frankly, ridiculous. Despite his affair, Alex loved his wife. Erica was everything he wanted in a woman and more. Sophie was a lot of fun, but Erica was the kind of woman you brought home to your parents. Taller than most men, she cut a striking figure. Though slender, she possessed curves that ought to belong to a goddess. Sophie could only dream of having cherry like Erica's (she let him know it was the only thing she envied of her 'rival'), and her backside was out of this world. Her skin was flawless, creamy and warm. Like a painting brought to life, she was the epitome of elegance and grace, carrying herself with a confidence that was undeniably s-xy. With her chestnut brown hair, she was the opposite of Sophie in every way. Superior in every way, and more than Alex had ever hoped for. Why Sophie thought she stood a chase was beyond him. That she thought she could compete with Erica was laughable. And yet he continued to bang her. That was the problem. Despite the healthy intercourse life he shared with his wife, something about Sophie appealed to him. Perhaps it was just the thrill of the affair, the knowledge that someone wanted him enough to risk everything to be with him. The intercourse was, admittedly, out of this world. He had no intention of ending things with Sophie. But she needed to realise that the minute his marriage was at risk, he would drop her faster than she could blink. "See, you don't like the thought, do you?" He forced himself to focus on her once more. What was she talking about now? Oh, the husband. Of course. "Sophie, what is it you want me to say?" "Admit you're jealous!" He wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Why couldn't she let this go? "I don't want him sleep you," he said, hoping that would be enough. Judging from the expectant look on her face, it was not. "Why not?" She demanded. It wasn't about jealousy, he just didn't want to share. He didn't want another man's sloppy seconds. But he probably shouldn't tell Sophie that, and he definitely didn't want to lead her on and make her think she had a chance. This was getting complicated. "I don't like sharing, Sophie. It's as-." "But you expect me to share you!" She said, cutting him off. "Don't you see how unfair that is? And in your office! Where I am just on the other side of the door. Don't you understand why that drives me insane?" "I didn't say you couldn't sleep Marcus, only that I didn't like it. You don't have to like me sleeping Erica, it doesn't mean it won't happen." "But that's not fair!" Sophie's shriek reminded Alex just how immature she could be. "I don't want to sleep Marcus. I only want you." Well. He couldn't blame her. "Be that as it may-." "No! No, you have to make a choice, Alex. You can't have both of us." Alex pulled off the road and killed the engine, turning in his seat to face her. She shrank back at what he imagined was a thunderous expression. No one told him what to do. No one. "Then I chose Erica," he said firmly. "Who do you think you are, little girl? You don't give me ultimatums." "I-I'm sorry." Her words were barely louder than a whisper. "I just can't stand the thought of you touching her. I want you to only want me." "And you think giving me an ultimatum is going to do that?" He was treading dangerous territory here. She had given him an out. He could end things here and now, and be done with this entire affair. Erica would never know, Sophie could be replaced. It could be so easy. But he sensed a win for him as Sophie chewed her lip. Her eyes met his, wide and innocent. She wanted so desperately to please him and he knew it. "Alex, please talk to me." "Too late," he said, testing the waters. "You told me to choose and I did." "I didn't mean it!" She reached for his hand, holding it against her cheek. "Alex, I didn't, okay? I just... I lost myself for a moment, okay? He pulled his hand from her grasp, leaning back in his seat. "I think I should take you home, Sophie." "No!" Before he could stop her, Sophie unbuckled her belt, moving over the console and into his lap. She pecked across his face and along his jaw, brushing her lips over his. "I'm sorry, okay? Please, Alex. Please believe me." He shouldn't have enjoyed this, but he was. Here was this beautiful woman, begging him for a chance, begging him not to leave her. How could someone not enjoy being wanted so much? He stayed silent, letting her move against him, enjoying the feel of her body as she writhed in his lap. As he moved his arms around her waist, it occurred to him he was reserving his place . He'd always thought of himself as a good guy. This confirmed he was not. "How do I know we won't be back in this same situation next week, Sophie? Or three months from now? A year?" A year? He was giving her hope this thing had longevity. "We won't. I promise we won't." She pecked his lips despite his resistance. She'd gained confidence at the way he was holding her, sensing a win. "Just... Can you promise me something?" "Depends what you want." He'd probably give it to her if she continued moving like that against his crotch. "If you're gonna bang her in the office again," she said, nibbling her way across his jaw to his ear. "Could you make sure I'm not there? I really don't want to have to hear it." Alex chuckled darkly, grabbing her butt and giving it a squeeze as his shaft stirred under her. "Seems like a fair deal," he admitted. "I'll try and be more courteous." She ran her tongue around the edge of his earlobe, making his groin tighten in anticipation of feeling that same tongue on his hard length. "Thank you, baby," she whispered against his ear. "Now let me really apologise." Reaching for a lever, Sophie pushed his seat back, giving her more room to settle between his legs. Her long, slender fingers made quick work of his belt, her eyes intense on his. Tugging his pants down along with his boxers, his shaft sprung free, getting harder as she worked him with an expert touch. Her mouth moved over him, stealing the breath from his lungs at the immediate pleasure he felt. Okay, so this was one thing she had over Erica. Her blowjobs were out of this world and worth every risk he took just to experience one. She knew exactly how to tighten her lips, the right places to tease with her tongue. Her mouth was always ready and willing and he had lost count of how many times those pretty eyes had looked up at him while he shot his load down her throat. "Sophie," he said, grabbing the back of her head and keeping her still while he could still focus. She kept her eyes on his, paused with his shaft in her mouth. It was enough to make him throb in need "You're not to sleep Marcus, even if you want to. Do you understand?" She nodded once, sliding her lips further down his length. He fisted her hair, tugging on it sharply and stopping her in her tracks. "I said, do you understand?" This time, Sophie released his shaft, wrapping her hand around him instead. "I understand, Sir," she said, licking her lips. "Whatever you want, I'll give you. You own me now." Pushing her head back down, he watched his shaft disappear between her lips once more, her words ringing in his ears with a sense of euphoria. Who said you couldn't have your cake and eat it too?

When your mind is in a state of auto-pilot, it's hard to think and focus on any given thing. You're just a passenger along for the ride, your body operating based solely on muscle memory and habits etched into your mind. I wake up, I get coffee, I drop my daughter off, go to work, and then go home. Lilly would always be home by the time I came back, having made dinner for herself. I'd talk to her about her day, she'd ask about mine, and then I'd begin working once again. Rinse, wash, repeat. The only day that didn't happen was Tuesday.
Lilly had chess club that day, meaning she would stay at school for one, sometimes two hours longer than normal. That meant I'd be able to pick her up since the end of her club aligned with the end of my work. Her dull eyes, staring uselessly at the sky, would instantly brighten the moment they landed upon me. She'd jump into the passenger seat, just barely having reached the age of being allowed to do so.
"Daddy!" She would always greet me like that, and I would ruffle her dark hair, much to her dismay. I would barely get a word in as she recounted every minute detail of her day; from the colour of the crayon she used to draw a duck, to what flavour juice she drank for her snack break, and how many people she beat in chess "Did you have a good day, Dad?" Lilly would then ask once she was finished talking about hers. I'd always responded with the same thing.
"It was good," That would be all she needed to prompt her into another topic of conversation. We'd talk the entire drive home, and by the time we pulled into the driveway, her mouth would be sore from talking so much. That was how that day was supposed to be.
But it was different.
Lilly was supposed to be waiting near the bus stop like usual. She'd always stand right next to it, waving goodbye to her friends as they were carted off in the big yellow vehicle. She'd turn her head toward the street, and when she'd see my car pull up, her expression would light up and her smile would stretch off her face. That's how it was supposed to be. That's how it was always supposed to be. Why did she have to change that? Why did she have to run away from the bus stop and down the street, where my car was headed straight for her? I could have braked, but my mind, already worn from sleep and work, was running purely off muscle memory. Something that didn't account for my daughter.
The sound of a sickening crunch filled the air, followed by the unmistakable noise of a body hitting the front of a car. Immediately, I was shaken back to reality, and before I could even realize what was going on I jumped out of the car. A bright pink bag lay at my feet, its contents laid out for all to see. Then, I saw the blood trail, and my heart stopped. Lilly's broken form lay more than five feet in front of the car, splayed out, her arm contorting in ways it shouldn't.
I remember shouting her name, nearly stumbling over the bag to reach her. Dizzy steps led me to her side, where I cradled her, her eyes gazing up at the sky lifelessly. I placed my ear near her mouth, waiting for a faint hot breath to grace my skin. When nothing came, I pressed down on her chest, hoping to feel the rise and fall of her lungs. Nothing. The palms of my hands rested on her shoulder and, with a deep breath, I began the motions I'd learned all those years ago.
Each violent push caused her lifeless body to lurch, and each brutal crackle of her ribs threatened to break them. Everything inside of me told me to stop, that I was hurting her. But she couldn't be hurt. If she were hurt, she'd scream. Lilly would yell, cry, and complain about the pain. That's what she would do.
But she didn't, because Lilly couldn't feel a thing.
Though the reality had set on me minutes ago, my motions continued to rock her limp frame. I didn't care if I was sent to jail for such a stupid accident, I didn't care if she despised me, I didn't care. All that mattered was seeing those faint eyes of hers once more, looking up at me. The emotion they carried, whether it be disappointment, joy, anger, or sadness, I wanted to see them all.
My arms ached, and I could feel the adrenaline fade. This was a useless endeavour. I had murdered my own daughter because I wasn't paying attention. My precious Lilly, the light of my life, the one thing keeping me from ending it all. Gone. Her beautiful dreams would never grace this world, her talents, her passions, they would all go to waste. Because I couldn't keep my eyes on the fucking road.
The final push was what broke the camel's back as a disgusting snap echoed from within her chest. But that wasn't the reason I jumped back. It was the gasp that followed. A deep, heaving breath that forced her broken body into a coughing fit. I stared at her in awe, watching the shallow movements of her chest as she struggled to breathe. Her body convulsed and twitched, unable to handle the pain, and yet she was alive. I wrapped my arms around her, careful not to apply too much pressure. That still seemed not to be enough as Lilly let out a whine.
"Lilly. Lilly, you're okay," I whispered, hands racing across her body in an attempt to find a pulse. Bump. Bump. Bump. Her heart weakly drummed against her chest, barely able to reach her ribs. I closed my fingers around her tiny hand, squeezing it gently as if to comfort her. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my vision grew blurry. "You're okay, Lilly. Daddy's here. You're safe now." My head lifted as I heard the faintest of footsteps. I locked on to the sound like a starving wolf, ready to pounce at any given moment. A woman who I recognized as one of the teachers was approaching her car, having been parked on the other side of the street.
"H-hey!" I yelled out, my voice coming out decibels higher than intended. She flinched, hands instinctively reaching for her bag until she saw the bloodied girl in my arms. "Help! Please, help!" She immediately rushed over, trying to look over my shoulder and at Lilly. "Do you know first-aid? Please, you need to help her."
"O-oh, my God. Yes, I do! Is she breathing? I can-" The moment I pulled away from Lilly, allowing the woman access, her expression faded. Her mouth, once a gaping thing that couldn't produce any words with stumbling over them, was now a thin, tight line. Her eyes, wide and edging dangerously close to tears, were reduced to narrowed slits. All emotion was sapped, and I could physically see her eyes darken. Though, I thought this to be a side-effect of my blurred vision rather than an actual change in appearance.
"Well?" I insisted, holding back the urge to grab her and shake her. "Do something!" Nothing. Not even a blink. Her fingers twitched unnaturally before, without warning, she rushed forward, arms outstretched. Before I could comprehend what was going on, my body reacted and I scooped Lilly up, barely dodging the stranger. "What are you doing!?" The woman stumbled forward, stiff movements like watching a poorly animated film.
"Return her," The voice commanded through vocal cords not entirely her own. Though it was the same voice, it seemed... Wrong. Like it wasn't the right fit for whatever was using it. "Do not interrupt the cycle. Return her."
"No! Get away!" I stumbled backward, my arms tightening around Lilly as I held her away from the woman. Her eyes were completely lifeless, the pupils having gone pitch black.
"Her fate has been sealed. Let her pass," With each step forward, she matched my pace back. Just as rusty marionette strings pushed her forward for another leap, I dashed into the vehicle. I tossed Lilly into the passenger seat, not caring how rough my movements were.
As long as she was alive, I would be fine with whatever injuries she sustained. Slamming the door shut, I watched as the woman arose from the ground, head tilting toward me at an angle far too unnatural. She reeled her hand back and slammed it against the glass, fingers splintering, as if she had no care for whatever happened to her body.
Before she could attack a second time, I had already sped off, watching as the form of the woman was reduced to nothing more than a speck. My breathing, uneven and laboured, was drowned out by the sound of my heartbeat. However, both these things dropped to a complete halt as a wheeze came from the seat beside me. The rare sound of her discomfort was all I needed to keep going.
She was alive, but I wasn't sure how long that would last. My constant need to check on her led me to nearly ramming into a car, only missing it by the skin of my teeth. I expected a stream of profanities to leave the windows of the driver, only to be met with nothing. They drove by, glaring right at me with the same hollow eyes the teacher had.
"We're almost there, sweetheart," I whispered to the girl, gauging her for a reaction. It was obvious even to me that I was only speaking to her to get my mind off of the teacher. Her actions were completely illogical, and the way she spoke... I was never a superstitious person, but that didn't mean I wasn't open to the idea of the supernatural.
Still, the existence of something that defied all science didn't change anything. Lilly would survive, the "cycle" be damned. Just as I was about to take a turn that led to the hospital, the car in front of me stopped. Though I slammed hard on the brakes, I wasn't able to stop the vehicle from colliding into the back.
"Dammit!" I yelled, punching the wheel. Though it had hurt, I could still feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, numbing the pain. The size differences between the two automobiles meant mine didn't take the brunt of the force. That small victory was taken as a boot kicked the door open, and a man with blood trickling down his face exited. He didn't acknowledge the existence of the wound, however, and was far more focused on staring me down. The moment I saw those hollow, dark eyes, I knew this wasn't a case of road rage.
I could hear him chant the same two words the teacher did, but something was different. He wasn't the only voice speaking. Walking down the street, I spotted an elderly woman repeating after him, vocal cords ruined from smoking. And to my right, a mother and a daughter, fingers interlaced, spoke as well. They all spoke in unison, their voices melding together.
"Return her," I shifted the gears and slammed the pedal, causing the engine to roar in protest. It lurched forward, and the mob followed. And yet, despite the fact the man was seconds away from being run over, he didn't seem fazed. Instead, he was more concerned with trying to reach out for Lilly. Just as the car was about to hit the man, I swerved out of the way, the side of the vehicle scraping against the metal of another. The idea of killing someone, no matter how terrible they were, was too much for me. Those morals, however, were about to be tested.
Lilly's limp body bounced with each reckless turn, the only thing keeping her from gaining air being my hand pushing down on her. Narrowly missing the mother and child, both of whom had no qualms about jumping in front of my car, I cut through the yard. Each attempt I made at sparing the mob's lives only resulted in more obstacles and, soon enough, I couldn't see an inch of pavement, and couldn't hear the sound of the engine.
"Return her!" The monotonous tone I grew to fear was replaced with one far worse. Not anger, nor hatred. Desperation. "Return her now!" My grip on the wheel tightened, my knuckles turning white.
"Leave us alone!" I shouted, knowing it would have little to no effect on the crowd. And I was right. Their march didn't so much as waver, frightening determination fueling their steps. There was no way for me to get past them without hurting them, but that was absolutely out of the question.
Right?
My eyelids closed as my feet pressed harder on the pedal. "Hold on, baby. Things are going to get a little bumpy, so don't open your eyes," Then, the first impact rattled the car. It felt exactly like when I had hit my daughter, with the same jolt of energy and adrenaline. Then came another, and another, until I began to mistake the feeling for driving over a speed bump. It helped that no screams came from the husks I was running over. No pleas for help, no cries of agony, nothing. Just the same demand.
"Return her!" The repetitive, never-ending, infuriating request for her death. Their chants soon became muffled, their voices drowned out by the loud thuds of their bodies and the squeals of their bones. "You do not know what you are doing." A passing voice, one belonging to an elderly woman, cried out.
"You are bringing things into existence that should have stayed dormant." A boy pleaded his attempts at keeping up with me only failing.
"Her death is a mercy to her, yourself, and-" My fist hit the horn dead-on, and the blaring siren shut the voice up. Perhaps their demented chanting continued, but I refused to let them keep me from saving my own daughter. Finally, as the light grew brighter and the rough terrain ceased, I let my eyes slip open. Blood coated the glass, the wear and tear of having body after body slam against the windows causing it to nearly shatter. But through the murky, viscous liquid, I could see the familiar plus symbol that signalled our destination.
The moment I was in the parking lot, I stepped on the brakes and threw the door open. The car hadn't even properly come to a halt before I jumped out, reaching for Lilly. As I tried to pull her, however, something resisted. It wasn't from Lilly herself; her hands laid limp by her side, offering no obstacle. Another tug resulted in the same outcome. Only when my fingers pried between her back and the seat did I feel her move forward, at the cost of a searing pain shooting up my hand. The sensation felt like millions of boiling needles dug into the tips of my fingers, targeting the nerve endings.
Finally, she came free. My arm wrapped around her shoulders while the other held her legs. Blood dripped from the back of the seat, and when I looked down, the source was clear. Black vines filled out the silhouette of where she was once sat, tips curling infinitely onto each other. The organic matter was shifting, each pulse causing the very air around it to distort, and so much as looking at it sent a feeling most unpleasant to the back of my brain. It was like a headache that was just out of reach, yelling to look away. And that I did, much more concerned about my daughter's back.
Charred flesh lined her spine, and from it, the vines sprouted. The scent of something vaguely familiar yet never experienced before filled my lungs, and though the smell was unpleasant, I had no desire to cover my mouth. It was strange, because the longer I stood there, the more comfortable the scent became, and the more my paranoia was soothed.
As I approached the imposing building, I quickly realized that it too wasn't safe. This was made evident as, the moment I stepped inside with Lilly draped over my shoulder, the receptionist grabbed the phone with amateurish haste. A marionette, just like all the others.
"Return her," The order sent every human within the building to drop what they were doing. Patients, doctors, family members, everyone. Every pair of eyes was trained on Lilly, their hollow gazes filled with a single thought. They stood, their chairs toppling over as they walked toward me. Doors squeaked open, broken limbs, wheelchairs, and crutches ignored in favour of reaching us. The chants from the mob outside began once more, now leaving the lips of those inside.
The blood of however many I killed on my hands, I kicked in the leg of a chair, the piece of wood splintering from the force. The end was sharpened by hundreds of needle-thin pieces, and I figured it would serve as a fine enough weapon. Searching for an exit, I spotted one not protected by any able-bodied people and started running.
Though outnumbered, I was able to make it through anyone in my path fairly easily. Their attempts at stopping me were weak, uncoordinated, and sometimes used limbs that were broken. I slammed the wood into their jaws, the force sending them back. Burying the sharp end of the makeshift weapon into the chest of a security guard, I ran down the hallway, leaving them in my wake.
I didn't know where I was going; Even if I found a room, there were no doctors who would operate on her. They were too busy trying to stop me. But the longer we were stuck here, the more time we lost. Every second that ticked by was another closer to her demise.
So, as my feet pounded against the floor, I realized the voices grew distant, and the only ones I could hear were the pained whimpers coming from my daughter. She was dying. My Lilly was dying.
Tears began to fill my vision, blurring my surroundings. I stopped moments before I collided with a wall, realizing I had encountered a dead end. With nowhere left to turn to, and the looming threat of the mob breathing on my neck, I stumbled into an empty operating room. Machines attached to countless wires, some translucent and some not, lined the walls. One bed was in the center, the thin, plastic cover laid out for the patient that used to reside there. It wouldn't surprise me if the last occupant had left not more than a few minutes ago.
I draped her broken form and laid the blanket over her, trying to ignore it as the cloth turned a crimson so dark I almost mistook it for black, and pushed several desks to block the door. "It's okay," I whispered, gently brushing aside the stray strands of hair that were glued to her forehead. My voice was trembling, and it was hard to get out the words. "You're going to be okay, I just... I don't know what to do, Lilly." My voice broke, and I cursed myself for failing as a father. My child should never see me cry. Especially not at a time like this. But the tears didn't stop. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, honey, please. Don't leave me."
My fingers curled around her small hand, and I felt her already cold body lose even more warmth. I had brought her back from the verge of death, only to let her die in a place of supposed healing. The irony was not lost on me. My fingers curled, nails digging into her weak skin enough to break the surface. And it did. The moment her blood seeped out of the shallow wound and touched my palm, the familiar searing pain returned. Though I hated myself for it, I reeled my hands back. Or, rather, tried to. The boiling liquid latched onto my finger, connecting us via a bubbling, black string.
The liquid enclosed around the tip of my finger, cutting any blood flow, and doing little to numb the pain. A vile crack rang out, followed by my release. Looking down at my hand, I saw more than half of the digit torn off, the ends charred as black as the flesh on her back. The lack of any burning pain was the last of my concern, as coming from Lilly, was a faint crunch.
Then she smiled. A pure, content grin born of the innocence only a child could possess. The sight was enough to nullify the agony in my finger. I didn't realize that I too was beginning to smile until the ends of my lips ached.
"My poor baby," I cooed, hovering my hand over the wound but making sure not to make any direct contact. Her hand bulged awkwardly, unable to take the form it once had, skin barely able to hold whatever lay underneath. "You must be so hungry, huh?" It was as if she was answering me, unintelligible groans acting as her only method of communication. "Daddy will go get you some food, alright? I'll be right back."
Not waiting for a response, I approached the door, where a cacophony of warnings, screams, and slams pierced through the wood. Pulling a desk just the tiniest bit back, the door was finally free. Just enough to allow one person to enter, which they did. The broken form of a nurse scrambled inside, bones scraping together as she tried to fit her body through the tiny gap. Before anyone else could get in, I pushed the desk back, trapping her in here with us.
"Return her," She began, her voice picking up in volume as she repeated her demand. I latched a hand around her wrist, forcing her to look at Lilly, something crossing the husk's eye. Something none of them had yet. Fear. It wasn't the terror that was expected of a person about to meet their end, no. It was a primal, animalistic horror of being faced with the unknown. Something that overcame whatever spell placed on the mob. Before she could speak again, I tossed her over my shoulder, her body hurling toward Lilly.
Immediately, fleshy tendrils burst out of her stomach, piercing through her and pinning her down. The nurse's eyes no longer had the dark pupils that seemed to be shared by every one of those... things and regained their natural colour. Brown. They were barely able to widen before the tentacles ripped through the rest of her, the sharpened edges acting as blades. I couldn't bear to watch the scene any longer, returning my focus to the door. It just then hit me that the noise had stopped. I must have been so focused on Lilly that I didn't notice the sound of footsteps fading away.
I turned around, expecting to see the Nurse's half-mangled body still being digested by Lilly, only to find no trace of her. Just the now crimson bedsheets and occasional drops of blood staining the floor. Lilly remained still, her lips no longer parted, and her eyes closed. Strangely enough, she didn't look like she had just eaten. There were no misplaced lumps gliding underneath her skin, or the odd sounds that had accompanied the Nurse's demise, just her acne-covered face, and her slightly tinted skin.
Though unconscious still, I could tell the meal left her content, her writhing body coming at a still. Not that wretched stillness her body took when she was splayed across the ground, but a serene, tranquil one. With the danger of the mob now passed, and no longer any obstacles standing in the way, I settled against the end of the bed, not bothering to take one of the seats placed beside the bed. As the minutes passed, however, I noticed that the light seeping into the window was gradually being blocked. I thought that perhaps it was clouds or, God forbid, the mob returning. But when I peeked out the window, it was neither.
Encasing the glass was a layer of black, the material stretching and writhing. It pulsed as if alive, and upon closer inspection, I realized it resembled the same secretion that Lilly's wounds had spewed on the seat of the car. Before I could continue to observe the bizarre substance, a violent illness swept over me, my body reeling back.
A surge of adrenaline, as if I was staring at death itself, hit me. My breathing became ragged, and my heart raced. My head pounded, the pain so strong I could see stars. Every attempt at looking back was met with resistance. I didn't dare fight back. Something was happening behind me. Something that should remain unknown to human eyes. Something that wasn't meant to exist.
The feeling subsided the moment I could hear Lilly's content sigh coming from the bed, and I found myself smiling. Whatever she was going through, it was my duty as a parent to accompany her every step of the way. Despite her voice bouncing off of the increasingly fleshy walls a thousand times, despite the light above me being overtaken by her evergrowing form, despite every nerve in my body awakening in the presence of a horror built into my very genes, I would stay.
I don't think I'm leaving this room. Alive, that is. She has yet to awaken, and I reckon it might take a while for that. I realize that I have not only participated but actively aided in the creation of a monstrosity. It is something beyond comprehension, an abomination against nature. Yet, the more I sit here, listening to her calm breaths, the more the dread washes away, my fate becoming clear. I will see to it that she grows up, whether that entails a bright young woman, or something far far greater, I cannot say. Nor does it matter.
I can hear her become restless again behind me. A growing young girl needs food, and I will more than gladly provide.

Welcome to The Oblivion Cycle universe, a vast setting spanning all of time and space and so much more. While many stories may shed perspective on this grand cosmic vista, there are also tales of adventure and sacrifice, romance and terror, grimdark corruption and scientific progress. To become immersed in the setting is to let the chaos of creativity flow through you, to let go of what is probable to discover what’s possible. I have created TOC for one reason, to inspire and entertain any who will listen. So please feel free to join me on this great adventure as I push the boundaries of what is possible and expand the limits of our creativity together. For more information on the setting and its lore there is a subreddit for TOC at TheOblivionCycle and a Discord server dedicated to it here [https://discord.gg/uGsYHfdjYf\] called ‘The Oblivion Cycle Community Server’. I hope you find the following story entertaining and once more, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

• E1:P1 + Previous Part + Next Part+

______________________________________
Continued From Episode 2
Balinski sat in his blue Atoya Trooper with an arm resting on the sill of the driver-side door’s open window. He rested his head back against the faux cow leather seat and tried to close his eyes briefly against the glare of the neon lights outside. His impromptu attempt to nap was once more interrupted by the creature occupying the passenger seat next to him in the extended cabin of the armoured truck.
He grunted as something furry butted into his side, the barely healed bruising tingling as he put out a hand to stop further assault. “What do you want, Caesar?” He asked the large cyberhound next to him.
Caesar just snuffled and then shook her head before giving him a small whine and a pointed look. He smirked, she couldn't possibly still be hungry. She had just polished off an entire zebberloaf sandwich and had even managed to eat the other half of his. With his limited biological mass he didn't need to eat very much anymore to maintain himself. His cybernetics operated off of internalized promethium powercells and required only limited maintenance as long as he was careful not to get shot too much.
He chuckled at that, the other week had been a brutal array of close fighting. His legs and arms had taken a beating requiring him to actually visit his military contact to get them repaired. Dr. Magoy had been happy to see him it had seemed, if not necessarily happy about the state he had allowed himself to fall into. But after a tense few limbless hours he had been put back together, ‘better than new’ he had been assured.
Caesar butted him again and he looked over toward her, “What?!” he demanded before realising that she was desperate. “Oh, I told you not to drink so much water before we left this morning. Okay, but don't be too conspicuous. I’m pretty sure you aren't supposed to just piss wherever you like.”
He opened the door and grunted as she rushed over his lap and out onto the sidewalk, luckily it was rather early in the morning so there were few passers-by to gawk at the thirty-six kilogram cybernetically enhanced husky as she bolted for the nearest convenient shadow. With her neural implants she at least had the good conscience to be embarrassed about relieving herself in front of others. Something that he constantly found amusing.
He checked his wrist assistant, the small electronic device beeping angrily at him as the fifteen minute timer rang incessantly. He turned it off and looked around again, he didn’t see Daryon anywhere. The large vinarfelien police woman was supposed to meet him here at seven-thirty sharp. So where in the name of Lady Luck was the large insectoid female?
He heard a series of happy barks coming from around the nearby building and smiled. Caesar was wary of strangers and wouldn't bark like that at somebody unless she knew them. He rolled up the armoured glazmite window and stepped out of the vehicle, closing it behind him with a thud.
As he walked towards the corner he saw Caesar bound around it, prancing before a two-meter tall alien that looked as if somebody had taken a child's nightmare about a centipede and scaled them up into a six-meter long three-hundred kilogram version with ten arms and a multitude of short stabbing legs that ran along the sides of her chiton armoured body.
He smiled as she gave him a two armed wave. Waving back politely he walked towards her and called out, “What are you doing, don’t you know that Caesar is an on duty officer of the law? I can’t have her getting pets and distractions from every random passerby.”
Daryon’s antenna rose in a customary greeting as she put out two hands palms up which he promptly slapped. She folded five of her lower arms while still giving the happily grumbling pup a good head scrub with the sixth. Two of her upper arms she used to gesticulate while she answered him, “Well of coursse. But an officer ass good asss thiss deservess to be praissed by her comradesss whenever the opportunity arisess, wouldn't you agree?”
He didn't have a counterpoint and so he just shrugged before leaning against the faded facade of the building next to him. “Well, thanks for coming to help. I don’t know these streets as well as I would like. I grew up on the edge of the flyway and so didn't get to see the old city much.” He looked around, the old city was indeed old.
Cheenha had been founded as one of the original cities on Jureillo a little over three hundred years ago. Most of the old city was at least one hundred and fifty years old with some of the structures being far older. The materials and techniques haven't changed much over the centuries though and so it could sometimes be difficult to tell a historical building from a new novelty one that was simply made to mimic the age of those around it.
Such mimicry was pretty commonplace amongst the buildings in both the old and the new city. It was seen as bad practice to try and modernise the old style buildings. While there were indeed kilometer tall shining steel skyscrapers in the new city, the old city consisted mostly of blocky high-rises and triple stacked city-plates. Large sections of the city that were layered on top of each other in such a way that the underlying levels were completely blocked off from the sky.
In fact, if it were not for the profusion of flashing neon advertisements in the windows of the shops nearby and the flickering overhead lighting it would have been pitch black where they were. He took a few steps towards his truck and then stopped as he heard a noose from behind him.
Turning curiously he saw Daryon with two of her arms raised, she lowered them as he looked. The insectoid woman’s antennae rose slightly as she gestured towards his blue Atoya, “What? Are we taking that?”
Balinski nodded. “Well, yeah. Unless you would rather walk everywhere.”
She seemed to hesitate. “I don’t. Will I even fit in there?”
Balinski had to laugh at her candid nervousness. “Yes, you will fit just fine. I am sure of it, now come on. We have a lot of ground to cover as you said over the E-Link last night.” He tapped his wrist assistant, the small personal computing device that nearly every sapient member of the Union used on a daily basis. It could do a multitude of simple tasks and had the ability to download and use special applications to improve its performance and usefulness.
She looked at the device attached to her own wrist and then back at him. Her lightning patterned carapace seemed to sway slightly as she finally gave a stiff nod of her head, well more of a bob really.
“Okay, but don’t ssay I didn’t have any doubtss if it doessn't work.” the vinarfelien chittered in her slightly hissing accent.
He walked over to the heavy truck, the empty bed and heavy industrial looking profile intimately familiar to him. He had always wanted a Trooper as a child, but his mother had told him that he would likely never get to afford one as they were generally only sold under either government or police contracts. They were armoured and had reinforced secondaries, as well as being able to run off both conventional powercells and raw hydrocarbons like gasoline or diesel.
He opened the door and Caesar immediately launched herself into the passenger seat, right as Daryon opened the other door. Caesar gave a small whine and looked at him. “Well, you can sit in the back or in the middle. Pick one.”
He frowned as the stubborn pup crouched low in her favorite spot, a low growl emanating from her declaring her opposition to this seeming atrocity. Balinski just put up his hands and looked towards the distant plasteel reinforced duracrete ceiling and mimed saying a prayer for luck.
He smiled a little as Daryon chuckled, the breathy hissing sound was only a tiny bit unsettling. But his previous experience with vinarfel made it a familiar one. He watched as she seemed to hesitate again.
Finally he blurted, “Oh for the sake of pete, move your fuzzy ass out of the way Caesar!”
Not the most diplomatic approach, but it had the desired effect. Caesar hopped up in alarm at his shout and slunk over to the middle of the bench seat. Balinsky shook his head as the pouting drama queen settled herself down as if the entire world had been taken from her.
Daryon nodded in thanks once more before trying several times to crawl into the seat without tangling herself. He pointed to a small pull-string near the bottom middle of the bench and stated, “If you pull on that the back drops out of the lower portion. For people with tails, or extra long bodies.” He chuckled as the woman’s antennae shrank against her back and she placed two of her hands over her unblinking compound eyes in an obviously embarrassed gesture.
She shook her head jerkilly before pulling it as he had instructed. With a soft thump the lower portion of her seat dropped backwards making an arched hole just big enough for her. She shook her head as she looked at it though, “I don’t think thiss was made with vinarfeliensss in mind. If I try and contort myself in there, how am I going to ssit in the ssseat?”
His smile dropped and he cocked his head as he looked from her to the conspicuous opening and back again. He scratched the side of his head as he removed his hat. “Huh, how ‘bout that. I suppose you could just.. er.. put yourself down in the footing area and then use what part of the seat feels most comfortable?”
It was a damn strange sight to see the six-meter long woman crawl into the truck, her many short chitinous legs allowed her supreme control of her lower two thirds as she coiled most of herself in the footing area of the passenger compartment. Her upper third, or the part of her body that would be considered her torso, was sitting at an angle on the bench seat. Her flexibly, almost snake-like body was pressed back into the seat that she gripped with two of her more sturdy lower arms.
As she settled herself more comfortably in the position she cocked her head towards him slightly and her faceplates opened slightly, revealing the fleshy pink slit of her jawless mouth. “Well, thiss isss a bit lesss awkward than I wass afraid it would be. Almosst like sssitting on my ressting couch back home, if it wass a bit too wide and ssshort at the ssame time.” Her hissing laughter filled the cabin again and she gave Caesar a hearty scrub on the top of her furry head, the action buying her back some of the goodwill she had lost for taking the haughty pup’s favorite seat by the window.
Balinski raised his remaining eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess so. I think that you might want to try and put on the seat belts though. If we were to get into an accident you would get tossed around pretty bad without them.” She reached over and clicked the restraints over her body without too much trouble. They were designed to work across different species and she had simply selected the largest available option, the atraxses configuration.
While she wasn't as bulky as one of the large shaggy white furred aliens, her body was still large enough to warrant the extra reach. Balinski himself used the setting as well as he was a large man, even before his cybernetics were taken into account.
He settled in and buckled in, pressing his thumb to the ignition scanner. The machine read his biometrics and bellowed to life. Daryon twitched and then looked at him curiously, “What? Are you ussing a hydrocarbon thermocycler?”
Balinski gave her a wide smile and a nod that caused her antennae to flutter slightly. “Yep, don’t worry. I pay my emission taxes for it. Something about the feel of the pistons firing, that base rumble of the machinery working tirelessly. Well, it inspires me. Sure the promethium power cell is much more efficient, but it lacks that certain feel. Do you know what I mean?” He looked over at her, her slightly reflective blue compound eyes seemed locked with his own.
Due to the pseudo-pupils that her eyes had it gave the impression that she was always staring directly at the viewer. But he knew she could be looking almost anywhere in her two-hundred-and-seventy degree field of view. Despite the fact, he did really get the impression that she was looking straight at him.
She shrugged several of her arms after another moment of silence. “I feel sssome vibrationss. I am not ssure how thiss adds anything to the experience except for that additional ssensssation.” She didn’t seem to get it. He sighed internally. Not to worry, he would show her what he meant eventually.
She seemed to turn his way slightly more, her face plates opening slightly as she hesitated. “It’s good to see you again, I have not seen you since the memorial.”
Balinski just nodded. It was good to see the large insectoid woman, she was one of the only officers that he had occasion to interact with directly. The city had so many districts that most of the officers in precinct two rotated in and out before he ever got to meet them.
He gave her a sideways glance and a neutral smile. He always seemed to get the feeling that she was prodding at him a little. “Yeah, a long day that was indeed. Alright, well then to business. What is our first stop, some alley behind a casino if I remember right?”
Daryon shook a hand and gestured towards her assistant as she tapped away on the small touch screen for a few seconds. She soon had a readout pulled up on it that he glanced over as she extended her arm. “No, we are not heading to an alley, there iss a dive bar behind Yowul’s Palace of Golden Delight called the Sslimehut by the localsss. I have an informant that ssaid they would meet uss there for a few drinksss.” She seemed a little annoyed by his lack of intimate knowledge on the subject.
To be fair, he had read over the entire proposal. Right before he fell asleep last night. He would have admitted as much except he was afraid he might hurt the poor young woman’s feelings or something, she did seem rather sensitive when it came to data collection and information gathering.
He checked behind him and pulled out into the street, traffic was light due to the time of day. He navigated the heavy vehicle with practiced ease, the sensation of rolling along the roadway in it calming him. He placed his arm on the sill of the door’s open window as he had before. The cool air flowing through and ruffling his short cropped hair in a pleasant way.
He felt eyes on him and glanced over at Daryon, she seemed to be looking at him. Her antennae lowered instantly when he glanced her way and he chuckled, “What is it? You have ridden in those APCs dozens if not hundreds of times right?”
Daryon gave Caesar a nervous pat and spoke quickly, as if afraid she would lose her courage to speak if she didn't get the words out right away. “It’ss just, I have never ridden in one of thesse.. personal vehiclesss before.” He was a bit taken aback by that.
She still seemed nervous, she was sitting there in her simple grey overcoat and blue pocket covered jacket twiddling the fingers on her uppermost arms. He gestured to the window and she looked at it. “You can roll the window down if you want.” She hesitated and he reassured her, “Go for it, c’mon. Roll it down, put a few arms out the window like this, you might like it.”
Balinski smiled as he stuck his arm straight out the window. An oncoming car honked at him as he did so, he couldn't tell if they were angry or maybe they thought he was waving hello. It didn’t matter, he looked over at Daryon and the large insectoid woman tensed again.
“But, what if ssomething happenss and the window needss to be up?” She seemed to be fishing for any reason not to try it.
He just gave her his most tired sounding sigh, purposefully over exaggerating it as if he was thoroughly done. Her faceplates parted slightly, almost like a man pursing his lips in thought. Finally she relented and rolled down the window before emulating him with two of her upper arms. Almost immediately he saw her antennae perk up in what he assumed was mild delight.
She stuck another of her arms straight out and then slowly started to move it up and down, surfing the airflow with her palm. He took the opportunity to ask her, “You haven't ever ridden in a car before. Not one that wasn't police owned, that is. How in the heck do you get around town. Don't tell me you walk everywhere, there is no way you would be able to make that work. No matter how fast you can run.”
Daryon remained silent for a few moments, her antennae twitching as she rubbed a few of her hands together. “I usssually just take a buss or a cabbie when I need to get ssomewhere.”
The admission seemed to make sense. Balinski shook his head slightly. “I just understand why, the sense of freedom you gain from being able to go where you want, when you want. You don’t get that with public transport. Trust me, this is much better.”
Caesar gave a small encouraging woof as if to accentuate his point. Daryon continued to hold an arm out the window as her mouthplates worked silently. After a short time they got stopped at a traffic light and she finally relented. “I don’t know, it just sseemsss like an awful lot of additional effort. You need to buy the vehicle, then you have to pay for inssurance and taxes and maintenance.” She threw up a few arms in an exasperated manner. “It all jusst feelsss sso extra. I guesss I just appreciate the simpler thingss.” She added a but sullenly.
Balinski felt a bit bad now, he hadn’t been trying to tell her she was wrong. He had simply been curious as to the reason she hadn’t considered it. He tapped his hands idly on the wheel as they sat there in the growing silence.
After what felt far longer than the thirty seconds it actually was, he reached out and turned on the radio. The truck was tuned into several wide-band civilian radio frequencies. Many of them offered music and talk shows to pass the time, it was one of the former hats he turned into now.
As the cool sounds of synthwave reverberated around the cabin he could feel the tension that had grown slowly ebb. He glanced at her and smiled, “What about now? You can't tell me this isn't better than some cruddy ‘ol transport bus or musty cabbie?”
She bobbed her head slightly as she leaned her torso back into the padded seat more. “I will admit that it hass a certain appeal to it. I jusst ssstill don’t understand all the extra stepss, maybe it isss a human thing.” She added with what he thought sounded like a bit of a shiteating grin.
Her smug tone wasn’t lost on him as they turned another few corners. He shrugged and gave her a pointed look briefly, “Yeah maybe. Or maybe it is just the fact that I grew up with a sense of urgency.”
Her opportunity to respond was cut short as he slowed and gestured out the front of the cab. “Is that the place?”
Daryon seemed to peer out the window intently, though with her compound eyes it was pretty much impossible to tell where the insectoid female was actually looking. In front of them was the turnoff to a larger boulevard, one that was lined with tall and opulent looking structures. One in particular stood out from the rest for its over-the-top grandeur and gilded buttresses.
The huge gold and chrome structure was covered in flowing holographic displays and enough neon lighting to be seen from orbit, that is if they had not been under a particularly large city plate that blocked them off from the sky entirely. The effect was to generate an almost otherworldly atmosphere of scintillating colors. The phantasmagoria of the display heightening his perception at the same time it confused his already addled senses.
He had to shake his head and adjust his cybernetic eye’s spectrum in order to focus on what he was doing. He couldn't imagine the profusion of swirling and terrible marriage of images that Daryon must be being subjected to, what with her unblinking compound eyes and two-hundred-and-seventy degrees of vision.
Before he even had the chance to ask her, she responded to his previously muttered inquiry. “Yess, that'sss Yowul’ss Palace of Golden Delight alright. It's kind of imposssible to missss.” She chuckled hissingly. “We need to go around the block to the oppossite sside. The Ssslimehut will be on the far side of the next alley, but it doessn't connect to thiss ssside.”
He gave her a nod and glanced at Caesar, she seemed transfixed by the wildly gleaming lights. Not to worry, she would snap out of her trance when they got out of the damnable lights. He started to take the next turn when Daryon suddenly reached out and gripped his shoulder with two of her lower arms.
He twitched in surprise before looking her way, the way her antennae were raised suggested an alarmed state. “What!? What is it?!” He looked around frantically, trying to see what had set the large woman on edge.
Her faceplates clacked as she vocalised quickly, “We need to get out and approach on foot!”
He cocked his head. “Why?” Her comment seemed at once born of some manner of twisted logic and yet totally incomprehensible.
She quivered slightly. “Think about it. We roll up in an armoured Atoya truck and then sstart assking questionsss? That would sscream bluecoat to thesse people faster than waving a badge. We need to take thiss a little more dissscreetly.” Her words took a moment to penetrate the fuge his mind was still floundering in after the migraine inducing display from the garish casino.
It made sense given the context. She was right of course, if he were to simply roll up and try knocking heads together he was going to get them both killed. Or worse. No, he needed to take things a little slower.
He slowed and looked around. There are a number of parking garages around due to the nearby casinos and so he chose one at random. They pulled up the small automated toll booth and he paid with a single 25c osmir. That oughta cover them for at least two hours. The gate thanked them with a robotic sounding greeting and he proceeded to the third floor. Not for any particular reason, but he had always liked the number and considered it good fortune.
He watched as Daryon uncoiled her long body from the truck, her slightly textured underbelly looked much softer than her back. Devoid of the thick carapace of chiton plates that covered the top of her long body. It might have been impolite to take a peek, but a part of him was curious. As she moved his eyes were drawn to a series of dull bumps or ridges along her lower third that terminated near the last quarter of her long tail-like body. He knew enough about vinarfelien biology to know they were her broodspines, they were evolved to allow for females of her race to carry their newborn larvae upon their bellies.
He saw the flash of something else a little lower down from the termination of her broodspines and averted his eyes quickly, a touch embarrassed. The vinarfel did not wear clothing on their lower bodies as they were generally kept so close to the ground as to be hidden. And so one could say that Daryon was indeed half naked. If she noticed his ungentlemanly curiosity she didn’t seem to care overmuch and so he cleared his throat and motioned for Caesar to stay in the truck.
Daryon cocked her blue-eyed head as he did so, “You don’t want her to come with uss?”
Caesar whined loudly followed by a small bark. She seemed to be in agreement with the colorful alien woman. He kept his window rolled down as he knew she would follow his instructions. “It’s not that, it isn’t Caesar!” He protested as the cyberhound growled at him, her canine features showing her to be unimpressed. “Think about it, if we take you into the establishment it is going to bring a lot of unwanted attention. Cybernetically enhanced animals are not legal for the average person to own and so it would immediately mark me out as either a criminal or a lawman.” He watched as Caesar tried to understand the complex logical jumps he was making.
She shook her triangular head after a moment. She tilted her head as an indication to him that she was not getting it and so he sighed. He put out his hands and spoke as concisely as he could, “If we take you inside the bad guys will know we are good guys. You need to wait for us here, I will of course call you for backup if anything happens. I promise.” She seemed to accept this new slightly simpler explanation.
While her neural implants made her vastly more intelligent than a dumb animal, they didn't quite make her on the same level as a full adult human. She had the conscious understanding roughly on par with that of a young child. Capable of understanding speech, but not really able to pick up on complex or multi-leveled reasoning.
He nodded towards Daryon, “Alright. Caesar will stay back, I can call her in remotely if we need her, and she is pretty damn fast too, so it wouldn't take long for her to get there.” Daryon patted her overcoat and then swore.
“Oh crap, I think I dropped my traumawand ssomewhere.” She moved back towards the truck and partially climbed through the passenger side window. She rummaged around before exiting and holding aloft something triumphantly.
The item was a short telescoping baton-like instrument with a wide, heavy handle with several dials and readouts visible on its gunmetal grey exterior. He grunted, “What, no gun?”
She shrugged her upper three pairs of arms as she pocketed the non-lethal weapon and readjusted her overcoat. “Sseeing asss how I am technically off-duty at the moment I have no legal causse to carry a lethal weapon.”
He gave her a flat stare. “Bullshit.”
She maintained her stare, only the twitch of her antennae gave away the fact she was anything more than a statue. After a minute of this she finally threw up an arm and opened her overcoat all the way to him. “Fine, I relent. Of coursse I’m armed to the neck joint, you really thought even for a millisssecond that I was going to sstep downtown without enough firepower to level a pack of grinskalss?” She chuckled again and he found himself smiling.
He pulled back his overcoat revealing his own trusty sidearm, the bulky form of his ThunderEagle revolver stuck out slightly from the shoulder holster he was wearing over his body armour. Luckily he was bulky enough to hide both the armour and the weapon at a glance when he had his dark trench coat closed.
He gave her a bright smile, the look pulling at the scars that marred his face as he replied, “Oh not at all. But I was a little surprised to see you holding a non-lethal weapon at all. As I recall, every single bad guy that has crossed your path has wound up cooling in the precinct meatlocker.” She ducked her head, the long almost delicate looking antenna that sprouted from her head went flat against her back.
She seemed to stutter slightly, her hissing accent becoming markedly more pronounced in her flustered state. “s-It’ss-s not as-ss if i s-wass wanting to kill ss-them all!”
He waved a hand. “No, but you have to admit that every single one of the bastards deserved it. You made the right call in my opinion, Daryon. I am not trying to convince you otherwise.” He took a step towards the mildly upset insectoid and placed a supporting hand on her jacketed shoulder.
She cocked her head in order to see the contact before he pulled away and gestured towards the distant staircase that would eventually lead them down to the ground floor and hopefully one step closer to a lead for what was happening. There were gangs working with gangs that had always been bitter enemies, lines of drug filled trucks shipping their toxic cargos all across this world. It was a foul, he shouldn't have been so shocked by the complexity of the situation. But he was.
Continued In E3:P2
==End of Transmission==

Disclaimer: I do not speak Korean. This is purely translated by machine with a lot of cleanup afterward. With that in mind, I am open to criticism to improve these translations. Enjoy!
Chapter 404
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「Sigh.」
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The night was pitch-dark.
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Upon his return, the young man shed his equipment and collapsed in his usual spot, gasping for air. A middle-aged man approached, offering him a drink.
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「You look exhausted. Drink this.」
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The pair, both Hunters drafted from Shanxi Province, had forged a considerable bond.
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Recognizing the familiar face and the can in his hand, the young man spoke hesitantly.
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「Is this from the supplies? I've never seen this drink before.」
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「It came as part of international aid. It's not from our country.」
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「Um, is it non-carbonated?」
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「If you don't like it, then never mind.」
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Snatch!
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Grasping the hand of the departing middle-aged man, the young man declared earnestly,
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「Mister, did I ever tell you that my favorite thing in the world is soft drinks?」
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「No.」
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「Well, now you know.」
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「Good, that's the spirit.」
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「I'll enjoy it, then.」
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Clink, ssshh.
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The young man popped the can open and took a sip, his face subtly shifting. Before he could comment, the middle-aged man inquired,
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「You're coming back from a search in Zone 3, right?」
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「...Ugh, yes.」
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「It must have been tough.」
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The young man simply shrugged, his torso bare and slick with cold sweat, his cheek smeared with greenish monster blood.
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「Monster blood, huh? Was there a fight?」
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「No, I was just passing by a building when a fucking gargoyle corpse fell down. It must have been lying on the roof.」
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「What a mess it must have been.」
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「Are you kidding? The rookies in their first and second year vomited and pissed themselves the moment they got covered in blood.」
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「And you?」
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「Well, I am a seven-year Hunter, after all. I didn't even blink.」
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The middle-aged man's eyes trailed down to a specific area on the young man's body. He fixed his gaze on a faintly discolored patch on the young man's navy blue pants and nodded.
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「Ah, I see.」
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「…It's sweat.」
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「I didn't say anything. But when I look at you, I feel like my eyes are sweating.」
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「…Actually, I peed a little. Can you tell?」
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「Yes.」
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「Shit.」
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As the young man muttered a curse and tipped his can to drink, the middle-aged man watched in silence before suddenly asking,
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「Did you find any survivors?」
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「…!」
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「It was the same for you, then.」
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As the young man's expression suddenly hardened, the middle-aged man sighed.
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He too had participated in a search before. It was truly a nightmarish experience.
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Everywhere he looked, there were corpses torn to shreds by monsters, and the dreadful stench was enough to split his head.
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Both of them would probably never forget the horrific scenes they witnessed today.
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「…It's unimaginable. How fierce the battle must have been.」
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「No need to imagine. Whatever you're thinking, it was worse.」
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Under the command of Minister of National Defense Wei Feng-Hu, four thousand Hunters scoured the small town. All their search equipment consistently returned the same bleak outcome.
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No survivors.
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Aside from the three thousand members of the People's Liberation Army who had fled at the battle’s onset, all others were found lifeless and cold. The fate of those who fled remained uncertain.
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「We can't even use the term 'casualty count'. 'Death count' would be more accurate…」
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「Watch your words. We still don't have all the facts.」
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「Uh, sorry. I misspoke.」
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「That's enough. And…」
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Interrupting the young man's impulsive comments, the middle-aged man clarified.
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「The 'casualty count' is correct. There are survivors.」
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「…Ah.」
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A sudden recollection flashed across the young man's mind — the memory of three individuals who had endured through this horrific setting.
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「Was it the commander of the Public Security Forces? That young guy.」
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「Yes. A young Hunter from Korea also survived.」
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「And ...」
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While the two previously mentioned also demonstrated bravery, their deeds paled in comparison to the last survivor, who shone like the sun beside mere fireflies.
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Noticing the young man's nervous swallow, the middle-aged man continued on his behalf.
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「Yes, that person. No, that incredible hero.」
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His tone carried a profound reverence. His unwavering respect for the much younger man stemmed from his exceptional accomplishments.
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「Do you believe that a single Hunter can be that powerful?」
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As a seasoned Hunter, he had a fair understanding of what an S-rank Hunter could achieve.
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Yet, the feats accomplished by Jin Tae-Kyung seemed almost mythical, surpassing any expectations of what a Hunter — or any human — could do.
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「A legion of monsters numbering in the tens of thousands. There were two Death Knights, and even a Death Knight Lord who is said to be as strong as, or stronger than, an S-rank Hunter.」
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The middle-aged man's voice surged with excitement.
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「And in comparison, how many of our Hunters were there? Merely a thousand. There were members of the People's Liberation Army, but even they...」
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「When the front lines collapsed, nearly half ran away. The rest fought bravely but were massacred by the monsters. I've heard about it too.」
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「How many Hunters do you think were left when Jin Tae-Kyung arrived? A thousand? No, not even half of that, I'd bet my life on it!」
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Had he been there when Jin Tae-Kyung arrived, the shock might have been enough to cause a heart attack.
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Even he, full of admiration, struggled to imagine Jin Tae-Kyung facing the monstrous legion alone.
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「He led hundreds of weary and wounded Hunters and annihilated a monster legion more than ten times their number! Do you think that makes any sense?」
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The young man, observing him, wore a skeptical expression.
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「I don't think it's possible.」
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「But, he did it!」
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「Uh, sir. Sorry to throw cold water on this, but aren't these facts not fully confirmed yet?」
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「What?」
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「I think Jin Tae-Kyung...」
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「It's Mr. Jin, not Jin Tae-Kyung!」
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Taken aback by the middle-aged man's sudden outburst, the young man cleared his throat awkwardly.
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「Ahem. So, I do acknowledge that Mr. Jin is an exceptional warrior, but don't you think there might be some exaggeration mixed in?」
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「Exaggeration? Even after seeing the traces left on the battlefield, you say that? If not Mr. Jin, then who...」
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「Come on, don't get so heated and try to look at it more calmly. If everything you're saying is true, then you're claiming that Mr. Jin is stronger than Fei Chen or Wu Hei-Xing.」
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「I don't want to rank them, but based on the feats shown in this monster wave, Mr. Jin is the best. So what?」
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「Fei Chen is a hero from Hong Kong who has achieved numerous feats during the Great Cataclysm, and Wu Hei-Xing, despite his mishaps, is considered a true genius born of China. To say that Jin Tae-Kyung surpasses these two? That crosses a line.」
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The middle-aged man fixed the young man with a look of disappointment and disdain.
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「You're the one crossing the line.」
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「What?」
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「Is that all you wanted to say? Shouting about how China is the best, claiming a great victory, and then belittling a hero who saved the people?」
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The young man's expression contorted sharply.
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「Since you mentioned it, the people Jin Tae-Kyung saved today amount to just two. Actually, one of them is Korean, so really just one. And that one was completely unharmed. Jin Tae-Kyung pretty much only fought to protect his own countrymen. There are rumors that he wasted a Top-grade Potion too.」
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「I should stop talking. I have nothing good to say to you, but I at least shouldn't treat you poorly. I wonder what Mr. Jin would say if he heard this...」
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The middle-aged man sighed deeply and stood.
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"Well, in my opinion, he probably would've called that young man a son of a bitch."
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「…!」
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「…!」
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Caught off guard by the unexpected voice, both men whirled around in surprise.
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They were now facing someone they usually saw on TV or in the media.
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「…Hiccup.」
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The young man, looking up at the taller figure, started hiccupping.
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「Ji, ji, ji, ji, Ji-jin!!」
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The middle-aged man stuttered, as if his words were stuck.
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Jin Tae-Kyung, observing them, cracked a congenial smile.
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"If the young man over there wants to be a good Chinese person, he should stop hiccuping. And sir, please stop your trembling unless you plan to take down the Arch Lich with an earthquake."
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「Hic, gulp.」
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「I-i-is it really you?」
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Jin Tae-Kyung nodded slightly.
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"I was just passing by, but then I heard something quite irritating."
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「…Th-that's…」
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The young man, now ceasing his hiccups but trembling like a leaf, was scrutinized by Jin Tae-Kyung.
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"How old are you?"
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「T-twenty-nine.」
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"You're older than me. I'll speak informally anyway."
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「…What?」
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"Whatever."
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「Oh?」
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He wouldn’t be able to retort even if Jin Tae-Kyung cursed him rather than merely using informal speech.
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The realization that Jin Tae-Kyung, whom he had only seen from afar, had overheard every word sent a shiver down the young man's spine and caused his vision to whiten.
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「I-I’m sorry.」
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“There’s nothing to apologize for. That's what gossiping behind people's backs is all about. I understand.”
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「Th-thank you.」
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Just as Jin Tae-Kyung’s kind smile was warming his heart.
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“There’s nothing to thank me for. Gossip is fine until you get caught; then it screws you over.”
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「…!」
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“There’s someone behind me right now. Can you see?”
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The young man slowly, very cautiously, shifted his gaze.
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Sure enough, a middle-aged man with a sinister look was emanating an intimidating presence from about ten meters away.
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“He’s an A-rank Hunter affiliated with the Central Military Commission. He seemed quite taken with your tale and kept bowing to me. Why don’t you go and apply a medicated patch on him?”
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「Yes, sir!」
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The young man responded as if he were yelling and dashed off, his scream echoing as his mana-infused joints throbbed.
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Jin Tae-Kyung, ready to depart with a light chuckle, paused.
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“Ah, there’s one thing you’re mistaken about.”
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「M-me?」
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The middle-aged man, momentarily disoriented, snapped back to attention.
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「Sorry, but what is it?」
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“It wasn’t just me.”
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「Really?」
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“Everyone fought to the death. By the time I got there, it was almost all over. Please let the others know that too.”
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「I-is that really true?」
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“Of course. Oh, do you have a family?”
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「Yes. Three daughters and five sons…」
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“You’re a patriot. You could start a soccer team in a few years.”
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Jin Tae-Kyung, contemplating, suddenly inquired.
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“You’re not part of the combat troops, are you?”
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「…You can tell right away.」
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The middle-aged man lowered his head, slightly embarrassed.
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「As you can see, I'm an E-rank Hunter, so I was excluded from combat. I will probably only be used to count casualties.」
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"Then, may I ask you for one favor?"
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「It would be an honor, Mr. Jin.」
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"Please include one person in the list of the deceased. I'd like to ask you a special request since we won't be able to find the body."
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「What is the person's name…?」
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"Lei Fei. His name is Lei Fei."
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That was the last thing he said.
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The middle-aged man stood frozen, watching Jin Tae-Kyung walk away, before he finally released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
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The final look on Jin Tae-Kyung’s face seemed destined to linger in his memory for years.
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'The intensity in his gaze...'
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A determination to fulfill his mission.
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The middle-aged man, having earlier voiced his respect for Jin Tae-Kyung, took a swig from the can the young man had abandoned and immediately regretted it.
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"Ptooey!"
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Birdian? [Note: Birdian is a beverage supplied to the Republic of Korea National Military from 2000 to 2017. The drink has a different flavor profile depending on who makes it and when, but the core of the beverage is always onion juice. You will always get a hit of onion flavor, especially when it is room temperature.]
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It seemed like a Korean drink, but it was disgusting.
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* * *
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「Mr. Jin, you've arrived.」
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Wei Feng-Hu wasn't the only one waiting.
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Five monitors flickered to life in the conference room, each displaying an S-rank Hunter.
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I initiated the discussion with a steady tone.
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"Let's go end this war."
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It was time to confront and eradicate the root of all this chaos.
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