Erik began moved toward the group. He felt the weight of the groups eyes upon him.
Something felt off and he immediately recognized it. A sudden sinking feeling.
His stomach tightened.
Erik looked back at Rebecca.
She stood still.
Not a breath. Not a twitch.
He glanced at the others. Their expressions were tight, unreadable. They werenât looking at her. They were looking at him.
The realization slammed into him like a fist to the ribs.
Sheâs not real.
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.
He swore under his breath, anger burning through himânot at Rebecca, not even at the others.
At himself.
He should have recognized it sooner. But they always felt so damn real.
It was never the mirages that terrified him, it wasnât their fault.
It was the way the normals reacted when they saw him talking to nothing.
He was ready to fight. He waited. He stared at the group of men playing cards â the other group?
Sean Garrison shook his head. His brother stepped forward. A man from the other side of the room broke the uncomfortable silence by shouting.
âWho you talking too?â
Erik swallowed hard. He could lie or he could just admit it.
âI have a condition. Iâm managing it. Can we figure out what those monsters are doing outside please? Do we have an escape plan?â
He looked to the group and they stood quiet.
âCan we do something!?â
This prompted Sean to walk toward him. The other man also started toward him.
THUD
The walls shuddered. Something crashed outside. A scream burst forward, like a battle charge, then a cacophony of punches struck from every direction. The plywood-covered windows struggled to stay upon the walls as the mob of thrall all struck at once.
The group of survivors inside gasp.
The card table was upended.
Some ran and disappeared behind the thin rows that used to prepare fast food. Others stood and watched, frozen in fear or curiosity.
Erik wasnât going to wait and he ran to the very rear of the store. At the rear was a red metal door upon the door was letters that spelled
EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY
Alarm will sound
He shoved the door but it didnât budge.
âWhat are we going to do, hide in the walk-in freezer!â Erik shouts. His breathing increases and he begins to panic.
A man, dressed in black fatigues approaches Erik carefully.
âI think we can handle this a little better,â he says trying to reassure Erik.
âHandle something better? Youâre asking me if I can handle something better, black shirt!â Erik growls and steps forward.
Marcus steps back to counter. He grabs a nightstick hanging from a utility belt.
âYou going to use that on me?â Erik said as he stared through the hefty man. Behind him stood a vision of his daughter, which made him shiver. He closed his eyes and opened them to see she was gone.
He took a breath. Seeing Anne always took his breath away. He always knew she was a mirage but it was always a shock.
âYou need to calm down man,â the man shouted, interrupting the moment.
Erik was ready to snap back but the mirage took a moment from him. After that moment a loud CRACK draws attention as on of the sheets of plywood comes crashing down.
The thrall had stopped pounding on the walls of the Burger Place but the silence wasnât pleasant. Erik stood near the front of the restaurant. Crude plywood covered large plate-glass windows.
He looked outside, peeking from a crack in the wooden barrier. The glass, covered in handprints and grime made visibility poor, but he could make out non-movable human shapes.
The thrall stood motionless like a horrific army at attention. The taller Collectors walked between the haphazard rows the thrall had created.
Erikâs stomach twisted. He knew something was wrong but he couldnât put together just what that was. The thrall didnât stand around on a whim. They fell asleep after some inactivity but now they stood motionless, like they were waiting for a command.
He pulled back from the barrier and turned. He ran into Rebecca.
âWhat is wrong with you,â she said. âThis is not goodâŚâ
âHave you seen them do this before?â Erik asked as Rebecca pulled on his arm.
â I have,â she responded panic in her voice.âTheyâre organizing a breach of the Station 5. They donât normally do this unless they want one of us very badly.â Rebecca replied.
âThatâs you, they want you for what you are.â Erik said loud enough to make her stop and everyone in the room to turn.
âI know what you are,â Erik continued. âYouâre a vampire.â
A few of the newer prisoners gasp but most didnât and the room got quiet. Erik took a moment to regroup. He looked around to see every human-like pair of eyes stare at him.
âYouâre an asshole, you know. No wonder no one likes you. That pair thereâŚâ She said pointing to Sean and Andrew. âThe Outlaw Baker brothers know who you are⌠they were outside with you. They know you have some sob story about your family but they donât care because you are miserable. You were a sign that says kill me now!â
Rebecca was screaming. Sheâd had enough.
âI shouldnât have saved you. Go sit down with the other Transient Residents. Sit down and shut up.â
Erik could clearly see the fangs now as she spat angrily. He was intimidated by the thoughts, brought to mind by the movies and books of yester-years. Rebecca though, to her credit, pointed toward a group clustered behind the counter. Erik followed her order and headed that direction.
Erik began moved toward the group. He felt the weight of the groups eyes upon him.
Something felt off and he immediately recognized it. A sudden sinking feeling.
His stomach tightened.
Erik looked back at Rebecca.
She stood still.
Not a breath. Not a twitch.
He glanced at the others. Their expressions were tight, unreadable. They werenât looking at her. They were looking at him.
The realization slammed into him like a fist to the ribs.
Sheâs not real.
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.
He swore under his breath, anger burning through himânot at Rebecca, not even at the others.
At himself.
He should have recognized it sooner. But they always felt so damn real.
It was never the mirages that terrified him, it wasnât their fault.
It was the way the normals reacted when they saw him talking to nothing.
He was ready to fight. He waited. He stared at the group of men playing cards â the other group?
Sean Garrison shook his head. His brother stepped forward. A man from the other side of the room broke the uncomfortable silence by shouting.
âWho you talking too?â
Erik swallowed hard. He could lie or he could just admit it.
âI have a condition. Iâm managing it. Can we figure out what those monsters are doing outside please? Do we have an escape plan?â
He looked to the group and they stood quiet.
âCan we do something!?â
This prompted Sean to walk toward him. The other man also started toward him.
THUD
The walls shuddered. Something crashed outside. A scream burst forward, like a battle charge, then a cacophony of punches struck from every direction. The plywood-covered windows struggled to stay upon the walls as the mob of thrall all struck at once.
The group of survivors inside gasp.
The card table was upended.
Some ran and disappeared behind the thin rows that used to prepare fast food. Others stood and watched, frozen in fear or curiosity.
Erik wasnât going to wait and he ran to the very rear of the store. At the rear was a red metal door upon the door was letters that spelled
EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY
Alarm will sound
He shoved the door but it didnât budge.
âWhat are we going to do, hide in the walk-in freezer!â Erik shouts. His breathing increases and he begins to panic.
A man, dressed in black fatigues approaches Erik carefully.
âI think we can handle this a little better,â he says trying to reassure Erik.
âHandle something better? Youâre asking me if I can handle something better, black shirt!â Erik growls and steps forward.
Marcus steps back to counter. He grabs a nightstick hanging from a utility belt.
âYou going to use that on me?â Erik said as he stared through the hefty man. Behind him stood a vision of his daughter, which made him shiver. He closed his eyes and opened them to see she was gone.
He took a breath. Seeing Anne always took his breath away. He always knew she was a mirage but it was always a shock.
âYou need to calm down man,â the man shouted, interrupting the moment.
Erik was ready to snap back but the mirage took a moment from him. After that moment a loud CRACK draws attention as on of the sheets of plywood comes crashing down.
A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse.
Outside hundreds of thrall stand waiting. Some sway like reeds near a pond. Others stand, no movement at all, sleeping.
The humans within the Burger Place gasp. Overwhelmed by the numbers.
âWhy are you not helping these people!â Rebecca screamed. Erik jumped. She stood beside him. âThe thrall are coming in here, obviously. The window, hell the building will not stand this abuse,â she continued.
âWhy are you haunting me?â Erik snapped, voice rising with panic.
He turned and found himself face to face with Marcus.
âYouâre a crazy spook,â Marcus spat. But instead of swinging, he just turned and walked away.
Erik swallowed hard, closed his eyes and tried to reset.
He opened his eyes.
Something thumped hard against the laminated glass. The cracks creaked angrily and spread.
Erik turned toward the glass to see a full-grown, thrall man rolling down the glass. He landed upon the outstretched arms of other thrall, who quickly dropped him to the ground.
The thrall pushed forward. The laminated window groaned.
Erik watched the mob outside as they shoved each other in an organized effort to push the glass from its frame. A Collector, larger than the other thrall, stood in the center of the mob. The thrall crowded around it. Erik watched as the steroid-laden monster snatched a thrall up and toss it into the building.
The entire building shuttered.
âWe need to get out of here,â Erik said to Sean, Andrew stood beside him. The other two men, Marcus and a wiry, tattooed man stood in the kitchen with him.
âIs it only the five of us?â Erik asked.
âSix with the one you have been talking too,â growled Marcus.
âRight six with Rebecca,â Erik knew she was a figment, a made-up adviser, but he also knew that everyone else already had a reason to not like him so why not embrace it.
âRebecca says she was a Guide and there was an escape tunnel.
âHe talks like she right here. There is no one here!â Marcus screams.
âBlack shirt scum,â Erik lost it. He step forward and shoved the former MARS prison guard. Marcus fell backward into the wiry man, who shoved him back. Fists fly. Erik ducked the first. Struck with the second and tumbled over the card table. He got to his feet as fast as his middle-aged body would. He prepared to be overwhelmed. The men in the restaurant seemed ready to turn him into paste.
The glass from the window shattered, pieces sprayed everywhere.
Erik stood. He ran to the back of the restaurant.
The thrall seemed to be cheering but the chatter was largely unintelligible. The group has near seconds to find the escape hatch and leave.
Erik searched the walls. He searched fallen racks of long expired food for clues.
Erik listened as the thrall stumbled over each other. The human men cursed and paced, trying to plan their escape.
A large metal door, that used to be the exit, sat to Erikâs left but it wasnât budging. He had tried it a bit earlier. The others slammed into the door but it didnât move.
âWhy doesnât the door open?â
The answer came to him in seconds.
âItâs a Harrowed door!â He said loudly.
âThey blocked the door so no thrall could come in. This means that the escape hatch is the same thing. Itâs hidden behind a wall.â
âHelp me throw all this crap in the way of the thrall coming in,â he commanded.
Sean was first to help, then his brother. They began to build a metal pile of shelves, stoves and anything that could be moved. Erik didnât even want to know what the thrall were doing but he could hear them closing in.
He ran his hands along the plaster outside wall then a metal wall. The metal was coldâ âInsulated⌠itâs in the cooler. There has to be a door here, somewhere.â
Shots rang out. The sound overwhelmed all the other sounds and he winced for a moment. He opened his eyes and saw it. A rectangular ledge that didnât belong. He swiped down and it busted open to reveal a long, slender handle. He pulled and the thick door opened. Inside was dark, smelled like mold but he saw an entrance. Inside the entrance was a faint light.
âIn here, letâs go⌠now!â
Sean, Andrew were first followed by Marcus. Erik waited for the wiry man but once he saw the first thrall he pulled the door shut. A metal post stood beside the door. He set it carefully within welded straps to secure the door.
Erik stood behind Sean Garrison. Seanâ a large, broad-shouldered man whose very presence commanded attention. He wasnât just a survivor; he was one-half of the infamous Garrison brothers, the outlaws of Black Lake.
For years, Erik watched from the streets as Sean and his brother terrorized the region. Often slipping past the Black Shirts and avoiding persecution, like it was a game.
They moved with reckless confidence, fearless and untouchable.
Erik had envied Erik the freedom they seemed to have. The wild abandon he never allowed himself.
While the Garrisons laughed in the face of consequences, Erik spent the time shackled by it â trapped inside his own regret. His memories that haunt him.
âSuck it Sean Garrison,â Erik said impulsively.
âI donât make things worse.â
Sean spun and faced Erik in a second.
His eyes flaredâ a warning, a challenge.
Erik stepped back regretting his outburst.
Erik became increasingly uncomfortable.
The outlaw Sean Garrison growled and stepped forward.
Erik stepped back and struck the plywood nailed to the wall. A trio of fingers from scratched at his pant leg.
Erik kept his eyes on the outlaw.
He felt as if Sean was trying to say words but nothing came out. Watched as the manâs lips moved to form silent words.
⌠âŚ.
Erik barely noticed the thin, dark-skinned man stepping in between the two. He stood chest-height of Sean, slightly shorter than Erik.
This is not the time!â Andrew Garrison snapped.
Before Sean could step closer, Andrew slammed a hand against his chestâhard.
The impact echoed through the room, a sharp crack against the tension.
Sean staggered back half a step, more out of surprise than force, his head snapped toward his brother.
For a second, it looked like he might retaliate.
But Andrew held his gaze, unflinching.
âThis idiot is going to get us killed, I know it.â Sean spat.
âFocus,â Andrew said, voice low but firm. âThe thrall donât give a damn about this man, even if heâs an idiot. Remember me and you brother. We got this all planned out.
Sean exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. Then, slowly, he backed off.
Andrew turned his brother away from Erik and both men walked away. Erik turned and snatched the fingers tugging at his pants.
The owner of the fingers howled in pain, which caused Erik to stumble and fall. He heard a grunt and the Collector pulled itself together. The banging stopped. The silence hung in the air as the entire room noticed. Fear began to rumble up from deep within him. He looked at the others inside the building. Sean Garrison sat across from his brother near the center of the lobby. Two other strangers stood and stared at Erik as Sean pretended he wasnât mad. To the right was a small group, including Rebecca. They looked in his direction and waited for something to happen. As the silence continued and tension built others began to appear till 13 people stood and waited for whatever was going to happen next.
Erikâs eyes opened, slow and unwilling. Erik was surprised he wasnât dead. He had for the umpteenth time give in to Teraphobiaâs attempts to break him, yet here he was.
A memory surfaced before the rest of him did: the sea of human-like, shells, hollow but functional, surrounding two towering Collectors. Rebecca ran, their monstrous, twisted forms closing in as she disappeared in the grassâ swallowed whole, as if she had fallen through the world, or did she fall victim to a Groundling?
Erik blinked. Above him, a grid of thin white lines held up a drop ceiling in poor shape. His eyes picked out pinhole circles of light. He watched and counted the circles as he collected the last few moments of consciousness. He couldnât connect standing outside with lying inside staring up.
Rebecca approached. Erik caught her with the corner of his eye. Her sight was a shock but quickly turned into relief. She looked at him, smiled, for a moment, then frowned.
âYou disappeared,â he said.
His chest, side and head throbbed. Blood traced along creases in his middle-aged face. A metallic paste in his mouth. His lips dry and right eye swollen.
âYou left me,â she said flatly.
Erik turned his head, coughed, cleared his throat and took in the scene.
He was inside a large room, benches along the far walls and small round tables lay in disrepair in the center. A group of people stood behind a long counter.
Erik suspected they were human but damn he was scared they werenât. They could turn on himâ he could not move his legs â the pain was disabling.
âYou left a child to die!â He heard Rebecca snap. He looked up toward her and she spun away toward the huddled group of âhopefullyâ people.
Erik fell asleepâ when he woke again his eyelids sprung open. He listened to a haphazard, manic thumping on the wall next to him. It felt like baseball-sized hail but there was no rhythm to this pounding. Erik looked to his right again. He found Rebecca sitting at a folding table with three adults. They looked to be playing cards. Under a sliver of light from a hole in the ceiling.
Rebecca turned and met Erikâs eyes. Instead of anger Erik saw concern then, when she realized he was awake excitement. She smiled, stood and walked over to him.
âI canât believe you are awake. Itâs a bloody miracle. My mom always said that recovery is a sign you have a destiny elsewhere. You Erik are not meant to die yet.â
Erikâs mouth was dry. His voice cracked. âGlad youâre happy to see me. Itâs barely fall. Too warm for heavy rain?â He asked regarding the pounding.
Rebecca found a chair and sat down. She reached behind Erik and pulled away a thermos and made him drink. The water tasted like sand and didnât help at all but it still felt refreshing enough to soothe his voice.
âWelcome to the Network, Erik. You are one of few that actually made it this far.â
Erik let her words sink in. Anger steamed within him.
âIs this some sick game by the Vampire Consul⌠you know the outfit of other-worldlings? I saw a Bridger out thereâ a goat man, a satyr.â
âTell me this isnât some scenario they came up with?â
Erik sat up. The muscles in his shoulder seized and he grunted, held his arm.
Rebecca paused for too long. Searching for wordsâŚ
âYouâre angry because I belong to the Network?â Rebecca shot back. He sat near the outside wall of the Burger Shack or Station 5, as the Network called it.
Outside the 4 x 8 foot wooden planks covering the shattered windows, shadows moved. The thrall paced outside, their forms appeared and vanished through narrow gaps in the boards. Rebeccaâs gaze drifted past him. Erik followed itâ and flinched.
A cancerous eye peered through a sliver of broken wood, unblinking and wet. From another gap, fingers twitched, gripping the edge of the plank as if testing its strength.
He swallowed hard. âI donât know much about the thrall,â Erik admitted. âBut they seem⌠different here. More focused. Like they know something we donât.â
âAt least youâve been outside,â Rebecca muttered. âIâve been stuck in Black Lake my whole lifeâeven before they built this prison around us.â
Rebecca held her breath for a moment.
âThey do that sometimes,â she said. âIâm sure one of us is a target of Dr. Cross.â
Erik sat up, eyes narrowing as he studied her. âLoran Elias Cross is the shepherd of these things?â He exhaled sharply. âI heard rumors outside of M.A.R.S., but I didnât believe them.â
Erik rubbed his free hand over his bruises, wincing. His other hand, wrapped in stiff bandages, throbbed with every heartbeat.
âSorry,â he said. âI assumed you were a prisoner, not a local. The Network is what, exactly? And what the hell were you doing in that van? Why would you be out there with those maniacs?â
A partial smile flickered across Rebeccaâs face. Erik caught it immediatelyâalong with something else.
An elongated tooth.
The realization settled in, slow and unwelcome. Vampire.
They had come over the Bridge from Kymaraâhuman-like immortals, lurking for years, maybe even decades. Bloodthirsty, power-hungry, meta-humans with too many secrets. Their status didnât stop them from being arrested and sent to M.A.R.S., so Erik wasnât exactly shocked she was a vampireâjust disappointed.
That would explainâ
âI know what youâre thinking,â Rebecca interrupted.
Rebecca explained that she worked for the Network as a Guideâa designated escort responsible for safely transporting people through the streets.
âYou were a real Guide yesterday when twenty people, including me, almost died right at the gate,â Erikâs voice cut through the cacophony of pounding outside.
Rebecca didnât flinch. âWeâre not allowed to help outside the street out there called the Avenue,â she said flatly. âAnything near the gate is guarded by auto-guns, and entry is always chaos. Weâd be insane to show up. So we wait. One dayâŚâ
She let the sentence hang. Erik grumbled, processing her words, her lack of sympathyâand the growing certainty that she was a vampire.
âIâm going to stay quiet,â he muttered after a pause. His eyes flicked toward the rattling walls. âAre they ever going to stop pounding? I hate these goddamn thrall.â
Erik grasp the fingers of the thrall and broke them. The noise echoed through the small building. The thrall, incensed, reacted immediately.
The pounding intensified. The pattern changed. No longer just mindless hammeringânow there was rhythm, urgency. The thrall werenât just slamming the walls. They were coordinating.
A guttural wail from the Collectors rose, echoing through the gaps in the wooden planks.
Then came the heavy thuds. Bigger. Smarter. Stronger.
Across the room, a large man, the size of a former linebacker, slammed his cards down, the slap of plastic on wood sharp and final. He stood abruptly, his shadow stretching across the dim interior.
âThe hellâs wrong with you?â His voice was low, controlledâbut his glare was razor-sharp.
Erik didnât answer. He could feel the vibration in his bones from the last impact outside.
The man took a step closer, eyes locked onto Erik like he was the real threat. âYou trying to get us all killed? I should kick you ass and throw you back outside.â
Erik looked at the towering man. Without a thought he spat, âYou canât threaten an old, angry drunk waiting
It was pity.
He crouched slightly, close enough that only Erik could hear. âIâm sorry you donât value your life. But my brother and I value ours. So check yourself.â
The man stared. Whatever anger had been simmering behind his eyes flickeredâthen faded. What replaced it wasnât fear or rage.
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned.
The tall man stood in front of the others in Station 5.
âListen up,â he called out, his voice sharp enough to cut through the pounding outside. âThis is different. Theyâre not just hammering at the walls. This man drew the abominations, called the Collectors here, so we are all going to die.
Erik exhaled, running a hand over his face. âThey were not after me!â He shouted. They didnât even know I was there half the time.â
Seanâs head snapped toward him. âWhat?â
Erik hesitated. He looked at Rebecca and she shook her head. âIf they were after me, they would have killed me. I think they wanted her.â
Rebecca frowned.
âThere is something strange with this girl. She is not normalâŚâ He continued but Rebecca stepped close to him and jammed her heel into the side of his foot.
âThey were hunting. Yes,â she admitted stepping in front of the group. ââŚbut itâs not me. I donât know why the Collectors want us but we only have a few moments.â
Another impact rocked the structure as the Collectors focused on the same section of the outside wall. The plywood inside groaned. The metal nails struggled to paste the wood to the building frame.
The thought sent a cold weight settling in Erikâs gut.
Sean rubbed a hand over his jaw. âWe donât have time for bullshit. Board up anything loose, check the weapons, and someone keep an eye on that back exit.â
His gaze flicked back to Erik. âAnd youâtry not to make things worse.â
Erik stood behind Sean Garrison. Seanâ a large, broad-shouldered man whose very presence commanded attention. He wasnât just a survivor; he was one-half of the infamous Garrison brothers, the outlaws of Black Lake.
For years, Erik watched from the streets as Sean and his brother terrorized the region. Often slipping past the Black Shirts and avoiding persecution, like it was a game.
They moved with reckless confidence, fearless and untouchable.
Erik had envied Erik the freedom they seemed to have. The wild abandon he never allowed himself.
While the Garrisons laughed in the face of consequences, Erik spent the time shackled by it â trapped inside his own regret. His memories that haunt him.
Erik could clearly see the fangs now as she spat angrily. He was intimidated by the thoughts, brought to mind by the movies and books of yester-years. Rebecca pointed toward a group clustered behind the counter. Erik followed her order and headed that direction.
âSuck it Sean Garrison,â Erik said impulsively.
âI donât make things worse.â
Sean spun and faced Erik in a second.
His eyes flaredâ a warning, a challenge.
Erik stepped back regretting his outburst.
Erik became increasingly uncomfortable.
The outlaw Sean Garrison growled and stepped forward.
Erik stepped back and struck the plywood nailed to the wall. A trio of fingers from scratched at his pant leg.
Erik kept his eyes on the outlaw.
He felt as if Sean was trying to say words but nothing came out. Watched as the manâs lips moved to form silent words.
⌠âŚ.
Erik barely noticed the thin, dark-skinned man stepping in between the two. He stood chest-height of Sean, slightly shorter than Erik.
This is not the time!â Andrew Garrison snapped.
Before Sean could step closer, Andrew slammed a hand against his chestâhard.
The impact echoed through the room, a sharp crack against the tension.
Sean staggered back half a step, more out of surprise than force, his head snapped toward his brother.
For a second, it looked like he might retaliate.
But Andrew held his gaze, unflinching.
âThis idiot is going to get us killed, I know it.â Sean spat.
âFocus,â Andrew said, voice low but firm. âThe thrall donât give a damn about this man, even if heâs an idiot. Remember me and you brother. We got this all planned out.
Sean exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. Then, slowly, he backed off.
Andrew turned his brother away from Erik and both men walked away. Erik turned and snatched the fingers tugging at his pants.
The owner of the fingers howled in pain, which caused Erik to stumble and fall. He heard a grunt and the Collector pulled itself together. The banging stopped. The silence hung in the air as the entire room noticed. Fear began to rumble up from deep within him. He looked at the others inside the building. Sean Garrison sat across from his brother near the center of the lobby. Two other strangers stood and stared at Erik as Sean pretended he wasnât mad. To the right was a small group, including Rebecca. They looked in his direction and waited for something to happen. As the silence continued and tension built others began to appear till 13 people stood and waited for whatever was going to happen next.
The thrall had stopped pounding on the walls of the Burger Place but the silence wasnât pleasant. Erik stood near the front of the restaurant. Crude plywood covered large plate-glass windows.
He looked outside, peeking from a crack in the wooden barrier. The glass, covered in handprints and grime made visibility poor, but he could make out non-movable human shapes.
The thrall stood motionless like a horrific army at attention. The taller Collectors walked between the haphazard rows the thrall had created.
Erikâs stomach twisted. He knew something was wrong but he couldnât put together just what that was. The thrall didnât stand around on a whim. They fell asleep after some inactivity but now they stood motionless, like they were waiting for a command.
He pulled back from the barrier and turned. He ran into Rebecca.
âWhat is wrong with you,â she said. âThis is not goodâŚâ
âHave you seen them do this before?â Erik asked as Rebecca pulled on his arm.
â I have,â she responded panic in her voice.âTheyâre organizing a breach of the Station 5. They donât normally do this unless they want one of us very badly.â Rebecca replied.
âThatâs you, they want you for what you are.â Erik said loud enough to make her stop and everyone in the room to turn.
âI know what you are,â Erik continued. âYouâre a vampire.â
A few of the newer prisoners gasp but most didnât and the room got quiet. Erik took a moment to regroup. He looked around to see every human-like pair of eyes stare at him.
âYouâre an asshole, you know. No wonder no one likes you. That pair thereâŚâ She said pointing to Sean and Andrew. âThe Outlaw Baker brothers know who you are⌠they were outside with you. They know you have some sob story about your family but they donât care because you are miserable. You were a sign that says kill me now!â
Rebecca was screaming. Sheâd had enough.
âI shouldnât have saved you. Go sit down with the other Transient Residents. Sit down and shut up.â
Erik began moved toward the group. He felt the weight of the groups eyes upon him.
Something felt off and he immediately recognized it. A sudden sinking feeling.
His stomach tightened.
Erik looked back at Rebecca.
She stood still.
Not a breath. Not a twitch.
He glanced at the others. Their expressions were tight, unreadable. They werenât looking at her. They were looking at him.
The realization slammed into him like a fist to the ribs.
Sheâs not real.
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.
He swore under his breath, anger burning through himânot at Rebecca, not even at the others.
At himself.
He should have recognized it sooner. But they always felt so damn real.
It was never the mirages that terrified him, it wasnât their fault.
It was the way the normals reacted when they saw him talking to nothing.
He was ready to fight. He waited. He stared at the group of men playing cards â the other group?
Sean Garrison shook his head. His brother stepped forward. A man from the other side of the room broke the uncomfortable silence by shouting.
âWho you talking too?â
Erik swallowed hard. He could lie or he could just admit it.
âI have a condition. Iâm managing it. Can we figure out what those monsters are doing outside please? Do we have an escape plan?â
He looked to the group and they stood quiet.
âCan we do something!?â
This prompted Sean to walk toward him. The other man also started toward him.
THUD
The walls shuddered. Something crashed outside. A scream burst forward, like a battle charge, then a cacophony of punches struck from every direction. The plywood-covered windows struggled to stay upon the walls as the mob of thrall all struck at once.
The group of survivors inside gasp.
The card table was upended.
Some ran and disappeared behind the thin rows that used to prepare fast food. Others stood and watched, frozen in fear or curiosity.
Erik wasnât going to wait and he ran to the very rear of the store. At the rear was a red metal door upon the door was letters that spelled
EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY
Alarm will sound
He shoved the door but it didnât budge.
âWhat are we going to do, hide in the walk-in freezer!â Erik shouts. His breathing increases and he begins to panic.
A man, dressed in black fatigues approaches Erik carefully.
âI think we can handle this a little better,â he says trying to reassure Erik.
âHandle something better? Youâre asking me if I can handle something better, black shirt!â Erik growls and steps forward.
Marcus steps back to counter. He grabs a nightstick hanging from a utility belt.
âYou going to use that on me?â Erik said as he stared through the hefty man. Behind him stood a vision of his daughter, which made him shiver. He closed his eyes and opened them to see she was gone.
He took a breath. Seeing Anne always took his breath away. He always knew she was a mirage but it was always a shock.
âYou need to calm down man,â the man shouted, interrupting the moment.
Erik was ready to snap back but the mirage took a moment from him. After that moment a loud CRACK draws attention as on of the sheets of plywood comes crashing down.
â â
A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse.
Outside hundreds of thrall stand waiting. Some sway like reeds near a pond. Others stand, no movement at all, sleeping.
The humans within the Burger Place gasp. Overwhelmed by the numbers.
âWhy are you not helping these people!â Rebecca screamed. Erik jumped. She stood beside him. âThe thrall are coming in here, obviously. The window, hell the building will not stand this abuse,â she continued.
âWhy are you haunting me?â Erik snapped, voice rising with panic.
He turned and found himself face to face with Marcus.
âYouâre a crazy spook,â Marcus spat. But instead of swinging, he just turned and walked away.
Erik swallowed hard, closed his eyes and tried to reset.
He opened his eyes.
Something thumped hard against the laminated glass. The cracks creaked angrily and spread.
Erik turned toward the glass to see a full-grown, thrall man rolling down the glass. He landed upon the outstretched arms of other thrall, who quickly dropped him to the ground.
The thrall pushed forward. The laminated window groaned.
Erik watched the mob outside as they shoved each other in an organized effort to push the glass from its frame. A Collector, larger than the other thrall, stood in the center of the mob. The thrall crowded around it. Erik watched as the steroid-laden monster snatched a thrall up and toss it into the building.
The entire building shuttered.
âWe need to get out of here,â Erik said to Sean, Andrew stood beside him. The other two men, Marcus and a wiry, tattooed man stood in the kitchen with him.
âIs it only the five of us?â Erik asked.
âSix with the one you have been talking too,â growled Marcus.
âRight six with Rebecca,â Erik knew she was a figment, a made-up adviser, but he also knew that everyone else already had a reason to not like him so why not embrace it.
âRebecca says she was a Guide and there was an escape tunnel.
âHe talks like she right here. There is no one here!â Marcus screams.
âBlack shirt scum,â Erik lost it. He step forward and shoved the former MARS prison guard. Marcus fell backward into the wiry man, who shoved him back. Fists fly. Erik ducked the first. Struck with the second and tumbled over the card table. He got to his feet as fast as his middle-aged body would. He prepared to be overwhelmed. The men in the restaurant seemed ready to turn him into paste.
The glass from the window shattered, pieces sprayed everywhere.
Erik stood. He ran to the back of the restaurant.
The thrall seemed to be cheering but the chatter was largely unintelligible. The group has near seconds to find the escape hatch and leave.
Erik searched the walls. He searched fallen racks of long expired food for clues.
Erik listened as the thrall stumbled over each other. The human men cursed and paced, trying to plan their escape.
A large metal door, that used to be the exit, sat to Erikâs left but it wasnât budging. He had tried it a bit earlier. The others slammed into the door but it didnât move.
âWhy doesnât the door open?â
The answer came to him in seconds.
âItâs a Harrowed door!â He said loudly.
âThey blocked the door so no thrall could come in. This means that the escape hatch is the same thing. Itâs hidden behind a wall.â
âHelp me throw all this crap in the way of the thrall coming in,â he commanded.
Sean was first to help, then his brother. They began to build a metal pile of shelves, stoves and anything that could be moved. Erik didnât even want to know what the thrall were doing but he could hear them closing in.
He ran his hands along the plaster outside wall then a metal wall. The metal was coldâ âInsulated⌠itâs in the cooler. There has to be a door here, somewhere.â
Shots rang out. The sound overwhelmed all the other sounds and he winced for a moment. He opened his eyes and saw it. A rectangular ledge that didnât belong. He swiped down and it busted open to reveal a long, slender handle. He pulled and the thick door opened. Inside was dark, smelled like mold but he saw an entrance. Inside the entrance was a faint light.
âIn here, letâs go⌠now!â
Sean, Andrew were first followed by Marcus. Erik waited for the wiry man but once he saw the first thrall he pulled the door shut. A metal post stood beside the door. He set it carefully within welded straps to secure the door.
Erik screamed out toward the thrall. He listened as the towering stems and pig weed broke under the incoming horde. The tentacled Groundling reached out, brushed his ankle. Erik turned, snapped a thick stalk from the ground. He threw the stalk at the mystery creature within the grass. A tentacle wrapped itself around the stalk and broke it in half.
The thrall mob closed in.
âWe have to find an escape route,â he said to Rebecca over the noise of the Groundling shrieking. Erik pulled another stalk and stepped closer. The creature sat in the center of a patch of weeds and corn stalks. Thick muscular shoulders swinging six to eight foot grayish/black tendrils. It did look like a Groundling of horrible but Erik prodded the creature, careful to avoid the tentacles. The Groundling ripped the stalk from his hands. Erik searched for another but found a stout, middle-aged man staring through him with pale, calloused eyes.
âOh gawdâŚâ he swore, surprised that the thrall reached him so fast. He searched for Rebecca but didnât see her. Thankful for a moment of hope that she got away⌠but that changed when he realized she probably didnât have that luck. The thrall Collectors may have taken her. Angry Erik quickly snacked another stalk from the ground he poked at the middle-aged thrall. Carefully, to stay away from the eager tentacles. Every time Erik poked the thrall it would lunge in the direction. Erik threaded the path to the puddle with calculated blows till the tentacles grabbed the thrall and began pulling. The thrall, with its strength super-sized, resisted. It pulled on the tentacles. The disc-like body lifted like a skillet on a stovetop but the Groundling whipped the thrall mercilessly with a third tentacle. It weakened the thrall and he collapsed, just for a moment. The Groundling wrapped up the monster and twisted.
Erik winced as the bones and muscles cracked a second thrall appeared. Itâs face bloody from walking through brambles and other thorny weeds. A third appeared near Rebecca, then a fourth.
The Groundling dropped the remains of the thrall near its central body. It immediately lashed out as the thrall marched toward the noise. Erik located Rebecca, waited for a moment⌠struggling with what to do⌠then gestured down. He sat upon the ground and watched as Rebecca did the same.
The hope was to stay motionless.
WaitâŚ
⌠get lucky
⌠one of them may not trip over them.
Erik smiled, at the thought, but it wasnât that it was funny. He didnât have the luck to survive this.
Counter to his sour thoughts luck was kind to him this time. The thrall walked past him and Rebecca and stumbled upon the Groundling. The horrifying creature made short work of each one. It laid each body nearby. Blood and guts pooled around the edge.
With the area fairly clear Erik stood. Rebecca stood. She lead and Erik followed. They stepped carefully and quietly till they escaped the weeds and stalks. They stood staring. Ahead of them was a small building, windows boarded up, surrounded by a parking lot.
âŚwell it used to be a parking lot. Grass forced its way up through cracks in the asphalt. A couple cars, dust covered and bleached from the sun, sat in what Erik assumed was parking spots. Before the parking lot was a crude footbridge that crossed over the Grand River. A water system that passed through a large amount of the former state of Michigan⌠but that was years ago. The world had changed, Michigan had been buried with his mother and father, his wife and child. The world now was Teraphobia.
âSo whatâs your plan?â Erik asked Rebecca, as they sat waiting for the mob of thrall to surround them.
âFirst step is to not die.â Rebecca said.
âHonestly⌠and I always try to be honest,â Erik promised. âIâm good with dying. Iâve lived long enough. You wanna stab me and run, do it.â
âLiar!â Rebecca shouted. It was a whisper but emotional, triggered by memories.
âIf you wanted to die so much then you wouldnât have saved me.â
Erik had a problem with her statement, a huge problem. He had set himself on a path to suicide years ago, after they died.
âYou canât say their names?â
âShut up,â Erik snapped.
âWhat?â Rebecca growled.
Erik presses his lips together, biting down upon his remaining teeth till they hurt then says, ânever mind my crazy. I have an aggressive self conscious.â
âYou hear voices?â
âYes, my own voice.â He then changes the subject. âThere is a mob of thrall, probably Collectors, out there. There are three coming toward us, alerted. I didnât think this through. I donât know where to go.â He admitted.
A smile grew upon Rebeccaâs dirt streaked face. Unkept brown hair clung in strands, matted to her face due to neglect. Her smile ignited a past warmth within green and amber flecked eyes.
It then disappeared, lost for the time being.
âStation 5â, she said and pointed through the sea of swaying monsters. âA quarter of a mile in that direction is a Network station. A safe place for us.â
âI see,â Erik said impressed. âWe just need to get there then?
âWhere the hell am I going to go,â Erik said to himself.
Erik and a young girl, named Rebecca, walked alone within a sea of brainless thrall, stalled cars and tall grass. Erik carried a duffle bag, Rebecca a backpack.
Ahead of them a few neglected buildings, behind those a forgotten city. High-rise buildings rotting and falling apart.
âI donât want to go into the city. I want to avoid it if possible.â Erik said after confirming there was no thrall within listening distance.
He looked back to see Rebecca holding a knife near his side. Upon her face, fear.
âStab me if you want,â Erik said. âI will scream the entire time. You will not make it 100 feet.â
Rebecca stared at Erik.
âI just⌠almost lost my life for you.â He snapped.
âThatâs a great sign. Iâm starting to think this was a stupid idea,â Erik thought.
âI need a drink,â he said, ignoring the threat.
Erik and Rebecca stood within a column of closely parked cars. Thrall stood 50 to 100 feet away. The monsters, when not triggered by noise, would sleep. They would sway like large monstrous blades of grass.
Erik set his duffle on the ground, opened the bag. The whiskey bottle inside was busted. The pungent smell of whiskey wafted up and out.
âAre you a drinker?â Rebecca asked. âMy father was a drinker.â
The suddenness of the comment/question caused him to pause. He hadnât had a conversation with a real person in a long time.
âWhere is your father now?â
âDead and in the van back there,â she said emotionless.
âI see,â was the only reply he could muster. He pulled out the contents of the bag and dumped out the wet garbage.
âAll this crap is destroyed and I forgot my bat,â . âHow am I going to defend myself⌠you,â he added as he stared at the nearest thrall 100ft away.
âWhat else is in this bag,â he continued. âI guess it would be good to have a bag but I have a couple knives and a tire iron. I need to fill it back up.
âSo killer,â Erik said. âYouâre rescued, youâre free to go in any direction. I donât know where Iâm going,â he admitted.
He turned to face Rebecca. Her face solemn but strong reminding Erik of his daughter he lost but with glaring exceptions. Anne was never tough as nail, like this young woman. Dirt on Anneâs face.. oh no.
She wouldnât have stood for that. Rebecca looked as though she has been through 3 lifetimes. Hard lines and scar-traced tears upon her face. Rebeccaâs dark hair was the same color as Annieâs but Rebeccaâs was unwashed⌠and Rebecca didnât seem to mind.
Something Rebecca did mind was a middle-aged stranger staring her down as he dreamt about a lifetime that no longer existed.
Her knife struck out at Erik. It was a warning and not an attempt on his life but it was enough for him to fall backward and string together an obnoxious combination of swear words.
When Erik regained his senses he recognized the consequences of his action when thrall began the stir.
âF – you lady,â Erik snarled. âI donât care if youâre a kid. That was uncalled for. Can I go pass? Are you going to try to cut me?â
Erik had an adrenaline, filled fury. She had the advantage and could easily get a few swipes in. She would definitely hold both of them up long enough to face the thrall. Erik didnât want to die under the thrall. That was not an honorable way to die.
âHonorable⌠ha,â he thought. âOf all the words in the English dictionary. Youâre a bum, Erik.â
âI was honorable once,â he accidentally said out-loud as he slid past Rebecca.
Erik watched as Rebecca glared at him. Erik slid clear of her and passed the bluish bumper of an older coupe. He looked out into the sun-drenched, grass-covered wasteland. He saw a sea of heads bobbing back and forth. Thrall marched toward them. He was mapping out, in his head, an escape route but it just wasnât appearing. He walked past the bumper and sat down beside the car.
âI donât know what to do next,â he thought as he let his shoulders fall.
âI donât know where to go. Maybe this is the end.It was a great plan.â
âAre you serious?â He replied in thought. âYou complement me and my plan. My impulsive rescue plan thatâŚâ
He stopped because Rebecca sat beside him and apologized. She explained her situation. She explained that she had to kill her parents in the van. She was a resident of MARS and had a plan.
Erik sat for a moment. He watched as the closest thrall came within a 50 foot radius of them followed by 3 or 4 additional rows of brainless, humanoid monsters.
Erik stood near a pale blue minivan. Its windows blacked out with dirt. He tried the driverâs side sliding door, but it was locked.
A pair of tall, blond, thrall twins mill nearby. They blindly search for the source of the noise. The tinyist ‘chunk’, ‘chink’ or ‘ding’ sets them in — It’s a weird sight, for sure, but they would be listening for any noise. The twins slapped the sides of the van. They tried the door handles but they were locked, Erik assumed.
He stood motionless. He watched as the blond twins search for a way inside. The nearest crept closer, but Erik kept quiet. If they couldn’t hear him, they had no idea where he was.
Erik swore silently when the woman screamed again. He grasped the bat tightly. The twins immediately escalated their abuse of the van. The scream also attracted other thrall, which hobbled, with purpose, toward the noise.
âThe situation is escalating. Soon a rescue will be impossible.â He thought as a human-like⌠but fur-covered creature brushed his shoulder.
Erik held in a yelp but then gasp as a brown torso brushed past him. He tracked the creature with his eyes. The torso was covered in blood and patches of short fur. Above the torso was a human form, infected, blind and a thrall.
âA Bridger?This is a whole new low for the worldâŚâ Erik thought, his posture stiffened. We can address the obvious escalations by the Vampire later⌠What are you going to do about the woman?â
Erikâs thought turns into an argument as many of them did.
âYou stepped out of that goddamn car to help this woman but now youâre just standing here.â
âIâm trying to save my own life here,â he replied.
âMoments ago you woke from a whiskey coma with thoughts of suicide⌠did you even remember the pistol?â
âDamn it no,â Erik silently retorted. âI left it in the car.â
âGreat⌠good job. What are you going to do with that bat?â
Erik held the bat in his left hand. The Bridger creature, often called a satyr within ancient stories, approached the blue minivan. It felt around the sides of the van till it reached the windows. It began to dig its human fingers into the creases of the minivan windows and began to pull.
Erik moved automatically and struck the satyr legs with the bat. Itâs thin legs broken. The satyr screamed and collapsed. The other thrall turned, distracted from there original mission and began to beat upon the disabled creature. They viciously tore the satyr apart only feet from him.
Erik, finding an opportunity within the gory scene turned and walked to the drivers side door handle and jerked it. It was locked. Moved to the side door and said.
âLady, I am human. Open the door. I mean to rescue you. Not hurt you. We have a small window of time. I need you to trust me⌠please.â
He banged on the sliding door gently, so to not make too much noise.
âPlease,â he repeated.
Erik searched the area. A large, overweight thrall stumbled toward him. It passed a small coupe. Erik looked at the sliding door then stepped toward the monster. Erik struck him with the bat. The bat blasted the upper thigh. The thrall stutter-stepped. Paused then walked forward like Erik hadnât hit him. Erik threw the bat back for another swing when the van door opened. Erik turned. He expected a woman but saw a young girl. Behind her a pair of human bodies, motionless. He struggled with memories of his own daughter. This young girl was the same age.
After a few seconds Erik shook himself free of the memory and turned to face the thrall. The overweight creature grabbed Erikâs shoulder. Erik twisted his body but lost his balance. He tumbled forward and fell onto the grass-covered concrete.
The thrall grabbed his ankle. Erik twisted and lay on his back.
The thrall stood over him. Its eyes pale and dead. Scars upon its fat face. It tried to collect Erikâs other foot but Erik kicked out of it. The thrall served their vampire master but they were not really good at anything. They were violent but loyal. Within MARS, the thrall had a number advantage.
The twins, attracted by the noise, appeared. The young girl within the van closed the sliding side door. The noise attracted the attention of the twins and they grasp the door. The girl screamed. The twins pulled harder.
Erik watched, from the ground. His captor, the thrall, had him and would not let go of his ankle. Erikâs ankle twisted and he growled. The pain shooting up through his body.
He then suddenly screamed, struggled and began to search and grab anything that could make noise.
He found a few aluminum cans, rocks and finally a good sized piece of metal. He thrust the jagged piece into the soft part of the large monsterâs throat.
The twins, drawn from the van, hovered above Erikâs head. The large thrall released his grip from the ankle. Erik freed himself. Blood fell upon a dirty, white shirt. The thrall grasp its throat and fell forward. Erik rolled away and got as close to the car, nearby, as he could.
The twins, mistaking the larger one for Erik, began to beat on the injured thrall. The thrall squawked, blew air through blood. Erik crawled, as silently as he could forward and pass the commotion. He stood, scanned the area and found several dozen additional thrall heading toward him. The minivan door was open and a five-foot-one young girl stood beside the vehicle. A backpack in her hand and behind her, in the van, a pair of dead human bodies.
âDoctor Adams!â shouts an intern soaked in blood, âsomething has gone terribly wrong.â
Doctor Adams tosses a large cup of coffee into the sink of the break room and follows the intern out the door. They break into a run to quickly cover the distance between the break room and the exam room.
âWhat happened,â Doctor Adams asks.
âI donât know. The patient was acting fine but then began to get sick. He fell to the floor and then began to seize. Before I left to get you, he began to change.â
âChange into what, my boy,â asked Doctor Adams.
âI donât know,â said the intern, his ashen face tarred with fear.
âItâs alright, young man, I’ll take care of the situation. Why donât you go lay down. You look unwell.â
The intern stopped. Doctor Adams noticed the young man’s eyes were bloodshot, and a dark half-circle was painted under each eye.
âWhy do you want me to lay down?â Said the intern with an accusatory tone.
Doctor Adams stopped and turned around.
âI just figured you were in shock and could use a rest,â said Doctor Adams.
âNo, you just want me to fall asleep so you can experiment on me,â the internâs small round face tightened. His lips became small, thin pencil marks below his nose.
âI donât,â explained Doctor Adams, trying to find a name tag on the young man’s chest.
âYouâre not going to try anything on me,â the young intern stated while hitting his chest firmly with his right fist.
âAre you a patient?â Doctor Adams asked, becoming worried about his safety.
âNo, I am a doctor,â said the young intern. Doctor Adams began to walk toward the young man. He wanted to get behind him. Doctor Adams was very capable of restraining almost anyone. As long as he could get behind the subject. The intern followed him and would not allow Doctor Adams to get behind him.
âWhat are you doing?â The intern asked loudly.
âYoung man, I need you to stand still,â Doctor Adams insisted as he closed in on the intern.
âNo,â the intern shouted as he began to walk backward toward an adjacent hallway.
âYou are going to hurt yourself,â Doctor Adams warned. The internâs anger returned, he shouted, âI am going to hurt myself?â
âYou experiment on us, you hurt us, and I am going to worry about hurting myself.
âSuddenly the situation turned, and the intern began to rush Doctor Adams. Doctor Adams stepped back and fell into a gurney. With his left leg and arm twisted within the legs of the gurney, he was helpless.
The intern approached with a murderous look that could frighten even the heartless. Doctor Adams tried desperately to free himself as the intern bent over him and raised a meaty fist to bring down upon him.
Doctor Adams could hear footsteps sprinting toward him, then a grunt and a crash. A large hospital guard tackled the intern. They wrestling upon the floor. Doctor Adams freed himself and stood. He wanted to help the guard, who was having a terrible time restraining the intern.
âGet out of here!â shouted the guard after he landed a crushing blow to the intern’s face.
âI can help you,â shouted Doctor Adams.
âNo, get out of the hospital. Go…,â the guard said as he finally seemed to have the upper hand. He had managed to work the intern onto his belly and held the young man’s arms under his own. The guard stepped upon the intern’s back like a mountaineer at the peak of a mountain.
âGo, damnit,â the guard demanded.
Doctor Adams turned and began toward a hallway. An awful crack and groan made his stomach wretch, and he wanted to turn back but didnât. The hallways were numerous and hard to maneuver. He began toward the Directors office. The office sat on the far southern corner of the large compound. As he walked farther away from the incident near the operating rooms, he began to slow his pace. The halls were quiet and orderly. The thick room doors closed and locked. There looked to be no epidemic problem or a reason for him to hurry. Doctor Adams rounded a corner and then made a right down the administrative hallway. The Director’s office sat on the right side. He passed the Research and Development Offices on the left. He glanced inside the rooms as he passed. Norman Oswald sat behind his desk and looked up as Doctor Adams passed. He waved, and Doctor Adams returned a wave. Within the next room, a couple of doctors sat on small chairs facing away from him. A large desk sat in front of them. They seemed to be waiting for Doctor Rebekah San Marino, who was not sitting at her desk. The last Research and Development office was empty except for a few chairs tossed in the middle of the room. The next set of offices was finance. The finance department had four rooms. In the first room on the right of the hallway sat Kerry Peterson, behind his desk, and talking on the phone. He seemed strangely animated, arguing into the receiver. The remaining rooms up to the directorâs office were empty. Doctor Adams approached the directorâs door. The director was a balding fifty-year old man, small in stature by appearance only. Doctor Adams knocked on the glass pane of the office door. He watched as the director waved him in with a flick of his small wrist. Doctor Adams opened the door and immediately caught the potent scent of cigars, many cigars. He approached the large desk that sat in the center of the room and sat down. âNo, no, no…â said the director as he spoke to someone on the floor. âEverything is under control. You donât need to send any help.
Dr. Adams listened for a few minutes, smiling as he did.
âPlease sir, you know Iâll let you know if I need help.â Dr. Adams watched as he nervously wiggled a yellow wooden pencil on his desk. âIâm sorry, sir, but I have a visitor and have to let you go.â
Dr. Adams smiled. The director hung up the phone.
âHold on,â the director stands and walks to the large window in the back of the room. Below the window is a bookshelf crammed with binders dated in black ink. The director scans the book and finds a binder with the date May 5, 2008. He pulls the binder from the shelf and walks back to his desk.
âWhat can I do for you, doctor Adams?â He said as he sat carefully down into his chair. âUhm…â
Doctor Adams struggled to organize his thoughts. âThere was an incident down the hall near the examination room.â
The director’s smile fell.
âI was almost killed,â Doctor Adams continued, âa patient pretending to be an intern approached me with an emergency and then tried to kill me. He said he was hurting him.â
The director stood from his chair and paced back and forth behind his desk. The concern in his face seemed to weigh him down.
âI did tell you there was a risk with this job, didnât I,â the director said. His tone changed. â
âYou did tell me,â Doctor Adams acknowledged, âbut I want to know there is a bigger problem.â
âA bigger problem?â The director stopped and looked at Doctor Adams.
âThe guard that saved my life told me to leave the hospital,â Doctor Adams said. âHe then killed the patient.â
âHe did? Well, you probably misheard somethingâ.
âI misunderstood the noise of bones breaking as I began down the hall!â
âDamnit.â The director picked up the phone and began to dial a number.
âYou can do what you want, Doctor Adams. Leave, stay, run away, I donât care. Just get out of my office. I have important phone calls to make,â the director waited for Doctor Adams to walk out of the office.
Doctor Adams stood outside the door. The director shouted into the phone.
Doctor Adams began to feel helplessness, or was it fear?
Did he fear what he had been doing the past few months?
Was it torture?â
âNo,â he replied to himself. âThis is important research. How else are we going to survive in this world without the gene implantation research he was trying to do?â
Doctor Adams turned from the directorâs door down the administration hallway. He passed Kerry Petersonâs room again and instinctively looked inside. The large man stood just inside his door, staring at the opposite wall. Doctor Adams opened the office door.
âIs there something wrong Kerry.â
Kerry Peterson was a family friend. Kerry was actually the man who helped get him this job.
âDerrick,â Kerry began pleasantly using Doctor Adams first name.
âI saw you heading to the director’s office. Whatâs going on?â
âI was assaulted by a patient about an hour ago. A guard told me to run from the building. I was trying to figure out what was going on.â Kerryâs face went pale.
âA patient attacked you?â Kerry asked.
âYea, it was pretty frightful. I thought he was going to kill me till the guard took him out. Then, the guard broke the patients back.â
âMy god,â Kerry said as he walked toward his desk. Doctor Adams followed.
âDo you have any idea what is going on around here?â Doctor Adams asked. Kerry said nothing and sat down behind his desk.
âI have an idea but nothing concrete. Only bits and pieces of information from the financial comings and goings.â
âSo whatâs up?â Doctor Adams asked.
âThe companies losing money hand over foot. We have spent over half a billion dollars in bad investments over a two year period,â said Kerry.
âWhat does this have to do with patients pretending to be doctors?â
âThe company is getting lax because they are cutting cost.â
âThatâs a good reason, but I donât believe thatâs everything,â Doctor Adams said.
âWhat are you going to do?â
âWell Iâm not an investigator or Nancy Drew or anything, but if this involves my livelihood, I have to do something.â
âIt may be that I will have to find another job.â
âUhm…â Kerry paused then continued, âyou canât leave the company.â
âWhat are you talking about,â asked Doctor Adams.
âYou are contractually obligated to this company until you are released by the company,â Kerry said carefully. He looked a little apprehensive.
âContractually obligated!â Doctor Adams spat as his stood from he chair and began to walk around the room.
âIs this a joke,â he asked, not really expecting an answer.
âNo, it’s common practice for the company.â
âReally, where is this paragraph in the contract?â
âUnder the signature, small type, of course.â
âYea, of course,â Doctor Adams said while he continued to pace.
âHow could you have gotten me into this crap?â Doctor Adams shouted, his temper pushed over the edge.
âIâm sorry,â Kerry said just before he stood and stumbled backward toward the window in the back of his office. Several loud crashes erupted from outside the office door, and Doctor Adams looked. Metal gurneys began to pile up just outside the door. They came from the left side of the office and were tossed or pushed into the pile. After five or six gurneys sat in the hallway, a large male nurse named Hoyt leaped over the pile, followed by several others. There were six people total; Doctor Ruiz and Doctor Stein made their way over the pile dressed in the standard white coat. Three nurses followed them; Nurses Smith, Alexander, and an Asian woman Doctor Adams did not know. They pointed toward the left of the hallway, some of them crying. The large nurse Hoyt seemed to take charge and shouted orders.
âWe need to make this higher,â he said as he pushed to pile upward.
Doctor Adams walked to the office door and attempted to open it, but Hoyt stopped him. He held up one of his large hands and then made crude hand turning motions attempting to convince Doctor Adams to lock the office door. Doctor Adams locked the door and stepped back. The women screamed as something began to approach. The scream shot through the office like the glass door was not even there. They walked backward till they disappeared from sight. Doctor Stein began to follow them when Hoyt stopped him. They then stood behind the pile of gurneys and waited for whatever was coming to hit them. Doctor Adams watched from inside the room as the men braced themselves. Suddenly, a large naked man burst from the left side of the doorway and smashed into the gurneys. It reminded Doctor Adams of an attempted 1-yard dive at a football game. The doctors shoved the gurneys up and into the naked man, stopping his dive mid-air. The naked man fell backward onto the gurneys. His back broke over a gurney that lay on its side. Hoyt rushed forward over the gurneys and shoved a thin glass rod through the bottom of the manâs jaw and into his brain. It was disgusting but apparently necessary. Blood splattered over the glass office door. The naked man lies in front of it. Doctor Adams turned to look at Kerry and found him crumpled upon his knees in a corner.
âWhat the hell was that,â Doctor Adams said loudly, but Kerry was not listening. Doctor Adams pounded on the office doors till Hoyt shoved the body out of the doorway. Doctor Adams quickly unlocked the door and opened it.
âWhat the hell is going on?â Said a booming voice from down the hall. The director stood, all four-foot nine of him, outside his office with his hands on his hips.
âDirector,â said Hoyt, his large frame towering over the small director. âI think you owe us an explanation.â
âAbout what,â said the director, looking up at the male nurse confidently.
âAbout your experiments.â
âI donât know what you’re talking about. I have no experiments. Everything thatâs going on is known by all of these staff members.â
The director pointed to everyone that stood behind Hoyt.
âIâm sorry if you are out of the loop.
âHoyt laughed. A hearty chuckle that he bottled up quickly so as to make a pointed statement.
âI am so in the loop, Director. I know everything. I know you have commissioned a select few to do behavior research and gene therapy. I know you have a grant from the Defense Department to do this.â
âIs this true, Director?â Doctor Adams asked.
âNo,â he said defiantly.
âIs it true that the company has been running in the red for the past two years due to bad investments?â Doctor Adams asked, and the others gasped.
âNo,â the director said again.
âWhy donât you stop lying to us,â said Kerry from within his office door.
âIâve seen the documents. Iâve got the proof.â
The group, all eight staff persons, glared at the director, but he said nothing, turned, and disappeared back into his office.
âCan you believe that, man?â Said nurse Smith, a petite woman in her mid forties.
âHe has been nothing but bad news since he got here,â said Doctor Stein as he ran his thin hands through the small bit of hair he had left on his head.
âKerry, are you alright,â Doctor Adams asked as he approached.
âIâm fine, just a little shaken,â Kerry said, his hands trembling.
âDid you know anything about these experiments?â Doctor Adams asked.
Hoyt, Doctor Stein, and Nurse Smith approached. Kerry fumbled for words as he scanned the area around him. Blood covered the floor and the glass wall around the door. The body of the naked man laid awkward, face first on the floor.
âI knew something was going on,â he admitted.
âThe defense contract came through my office several months ago. The director searched my office a couple of days later when I had left for work. He found the paperwork and took it.â
âHowâd you find out he took it,â said nurse Smith.
âRebekah told me,â Kerry said, looking toward her office.
âSpeaking of Rebekah and the Research and Development office,â Doctor Adams began, âwhy havenât they come out of their rooms?â
âWe should go find out,â said Hoyt, and he began down the hall. Doctor Adams, Doctor Stein, and Nurse Smith followed. Doctor Ruiz, Nurse Alexander, and the Asian woman stayed behind talking amongst themselves. Kerry Anderson stood within the doorway of his office. He could not force upon himself the courage to step outside of it.They approached the first door, Doctor Rebekah San Marino, and stopped. They looked inside to see two doctors sitting in chairs in front of Doctor San Marinoâs desk. Doctor Adams then noticed, which he failed to notice before, that the two were slouched forward slightly, their heads down.
âI think they’re dead,â he said as he opened the door.
âGo check the other offices,â Doctor Adams shouted.
The others began to search the other research and development offices, and Doctor Adams began to approach the two doctors in Doctor San Marinoâs office. He immediately noticed the smell of gunpowder. Good-sized dark red stains ran down the back of the doctor’s white coats. Doctor Adams searched the office for a visible reason for the murders. The books were in order on the shelves. Perfectly kept and dusted. None of the many drawers that Doctor San Marino had set into the walls of her office were closed. There was no sign that anyone was looking for something. Doctor Adams passed the men and walked around the large desk in the office. He noticed that Doctor San Marinoâs chair had fallen over, and several documents were scattered over the floor. The bottom left drawer of her desk was open and emptied. Something fluttered in the corner of the room. Doctor Adams walked slowly to the far corner of the room and bent down. Printed on the company letterhead was an e-mail.
The email stated that the sender was Col. Eric Price from the Department of Defense and that the âChanging Worldâ program would start May 5, 2008, which was three months from today. It stated several directives:
âThis project is to be held under the utmost secrecy. No one is to know anything,â the directive began. âIf you are suspected of knowing something, deny it. If you suspect someone knows something…I wonât tell you what to do, but this is of the utmost importance.â
âThis research,â began the second directive, âwill be performed thoroughly and will be reported to me on a weekly basis.â
The third and last directive was typed and red, the letter size was large, and the type was bold.
âUnder no circumstance is any patient involved in this research to be released, ever!â
It returned to 12-sized text, with black and unbold text. âThe patients will become permanent residents of this facility.â
âWho is Col. Eric Prince?â Doctor Adams asked himself.
âWho are these doctors that are performing these procedures, and why havenât I had a clue this was happening?â
âWhat is happening?â Doctor Adams asked as movement from behind made him jump. He turned around quickly, and one of the men sitting in the office chairs was falling backward. With a loud thump, he landed on the floor, and a freakish sigh escaped from his open mouth.
âAlright, Iâm outta here,â he thought quickly as he began toward the door. As he passed the fallen man, she instinctively looked down. The man was definitely dead. His skin was pale or more of a chalk white. His chin was bruised where the blood had pooled from the downward position of his face. His arms were stiff. He was still in position as if he was still sitting in the chair.
He suddenly thought, âHow long have these men been here?â That was a curious question because just yesterday everything at The Company seemed to be going fine. Doctor Adams recalled walking through the administration hall once or twice to speak to Kerry Anderson.
âDid he look into this room?â He thought hard.
A Speaker is a traveling storyteller, an ancient tradition brought back by a tragedy. An event disguised as an infection. That infection spread toppled the crippled US government but under the hood of the infection was a revolution. This was a bloodless coup. An explosion of a new population of humans. The new population split into three types Taur, Vampire, and Magicians.
Eric Carson is a Speaker, quite accomplished and quite old now. At seventy-plus years old he travels less but he has more stories than all the other Speakers. He lives in the Northeast Territory which contains the former States of New York, New Jersey, and West to Wisconsin.
Speaking at the Fox theater in downtown Detroit, Eric removes a heavy coat and adjusts a stool. He begins his story with a smile.
âSo happy to be in this grand theater. Certainly, a privilege to be invited to tell my story here. You recall the Creature Revolution started with a pigeon, brought back to life, then an explosion of creatures that overwhelmed the world order. This change caused fifty years of anarchy, authoritarianism, and finally peace.
Human ethics has always ebbed and flowed. We do what we want but unpredictable tragedy turns up the dial. We are not all 100% human anymore. Human on the inside, Taur on the outside, or vampire. Some of us are magic and thatâs always unpredictable. Wars and battles drag on for years in an attempt to establish a dominant species. Can we all agree we are now in a good place? Mostly? I was an alcoholic. I was angry. Drinking was an excuse to be angry.
At the time I lived under bridges. I had no money so I stole to survive and drink. Every time I went out I risked exposure and local enforcement. I sat in a drunken stupor, one night. Nothing like a baseball bat in the gut to sober a man up. After the guards bloodied me up, to sober me up, they claimed.
There was no drunk tank back then. All the âundesirablesâ were sent to the zoo. Iâm sure you all have heard of zoos. Large walled cities they dumped the undead, criminals, and drunks into.
They caught me under a bridge a few miles West of Central Containment Facility. West was home but I had lost my wife and daughter so barely a home. I was captured, shackled, and transported to the Central Containment Facility, or zoo as I like to call it. Men dressed in black pulled me from the car and chained me to a wall outside the zoo. I stood with a large diverse group of humans, no other creatures. A machine gun would go off every few minutes. Scared the crap out of me. Drunken ears were always so jumpy. Regarding the zoo, we all knew what was inside. We knew the guards didnât have to care what happened to us. Escape would only prompt cruel beatings outside the wall. Inside the wall, the Resurrected would dispatch us in painful, brutal ways. The once human monsters were once thought a moment of scientific miracles. Death is avoided and a new life is given, they said. The Resurrected were nothing but unbridled rage.
The guards were happy to count down the time as we prisoners waited. Anxiety drowning us. All those years ago, the kindest words⌠âthe automatic guns gave us 500 feet before they would overwhelm us.â
Those zoo walls towered over us. The guards unchained us and pushed us through the opening gate. I was near the center of the group as we approached. A pair of infected slipped out from the gates. They attacked the first prisoner, tearing clothes and violently pulling his head to the side. A second prisoner turned and ran. He was quickly captured by the guards. The gate was closed. Multiple additional guards rushed forward. They stabbed the Resurrected multiple times, which did little to stop them. The super strong Resurrected threw several guards. Gun fire erupted and the Resurrected fell to the ground but were not still. They shook and struggled where they fell. They wanted to move but physically were unable. Around the mound of disabled Resurrected was blood and bodies. Three guards lie motionless, their bodies broken. Two additional prisoners were dead. The distraction prompted a few prisoners to flee but they were captured, beaten, and pushed to the front. The guards opened the gate a second time and pushed us through.
The machine guns above the wall fired a final time. Several hundred feet away some Resurrected collapsed to the ground. The noise prompted the attention of a group from the right. They moved forward en masse toward us. The guards, the wonderful human beings they were, began to fire in front of the group. Attempting to lead them to the prisoners faster.
The mob of Resurrected approached. The guards increased their taunting. Tried what they could to move the inevitable faster. The nearest infected begin to growl as the scent of life came closer. They listened to slight movements. Shuffling feet, panicked breathing, screams. A funny thing about the group of men and women I was imprisoned with, the men were the screamers. The scream erupted suddenly. It scared the crap out of me. It split the group immediately. Half the group ran in all directions. The other half froze or tried to get back through the gate. That gate wasnât going to move. The runners sprinted through a tall field of grass toward a paved road nearby. The Resurrected stood in small groups, within the grass. They were motionless, sleeping. waiting to tear us to pieces. Several runners sprinted past and into the grass ahead. Iâve never been athletic. My running lasted maybe 50-100 feet. After, I tried to just avoid the groups of Resurrected. I found a path beaten into the grass when two runners collapsed beside me. They stumbled and disappeared into the tall grasses. After the fall, I stopped and listened. I wish I hadnât because the sound was horrific.
âThere was something in the grass. I can hear it grunting.â I remember saying. I also pointed this out to one of the Baker brothers behind me but we were all kinda paralyzed. The thought of death waiting to take you without you seeing it. There were monsters waiting for us in the grass and they could be anywhere. We couldnât just run through the field now⌠but there was this path.
âFollow the path,â said a voice from behind. âThe Resurrected are easier to see within the path. You want to go that way and do it now.
The man had been through some horrific things. The left side was covered in scars and the right a mask. âWe call them Crawlers,â he added as he pushed us gently to the path. âThey have broken or missing legs. They crawl through the grasses. They are very slow.â âPale, sickly things. You donât want to run into them or see them.â
I lead the group. The brothers behind me then the masked man. Behind him was a gaggle of others following farther away. I approached the location when a young man sprinted past me and through the grass. Behind him was a Resurrected, thin but strong human monster, running after. Gawd, I didnât even know they could run. The only advantage we runners had was that the Resurrected were blind. Cancerous tumors blocked their sight. The masked man turned and swept the monster off his feet. The creature hit the ground hard and tumbled into a Crawler. I saw its pale limbs and stretched unnatural jaw. To my absolute shock, it was a disabled vampire.
I turned back to the runner but he had disappeared. The masked man urged us to move forward. The mob of remaining prisoners fell in behind the four of us. We approached a curved glass building, atop the glass was a sculpted wooden red slab. A second slab covered a large neglected parking lot. Beneath the second slab was a city bus. The bus lay, its tires deflated, across the bus carport. The masked man pointed us toward the bus, specifically the closed folded door.
To the right, two large centaurs milled within the lot. Their human forms leaned forward, barely able to stay atop their equine host. Behind us was the Resurrected. The barely-human monsters targeted the stragglers in the human mob. The attacks sent the mob into a panic and they pushed forward and past us.
The masked man pointed toward the bus. I noticed this was a school bus. Its rear tires had been shredded and it sat against the front door of the bus station. The entrance to the bus was closed.
Knowing the noise from the mob would attract everything in the area I ran as fast as I could to that door. I slapped the center of the folding bus door, hoping it would open but it did not. I continued to bang on the door as the others in the group searched for a different entrance. I looked to the masked man for guidance but he had suddenly become as panicked as the rest of us. He fumbled through his pocket till he pulled out a radio.
âTweety, open the door, now!â He shouted into the radio. âAi, Scotty⌠Iâm on my way,â was the eventual reply.
Infected approach from the rear and the human forms on the Resurrected Taur woke. The large human-horse creatures pawed at the grass-covered concrete. Both centaurs bolted toward a runner, that has passed in a panic. They gained on the poor woman as she screamed. I watched as the monsters plowed into the woman and she stumbled into a building wall. I remember being unable to move. Unable to help the woman at all and really wanting a drink. âRemember, they canât see us,â the masked guide named Scotty said to me. âIf you are quiet, you should survive if they surround us.â
I turned to repeat this to the brothers, they had stuck very close, but they had disappeared. I looked back toward the woman and I see them trying to figure out how to fight the centaur to save the woman. The two men had thick beards and a suicidal attitude, my opinion- of course. I looked back at Scotty and he signaled I hit the door again so I did, only harder. The door stayed shut. I heard him curse under his breath.
âTweety, get this damn door open,â he shouted only to regret it when several Resurrected rushed us and shoved us into large piles of trash surrounding the bus.
That masked man bounced to his feet like a rubber band. He ducked and swerved, finally planting a foot-long blade into the Resurrectedâs head.
I was not so lucky to know a damn thing, let alone karate. I wrestled with the brute. Trying to deflect blows and possibly forcing the thing to hurt itself. It grabbed my throat and squeezed. I felt my breath disappear. I gasp for what was no longer there. Any plans I had were gone. I fought with the energy I rarely had but with the lack of strength, I had always had.
My arms went numb and I stopped fighting. I stared up at my attacker. It was a young fifteen-year-old female child gifted with upgraded strength, upgraded anger, and pale, lifeless eyes.
I watched as the young child, so focused on my fall and collapsed after Scotty stabbed his large knife through her head. Painful memories of my own daughter lost years prior, reappeared. The resignation⌠the darkness returned with a gasp of air.
Scotty pulled me to my feet. My head spun and I stumbled into the open bus door. I recovered and looked to move forward.
I heard them before I saw them. The swearing and the gruff cackling as the Baker brothers approached and stepped inside the bus.
That was until we saw a little girl standing in the chaos. She stood pipe straight and silent as Resurrected passed by to attack panicking adults.
âI understand why we are here,â Sean Baker said to me. âWhy is she her?â
The only thing I could think of at the time was the girl refused to leave her family.
âShe must have lost her family,â I said and began to push past the two large men.
âYou are in no condition to fight these Resurrected,â Sean shot back and he was right. I had not fought anyone but myself in several years. I demonstrated my skill just a few minutes prior.
ââŚbut this girl canât die.â I protested. âWe have to save her.â
âListen, manâ Sean replied. âYou ainât saving anyone. Leave the saving to the Baker boys and Phantom of the Opera masked man out there.
The Baker brothers, Sean followed by Andrew stepped from the bus, past Scotty, and into the mess of panic and monsters.
They dodged and weaved through the crowd of Resurrected, careful to avoid many of the survivors who were increasingly unpredictable. Without their sight, the Resurrected relied on their hearing but with the mass of bodies and screams, I imagine it was hard for them to pinpoint anyone individually. They would attack en mass any loud noise, which prompted an idea. The rear of the bus was shoved inside the bus station and served as a door into the shelter. I ran from the door through the back of the bus and into the station.
I ran to the far end of the station nearest the mob. There was a glass door, locked. I jerked the door closed in an attempt to make a noise. That only worked to catch the attention of the nearest Resurrected. It didnât clear any from the survivors. I banged upon the glass of the station all along the side. I managed to distract a half dozen. I went back to the door. Three angry men slapped the door with their malnourished hands. They attempted to pull the door open but it was chained thoroughly. I screamed profanities as loudly as I could to try to draw more and it was moderately successful but I wasnât thrilled with my attempts at heroism. I pulled a couple more but I watched as several more survivors fell and the young girl had disappeared from the silent island she had successfully created within the center of the mob.
Andrew and Sean Baker continued to navigate through the crowd, attempting to find this young woman. They pointed to the remaining survivors that would listen to the bus door.
I continued my mostly fruitless distraction to pull away 50-some angry, vengeful Resurrected and I continued to pull only the closest.
A door opened behind me and a quartet of guards, dressed in the same armor as the ones outside the fence, rushed from the door. Within the hands of the lead, the guard was a crude cassette and radio. This radio played a symphony of screams as loud as I had ever heard. The guards rushed past me and shoved the radio into the crack in the doorway. The noise drew a least the crowd of Resurrected to the glass walls of the bus station. I admit in the end it wasnât the greatest idea after they began to shake the entire building.
I ran back to the bus, climbed inside, and to the bus door. Scotty, his mask gone and his face monstrously scarred stood at the door. A pair of women and a man sit on the seats of the bus. I recommended, with some choice words, that they move from the bus to the station and they obliged. I stepped out of the bus door to see the brothers, bleeding and bruised walking toward me with the young lady. Behind them the remaining two survivors. Five survivors and I stepped onto the bus and the driver closed the sliding door.
Matthew R. Stitt // The Writerâs Archive 