Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive

Category: Monster Stories

This category displays the short stories that have yet been incorporated into the Kingsboro world.

  • Chapter 2 – The Network

    AI image

    Erik’s eyes opened, slow and unwilling. Erik was surprised he wasn’t dead. He had for the umpteenth time give in to Teraphobia’s 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 grass— 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 couldn’t 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.

    “You disappeared,” 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.

    “You left me,” 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 weren’t. They could turn on him— he could not move his legs — the pain was disabling.

    “You left a child to die!” He heard Rebecca snap. He looked up toward her and she spun away toward the huddled group of “hopefully” people.

    Erik fell asleep— 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 Erik’s eyes. Instead of anger Erik saw concern then, when she realized he was awake excitement. She smiled, stood and walked over to him.

    “I can’t believe you are awake. It’s 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.”

    Erik’s mouth was dry. His voice cracked. “Glad you’re happy to see me. It’s barely fall. Too warm for heavy rain?” 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 didn’t help at all but it still felt refreshing enough to soothe his voice.

    “Welcome to the Network, Erik. You are one of few that actually made it this far.”

    Erik let her words sink in. Anger steamed within him.

    “Is this some sick game by the Vampire Consul… you know the outfit of other-worldlings? I saw a Bridger out there— a goat man, a satyr.”

    “Tell me this isn’t some scenario they came up with?”

    Erik sat up. The muscles in his shoulder seized and he grunted, held his arm.

    Rebecca paused for too long. Searching for words…

    “You’re angry because I belong to the Network?” 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. Rebecca’s gaze drifted past him. Erik followed it— 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. “I don’t know much about the thrall,” Erik admitted. “But they seem… different here. More focused. Like they know something we don’t.”

    “At least you’ve been outside,” Rebecca muttered. “I’ve been stuck in Black Lake my whole life—even before they built this prison around us.”

    Rebecca held her breath for a moment.

    “They do that sometimes,” she said. “I’m sure one of us is a target of Dr. Cross.”

    Erik sat up, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Loran Elias Cross is the shepherd of these things?” He exhaled sharply. “I heard rumors outside of M.A.R.S., but I didn’t believe them.”

    Erik rubbed his free hand over his bruises, wincing. His other hand, wrapped in stiff bandages, throbbed with every heartbeat.

    “Sorry,” he said. “I 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?”

    A partial smile flickered across Rebecca’s face. Erik caught it immediately—along with something else.

    An elongated tooth.

    The realization settled in, slow and unwelcome. Vampire.

    They had come over the Bridge from Kymara—human-like immortals, lurking for years, maybe even decades. Bloodthirsty, power-hungry, meta-humans with too many secrets. Their status didn’t stop them from being arrested and sent to M.A.R.S., so Erik wasn’t exactly shocked she was a vampire—just disappointed.

    That would explain—

    “I know what you’re thinking,” Rebecca interrupted.

    Rebecca explained that she worked for the Network as a Guide—a designated escort responsible for safely transporting people through the streets.

    “You were a real Guide yesterday when twenty people, including me, almost died right at the gate,” Erik’s voice cut through the cacophony of pounding outside.

    Rebecca didn’t flinch. “We’re not allowed to help outside the street out there called the Avenue,” she said flatly. “Anything near the gate is guarded by auto-guns, and entry is always chaos. We’d be insane to show up. So we wait. One day…”

    She let the sentence hang. Erik grumbled, processing her words, her lack of sympathy—and the growing certainty that she was a vampire.

    “I’m going to stay quiet,” he muttered after a pause. His eyes flicked toward the rattling walls. “Are they ever going to stop pounding? I hate these goddamn thrall.”

    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 hammering—now there was rhythm, urgency. The thrall weren’t 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.

    “The hell’s wrong with you?” His voice was low, controlled—but his glare was razor-sharp.

    Erik didn’t 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. “You trying to get us all killed? I should kick you ass and throw you back outside.”

    Erik looked at the towering man. Without a thought he spat, “You can’t threaten an old, angry drunk waiting

    It was pity.

    He crouched slightly, close enough that only Erik could hear. “I’m sorry you don’t value your life. But my brother and I value ours. So check yourself.”

    The man stared. Whatever anger had been simmering behind his eyes flickered—then faded. What replaced it wasn’t fear or rage.

    Then, without waiting for a response, he turned.

    The tall man stood in front of the others in Station 5.

    “Listen up,” he called out, his voice sharp enough to cut through the pounding outside. “This is different. They’re 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. “They were not after me!” He shouted. They didn’t even know I was there half the time.”

    Sean’s head snapped toward him. “What?”

    Erik hesitated. He looked at Rebecca and she shook her head. “If they were after me, they would have killed me. I think they wanted her.”

    Rebecca frowned. 

    “There is something strange with this girl. She is not normal…” He continued but Rebecca stepped close to him and jammed her heel into the side of his foot. 

    “They were hunting. Yes,” she admitted stepping in front of the group. “…but it’s not me. I don’t know why the Collectors want us but we only have a few moments.”

    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 Erik’s gut.

    Sean rubbed a hand over his jaw. “We don’t have time for bullshit. Board up anything loose, check the weapons, and someone keep an eye on that back exit.”

    His gaze flicked back to Erik. “And you—try not to make things worse.”

    Erik stood behind Sean Garrison. Sean— a large, broad-shouldered man whose very presence commanded attention. He wasn’t 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 — 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.

    “Suck it Sean Garrison,” Erik said impulsively. 

    “I don’t make things worse.” 

    Sean spun and faced Erik in a second.

    His eyes flared— 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 man’s lips moved to form silent words.

    … ….

    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!” Andrew Garrison snapped.

    Before Sean could step closer, Andrew slammed a hand against his chest—hard.

    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.

    “This idiot is going to get us killed, I know it.” Sean spat.

    “Focus,” Andrew said, voice low but firm. “The thrall don’t give a damn about this man, even if he’s 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 wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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. 

    Erik’s stomach twisted. He knew something was wrong but he couldn’t put together just what that was. The thrall didn’t 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. 

    “What is wrong with you,” she said. “This is not good…”

    “Have you seen them do this before?” Erik asked as Rebecca pulled on his arm. 

    “ I have,” she responded panic in her voice.“They’re organizing a breach of the Station 5. They don’t normally do this unless they want one of us very badly.” Rebecca replied.

    “That’s you, they want you for what you are.” Erik said loud enough to make her stop and everyone in the room to turn. 

    “I know what you are,” Erik continued. “You’re a vampire.” 

    A few of the newer prisoners gasp but most didn’t 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. 

    “You’re an asshole, you know. No wonder no one likes you. That pair there…” She said pointing to Sean and Andrew. “The Outlaw Baker brothers know who you are… they were outside with you. They know you have some sob story about your family but they don’t care because you are miserable. You were a sign that says kill me now!”

    Rebecca was screaming. She’d had enough. 

    “I shouldn’t have saved you. Go sit down with the other Transient Residents. Sit down and shut up.” 

    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 weren’t looking at her. They were looking at him.

    The realization slammed into him like a fist to the ribs.

    She’s not real.

    His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.

    He swore under his breath, anger burning through him—not 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 wasn’t 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 — 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. 

    “Who you talking too?”

    Erik swallowed hard. He could lie or he could just admit it. 

    “I have a condition. I’m managing it. Can we figure out what those monsters are doing outside please? Do we have an escape plan?”

    He looked to the group and they stood quiet. 

    “Can we do something!?”

    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 wasn’t 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 didn’t budge. 

    “What are we going to do, hide in the walk-in freezer!” Erik shouts. His breathing increases and he begins to panic.

    A man, dressed in black fatigues approaches Erik carefully. 

    “I think we can handle this a little better,” he says trying to reassure Erik. 

    “Handle something better? You’re asking me if I can handle something better, black shirt!” Erik growls and steps forward. 

    Marcus steps back to counter. He grabs a nightstick hanging from a utility belt.

    “You going to use that on me?” 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.

    “You need to calm down man,” 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. 

    “Why are you not helping these people!” Rebecca screamed. Erik jumped. She stood beside him. “The thrall are coming in here, obviously. The window, hell the building will not stand this abuse,” she continued.

    “Why are you haunting me?” Erik snapped, voice rising with panic.

    He turned and found himself face to face with Marcus.

    “You’re a crazy spook,” 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. 

    “We need to get out of here,” Erik said to Sean, Andrew stood beside him. The other two men, Marcus and a wiry, tattooed man stood in the kitchen with him. 

    “Is it only the five of us?” Erik asked.

    “Six with the one you have been talking too,” growled Marcus.

    “Right six with Rebecca,” 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. 

    “Rebecca says she was a Guide and there was an escape tunnel.

    “He talks like she right here. There is no one here!” Marcus screams. 

    “Black shirt scum,” 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 Erik’s left but it wasn’t budging. He had tried it a bit earlier. The others slammed into the door but it didn’t move. 

    “Why doesn’t the door open?”

    The answer came to him in seconds.

    “It’s a Harrowed door!” He said loudly. 

    “They blocked the door so no thrall could come in. This means that the escape hatch is the same thing. It’s hidden behind a wall.”

    “Help me throw all this crap in the way of the thrall coming in,” 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 didn’t 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 cold— “Insulated… it’s in the cooler. There has to be a door here, somewhere.”

    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 didn’t 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. 

    “In here, let’s go… now!” 

    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.

  • Redd Church – Flag-bang Octopus

    “I have a talent. Talent is probably not the best way to describe this ability. Frankly, I create things from my imagination. I know… I know that sounds tame, pink elephants and cutesy things but I’ve always been a fearful person. That monster in your closet or the monster under the bed… Not things you want to have become real. I wish I could imagine pink elephants but they would probably trample me.”

    Redd Church

    I have a tiny bladder or some diagnosed bladder condition that wakes me up multiple times a night. Most nights I’m up around 2:00 am. My bathroom is a quick jog around the corner, through a tiny hallway and past a small room.

    I opened the bathroom door. I did… what you do and placed my left hand on the wall. For support… 

    A kernel of a thought slid into my mind. A sinister thought of pirates and sea monsters. I heard a hiss and a heavy thump followed by a crash. A fleshy tentacle grabbed the door and opened it. Several more tentacles swatted at the air as I quickly buttoned up. I attempted to remove my knife from its sheathing. It wasn’t there, I had left it with my pants by my bed.

    The tentacled monster moved forward. Three more tentacles grabbed at the air, it felt the door frame, grabbed bathroom things, and took them away.

    I had seconds to think of a way to protect myself. I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and threw at, what I assumed, was the creature in the hallway. It’s tentacles retracted for a moment only to return. The creature moved forward.

    The tentacles were three-foot long, almost like human arms, but lacking any bone or hands. They tapered to a round-ish end and had circular, octopus-like suckers. Behind the tentacles, a six-foot gelatinous frame. A triangular beak in the center, which it opened and closed furiously. Above the beak was a large round, bright green eye. I watched as the creature searched the room till its smaller black iris found me standing in front of the toilet defenseless.

    The creature stood forward upon two final tentacles. It’s remaining six reached for me so I stepped back and almost tripped over the bathtub. I knocked the shower curtain and rod down. They fell with a crash which seemed to encourage the monster to approach faster. Half the creature was inside my small four-foot squared bathroom. My sink, which sat to my left, stopped the creature from coming closer.

    The tentacles swung wildly. I lost my chance to use the plunger as a weapon or the toilet brush. Above me was the detachable shower head. I grabbed the shower head and swung at the creature hitting a few of the tentacles. The creature recoiled the wounded tentacles for a moment, only to come back at me harder seconds later. The shower head had a hose but it was still attached to the wall. I swung the shower head like a mace but I couldn’t get near the head nor eye of the creature. The creature was too big for this tiny bathroom, …advantage me. It was stuck between the toilet and the sink. It grabbed the shower head and wrapped a tentacle around it, almost taking my hand with it.

    I pulled my hand from its grip. I stepped into the bathtub and threw a bottle of shampoo at the large eye, missed it.

    The creature’s gelatin head shook. Its clawed beak clicked angrily. The tentacles scrambled to catch everything I threw at it.

    I pulled the shower curtain and curtain rod down. I spun the rod toward the creature, and caught it on the sink faucet. I pulled the rod back and hit the wall. Turned toward the creature and pushed it forward.

    The large green eye turned to me immediately. The hair on my arms stood and a tinge of fear waft through my head but I pushed on.

    I shoved the rod into the gelatinous creature. I found that the semi-transparent body was tougher than I had thought. I was able to push the creature back through the door.

    The creature was unhappy. An aluminum rod in its weird chest but I walked it back further through the small hallway and into the larger dining room.

    I have a weird relationship with these creatures. I hate when they appear but a detest killing them. It’s not their fault they appear here, pulled from the Aether and cursed to haunt Teraphobia. This is where it gets hard because it’s my goal to capture and contain them.

    My green-eyed nemesis is just a scared alien to this world. An alien place, an alien language. With my curse, it’s my responsibility so I try.

    The green-eyed gelatinous creature grabbed the shower rod with several tentacles and lifted it abruptly striking my chin. I fell back against the closet wall on my left. Blood dripping from a wound.

    I cursed and attempted to grab the rod but the creature swung wildly. I had to step back into the bathroom doorway to avoid being hit a second time. The creature’s eye searched the room, crazy with rage. It approached the hallway again when I heard a heavy chest close in the other room. I took a breath because I knew I had help. My wife Sherrie was awake and could approach the creature from the side. That chest had several nets and my knife.

    I heard her curse as she sorted out the tools, she moved from the bedroom and I watched as the green eye looked right and then turned. It clicked the small beak below the eye and dropped the shower rod.

    I picked up the shower rod, the curtain barely hanging from it. The creature noticed, and I prepared to push it backward. To get the creature it would have to be in the center of the large room so I pushed the creature back. Sherrie approached from the room on the right as I stepped from the hallway.

    “I told you, goddamnit, to fold up the nets nicely. F#*k, it makes them hard to get out in an emergency,” she spat.

    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I do my best.”

    She grumbled and held a net with both hands. “Dangerous?” She asked.

    “I don’t think so, just scared,” I replied.

    “Ok.”

    I watched, the creature watched, as Sherrie stepped into the dining room with the net. Its tentacles wrapped around the shower curtain but I felt this might change quickly. I pushed the curtain rod into the chest of the gelatin to regain its attention but the eye was focused on Sherrie.

    “Sherrie, it’s going to go after you,” I said predicting its moves.

    “I can feel it Redd,” she replied.

    “Throw the net now,” I commanded as the creature began to raise itself with the tentacles near its bottom. It began to release the shower curtain rod. I needed to pull the rod away to avoid getting in the way of the net.

    I saw Sherrie throw the net. The room went white and I woke on the floor.

    I screamed Sherrie’s name, the hallway still felt brighter than it should have been.

    “Did you throw a flash-bang,” she asked.

    “No, you?” I replied. I held the wall as I stood, my knees felt paper thin.

    “I think I have a name for this creature,” said from the dining room.

    I rubbed my eyes for a moment and regained the correct contrast. I looked into the dining room to see the tentacled octopod lying on the floor. It was asleep, knocked unconscious from the chemical-laden capture net.

    I stepped around the net to my wife sitting beside a broken dining room chair.

    “I hope you’re ok?”

    “I’m fine Redd,” she said as I helped her stand.

    “I have a name for this creature.”

    “Sure, what is it,” I asked.

    “Flash-bang Octopus.”

    “That makes sense, you think the light came from the creature?”

    “I know it did,” she replied.

    We took a moment to collect ourselves before calling the Zoo.

  • Chapter 1 -Screamer

    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.

    “We have to find an escape route,” 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.

    “Oh gawd…” he swore, surprised that the thrall reached him so fast. He searched for Rebecca but didn’t see her. Thankful for a moment of hope that she got away… but that changed when he realized she probably didn’t 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. It’s 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.

    Wait…

    … get lucky

    … one of them may not trip over them.

    Erik smiled, at the thought, but it wasn’t that it was funny. He didn’t 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.

    …well 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.

  • Teraphobia – Dr. Adams – Zombie Epic – 2024

    “Doctor Adams!” shouts an intern soaked in blood, “something has gone terribly wrong.”

    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. 

    “What happened,” Doctor Adams asks. 

    “I don’t 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.”

    “Change into what, my boy,” asked Doctor Adams. 

    “I don’t know,” said the intern, his ashen face tarred with fear. 

    “It’s alright, young man, I’ll take care of the situation. Why don’t you go lay down. You look unwell.”

    The intern stopped. Doctor Adams noticed the young man’s eyes were bloodshot, and a dark half-circle was painted under each eye. 

    “Why do you want me to lay down?” Said the intern with an accusatory tone. 

    Doctor Adams stopped and turned around. 

    “I just figured you were in shock and could use a rest,” said Doctor Adams.

    “No, you just want me to fall asleep so you can experiment on me,” the intern’s small round face tightened. His lips became small, thin pencil marks below his nose. 

    “I don’t,” explained Doctor Adams, trying to find a name tag on the young man’s chest.

    “You’re not going to try anything on me,” the young intern stated while hitting his chest firmly with his right fist. 

    “Are you a patient?” Doctor Adams asked, becoming worried about his safety. 

    “No, I am a doctor,” 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. 

    “What are you doing?” The intern asked loudly.

    “Young man, I need you to stand still,” Doctor Adams insisted as he closed in on the intern.

    “No,” the intern shouted as he began to walk backward toward an adjacent hallway. 

    “You are going to hurt yourself,” Doctor Adams warned. The intern’s anger returned, he shouted, “I am going to hurt myself?” 

    “You experiment on us, you hurt us, and I am going to worry about hurting myself.

    “Suddenly 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. 

    “Get out of here!” shouted the guard after he landed a crushing blow to the intern’s face.

    “I can help you,” shouted Doctor Adams.

    “No, get out of the hospital. Go…,” 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. 

    “Go, damnit,” 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 didn’t. 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 director’s office were empty. Doctor Adams approached the director’s 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. “No, no, no…” said the director as he spoke to someone on the floor. “Everything is under control. You don’t need to send any help. 

    Dr. Adams listened for a few minutes, smiling as he did. 

    “Please sir, you know I’ll let you know if I need help.” Dr. Adams watched as he nervously wiggled a yellow wooden pencil on his desk. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have a visitor and have to let you go.”

    Dr. Adams smiled. The director hung up the phone. 

    “Hold on,” 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. 

    “What can I do for you, doctor Adams?” He said as he sat carefully down into his chair. “Uhm…” 

    Doctor Adams struggled to organize his thoughts. “There was an incident down the hall near the examination room.”

    The director’s smile fell.

    “I was almost killed,” Doctor Adams continued, “a patient pretending to be an intern approached me with an emergency and then tried to kill me. He said he was hurting him.” 

    The director stood from his chair and paced back and forth behind his desk. The concern in his face seemed to weigh him down. 

    “I did tell you there was a risk with this job, didn’t I,” the director said. His tone changed. ”

    “You did tell me,” Doctor Adams acknowledged, “but I want to know there is a bigger problem.”

    “A bigger problem?” The director stopped and looked at Doctor Adams. 

    “The guard that saved my life told me to leave the hospital,” Doctor Adams said. “He then killed the patient.”

    “He did? Well, you probably misheard something”.

    “I misunderstood the noise of bones breaking as I began down the hall!”

    “Damnit.” The director picked up the phone and began to dial a number. 

    “You can do what you want, Doctor Adams. Leave, stay, run away, I don’t care. Just get out of my office. I have important phone calls to make,” 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?”

    “No,” he replied to himself. “This is important research. How else are we going to survive in this world without the gene implantation research he was trying to do?” 

    Doctor Adams turned from the director’s door down the administration hallway. He passed Kerry Peterson’s 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.

    “Is there something wrong Kerry.” 

    Kerry Peterson was a family friend. Kerry was actually the man who helped get him this job.

    “Derrick,” Kerry began pleasantly using Doctor Adams first name. 

    “I saw you heading to the director’s office. What’s going on?”

    “I 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.” Kerry’s face went pale.

    “A patient attacked you?” Kerry asked.

    “Yea, 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.”

    “My god,” Kerry said as he walked toward his desk. Doctor Adams followed.

    “Do you have any idea what is going on around here?” Doctor Adams asked. Kerry said nothing and sat down behind his desk.

    “I have an idea but nothing concrete. Only bits and pieces of information from the financial comings and goings.”

    “So what’s up?” Doctor Adams asked.

    “The companies losing money hand over foot. We have spent over half a billion dollars in bad investments over a two year period,” said Kerry.

    “What does this have to do with patients pretending to be doctors?”

    “The company is getting lax because they are cutting cost.” 

    “That’s a good reason, but I don’t believe that’s everything,” Doctor Adams said.

    “What are you going to do?”

    “Well I’m not an investigator or Nancy Drew or anything, but if this involves my livelihood, I have to do something.”

    “It may be that I will have to find another job.”

    “Uhm…” Kerry paused then continued, “you can’t leave the company.”

    “What are you talking about,” asked Doctor Adams. 

    “You are contractually obligated to this company until you are released by the company,” Kerry said carefully. He looked a little apprehensive.

    “Contractually obligated!” Doctor Adams spat as his stood from he chair and began to walk around the room.

    “Is this a joke,” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

    “No, it’s common practice for the company.”

    “Really, where is this paragraph in the contract?”

    “Under the signature, small type, of course.”

    “Yea, of course,” Doctor Adams said while he continued to pace.

    “How could you have gotten me into this crap?” Doctor Adams shouted, his temper pushed over the edge.

    “I’m sorry,” 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. 

    “We need to make this higher,” 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 man’s 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.

    “What the hell was that,” 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.

    “What the hell is going on?” 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.

    “Director,” said Hoyt, his large frame towering over the small director. “I think you owe us an explanation.”

    “About what,” said the director, looking up at the male nurse confidently.

    “About your experiments.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have no experiments. Everything that’s going on is known by all of these staff members.” 

    The director pointed to everyone that stood behind Hoyt. 

    “I’m sorry if you are out of the loop.

    ”Hoyt laughed. A hearty chuckle that he bottled up quickly so as to make a pointed statement.

    “I 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.”

    “Is this true, Director?” Doctor Adams asked.

    “No,” he said defiantly. 

    “Is it true that the company has been running in the red for the past two years due to bad investments?” Doctor Adams asked, and the others gasped.

    “No,” the director said again.

    “Why don’t you stop lying to us,” said Kerry from within his office door. 

    “I’ve seen the documents. I’ve got the proof.”

    The group, all eight staff persons, glared at the director, but he said nothing, turned, and disappeared back into his office.

    “Can you believe that, man?” Said nurse Smith, a petite woman in her mid forties.

    “He has been nothing but bad news since he got here,” said Doctor Stein as he ran his thin hands through the small bit of hair he had left on his head.

    “Kerry, are you alright,” Doctor Adams asked as he approached.

    “I’m fine, just a little shaken,” Kerry said, his hands trembling.

    “Did you know anything about these experiments?” 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.

    “I knew something was going on,” he admitted.

    “The 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.”

    “How’d you find out he took it,” said nurse Smith.

    “Rebekah told me,” Kerry said, looking toward her office.

    “Speaking of Rebekah and the Research and Development office,” Doctor Adams began, “why haven’t they come out of their rooms?”

    “We should go find out,” 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 Marino’s desk. Doctor Adams then noticed, which he failed to notice before, that the two were slouched forward slightly, their heads down.

    “I think they’re dead,” he said as he opened the door.

    “Go check the other offices,” 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 Marino’s 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 Marino’s 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 ‘Changing World’ program would start May 5, 2008, which was three months from today. It stated several directives:

    “This project is to be held under the utmost secrecy. No one is to know anything,” the directive began. “If you are suspected of knowing something, deny it. If you suspect someone knows something…I won’t tell you what to do, but this is of the utmost importance.”

    “This research,” began the second directive, “will be performed thoroughly and will be reported to me on a weekly basis.”

    The third and last directive was typed and red, the letter size was large, and the type was bold.

    “Under no circumstance is any patient involved in this research to be released, ever!”

    It returned to 12-sized text, with black and unbold text. “The patients will become permanent residents of this facility.”

    “Who is Col. Eric Prince?” Doctor Adams asked himself.

    “Who are these doctors that are performing these procedures, and why haven’t I had a clue this was happening?”

    “What is happening?” 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.

    “Alright, I’m outta here,” 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, “How long have these men been here?” 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.

    “Did he look into this room?” He thought hard.

  • Teraphobia- Within the walls of hell stood heroes.

    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.

    “So 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 that’s 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 “undesirables” were sent to the zoo. I’m 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 didn’t 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… “the automatic guns gave us 500 feet before they would overwhelm us.”

    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 wasn’t 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. I’ve 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 hadn’t because the sound was horrific.

    “There was something in the grass. I can hear it grunting.” 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 couldn’t just run through the field now… but there was this path.

    “Follow the path,” said a voice from behind. “The 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.
    “We call them Crawlers,” he added as he pushed us gently to the path. “They have broken or missing legs. They crawl through the grasses. They are very slow.”
    “Pale, sickly things. You don’t want to run into them or see them.”

    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 didn’t 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.

    “Tweety, open the door, now!” He shouted into the radio.
    “Ai, Scotty… I’m on my way,” 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.
    “Remember, they can’t see us,” the masked guide named Scotty said to me. “If you are quiet, you should survive if they surround us.”

    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.

    “Tweety, get this damn door open,” 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 Resurrected’s 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.

    “I understand why we are here,” Sean Baker said to me. “Why is she her?”

    The only thing I could think of at the time was the girl refused to leave her family.

    “She must have lost her family,” I said and began to push past the two large men.

    “You are in no condition to fight these Resurrected,” 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.

    “…but this girl can’t die.” I protested. “We have to save her.”

    “Listen, man” Sean replied. “You ain’t 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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.

  • Teraphobia- Killing Barbara

    Featured Story

    Preface

    The stones fell from the sky. There was no storm, no burning trails in the sky. Nothing to prepare the world for the impact of three stones dropped by God. Each stone granted the user the ability to create life in exchange for a life. A cruel test for a human race with a violent imagination. Each stone decorated its own sphere of influence in its own way. The story below relates to the New York stone only.

    The New York stone was dropped somewhere in Central Park. The first, vampire, began as a reluctant cryptid. Prowling at night, careful to patrol and terrorize the forgotten population. With every bite it grew in population till the forgotten could hide no more. The human population in New York struggled to contain the epidemic but ultimately succeeded. The stone continued to grant life for a life and other strange creatures began to appear. The other creatures were destroyed as effectively as they could be by a human race that felt threatened. The stone continued to migrate through the city, state and East coast till landing in the lap of a distressed government worker. His wife, lost to Cancer, rose to her feet and began the infection that would destroy North America. The stone was lost in the chaos.

    Jacob and Michael

    Five years after the Vampire wars. Zombie extermination turned into zombie containment. Large cities turned into giant prisons that contain the zombie hordes and other undesirables. Jacob and Michael are a pair of unlucky original occupants of the city of Cleary. Both men, desperate to escape their zombie wives, hide in the unattached garage.

    —————————————

    “We can head back into my house. We can lock Sharon and Barbara in a room. At least we have some food in the house.” Jacob said as he stared through a grimy window of the garage door. Standing on a pair of milk crates.  “We should have enough room to run to the back door. There are only a few zombie outside the garage door. The back door is unlocked.”

    “No Jacob… What are we going to do? Lock them in the bedroom and listen to them scratch at the door for the rest of our lives? What if they escape? We would still have to kill them.” Michael shot back.

    “I know.  We have to do something!  We can’t stay here any longer.  It’s been two days. I am starving.”  Jacob stumbled from the crates.

    “We screwed up and left them in the house. What if they were still alive,” Michael snapped. “What if they are dead because we left?”

    “Michael they were both bitten and we left them in the house for two days.  They are not alive. They tried to attack us multiple times. Our wives are dead.”

    “Miracles happen,” Michael replied.

    “Are you from this world?  When is the last time you saw a miracle?  Zombie apocalypse kind of killed any hope of miracles.  Look, I had to strangle Sharon with a metal close hanger. Do you want me to describe what that looked like! Zombie skin, putrid… Barbara is the only one left in the house.  We just need to get to the house, put her down and find something in the cabinets. We still have the girl’s rations.”

    “Put her down? She is not a dog. I’m not even hungry,” Michael replied.

    “Liar!  You would rather wallow out here in grief till we die of hunger then run into Barbara and face the fact that she is dead. I should just go out this door without you.”

    Jacob rattled the garage door handle and banged loud enough to attract the nearest zombie.  Soon the blank stare and pale, naked eyes of a monster stared back’

    “Look Michael it’s my neighbor John.  Hi John,” Jacob waved at the creature in the window.  When it didn’t respond he banged on the glass. “Hi John!”

    “Stop,” Micheal said.  “You will attract more.”

    “Do you think about her? Sharon?  The wife you strangled to death?”  

    “Do you wonder if maybe she’s trapped inside her body?  Maybe they would find a cure and you just killed her?”

    “She’s not,” Jacob snapped.  “I swear…Michael”. Jacob paused.  “Sharon tried to kill me. She slammed my head against a damn cabinet. Look at their eyes.  No human in there. They’re all dead. Everyone. Sharon is dead.  Barbara is dead.”

    Michael walked into the darkness of the garage. He stood at a window at the side of the garage and looked outside.

    “Morning should be appearing shortly.  We could wait till morning then go?” He offered.

    “Why?  The zombies will hear us in the day and night.  No difference.”

    “Fine… What’s your plan?

    “I don’t have a plan.  All I know is we can’t stay here.”.

    “Fine, I’ll get the door. You bang on the walls near the back of the garage to draw them away from the door.” Michael pushed past Jacob and grabbed the door handle.  Jacob growled but did as he was told. He banged on the back of the garage. When Michael was satisfied enough of the zombies were away from the door. He opened the door.

    Jacob followed Michael from the garage.  They followed the house toward the back of the home.  At the first window Jacob stopped and looked inside. Michael continued to the next window and looked inside.

    “She was in there.  Her perfect hair drenched in dark clumps of blood.”  He searched till he found Barbara. Her face long and drawn down. Her jaw slack and her arms to her side. She stood staring at a dining room wall.

    Jacob watched the other zombies as Michael daydreamed. The zombie were blind, at least that was the assumption. The eyes were pale with a large cancerous colored orb in one or the other. The zombie hearing hadn’t changed from when they were human. Some heard better than others.

    Michael watched within the window.  “Barbara,” he whispered.

    She moved.  She brought up her right hand and brushed the hair from her face.  The outside world disappeared instantly. Barbara began to dance. She turned.  Her face was hidden behind long beautiful dark hair. She turned and turned again.  For a short time Barbara was alive, till Jacob stepped onto the heel of Michael’s shoe causing pain. Micheal lurched forward and banged his fist upon the glass window.

    “My god, why did you have to do that,” Michael shouted. 

    “Sorry, we need to go now, my pants are full of crap. I have a really bad feeling.”

    “You crapped you’re pants?” Michael asked.

    A large zombie approached from the front of the garage. Two more lumbered near them from the driveway.  Michael turned and stared at a face in the window of the home. Barbara, her pale eyes staring hungrily out the window, scratched at the glass.

    “Go.. go…” Jacob whispered and motioned for Michael to follow him toward the back of the house.  Michael ripped his gaze from Barbara and followed. The two men walked toward the back of the house, careful not to make any more noise.

    Jacob opened the back door and stepped inside.

    “I don’t want to do this,” Michael insisted.

    “This or die?” Jacob replied.

    Michael closed the porch door behind him and searched for a lock.

    “What are you doing? That door doesn’t have a lock.”

    “What do you mean, doesn’t have a lock?” Micheal growled.  The door was ripped from his grip and a large zombie stood at the entrance.

    “Why doesn’t this door have a lock!”

    Jacob struggled with the inside door knob.  The large zombie stepped forward toward the men.

    Michael shoved the zombie with his foot causing it to stumble backward.

    “Get the door open!”

    “I’m trying,” replied Jacob as the knob finally turned and the door opened.

    The large zombie stepped forward. Jacob disappeared within the doorway followed by Michael. Michael closed the door and locked it. and they both stepped into the kitchen. He turned the security bolt and added the chain.

    The large zombie began to bang on the back door.  Michael braced himself against the door until she walked into the kitchen.

    Barbara, her jaw broken and head disfigured stepped into the kitchen.

    Michael shoved his right foot against the door and looked at Jacob.  “What now, genius!”

    “I got this Michael.  I got this.” Jacob stepped forward with a baseball bat but didn’t swing it.  He placed the end of the bat on Barbara’s chest and pushed her back into the dining room.  Attached to the kitchen door was a baby gate. Jacob swung that closed and locked it.

    “I forgot we still had the baby gate, nice.” Michael said. “I do not want to kill Barbara, Jacob. I can’t do it.”

    “You are going to have too. That gate is not going to stop her and she will kill us both.” Jacob replied.

    “I am more worried about the Incredible Hulk right now than I am about Barbara. We need to block this door.”

    “We got nothing to block the door,” Jacob replied.

    “Are you joking? You talked me into jumping back into this house and you have nothing to block the back door.”

    “I have a duffel in the walk in. I will fill that up with food and we can find a way out.” Jacob disappeared into the walk-in. Michael stared forward. His foot still wedged against the door. Barbara stepped forward and growled when she ran into the baby gate. Michael wanted to confront her. Talk to her. Reason with her.

    “Who are you reasoning with,” he asked himself. “Barbara or some animal that wants to tear you to pieces.”

    “Animal?” He asked. “An animal, at least has some animalistic instinct. It has some sense of intellect. This creature is just out to kill for what? Pleasure, doesn’t seem likely. Look at her face,” Micheal continued to ponder. “It’s blank, emotionless, dead… puppet-like.”

    “A puppet? For who? God and his infinite cruelty? Is this some sort of omnipresent revenge plot…”

    He watched as Barbara leapt forward almost tumbling over the knee-length gate. The back door shook and pain shot up through his ankle.

    “Damn it,” Michael cursed. “Cursed world.”

    He turned, grabbed a mop handle. Threw it through the window in the door. The glass shattered. The mop handle struck the zombie in the throat causing it to stumble backward and over the wooden porch railing. Michael growled. He grabbed what was left of the mop and tossed it through the porch. He found the toaster and threw it through the door. The coffee maker…

    “Stop,” Jacob said standing nearby. “That coffee maker was a gift.”

    “I don’t care,” Michael shouted and the coffee maker shattered when it missed the window and struck the kitchen wall. Michael paced the floor. The porch creaked as zombies, attracted by the noise, begin to step onto the porch.

    “Do you really need to have a mental break, Michael… now!” Jacob shouted. “I think you woke up the whole neighborhood. Look there is John.”

    “You always have jokes,” Michael shot back as he limped away from the door. “My wife is dead, your wife is dead. Our children long dead and this door is going to break and the neighbor is going to kill us.”

    “Why are you not broken up over this? You killed your wife. I am staring at the rotten face of my wife.”

    “Right now, you want to ask me that now? We spent three days in a garage alone and you ask me this, now when the world is crashing down on us. You’re an ass Michael.” Jacob frowned. “You think I’m not broken. I haven’t cried over anything since Gregory died. I killed my wife easily with a metal clothes hanger. If that’s not broken I don’t know what else I could be. Can you suck up your crap for a couple moments so we can get out of here. If you will not kill Barbara I will take care if it. We need to get out of this room.

    “Touch here I will kill you with a clothes hanger!” Micheal replied, his voice shaking.

    “That would require you moving past Barbara and going to the bedroom to get a hanger. At least we would be doing something other than arguing here with John staring at us from the doorway.”

    “Your a mad man,” Micheal replied then approached his wife.

    Barbara stood at the entrance to the kitchen reaching forward.

    “She would be so pissed. She hated this baby gate.”

    Micheal stood just outside her reach and stared at her. Her opaque brown eyes stared forward. Her thin face growled as she strained to reach over the gate.

    “In the head, Micheal. From the side is the easiest,” Jacob offered. “Hurry up, they are getting this back door open because someone broke the window.”

    Micheal pulled a kitchen knife from his pocket and stood with the blade up. He stretched his right hand forward. Barbara grabbed the blade and pulled it from his grip. Micheal struggled to free the knife from Barbara’s hand as the creature growled and swung her arms. Blood trickled down her thin hands as he attempted to free the knife from her grip. She gripped the blade tighter. Blood traced dark lines down the chrome blade. Michael grabbed Barbara’s arm and she drew him closer to her open mouth. Michael let her arm go and stumbled back. He grabbed her arm again and released it.

    “Are you going to stab her or dance with her,” Jacob commented. “She has my knife,” Michael replied.

    “If she draws your blood you will be without a wife and a friend.” Jacob said then shoved Michael to the side.  He struck Barbara with a kitchen chair, digging a corner leg into the infected woman’s left shoulder. The weight of the chair melted quickly through the rotting muscle.  Barbara fell backward taking the chair with her. Jacob leapt over the baby gate and knelt on the chair.

    Barbara pushed upward on the chair with her free right hand. Jacob set his feet on her left side and pushed back.

    “Michael please…”

    The back door opened with a crash. John and the other zombies stood for a moment then roared forward. Michael leapt over the gate. He stared at his wife trapped beneath the chair. Michael watched as Barbara seemed too care little about the chair in her shoulder and more about attempting to bite his brother Jacob.

    Jacob leapt from the chair and grabbed the large living room couch. He pulled and pushed the furniture till it blocked the kitchen doorway. Michael knelt upon the chair and stared down at his wife.

    “Twenty years, Barbara. Fifteen of those years locked in marital warfare. Now, look at us. Some creature staring at me from under a chair.”

    “Christ, Micheal this isn’t that hard.” Jacob shouted. “This couch is not doing crap. They just knocked over the baby gate.”

    “Kill her!” He shouted. “Brother, I am running really short of patience and time.”

    Michael stepped from the chair and Barbara attempted to sit up. She lunged in his direction. Michael fell backward. Stood and pressed her to the floor with his boot. He pressed the knife into her soft flesh and waited for her to stop moving.”

    “They are moving around the couch,” Jacob said.

    Michael stood and faced the mob. Jacob handed him an aluminum bat. Michael swung at the closest zombie and connected with the bat.  The zombie stumbled to the side and knocked over a second.

    A zombie pushed through the crowd.  He struck the couch and fell. The couch moved but it held the others back.

    “Remember those… fun little movies we used to watch from this couch before we had monsters attacking us every moment of the day.  We were so lazy back then. Relaxing, watching stuff… doing nothing. Oh, and not killing our wives,” Jacob said.

    Michael squelched when thin boney fingers dug into his left arm. The daggers had reached upward from the corner of the couch. The zombie dug it’s long, sharp nails further into Micheal’s arm. Michael twisted.  He grasp the bone-like hand with his right hand and pulled. Pain radiated up his arm and into his shoulder. The nails tore large cuts into his forearm as the muscles in zombie’s hand stretched. A second zombie pushed forward and reached toward Michael.  Jacob swung. He struck the zombie and the zombie collapsed.

    Michael grasp his arm. Blood traced trails down his pale wrist. Something grabbed his left ankle and Michael froze. He looked down and shouted. “Jacob, she has my legs. “Barbara, her face unrecognizable had a hold of his right leg.

    “Get her off my leg!!”

    Jacob watched as Barbara sat motionless on the floor three feet from Michael. “She’s not on your leg. She is dead,” Jacob shot back.  “She’s not moving.”

    Michael pulled the sharp fingers from his forearm.  He retrieved the bat from the floor.  He shoved the couch against the wall. Jerked his ankle from Barbara’s perceived grasp. Jacob grabbed Barbara’s blood soaked dress and pulled her away.

    “Michael, you’re losing it,” Jacob stated. “Seriously thought I would be having the problems in this house.”

    The couch slid upon the floor. The zombies began to filter through.

    “Michael calm down,” Jacob said. “It’s fine.”

    ”It’s not fine!  This is NOT fine!”

    “Take a breath… Barbara is dead. We have to figure out how to get out of this.”

    “I felt her grab my ankles!  We have to get out of this house,” Michael said while scanning the front room.

    The front door was on the other side of the room but it led to a certain death and the kitchen was a no go area. Behind the two men was the main bedroom.  A large queen-sized bed sat in the center of the room. A window in the front wall and a closet against the far wall.

    ”Maybe, we should hide in the closet.”  Michael smiled.

    “Dude, not that.  Not now. Let’s block this doorway of the bedroom,” Jacob replied.

    Both men lifted the large queen mattress from the bed and stuffed it into the doorway.

    “Why did you not add a door to your bedroom,” Michael asked.

    “We have no kids.  We don’t need it.” Jacob replied.

    The men flipped up the frame and pushed it against the bedding.  Jacob grabbed a towel from the closet in the right rear of the room.

    Michael stood with his back against the mattress and frame. Jacob tossed the towel at Michael and stood beside him.

    “Wrap that up the best you can.  When we get out of here I will make you a proper dressing,” Jacob instructed.

    From above Michael’s head a thin, rotten hand reached up and over the wall.  It ran its black goo covered hand over the side of Michael’s face. Michael stepped forward, turned and growled.  “I am so tired of you monsters touching me! Stop touching me!”

    The wall built from bedding began to fall forward.  Jacob struggled to manage his end and Michael’s end fell. Zombies fell over the bed and tumbled into the room.  Jacob glared at Michael. Michael attempted to readjust the wall but the damage was done.

    Jacob wrestled with the bed frame to keep the other pair out.  He watched as the two zombies cleared their heads and stared forward. A simple sniff of the air alerted the zombie to the men’s presence and it started to move forward.  The other zombie followed soon after.

    Michael pointed the bat.  A zombie stopped after meeting the resistance created by the bat then continued forward.  The thin skin of the monster tore and gore began to cover the bat. The other zombie moved around to the left of the first one.  Jacob struggled to contain the other with the faltering mattress wall. The room constricted as the pair approached. One on the right and the other near the center of the room.

    “The window, we can go out the window!” Jacob shouted.

    “No way, it will attract more from outside. We will never make it through without being mauled,” Michael replied.

    Jacob shoved the mattress a final time followed by Micheal. The men then peered out the window, into the darkness.

    “I can’t see a damn thing, it’s still dark.”

    “Smash it!” Jacob insisted. He approached the zombie in the center of the room with the bat. He swung and struck the creature in the chest. It heaved a breath, stood for a moment then continued forward. Jacob swung a second time hitting the creature’s shoulder. The bat fell. Jacob’s hands shook.

    Michael tapped the window with his own bat putting a small hole in the center of the lower pain. A second tap shattered the rest of the glass. Michael pushed out the outside screen and stuck his head out the window. A pair of arms wrapped themself around Michael’s waist and he took in a panicked breath. Pulled from the window Michael turned and shoved Jacob into the opposite wall. Jacob tumbled into the wall and slid to the floor.

    “Dude.. no!” Michael warned.

    Jacob gasp then replied, “Ass… look.”

    Michael turned to find a pair of swollen hands grabbing at the meal that was in the window for a moment.

    “Damn…” Michael grumbled. “Frickn monsters. Five years Jacob! We have been in this crap five years. Monster invasion in New York City and now we’re are all in the soup. Brother…” He said to Jacob. “We are done.”

    Micheal squared up in front of a zombie. He swung at his face and stuck the zombie. It’s face twisted, the zombie didn’t hesitate and stepped forward.

    Jacob stood and prepared to attack the other zombie but his bat lay on the floor beside the creature.

    Michael swung again and his zombie fell. He banged the gore-covered bat on the floor. Moved to face zombie two, Michael swung and the bat became twisted in the rubbery arms of the reaching zombie. Michael watched the bat cartwheel into the wall. The zombie’s arms fell to its side at the elbow. It moved forward as if it hadn’t just walked into an aluminum fan.

    “What the hell, dude?” Jacob grumbled.

    “Hey, you did it first.”

    “Now what!”

    “We go melee,” Michael said as his took a boxer stance.

    “Like your cleric… what was it’s name Wisconsin. Remember that melee?” Jacob asked.

    “This is not a remember D&D moment Jacob!” Michael warned, paused then laughed.

    “Wisconsin was a good character name.”

    “Yeah, in memory of the state. Now it is part of the Northeast territory.”

    Michael struck another zombie with his fist. The zombie stared forward, as the right side of its head collapsed. The pain of the impact forcing Michael’s hand open and he finished the blow with a slap.

    The zombie stumbled to the right, opposite direction of Michael’s blow. It crashed into the bedroom wall. Hitting it hard with it’s fragile face. The profile of the creature’s face collapsed. Leaving a soft, gooey center and blood spread upon the wall as it slid down.

    Jacob swung next and missed. His fist skated over the zombie’s nose, breaking it easily. Jacob’s elbow followed and struck the zombie in the right eye. The zombie’s head fell backward. The rest of its body forward. Its rubbery arms flailed. Jacob and the zombie collided. The zombie’s head snapped forward. It’s right eye hid behind its boney socket. Its long grimy teeth struck Jacob in the shoulder. Jacob fell on his back. The zombie fell upon him but struck the hardwood floor with its forehead. The noise from the impact echoed through Jacob’s ears. The zombie skull cracked with the first blow. It shattered with the second. Blood sprayed the floor and covered half of Jacob’s face. Jacob wanted to move but his body didn’t. His arms and legs wanted to lay under the creature and think about this a moment. Jacob screamed at Michael as warm, retched smelling liquid, dripped upon his T-shirt and jeans. He tried to shove the zombie upward and right but the body didn’t move.

    Michael lifted the body and moved it.

    “Dammit Michael your not the only one that’s done with this crap. My god how much can I put up with. I’m done Michael!” Jacob replied.

    “I can’t do this shit anymore. My wife died twice everyone else wants to eat me. I’m going to just stop fighting.”

    Michael grabbed his brother and lifted him from the ground. “Stand up. We just gotten live.”

    Jacob shoved Michael’s hands away but his knees sank. Michael grabbed Jacob before he fell. “Jacob don’t be an idiot, now stand on your feet!”

    “I’m trying dude.”

    Footsteps approached the bedroom door and the blockade. A zombie fell forward the moment it attempted to step through it. A second appeared, paused and fell.

    “The closet…”

    “Your closet is great and all.  Who knows what you did in there… you spent a lot of time in there growing up but I ain’t getting eaten hiding in a closet,” Michael spat.

    Jacob smiled, “dude, if you only knew.”

    “I do not want to know what you did in the closet, by yourself when you were alone. Change of subject.”

    The two zombies, that had tumbled over the bedding blockade, began to stir. They stood upon the mattress. Attempted to move and fell. Three more stepped forward into the bedroom and approached the blockade. The lead zombie paused causing the second to stop suddenly and step to the left. The third slowed then stood and seemed to be listening.

    “IQ test,” Michael said while watching the trio attempt to navigate the obstacle.

    “Idiot zombies,” Jacob added. The closest zombie snapped at Jacob. Lunging from its prone position.

    “F-U Teeth mother–“

    “Let’s hide in the closet,” Michael interrupted.

    Both men skirted past the fallen zombies and the mess on the floor. Jacob opened the faux walnut closet door. Inside, an arms length of women’s clothing.

    “It’s her clothes,” Jacob said. The color in his face disappeared.

    “We have to move them,” Michael began to pull handfuls of the clothing from the closet and toss them behind him while Jacob watched.

    “No! Not the dresses! You’ll get them all dirty. They will!” Jacob screamed and attempted to stop Michael.

    “Jacob stop!” Michael replied. Zombies crawled over the mattress and approached the two men. They were a foot from Jacob when Michael grabbed his brother and threw him into the closet. Jacob inhaled Sharon’s scent as the material overwhelmed him. Michael joined his brother inside the cramped, dark room. He attempted to close the closet door but realized that the door was blocked by all the clothing. Michael listened as the closet door behind them rattled. The prone zombies used the closet door to help them stand. Michael tried to close the door a second time with the same results.

    “Jacob, can you pause your psychotic break and clear the floor so WE DON’T DIE!” Michael screamed. The zombie’s outside the closet clawed at the closed door and began toward the open door. Jacob recovered and shoved the clothing on out of the way. The door, free of debris, was jerked from Jacob’s hands. A zombie stepped forward and screamed. A guttural noise full of anger. Jacob felt hopeless as the creature lunged forward. Its hands raised, became trapped within the metal hangers that remained on the curtain rod. The zombie attempted to rip its hands from the trap but became more tangled. Jacob shoved clothing into the zombie. He pushed the creature and it tumbled backward. Jacob grabbed the closet door and closed it.

    The closet smelled of mold. Horrible creatures amassed outside the fragile doors. Michael stood at the left door. He held onto a thin aluminum handle that was screwed into the faux wood with two small screws. He took in long breaths and waited for their unavoidable fate.

    “We are screwed.” Michael said after a long while. Jacob did not reply. Michael knew Jacob was on the right side of the closet, but he couldn’t see anything. He could only hear him working on something. An occasional grunt then a crash that shook the entire closet.

    “What the hell,” Michael shouted as light crept through the bottom of the closet.  Everything within the fragile shelter shuddered.

    “I found it!”  Jacob shouted.

    “You found what, you’re dolly?  Your teddy bear… you always break under pressure Jacob always.  Remember that morning we went hunting with dad and you had a perfect shot.  It was right there… you choked. Remember Joann your first girlfriend…”

    Something grabbed Micheal by the throat and he gasp.  Seconds ticked by as the darkness took in deep breaths.  “Shut up Michael and listen to me,” Jacob said. “Your an adult and I’m an adult.  I know you are under stress and you lash out but personally I have had too much death and complaining.  Listen. I have a way out. I built a trap door in this closet when we were younger.. ie.. why I would hide in the closet for hours.  I wasn’t here. I was with Joann. Do you get it?”

    Michael shook himself from Jacob’s grip.  “Dude, calm yourself. Fine.” He took a breath and continued.  “You’ve had this hole in the floor here all this time. We’ve been adults for 15 years, parents died, you bought the house and you never filled in the hole in the closet?”

    “Michael are you coming or what?”

    “Yes, dude… get over yourself with this new sense of self… hell.  How am I supposed to see anything?”

    “Just head this way…” Jacob said followed by a curse.  “The hole is too small.”

    “Right, size of a twelve year old?”  Michael snapped.

    “Bend down here and pull up these planks,” Jacob instructed as both men tried to widen the hole within the floor of the closet.

    Michael pulled up the first plank with significant effort tossed it to the side then a second.  The closet door opened and the smell of death stole away any sort of hope that the two men would make their escape without any trouble.

    “Jacob, you are going to have to squeeze that tub of a body through that hole,” Micheal told him as he jerked on a closet rod. The clothes on the end of the metal rod tumbled into the darkness. The creature appeared within moments. Its shaded, murderous jaws chomped at the air. Micheal pushed the rod into the zombie’s face pushed it against the closet door. A second stepped into the darkness to reveal a perfect human face. It wasn’t gored or rotten. The only tell would be the blindness that cursed the creatures… if that was even a curse.

    Michael stuck that creature in the face, right under the eye and it fell over the other.

    “Micheal, I’m in let’s go,” Jacob shouted.

    Michael dropped the curtain rod. He found Jacob’s hand and arm waving from below the closet floor. The hole was just wide enough to fit his thinning waistline but not without some huge difficulties. He sat, with his back to the zombies. Michael leap to the dirt floor then stopped. A sharp pain erupted under his right breast. He screamed, looked down but couldn’t see a thing.

    “Jacob, something just stabbed me,” he grunted.

    Jacob crawled on his hands and looked up. There was barely enough light to make out the shape of a thin nail stretching outward and into Michael’s chest.

    “It’s a nail Michael,” Jacob told him.

    “Pull it out.”

    “I can’t it’s pointed up. You will have to lift yourself back up,” Jacob reply.

    Michael growled and cursed and struggled to stand. The distance to the ground was barely as long as he was tall and the effort felt herculean. He pushed his palms into the floor of the closet and pushed. Inch by painful inch he had risen till he could go no further.

    “You got to go higher,” Jacob said.

    Michael grunted and pushed till he realized that their undead pursuers were close behind him. “Damnit… do something Jacob,” Michael shouted.

    “Do what Michael! You need to push up!”

    “They are coming and I have my back to them.”

    “Push, Michael! Push!”

    “I can’t. I got nothing.”

    “Damn it,” Jacob cursed and crawled under Michael’s feet.

    “Stand on my chest, damnit!” He ordered.

    Michael struggled to find Jacob’s chest but stood upon his ribs once he did. Jacob grabbed Michael’s feet and pushed up. He waited till Michael cleared the nail then instructed Michael to hold while Jacob pushed the nail downward.

    Jacob barely finished when Michael fell. It was more of a crash as feet and legs tumbled over Jacob’s chest and head.

    Jacob woke up first, half buried in dirt and with his brother’s feet in his face. His face felt as if someone has superglued half of it together with rocks and other crap. He looked up at the bottom of the house. The jagged escape hole was covered in debris. Jacob could hear movement above the debris.

    “Wake up, Michael.” Jacob said as he shoved his brother. “We made it. Wake the hell up!”

    Jacob shoved Michael again. Michael growled.

    “Get the hell up, you lazy, fat tart.”

    Michael growled again and Jacob began to shake from the inside out.

    “No… no.. no. Michael you stupid ass. You will get the hell up. You will not be dead. Get up!”

    Jacob shoved Michael again. Michael stood on his hands and attempted to stand slamming his head upon the floor of the house. Jacob slid backward as fast as he could. Michael turned his head. His face pale and contorted in anger. Michael’s grey eyes turned to Jacob and he begin to crawl.

  • Teraphobia- Charlie

    The Southern Territory of Teraphobia contains swamplands, sweltering heat and a number of fish-like creatures. Life in the Southern Territory never recovered from the Great Invasion. Lucky enough, the undead infection stopped somewhere North but the creature invasion was unusually cruel in the territory. The fortitude of humanity lives huge in the movies, books and our imagination but what if that fortitude was pushed to the limit.

    The sun stood staring down from its mid-day perch. Larry walked across his small yard with a fishing pole on his shoulder and two smaller ones in his left hand. Erica, a blond explosion of energy bounded around him while Robert moped several feet behind both of them.
    “Why do we have to do this again,” Robert said.

    “Because I don’t get to take much time off anymore. This new job takes a lot out of me.”
    “Are we going to catch Charlie today, Daddy?” Asked Erica as she raced ahead.
    “I think we are, darling. Today is the day.”
    “You say that every time, Dad.” Said Robert as he reluctantly took one of the smaller poles from his father.
    “I say it everyday because one of these days I’m going to be right.” Larry smiled widely. He beamed down at his son and watched as his young daughter danced around the small pond behind his house.
    Robert reluctantly threw out his line and waited impatiently. Something tugged on his pole bringing it inches from the water. Larry dropped his pole and grabbed Robert’s pole. They both pulled with everything they had till finally the fabled fish leapt from the pond.
    “Oh..” said Robert as he flashed a smile and watched. Larry quickly grabbed the fish and looked it over. Two long blue lines ran along the sides of the fish. Its remaining scales glistened in the sunlight. It was a beautiful beast. Robert screamed, stepped back and refused to touch the large fish. Erica stepped forward, pushed forward the large fins and held the fish like a superstar. Larry unhooked the fish and threw it back in the water.

    Several years later...

    Larry Price sat staring at the telephone. He was wishing for it to ring. Wishing for someone to tell him where Erica was. His life had taken a turn for the outrageous, along with everyone else in the former State of Louisiana. Add to that, his wife left him dragging Robert with her.

    Erica stuck with her drunk of a father. She dealt with his inexcusable self pity after his wife left. She would of been sixteen-years old today.

    Erica took care of him dispite of her mother’s opinion on the matter. She left their only daughter in the hands of an irresponsible wreck of a man.

    “He should of been out there with her,” he thought as he downed the rest of glass of whiskey and filled it again. “She shouldn’t of disappeared. She shouldn’t of drown in the pond.”

    Larry was still the authorities prime suspect for the disappearance. They approached Larry’s small trailer and opened the door. Larry looked at them and passed out. He woke up in a cell. The police had laid him out upon the small bed within it. Around 10 o’clock they woke him and lead him to an interrogation room. They interviewed him and screamed at him. They knew Larry had done something to his daughter. They assumed this downtrodden man would confess to everything but Larry was too lost in himself. Lost in grief…

    He didn’t care what they did to him. He almost confessed when his son stepped in to declare his father innocent. Robert, now 22 years old, hired a lawyer and got his father released from custody. He drove him home and helped him into bed.

    “Dad”, Robert said sadly. “You need to straighten up. You almost confessed to murder. Are you that ready to give up on Erica?”

    “I am,” Larry paused.

    “You can’t give up on Erica,” Robert pleaded. Robert took his father home. He stayed for several more hours then left.

    Larry concluded, before he slept, that he would wake up in the morning and decide what to do to end his life. He had ample ways. Maybe he could drown himself in the pond that took Erica’s life.

    Hours later, something crashed outside Larry’s house. He woke up with a start and sat up in bed. He could clearly hear something moving through his yard. The likelihood of a stray dog in this neighborhood was extremely high so Larry ignored it and went back to sleep.
    Morning came very early. A column of light burned Larry’s face as he laid in bed. He opened his eyes and realized glass from his bedroom window was thrown all over the end of his bed. The blanket, that served as a curtain, sat on the floor. The first thought to enter his mind was neighbor kids but it wasn’t likely. They avoided his house like the plague. He carefully moved his feet off the bed. He got up and carefully looked out the window.
    Something had made a mess of his yard. It looked like an animal of some sort. Large claw marks under torn gray siding told him that. The ground was moist from a recent rain and Larry noticed a human-sized trail of mud leading to the marsh. It looked-as-if someone had been dragged. Larry got dressed and almost fell from his front door. Something had shoved his stairs from the door and it laid against his truck. Larry jumped from his trailer and pulled the stairs back under his door. Larry found the trail of mud beside his house and followed it till it disappeared into the pond.
    Expecting to see a body Larry approached the water carefully. The pond was deeper then it looked. Larry had fallen in it several times over the years. Nothing stirred within the water. Larry stared into the mysterious pond for several more minutes when nothing showed up he left.
    It was Sunday and God was waiting. Larry got dressed, left his house and slowly crept into his truck. He stared again at the pond and caught a glimpse of something swimming near the surface. A little bit of hope, and a slight smile surfaced. Charlie was back, he thought as his stepped out of his truck. He grabbed his fishing pole and worms and walked back to the pond.
    Larry strung up the worm and cast the pole into the center of the pond. Immediately, Charlie took the bait and Larry braced himself against a tree. Charlie pulled. Larry pulled but neither would give. Larry pulled hard, conscious that he may snap the line. He was going to win this fight. Charlie pulled back and nearly tore the pole from Larry’s hands. His arthritis ached and his back screamed but Larry held his ground. There was little chance Charlie was getting away this time.
    That was until Charlie leapt from the pond and Larry dropped the pole. It wasn’t the Charlie he’s seen years ago. It had a long cylindrical body and a large tail, fanned out like a peacock’s plume. It had a human head which disappeared behind a long crop of black hair. It reentered the pond and sank into its depths. Larry’s fishing pole began to slide toward the water. He grabbed the pole and walked around the biggest tree he could find. If he was going to lose his line it wouldn’t be without a fight.
    He went around the tree three times. He held the pole as hard as the arthritis in his joints would let him. He waited and he waited but nothing pulled on the line. It sat limp in the water. Again life and hope drained from his face as he realized that his magnificent catch disappeared.
    Larry left the pole lying against the tree, he hung his head and went to church.
    Larry returned a couple hours later. He had started drinking after church and continued until dark. He woke up on the couch in the middle of the night because of a crash outside the house. He sat up slowly, his head full of marbles. He stood only to sit again. Another crash started him and then the distinctive sound of someone crushing his metal trash cans.
    “Get out of here!” He shouted loudly the noise echoing between his ears. He stood and shuffled to the door. He opened the door and began to shout again but stopped. The beast from the pond sat upon his trash cans. Its long black hair covering its face.
    “What the hell are you?” He asked not expecting it to respond. The beast flipped its black mane from its face to reveal someone familiar.
    “Erica?”
    The beast turned and sped back to the pond. It slithered like a snake holding a human, up and in its grasp. Larry stepped from his trailer and fell hard to the ground. He woke up late Monday morning with a welt over his left temple and dried blood pasted to his face.
    “I saw Erica last night.” Larry said confidently as he stepped into work.
    “I’m sure you did.” Laughed the foreman. A greased up, pig of a man. ” You were likely wasted again like you always are…” He laughed again. “…but your the best damn worker I got. I don’t know how you do it.”
    “I’m sure I could answer that”, Larry thought but declined to sink back into his familiar stupor. He felt good today, even with the noticeable lump on his face. He happily fielded questions about it with a reply including he had found his daughter. Most were happy for him until he included what had happened to him last night.
    Larry fought with the foreman to let him leave after eight hours. Larry hadn’t worked less then ten in 6 months. Finally, the foreman took him aside and asked if he was alright. “The men are all taking about you and this fish story of yours. They say you have finally lost your mind.”
    “I haven’t lost my mind,” Larry said with a smile.
    “My God, Lawrence I haven’t seen you smile so brightly in seven years. Why don’t you take a few days off.”
    “I would be happy to.” Larry said confidently and left.
    It was ten o’clock and dark as sin. The old headlights on his truck barely illuminated the road ahead but Larry was wide awake and more alert then he’d ever been.
    The drive home went quickly. He passed the bar that he frequented every night and pulled the truck into his driveway. He scanned his yard like a kid at Christmas but didn’t see a thing. He had a super-bright flashlight in the back of his truck. He reached into the bed and found it. He turned it on and again scanned the yard. Still nothing but he shouted into the stale marsh air.
    “Erica!”
    He walked toward the pond. The bright yellow light encircling a small patch of the still water.
    “Erica!”
    Something stirred and Larry swept the light toward it. The beast crawled slowly from the right-side of the pond. Larry walked toward it a little too recklessly and it reared up like a frightened rattler.
    It was too late when he realized that Erica was not in that beast. It was an animal like the feral dogs that roamed around the neighborhood. Larry stepped back slowly but the beast moved fast and grabbed his left arm. It pulled him closer and revealed a large set of predator teeth.
    Desperate, Larry said the only thing that came to mind, “Erica, please. Please don’t kill me.”
    The beast settled for a second and it lightened its grip. Larry saw for the slightest of that second his little girl glistening in the reflection of the beast’s black eyes. He recalled Christmas when she was four. Erica sat in front of the tree as he and Catherine watched smiling. She opened her presents with such innocence, such gleeful enthusiasm. The beast then dropped Larry hard upon the wet marsh ground. Several smaller circles of light danced around him. Larry knew what it was and what was coming. He stood quickly, but carefully and turned his back to the beast.
    “Don’t you think about shooting this beast. I will haunt you for the rest of your damn lives if you kill it.”
    Robert stood, pale-faced behind his flashlight watching the beast stand quietly behind his father. Two police officers stood on each side of him and one walked toward Larry and the beast. Larry turned to face the beast again and ducked a vicious swing from its long, sharp claws. The officer that approached took the blow and collapsed. The beast tore into the officer as his partner stood in shock. Robert fired the first shot which grazed the beasts head. The other officer fired the remaining shots and the beast fell upon its back. Larry stared at the beast. Two long blue lines traced the sides of the tail. He looked up upon the human body and realized it had changed. It’s hair was short, inches from the scalp, and it’s face was masculine. It had taken the officers life. It had taken his face. Grief erupted from every pore. Charlie had taken his daughter from him. Charlie had destroyed his life. Charlie had done the worse. Larry stared at his mud-covered knees and his worn-arthritic hands till a warmth struck his chest. He then collapsed and everything disappeared.
    Larry woke up several days later. Tubes, in his nose, and machinery thumping along side him. Robert was sitting, asleep in a small hospital chair in the corner of the room. He thought about everything that had happened to him. He thought about Erica, Charlie and his life. He questioned his methods and why he had chosen this path. He realized that he had given his life to Charlie, a fantasy. A fish that took away his life. Charlie was now gone. Erica was gone but Robert was still here. Larry’s life wasn’t completely destroyed and he could still recover. It was time to start again.

  • Teraphobia – The part with Gary

    Erik sings parts of a song long past it’s prime. He recalled his life as the music flowed through his ears… but he brushed it away and swallowed the rest of the whiskey he found.

    “The world was different,” he thought as a zombie stumbled through the aisles of an abandoned grocery. “At least it’s the only zombie in here.”

    Erik stood, he stared through grime-covered glass at an abandoned grocery he had been calling home for two months.

    “Gary!” Erik shouted, opening the glass doors of a defunct refrigerator.

    Startled, the zombie leapt. It turned its grotesque head then returned to it’s aimless search for the living.

    “You freak”, he shouted. “The only other creature here and I still can’t get attention.”

    Erik reached for a gallon of solidified milk, he opened the door wide and threw the jug at the zombie.

    “Hey, stink-face. Eat me.”

    The solidified milk burst from the jug, covering the zombie in white.

    Erik laughed… coughed… then laughed again.

    The zombie turned and growled. It then marched toward Erik.

    “Gary is mad.. Gary is mad…” Erik taunted between fits of laughter. “Ha…”

    A noise within the dark store warehouse changed his mood.

    Did he lock the back door? Did someone figure out his traps and walk inside?

    A crash. Several human voices. A curse followed by several others. The noise within the darkness confirms Erik’s fear. He attempts the close the glass refrigerator door but it will not move.

    Erik stared into the pale, dead eyes of a mid-sized zombified human. The creature grasp the glass door. His right arm outstretched. His hand holding the glass door. Erik moved his hand backward. The zombie took in a deep breath to reveal it’s perfect teeth. Erik paused. The zombie had teeth polished and healthy.

    “What the hell,” Erik said to himself as he withdrew his hand. Gary, the zombie, shoved the door and the glass shattered. The creature squared it’s body with the frame of the open doorway, bared it’s teeth and stepped forward.

    “Gary!” Erik shouted. “Gary, have you been brushing your teeth? I lost my teeth six months ago and you have thirty-some tighty-whities. What the hell… I thought we were friends. You know we can’t be friends anymore.”

    Erik stepped back. A shelf of empty bottles of liquor fell. They crashed upon the dirty floor. Gary pushed through the doorway and into the disabled refrigeration unit. Gary snapped.

    Erik grabbed the left side of the zombie’s head. Attempted to push it sideways. Gary turned it’s face and Erik’s left arm came within inches of those perfect teeth.

    Erik shook with fear. He withdrew his arm, held the zombie with his right and shoved the zombie backward. Erik stepped forward pushed Gary backward with his right foot. The zombie flailed, tripped and fell into a store aisle. The dusty products cascaded to the floor.

    “Christ,” shouted the human stranger. “Who has time to string up all this rope.”

    “It sounds to me like someone else, non dead, is here.”

    “Get out of my home!” Erik shouted.

    “Listen dude,” said one of the men. “We need shelter. You look to be smart. We don’t mean to cause any issue.”

    “I don’t have time for this,” Erik growled.

    Erik looked to his left. He found Gary struggling to stand with a long piece of aluminum thrust through his thin chest. Erik stumbled into the darkness of the warehouse.

    A new scent waft within the darkness. It was a very uncomfortable scent, familiar. Erik knew the smell immediately.

    “You left the door open! You let them in!”

    The invading zombies growled. The scent coming closer.

    “Light switch… Light switch.. where did I put you,” Erik sang.

    The zombies approached. He heard the other human strangers struggle. A string struck Erik’s face. He paused, smiled and pulled. A sheet of aluminum fell from the ceiling. Erik leapt forward. His shoulder struck a large steel shelf. Pain screamed from his shoulder to his hands. The sheet of aluminum rocked within the stale air of the warehouse. Light from a skylight flooded a small section of the darkness.

    Erik rolled to his back, holding his shoulder. He watched as the thin silver sheet struck a black steel shelf, causing it to ring. The sheet fell forward and into a small zombie woman approaching. The sheet shoved the undead woman and knocked her over.

    The light illuminated a large circular pattern in the center of a warehouse of neglected store stock. Near the open back door Erik saw another zombie stumble in.

    “Close the damn door!” He ordered.

    The woman zombie moaned then stood. The sheet of aluminum fell from her shoulder leaving a view of the bone beneath the rotten skin.

    The sheet fell forward…

    Erik twisted and turned to free himself. The creature bled a thick putrid liquid. Erik shoved the creature up and away. The sheet of aluminum slipped from the wound and thundered to the ground.

    Erik stumbled backward. He removed his shirt and pants. He skirted back and hid within the darkness. He fell asleep.

    The sound of hammers, multiple hammers woke Erik from his sleep. The voices echo through the warehouse-sized back room.

    “This is a stupid place to hide. Have you seen the large picture windows. Dude, find some large sheets of wood or something.”

    “Shut up yo.. This is the only thing close we could find. Don’t criticize.”

    Erik grumbled. He stood and the room spun.

    “Get out!” He shouted from the darkness.

    “What the hell was that,” said one of the voices.

    “There is someone in here, you idiot.” Replied the other. “It’s likely a survivor.”

    “Get out!” Erik repeated. Stepped forward and stumbled over several boxes of back stock. He fell and the crash echoed through the room.

    “What if he is a zombie?”

    “He is not, Sean. Zombies don’t talk.”

    “How am I supposed to know that Anthony. We have been here thirty minutes.”

    “Just hold on.”

    “We are not here to harm you, brother. We are here for shelter. We were captured and tossed into the walls of the city. This is the closest safe shelter, replied the voice.

    “You’ll see how safe it is when you fall into my traps,” Erik replied.

    “What traps,” replied one of others. “Those stupid-ass wires we cut with the weights?”

    Erik stood, shoved a sheet of plywood forward. It slipped under the metal shelves, then slid into his ankles. He swore and found himself trapped against the back wall.

    The human intruders approached with flashlights searching.

    “Sir, don’t be frightened we will not hurt you,” a voice added.

    “I’m not frightened you idiot. I don’t want you here in my shelter.” Erik shot back.

    “Maybe we should just leave him… no then he would bitch too much. Let’s just kill him.”

    “No Sean,” said Andrew.

    Erik’s attempted to lift the plywood trap but the space between him and the wall restricted his movements. Erik watched as the light came closer. The light highlighted an image of Erik within a nearby mirror.

    “You know they are after you,” said his doppleganger. They are hunters. They are looking for Erik, the horrible.”

    “I did not do what they accused me of,” Erik shouted. The image disappeared.

    “Hey, bro… We ain’t judging you,” said Sean. “They got us too. Hell if it was trumped up.”

    “Ha…” laughed Andrew.

    “Just help me,” Erik pleaded.

    The lights converged on Erik revealing a fifty year old disheveled man. Half of Erik’s face was covered in curly black and grey hair.

    “Just help me out.” Erik snapped.

    Andrew and Sean begin to pull wood and debris to free Erik.

  • Teraphobia

    Teraphobia

    As children, the world is terrifying? Shadows in a dark corner, noises in the kitchen or the tall dark stranger that approaches you and your mother in the parking lot of a shopping mall.

    As a child I had teraphobia, the fear of monsters. A condition prominent during childhood. The condition normally resolves itself in time. Imagine a world where this is an everyday occurrence. Not the fear of monster that are not there. The fear of the ones that are real and everyone knows they exist. There is no hiding.

    Vampires, zombies and more

    Notice of intent: A promise to myself and my reader. I intend to rebuild my blog. Reshape my stories into an interconnected world.

    Work in Progress/ Status

    Charlie: Updated today

    Killing Barbara: was updated but needs introduction. This is in the North Eastern territory and within the City of Zombies

    The Part with Gary: Still needs work. Needs to be reshaped, edited and reworked

  • The Bite and it’s Rage

    “Gaaaa.”  A mass of fur and human parts wrestle in the dirt as they strive to best each other.

    The human, clothing torn, places both hands on the fur covered werewolf and pushes.  The human wolf hybrid tumbles down a small ravine.  “Scott,” the human shouted as he watched the werewolf tumble.  “You don’t know what’s your doing.  The beast is taking over.”

    The werewolf slowly gets up.  Sticks and leaves attached to his fur.  “You slept with my wife, Eric!”  He shouts.

    The human stood over the edge of the ravine.  The revelation shocked him.  His childhood friend stood three feet below him, covered in fur.  His face grotesque and extended outward into a canine-like jaw.  The muscles in his shoulders twice the size of the human that is still within him.

    “I did not,” Eric replied as convincingly as he could.

    “You liar,”  Scott shouted back and began to walk back up the ravine.

    “You stay down there.  You are not coming near me again,” Eric warned.  Scott negotiated through the young trees and loose gravel.  He approached the edge of the ravine when Eric attempted to kick him.  Scott grabbed the human’s leg and pulled forward.  Eric fell hard to the forest ground.  Scott dug his claws into the dirt and leaves and climbed from the ravine.

    “We have been friends since third grade.  I trusted you.”

    Eric kicked dirt upward but it deflected harmlessly off the werewolf’s body.  “I didn’t do anything Scott.  I didn’t.”

    Scott grabbed Eric’s shirt and held tight.  With enormous strength he lifted the five and a half foot man to his feet.

    “She told me,”  Scott said rage pulsing through dark, crimson veins.  Scott then tossed Eric into a tree several feet away.  Eric struck the tree square between his shoulders and fell to the side.

    He didn’t move when Scott approached.  Scott wanted to check to see if he was ok but the rage overwhelmed him and he picked him up again.  The human’s spine snapped and he could feel the life drift away.

    Scott cried, alone over the body of his best friend.