Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive

Tag: fantasy

  • Erik becomes Erik Ashford

    A cough echoed through a dust-choked grocery store.

    A second cough awakened a Harrow— A human-shaped shell of a living being, its soul long since stolen.

    The monster groaned, lifted its head and moved forward. A thin, frayed rope bit into its neck where flesh had rotted away to muscle. It stopped and blinked, cancerous pale eyes settled on a row of glass doors.

    Behind those doors, where cold food used to live. Erik Ashford lay wasted, motionless within the rotten remains of long perished eggs, meat and milk. He lay on the ground. His face buried in dirt, asleep.

    “Father..”

    A voice echoed through Erik’s inebriated dreams. It broke up Erik’s liquor drenched dreams and he trembled.

    The voice called again. Erik opened his eyes. A rainbow of light bled from a jagged wound in the ceiling, through the doors and warmed the side of his face. Dust flew out and upward as he exhaled.

    Chains jangled outside the door. Erik slid from under the ragged rack of dried milk and sat up. His head wobbled as the liquor sloshed around his veins.

    Outside the grime-covered sheets of glass stood the shadow of a Harrow, Erik knew as Gary, but Gary wasn’t talking— he never said a word.

    “Gary! Are you saying my name?” Erik shouted.

    “I was sleeping Gary, you freak.”

    Erik slid back. He caught an edge of the shelf with his hand. The metal shelf screeched. Solid jugs of milk fell and the whole shelf crashed onto the doors, shattering them.

    Without the glass to obscure, Erik looked at Gary as the creature pulsed with rage. It pulled upon the rope. The rope struggled to hold it from moving forward.

    “Gary?!”

    “Dad!”

    As if the liquor was thrown from his veins, he whipped around and stared into the darkness.

    A shadow figure, of a child, stood in a partially lit corner.

    Erik crept forward. The figure did not move.

    A crash within the room, where Gary was, made him jump.

    “I am not a joke-around kinda guy.” Anger crept in. Erik walked forward.

    “You once were,” an intelligent reply knocked Erik back and into the same shelf.

    Gary growled. The rope strained and the linoleum ticked under slow, unconscious steps of the monster’s boots.

    “You were never an alcoholic when mom and I were alive. You’re in bad shape dad. I couldn’t imagine how far you slipped.”

    Erik massaged his back.

    “How far I slipped? I slipped! I lost my family. To my god-damn neighbors. My friends!” Erik stood, incensed like never before.

    He stepped into the darkness.

    “I don’t know what you’re planning or what this all is…”

    Erik tossed a chair.

    “I’m not some…”

    He pushed over a stack of boxes. Metal pans crashed.

    Gary pulled on the rope. The rope began to tear through rotten muscle.

    “…Push around guy. I will end this now.”

    Erik shoved a shopping cart toward the shadow. He watched as the cart struck where the shadow was.

    The cart burst. Its contents boxes, spray paint, burst on impact. Spray covered the walls…but the shadow didn’t move—

    It didn’t say anything either.

    Erik approached but before he could do anything further a crash forced him to turn and look.

    He knew immediately what the problem was— the human-like Harrow named Gary was missing.

    ——-/———//—/——-/

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  • The Trial of Dr. Gabriel Loren Cross

    “Does the jury have a verdict?”

    The judge sat elevated above the courtroom, his expression flat as he spoke to the jury foreman.

    The foreman, a tall, vampiric, pale-faced man rose. He opened an envelope, removed a folded sheet and cleared his throat.

    “We the jury,” he began, “find the defendant guilty of count one, attempted augmentation of a living organism.”

    “And count two?” The judge prompted.

    The foreman hesitated. He stared straight ahead, avoiding the judge’s gaze. The courtroom quieted as the pale man looked down.

    “We the jury, find the defendant not guilty of second-degree murder of a child.”

    The courtroom gasp. The judge sat back. Lips pressed tight.

    Chatter began to spread from small to a larger murmur. The audience within the small courtroom began to then talk amongst themselves.

    The judge stood abruptly. The room fell silent.

    “Please, refrain from expression of emotion. This is a courtroom, not a coffee shop.”

    “Foreman of the jury, please read the remaining…”

    A wooden chair flung backwards, crashing into the wood-lined half wall behind him.

    “I object to this ridiculous clown show!” The voice came from the defendant, his face red, his tone venomous. “I am a respected member of the community. This is unjust… all of this is untrue.”

    “I do not accept this verdict.”

    The judged glared at the defendant.

    “Dr. Cross, you have been held in contempt once and warned multiple times. This is the last time you interrupt the court proceedings. Bailiff restrain the Defendant.”

    The judge banged the gavel. “Please escort the jury from the courtroom. Take him into custody now.”

    The jury was carefully guided through an exit.

    Cross, a diminutive figure in a large courtroom, glared at the bailiff. The approaching bailiff hesitated. Dr. Cross, despite his small stature, commanded every space without trying. Entering his space felt like a magic barrier.

    The only one with a stronger aura was the judge who pushed the bailiff forward.

    The officer attempted to restrain him but— was struck from behind. The bailiff stumbled sideways and released Cross.

    A tall, middle-aged man with a scarred face shoved the bailiff out of the way and attacked Cross.

    Court officers rushed into the room, grabbed and restrained the man. They pulled the two men from each other.

    “You deserve to die for what you did to my family!” Says the man. He spits. The officers throws the man to the ground.

    Cross wipes blood from his mouth. An officer restrains him. The attacker is restrained under several other officers.

    “This trial is postponed temporarily,” said the judge as he stood.

    “ Counsel— chambers now!”

    ————————/

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  • The Crash

    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 and 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.

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  • Chapter 2 – Rebecca (archive)

    “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.”

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  • 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.

  • Chapter 1 -Get There

    Erik wiped sweat from his brow as the summer heat loomed over him. His hands trembled as he set the duffel down, though he didn’t need anything it. He released the pry-bar and let it fall the short distance to the ground. He shook off the anxiety, wishing he had a shot to medicate it away. His knees throbbed and he knelt.

    “We shouldn’t stop here long,” voice low but urgent. Rebecca, who stood nearby, nodded silently. Her eyes darting from one sleeping thrall.

    In front of them a large patch of towering grasses mixed with stalks of corn and pigweed.

    “Let’s go,” he said to Rebecca. “Be careful, anything could be in here. Follow behind me, please.”

    “You may want to be extra careful…” Rebecca tried to add the Erik had already disappeared. She swore and followed.

    Erik parted the grasses and stepped carefully. Took a second step, then a third. Every step rustling. The noise felt louder then it should of been. Every step felt like a signal to the monsters outside.

    The inability to see what’s mere steps away. The corn, towering over him, swiped at his bare arms. The waist high grass brushed against his legs. The pig weed scratched at his vulnerable skin. Erik was on edge. Rebecca was somewhere behind him. He could hear the steps but another problem is he couldn’t be certain it was her and not a thrall stumbling through to snatch him up.

    He began to recall the day his life changed. The moment the monsters destroyed his wife and stole his daughter.

    “Five years, it’s been five years Erik.” He said to himself.

    “They came into my home,” he replied. “They were targeting me, I know it.”

    “For what, Erik? You have this fantasy that you’re important. You were a janitor. It was a coincidence.”

    “A coincidence my ass. Why did the Collectors target the house. Answer that question. Why did they swipe Diana? I never found her body.”

    Erik fumed. The world had disappeared. The stalks fell over by themself and he walked forward automatically. That was until he tripped and tumbled forward. He crashed into a pile of thorns. Something tighten around his ankle. It pulled him forward thorns digging into his back and head. He wanted to scream to just end it… till she showed up. Her brown hair fell over her little face. Her brown eyes looked down upon him. Horror reflected in the afternoon sun. Erik remembered and it hurt.

    “Give up Erik?” He said to himself as he looked up at her.

    “In front of her?” He said silently, as he started to struggle. He tried to clear the bramble thorns from his head. The points digging in. The tentacle pulled. Erik lifted his knee and tried to back up.

    “She’s not Diana,” his thought continued.

    “I’m aware she is not Diana. She looks like her. What would she say?”

    “She wasn’t the same age. She was younger but I would like to think she would want you to live.”

    Erik watched as Rebecca flashed her knife. She pointed it down. She stabbed through the fleshy appendage.

    Something screamed. A pained scream but it also sounded like a warning or a lead for a trap.

    Rebecca stabbed the tentacle again. A second tentacle struck out and punch Rebecca in the side. Erik watched her fall backward and into the stalks.

    Erik sat up in seconds, his doubts vanished. He tore the remains of the thorns from his head. He kicked the remains of the tentacle from his ankle. He leapt. His ankle was sore but functional.

    Rebecca began to sit up. Erik held out his hand to slow her down.

    “Let me help you.”

    Rebecca looked up. Blood tracing paths down the crevices of her dirty face.

    “I’m sorry,” he apologized. Bent down and grabbed her arm. Rebecca stood. She held her left arm. Her face was red and would likely bruise.

    She suddenly snapped at him, “I’m not some helpless damsel! I know things. I’ve been here 5 years!”

    Erik said nothing.

    “I could have stopped you from running into that… we call it a Groundling. It’s a mass of flesh, teeth and tentacles. You, seriously, just run headfirst without thinking.”

    Erik smiled, a bit, “Ya.. I tend to do that. You call that octopus thing a Groundling.”

    “Yes, and a siren because it calls the thrall and they are headed to us now.” Rebecca said.

    “So we need a new plan,” said Erik. “The thrall still can’t see but can hear. I think we can whip them into a frenzy by messing with that puddle thing.”

    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

    “Got a better one?” Erik asked.

    Rebecca was silent.

  • Chapter 1 -Destruction

    AI generated image

    Erik stood near a pale blue minivan. Its windows blacked out with dirt. He tried the driver’s side sliding door, but it was locked.

    A pair of tall, blond, thrall twins mill nearby. They blindly search for the source of the noise. The tinyist ‘chunk’, ‘chink’ or ‘ding’ sets them in — It’s a weird sight, for sure, but they would be listening for any noise. The twins slapped the sides of the van. They tried the door handles but they were locked, Erik assumed.

    He stood motionless. He watched as the blond twins search for a way inside. The nearest crept closer, but Erik kept quiet. If they couldn’t hear him, they had no idea where he was.

    Erik swore silently when the woman screamed again. He grasped the bat tightly. The twins immediately escalated their abuse of the van. The scream also attracted other thrall, which hobbled, with purpose, toward the noise.

    “The situation is escalating. Soon a rescue will be impossible.” He thought as a human-like… but fur-covered creature brushed his shoulder.

    Erik held in a yelp but then gasp as a brown torso brushed past him. He tracked the creature with his eyes. The torso was covered in blood and patches of short fur. Above the torso was a human form, infected, blind and a thrall.

    “A Bridger? This is a whole new low for the world…” Erik thought, his posture stiffened. We can address the obvious escalations by the Vampire later… What are you going to do about the woman?”

    Erik’s thought turns into an argument as many of them did.

    “You stepped out of that goddamn car to help this woman but now you’re just standing here.”

    “I’m trying to save my own life here,” he replied.

    “Moments ago you woke from a whiskey coma with thoughts of suicide… did you even remember the pistol?”

    “Damn it no,” Erik silently retorted. “I left it in the car.”

    “Great… good job. What are you going to do with that bat?”

    Erik held the bat in his left hand. The Bridger creature, often called a satyr within ancient stories, approached the blue minivan. It felt around the sides of the van till it reached the windows. It began to dig its human fingers into the creases of the minivan windows and began to pull.

    Erik moved automatically and struck the satyr legs with the bat. It’s thin legs broken. The satyr screamed and collapsed. The other thrall turned, distracted from there original mission and began to beat upon the disabled creature. They viciously tore the satyr apart only feet from him.

    Erik, finding an opportunity within the gory scene turned and walked to the drivers side door handle and jerked it. It was locked. Moved to the side door and said.

    “Lady, I am human. Open the door. I mean to rescue you. Not hurt you. We have a small window of time. I need you to trust me… please.”

    He banged on the sliding door gently, so to not make too much noise.

    “Please,” he repeated.

    Erik searched the area. A large, overweight thrall stumbled toward him. It passed a small coupe. Erik looked at the sliding door then stepped toward the monster. Erik struck him with the bat. The bat blasted the upper thigh. The thrall stutter-stepped. Paused then walked forward like Erik hadn’t hit him. Erik threw the bat back for another swing when the van door opened. Erik turned. He expected a woman but saw a young girl. Behind her a pair of human bodies, motionless. He struggled with memories of his own daughter. This young girl was the same age.

    After a few seconds Erik shook himself free of the memory and turned to face the thrall. The overweight creature grabbed Erik’s shoulder. Erik twisted his body but lost his balance. He tumbled forward and fell onto the grass-covered concrete.

    The thrall grabbed his ankle. Erik twisted and lay on his back.

    The thrall stood over him. Its eyes pale and dead. Scars upon its fat face. It tried to collect Erik’s other foot but Erik kicked out of it. The thrall served their vampire master but they were not really good at anything. They were violent but loyal. Within MARS, the thrall had a number advantage.

    The twins, attracted by the noise, appeared. The young girl within the van closed the sliding side door. The noise attracted the attention of the twins and they grasp the door. The girl screamed. The twins pulled harder.

    Erik watched, from the ground. His captor, the thrall, had him and would not let go of his ankle. Erik’s ankle twisted and he growled. The pain shooting up through his body.

    He then suddenly screamed, struggled and began to search and grab anything that could make noise.

    He found a few aluminum cans, rocks and finally a good sized piece of metal. He thrust the jagged piece into the soft part of the large monster’s throat.

    The twins, drawn from the van, hovered above Erik’s head. The large thrall released his grip from the ankle. Erik freed himself. Blood fell upon a dirty, white shirt. The thrall grasp its throat and fell forward. Erik rolled away and got as close to the car, nearby, as he could.

    The twins, mistaking the larger one for Erik, began to beat on the injured thrall. The thrall squawked, blew air through blood. Erik crawled, as silently as he could forward and pass the commotion. He stood, scanned the area and found several dozen additional thrall heading toward him. The minivan door was open and a five-foot-one young girl stood beside the vehicle. A backpack in her hand and behind her, in the van, a pair of dead human bodies.

    Erik motioned for her to follow him…

  • Coyote- Tommy

    “No! I said don’t do that. What the hell!” 
    Tommy stepped toward the woman as she attempted to sprint between two pair of outstretched arms. The eager arms trying to find lunch, which was the source of the screaming. Tommy winched as the zombie on the left grasp her ponytail. The woman’s face, joyful she had made it past them, would soon change to horror if Tommy couldn’t help her but he had his own problems. The woman’s screams had attracted a mob of zombies but worse, other prisoners had made the zombies ravenous.

    The zombie we’re blind, their eyes covered in a cancerous white film but they felt everything. Tommy had developed a particular set of skills, allowing him to avoid the sun bleached, hungry grasped but he also avoided stupid moves like running between two zombies expected a miracle. 
    “Miracles didn’t exist”, Tommy thought as he watched the woman fall backward landing on her ass first, then her back. 
    “Miracles were part of that Christian revolution that disappeared once the world changed.” He continued the thought as he crouched low and walked forward, careful to avoid any noise. 

    “Some of the Coyotes take a stabbing approach…,” he silently explained to himself, running through a speech he planned to give at the Rail Station downtown
    later in the day. 
    “… but I prefer the silent, stalking, carefully planned approach. Avoiding conflict, wasted energy and potential surprises. It’s a far smarter approach.” His thought concluded. 
    He grabbed the woman by the ankles and pulled. The zombie holding her hair grasp tighter as he as his partner began to bend down. 
    “Her screaming doesn’t help.” Tommy said to himself as hope of rescuing this group of prisoners disappeared along with the credits he would receive from the families.

    “Five thousand credits per, multiplied by ten, now three… possibly two if I can’t rescue this dumb screaming woman. Hold it together Tommy. You can only do so much.”

    Tommy lifted the woman by both ankles and violently pulled her toward him. She slammed her head on the concrete beneath her but the zombie holding her hair lost his hold. Tommy pulled again, careful to be as stealthy as he could. Other zombie stood waiting, listening groping for a clue. 
    The woman lie under him. “Shut up!” He said looking into her terrified eyes. The look, familiar always haunting. “Your going to kill us both. Stop screaming.”

    The woman stopped screaming, for the moment, and Tommy helped her to her feet. 
    “We are 200 yards from Station 1,” Tommy said. “You can do this.” He encouraged her as he pulled a large gauze pad from his bag to stop the bleeding beneath her blond ponytail. He held it to her head for several moment as the two zombie approached from behind. 
    The two other survivors, that had listened, stood like statues. Every bone and muscle in their body shook but they stood silently waiting. 
    “Let’s go, quietly,” Tommy instructed. 
    The four, two woman and two men walked slowly toward Station 1, a run-down restaurant with a large plate glass window in the front

    Tommy placed the screaming woman’s hand on the gauze bandage and encouraged her to move forward quietly. She seemed to want to comply this time.

    The two zombie behind them, encouraged by the interaction with the woman, approached. Their hunger insatiable. Tommy, was aware and searched for anything to lay in the pairs path. 
    A shopping cart, covered in weeds, would work. Tommy suggested the group continue forward carefully and quietly as he veered off the the left to get the shopping cart. 
    He freed the cart, in moments. Picked up the cart so it would not make noise and turned. 
    All three survivors had began running toward the restaurant. 
    Tommy cursed like he had never before. “The ignorance of these people,” he thought as he watched one of the men fall and get brutally beaten up, then eaten. The women ran erratically around the zombies that approached. Skillfully, avoiding the hungry lunges of the predators. 
    “The zombie, though would overwhelm them,” Tommy thought. He knew it would happen, because it always did.

    The numbers around the women grew till the commotion had drawn all the zombie from around where Tommy stood. He stood alone, behind a shopping cart, watching the entire scene. The tragedy of the inability to listen and check the fear for sake of survival. Tommy was void of fear anymore, reborn to this brutal new world of terror. He walked pass the growing mob of zombie and headed toward the back of Station 1. He approached the back door, withdrew a key and unlocked the door. He opened the door and disappeared.

    Coyote Part 2

  • The Coyote part 3 – wip

    “So what do you think, Tommy?” Mary said.

    “Hmm… sounds fun,” Tommy began. “…but really… what do we know.”

    “Well,” Mary began as she poured Tommy a glass of whiskey. “As you already said to Mr. Carson, he is part of the Carson…

    “What do we know of the New World Group?” Tommy asked he downed the shot of whiskey and placed the glass next to the bottle.

    Mary opens a laptop covered in stickers. She searches then says, “per the Network search, looks like New World Group runs several financial companies for a large part of the new Commonwealth. They are based in the New York territory.”

    “Of course the New York territory most big companies still work out of the remains of New York City. What does the Network know of this Petty?”

    “Well, without the ability to communicate through the internet anymore I will have to ask and wait for that to come back.”

    “Charlie?”

    “Charlie,” Mary repeated then paused. “I can dig up information on Charlie. Sounds like he is inside. The Network will be able to find something. Give me an hour. Do you need the usual crew for this job?”

    Mary smiled.

    “Yes, Mary. You are a superstar. Can I get a refill?” He asked holding the empty glass of whiskey.

    “No,” Mary shot back. Her smile disappeared. “I should not of given you a glass of it. Severe lack of judgment on my part.”

    Tommy frowned but didn’t protest. “Thank you Mary you’re still a star.” He finished his meal and turned toward the large plate-glass windows within the front of the restaurant. Mary disappeared into the kitchen.

    Outside, decrepit sky-scrapers crept into view to his left. Out front and a half mile away was the city wall protecting the residents of the mid-western territory of Gregory. Between the wall and Tommy was a flat plot of tall grass and trees that struck him as odd because of its proximity to the tall office buildings. Tommy took a seat near the front window. A leathery hand scratched at the bottom of the window and caught Tommy’s attention for a moment. The owner of the hand had found itself in front of the window years ago but was too malnourished to be of any threat. Most of the zombie had suffered the same fate. Disabled and doing a better job as plant food then a threat to humans.

    They were not harmless. They have killed a fair amount of human prey. Mostly the new prisoners the do not know where to go. The zombie can still pack a punch. Even in their weakened state.

    “I should find the 9-iron some day,” he says out loud. The thought appearing suddenly.

    “You can’t hit worth shit, Tommy,” says a familiar voice coming from the back of the restaurant.

    “Sean!” Tommy replied with a smile. “Been waiting”