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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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.
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.
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.
“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”
Mornings within the walled off, reclusive world are the worst part of an already fucked up life. The smell of decay mixed with body order, sprinkled with a constant moaning.
The moaning was worse then the stench at times. A twisted symphony of pain expressed in guttural “Ohhhhs” all day and night.
Tommy stared at the dangling plaster above his head. The room had seen better days but as was the world.
Zombies milled under his window waiting like dogs hungry for breakfast
“Tommy!” Shouted Mary , the station chief.
“You have a phone call.”
Tommy dressed, grabbed his weapons and walked down the neglected wooden steps to the small cafe on the ground floor.
At the bottom of the stairs was a kitchen. The kitchen was immaculate and cooking on the polished stove was a skillet filled with rice, onions, peas and carrots. On a counter to the left was a dozen beautifully polished red candied apples.
Tommy fingered one of the apples and listened to Mary on the phone.
“I understand, Mr. Carter.”
“Tommy O’Neil is the coyote, yes sir.“
“He’s on the way, sir.”
“Listen, Mr. Carter. We give you our word. We will find your daughter.”
“Don’t do that,” Tommy said as stepped into the cafe lobby. In front of him sat a large plate glass window. Mary sat at a small table. A phone sat in the center.
“Don’t promise anyone anything. I am no superhero.” Mary, a thin woman, eyes that understood the horrors of the world, placed the phone receiver in Tommy’s hand.
“Mr. Carter,” Tommy O’Neal began. He sat the phone on his shoulder and slicked back his hair.
“There are no guarantees in this zoo.” He said. “I lost 8 people just yesterday because they wouldn’t listen. “ This daughter is what 22, 25 and a criminal?”
“14, not possible,” Tommy snapped. “They would not push a 14 year old into this shithole.”
“Snuck in! That is ridiculous. No one would sneak into this place. Are you calling from a radio show, your joking right.”
“Your daughter is dead,” Tommy said. “Yes, it’s true. Your daughter has a 15 minutes time-to-live and that has passed.”
“Your apparent sphere of influence has no bearing. The Maxwell-Carter family may have some pull outside the Zoo, but within these walls we make the rules.”
“The Network can be a very powerful enemy, Mr. Carter. I’m just saying, be careful what you wish for… but honestly how much and why should I care?”
Tommy gently tapped the glass on the whiskey bottle. Mary did her best to ignore him and pretended to work nearby.
“I’ll get it myself,” he whispered and she countered by shaking her head no.”
“500,000 credits?” Tommy said with disgust. “What am I going to do with credits. Toss them at the undead?”
His words trailed off as he noticed an odd zombified creature approach the large restaurant window. He pointed with his free hand.
Mary whispered, “I believe those are called satyrs. Half human, half goat.”
“Looks like a demon,” Tommy replied while covering the receiver.
The satyr had a horn twisting from the left side of his head and a second horn, broken protruding from the right side.
It’s fur showed up in patches over its pale, dead human face. Open wounds tracing exposed compound fractures.
“When did they start putting the Freaks in here?” Tommy said as he swept up the bottle of whiskey and poured a second shot.
Tommy swallowed and Mary took the bottle from him. “Your not finishing this bottle,” she said.
“I am listening to you Mr. Carter. You would like me to rescue your daughter and your daughter just happened to slip into a prison full of zombies… and other monsters… with a stone that has the power to create or take away life. So this is a mission to save the world. Did I get that right?”
“Fuck off, with your goddamn super hero mission. I ain’t no super hero. Do it yourself then.”
“I want something else. I want you to have me released. I want out of this shit hole.”
“How did she get the stone.” Tommy asked. “A family of thieves, I see. That certainly makes this job more interesting and more valuable. The Stones haven’t been free from the Maxwell-Carter family for four years.”
He paused, “Mr. Carter this must be embarrassing for you. You seem that type.”
“No one outside the prison will not do shit for 50,000 credits,” he said, replying to Mr. Carson. “I doubt they would step into this zoo for 100,000 and they are definitely not looking for your daughter in West Ransom. They may take your money though.”
The smell of candied apples drift into his nose.
“Mary, can I get a plate of your awesome fried rice and a candied apple. I love those candied apples.” Tommy said waiting for a response.
“Sure thing, I got you. Anything else?” Mary said.
A glass of water, please.” Mary disappeared into the kitchen of the diner.
“Are you changing your offer for this job, Mr Carson. You have no other options.”
“500,000 credits, guaranteed by the Carter family and Northeast territory… Nice. Where do you believe they were heading.
“That’s a three station hop and some of the most populated areas of the city. Still very likely she is already dead but I promise I will do my best.
“How will you guarantee I get paid? I am on the inside of this hell on earth zoo. The Blackguards are corrupt as hell and I can’t get out.”
“The Garden. Sure. The Network’s central station. I’ll meet you at the top.
Tommy placed the phone on the receiver. “Looks like we have another suicide job, Mary. Can you call…”
“They are on the way, already. Held up at station 11. Will be here in an hour.”
“You are my favorite station chief, Mary and I love your apples. Gawd.” He said as he bit onto the candied dessert.”
“Do vampires have feelings? Asking for a friend.” Narrator
Michael’s head began to swim then a wave of nausea struck. He heaved and this was followed by a second. His throat screamed as nothing came up. Michael looked down to notice blood on the ground when his body seized and he fell to his side.
Michael woke up strapped to a piece of plywood. The plywood was canted upward and he was moving backward. Michael could see someone above him. A monstrously tall man with a large backpack under a black trench coat. To the right Michael noticed Jacob strapped to a second piece of plywood. Thick leather straps held him securely as his sneakers dragged over the asphalt.
Michael looked himself over and found a large, bandage wrapped around his waste. A large red stain near his wound and a second near his chest. His boots dragging the ground. Behind him was a mob of zombies. Michael began to get a better sense of his surrounding as he continued to wake. The houses had begun to get bigger as he realized they had left his previous street and were now moving toward the center of the city.
“What is this?” He thought. “Broadway? Richie riches used to live here. Now they are all dead or fled to the North. The monster do not like the cold up there. Leave us poor folk to lie and steal and spend eternity in the City of Monsters. Frick’n backwoods justice from here to Buffalo. If that city still exists…”
Michael’s driver suddenly dropped him with a thud and he complained. He watched as the zombies approached. To the left was a large gate. The tall man was struggling to close. To the right was a small army. They fired and Michael’s ears rang. A row of zombie lay motionless. The tall man strained to pull the heavy gate further till a zombie approached and attempted to surprise him.
“Holy crap,” Jacob said as the tall man grasp the zombie and bit into its rotten flesh. The man didn’t chew but seemed to suck from the zombie victim. He then tossed it away, shook and pulled the gate closed like it was a thin sheet of paper. He turned to Jacob and Michael, his face covered in gore.
“Come on, no! This is not happening,” Michael began. “I understand the zombie apocalypse and all and the shit show my brother and I started by stealing from the Governor. I get that the punishment was life behind the walls of the city for me and my family. All that sucks and now my family is dead but this is not going to happen. I’m done. I am not staying here strapped to a wooden barbecue plate waiting to be sucked dry.”
“Michael.”
“No Jacob. This is the end for me. I’m not being left a husk of skin and bones.” Michael struggled to free himself but was barely able to move.
“I understand,” said the tall man as he grabbed a towel from a go bag and cleaned up his face. “I should of introduced myself.” He said.
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.
Michael woke up then winced as the pain from the tear in his side screamed. He looked himself over and found himself and the wound caked in mud.
“The zombies! In the house can they get us?”
“No, apparently the closet collapsed covering our escape.”
“Well, that was easy enough,” Michael said with a weak smile. “The escape that is. What do we do now Jacob. This was your idea.”
“Crawl to the back of the house. There is a way out under the back porch.”
“Sounds easy. Is it?”
“Yea, how’s your side? That nail tore you up.”
“Got some dirt in it. Can’t be bad, right. At least it stopped bleeding. Let’s go.”
Michael started the crawl through the dirt toward the rear of the house.
“So that has been here since we were kids?” Michael asked after a moment.
“Since before dad left.” Jacob replied.
Michael growled. “Ass.”
“Tell me about it. You left it got worse. He beat me, locked me in the closet and forgot about me. I would show up two days later through the front door and he never questioned how. Never was so happy to be beaten and locked up.”
The two men crawled under the kitchen floor listening to the footsteps of the undead searching for a hint of life to chow upon. Michael winced as his dirt covered bandaid fell away and the wound bled.
Michael headed to the left corner and grabbed an aluminum sheet. He attempted to remove it but it resisted. Jacob came up from behind him.
“It’s not the exit. There is a loose piece near the center.” Jacob said and began toward the exit when a loud ripping noise stopped him and he turned.
“What the hell, Michael!”
Light from outside snuck under the house revealing blood on Michael’s hands and upon the ground near his side.
“Dude, you’re losing a lot of blood. We need to get that wrapped up and stopped.”
“I’m not staying under this house to be treated by Doc Brown,” Michael snapped.
“Look, you attracted attention so now we are stuck.”
Outside the covered porch the two men could see them roaming.
“Can they leave us alone for a damn hour. They are always around. I just want a moment to breath without death trolling me from outside a freakin porch.”
The creatures outside the enclosure stopped. They stood for a moment then began to rip the wooden slats from the back porch.
Both men stood and watched. Jacob crawled backward and tapped Michael to do the same. A second then a third slat disappeared revealing a pair of jeans working hard to make a hole. A second set of hands grasp the wooden slats and tore them from the porch. The jeans knelt and revealed a pale, dark-skinned face and a wide unnatural smile.
“Thank the Lord… we have survivors,” said the man.
“I knew I heard something a few days ago but it was in the garage over there,” said a second voice.
“We have a horde on the way. We have minutes,” said a third.
The man with the huge smile reached forward, “We are here to rescue you. Hurry time is short.”
Imagine this… standing in the dark is the safest place in a world corrupted by the unimaginable.
Narrator
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 married 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. It’s shaded, murderous jaws chomped at the air. Micheal pushed the rod into the zombie’s face collapsing its thin, skeletal face and pushing the rest of it’s body 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 the 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. Using the light from the door 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 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.
“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. He fought back and more of the clothing tumbled in all directions. 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. The zombie stepped forward and screamed. A guttural noise full of anger. Jacob felt hopeless as the creature lunged forward. It’s 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 the clothing he stood behind into the zombie. He pushed the creature off its feet and it tumbled backward. Jacob grabbed the closet door and closed it.
Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive 