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 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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Napoleon had a small airport. Inside a small group of Kimerian giraffes practice to fly ancient planes.
Log 05-16: Napoleon, Large Northeast territory.
I let myself into the airport hanger. I closed the metal door. Inside, the room expanded. The ceiling towering over me. Thin beams tracing lines that married seams of sheet aluminum together.
To my right a pair of ancient propellered war planes and to my surprise a wooden plane inspired by the Wright brothers.
I walked forward and toward the center of the hanger. I passed the first plane, a bi-tiered, beautifully restored gem. As I walked past I chuckled as I found a large metal pipe in the pilot seat. A scarf tied around its metallic neck.
They still fly. Prints from this Field Journal entry — and others — available at: matthewrstitt.com
I passed the bi-plane and walked to the wood-framed, aluminum-clad office space. The door was open so I walked in. Inside was a small hallway and three rooms.
The Kimerian, I was meeting, sat in the room to the right at the end of the hall. The tall creature met me at the door. His hand outstretched, his long, thin neck towering over my six-foot stature.
“My people call me Kelune,” he said his voice deep and loud. “I am a Greybeard and an elder.”
Kelune lead me to a chair, built for a human as he sat upon a tall stool. He asked me to sit but I was unsure if I would be comfortable talking from farther below him.
The difference in height didn’t seem to bother him as he looked down upon me.
“I’ll stand,” I said and noticed a smile creep up the elongated nose.
“I apologize for the height difference,” he said with a chuckle. It’s something I tend to forget. I apologize if the offer to sit felt rude.”
“It’s fine,” I said and I took a step back so I didn’t have to look up so far.
“You work for The Network,” he asked.
“A field reporter.”
“Wonderful, anything to soften the rough reputation of the Kimerians.”
He lowered his long neck. Met my eyes with a slight head tilt.
“So you pilot old planes,” I said abruptly. “Is it a way to escape the world?”
“Oh yes,” said Kelune. He grinned.
“We don’t have these on Kimeria… they are magnificent machines…but….”
“Flying is not about escape,” he said softly. “It is about remembering that the world was always larger than we could walk.”
He followed me out to the hanger. He shook my hand and walked toward the Wright plane, without another look.
Napoleon’s airport still breathes. Its ghosts still fly.
They still fly. Prints from this Field Journal entry — and others — available at: matthewrstitt.comThey still fly. Prints from this Field Journal entry — and others — available at: matthewrstitt.comThey still fly. Prints from this Field Journal entry — and others — available at: matthewrstitt.com
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.
“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’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 and Rebecca stood at the bridge. The water moved below, carrying debris and struggling thrall.
“Of course the thrall fall in there,” Erik says as he steps forward.
“They are thrall, right,” he asked.
“Probably,” Rebecca replied. She stepped past him on a bridge designed for one person.
The bridge shifted. Erik fell forward. He slammed his hand and jammed his shoulder. Erik collapsed upon the floor, his shoulder screamed. The bridge shook.
Rebecca braced herself against the shabby sides. The noise of the fall reverberated outward. The nearest thralls turned. Erik knew what he had done but he just needed a few seconds to writhe in pain…
Rebecca grabbed the hand of his ailing shoulder and pulled. Erik gasped. The shoulder rolled back into place. The pain crescendoed then wained.
“Let’s go,” Rebecca said through her teeth.
Erik got up slow.
“Two seconds.. just two.” He repeated. He held his shoulder, stood and eventually followed.
The bank of the river sloped down sharply. There was a footpath at the top. Erik held his shoulder. He watched the crowd of thrall gather below the bank. They attempted to climb but most failed. They would fall then stand and stare. Eyes pale and faces scarred.
From behind the crowd a pair of large humanoid thrall appeared. Rebecca saw them and gasp. She grabbed Erik’s hand and pulled. Erik’s already sore shoulder forced him to curse. It was enough of a noise to alert the nearest monsters. The larger ones, Collectors began to climb the bank.
“They are intelligent?” Erik said to Rebecca.
“They are Collectors. They are after me. Just move faster.” She snapped.
“After you… why?” Erik said but Rebecca ignored him. She pointed at a small boarded up building, nearly 500 feet from them. It was a tiny place floating in the center of a sea of concrete. A broken sign hung off a pole.
“An abandoned Burger Place restaurant. Not something I would think safe from monsters,” Erik added.
Rebecca pulled his arm again and Erik grimaced. He pulled his arm from her grip and began to run. The two padded along. They passed thrall. The monsters were slow to react and easy to pass.
Erik looked behind him. The two large Collectors got closer. They stumbled a bit as they climbed down the slope. He approached Rebecca and said, “We are going to have to run faster. Those things are quicker,” Erik said out loud.
“We need to hall tail, now.”
The pair didn’t match the pursuit speed of the Collectors, once they found their footing. The football player-sized thrall gained on them. Erik ran into some of the normal thrall, called regulars. Purposely disturbing them to put them in the way. He looked back to confirm it was working… reasonably.
Ahead, a path to a plywood-clad, pre-apocalyptic restaurant but it was still 450 feet away. Erik began to slow. The muscles in his legs began to object to his sudden activity. The Collectors stumbled through the obstacles Erik set. These creatures seemed to have a slight ability to see but it still wasn’t very good.
Erik pushed his fifty-year old legs as fast as he could but he wasn’t going to make it far.
Rebecca overtook the lead and headed toward the overhanging brick drive-thru window. Erik’s legs burned. He looked back. The mob, led by the two Collectors, got closer. Rebecca was well ahead of him.
Erik’s legs were done. He slowed. He searched for an alternative, an escape route. The large monsters beared down on him. He pushed forward. A small, round, two-seater car sat alone in the parking lot. Erik fell left and crashed upon his hands and knees. He crawled along the side of the car. He watched as Rebecca looked back, paused then disappeared around a corner. One of the Collectors passed. A large muscular beefcake of a protohuman. The other crashed into the small car causing it to rock forward.
“Idiot,” Erik said to himself and smiled.
The mob of regulars passed Erik’s location. Erik hid as close to the car as he could. He lay and watched the hominoids chase after a 14 year old girl.
“Coward!” He suddenly say to himself.
“You know, I do my best,” he replied.
Erik heard glass break and metal crunch. Movement from the other side of the car told him that the second Collector recovered from its sprint into the car. The creature growled, angry. It pushed the car forward. The Collector released the car and it crashed to the ground. The regulars turned around and looked, blind eyes unhelpful. The large thrall stepped around the car and stood at the corner. It took in Erik’s scent. It held its breath as it analyzed the scent. It looked down through heavily calloused eyes. It then seemed to lose interest and ran to the building. The regulars followed.
“They left you. You are alone… but Rebecca… she would be overwhelmed. Dead for sure.”
“My legs are done. They are not working,” he replied to himself.
“Push yourself…”
Rebecca screamed. Erik swore and stood. His legs wobbled.
“How?” He said trying to think of anything he could do.
He noticed a pair of humanoids. These were unusual, intelligent. They navigated through the thrall from the North.
He smiled knowing someone else survived walking into MARS. These were human. He watched as they walked carefully around the thrall. Avoiding as much noise as possible.
That was until Rebecca screamed again. Erik watched as the pair of survivors fell to the ground. The mob became alert and picked up the pace. They headed for the Burger Place.
The hair stood up upon Erik’s back. Absent of monsters near him he began to walk toward the building. He crept closer and noticed the four-foot-five teenager stand in the middle of a field of grass. She stared at the building in front of her and screamed again.
The mob pivoted at once toward her. The two large Collectors bullied their way to the front of the line. Erik picked up his pace, but not too close to attract attention to himself. He didn’t have the endurance to run away again.
The floor of his stomach dropped and he felt sick. He had to do something but what could…
Rebecca leapt. She disappeared.
Erik shouted her name. Thirty thrall turned instantly. Color drained from his face.
“Erik, swear to the gods. You’re dumb as a box of cookies,” he told himself as he watched all the thrall turn and look at him.
The Collectors approached Kali’s position, caring little about Erik.
Erik followed the Collectors as they walked slowly toward where Kali disappeared. He forgot the attention he had called on himself and the first blow struck him unaware. He fell to the ground. A second, third and fourth punch followed. The thrall scratched and pulled at his clothes and limbs. He felt like a child’s stretch toy. A blow to the head. Erik’s world blurred into flashes of red, blue, green, yellow and black. It then disappeared.
“I don’t always imagine something big and weird. Sometimes it’s on a smaller scale if you want to call a couple of hundred plant monsters small-scale.”Redd Church
———
It may surprise you that I have a family, with my talent and all the fun that comes with that. The fear of losing someone in my family is constant. Safety precautions are established but don’t always work… you adapt.
We woke on the weekend for a scheduled field trip. I made breakfast, which wasn’t common. I dressed. Sherrie and I woke our twin daughters, both 9 years old. We had breakfast, not standard but this was a special day. I walked out the front door. I always stopped and stared at the desolate street we lived. It used to be traffic-laden, with neighbors in every house but since the Resurrection and following insurrection. The neighborhood was quiet. We had maybe four families on a mile-long street.
The population had begun to rebuild but it would be many years till it would return. This was our generation’s normal. Few amenities remained, local to us. Today was a rare field day for the family. The ability to get out from the normal and to visit a large farm. The farm supplied most of our food and there were sunflower fields in the summer.
I packed the truck. Weapons are stored in a large toolbox on the side of the truck bed. Camping gear is packed in a second, for emergencies. Tents, sleeping bags, and kindling for a fire. I always packed sheets of wood and other tools to use as protection.
After packing the truck, Sherrie and the two girls into the cab of the truck we headed out. A 30-mile drive took two hours. The roads, in poor shape, were a challenge but longer drives made this task harder. Add to that the dangers of a wild world filled with vampires and monsters. I was not the only Magician with no idea how to control his power. Once a creature appears, it is here, in this reality till death.
One group of creatures that have thrived is the Taurs. Groups of human/animal hybrids no longer maintained were in an unpredictable condition. Luckily, bandits took a holiday and they were not an issue.
The roads near the farm were cared for, bumpy but cleared of debris and fallen trees. On the left was a farm store. The right showed several acres of sunflowers. My daughter Candice noticed first and screamed.
“Candice!” My wife replied. “We don’t scream in the car.”
Candice blushed and apologized then began to cry.
“She’s crying,” I said.
“I know what a Candice cry is, Redd,” Sherrie snapped.
“Candice, you don’t have to cry every time I yell at you.”
This didn’t help and Candice teared up a second time. Followed by badgering from her sister Jodie to stop crying. This all wrapped up into a triad of trauma as I pulled into a dirt-covered parking area.
“Ok, girls,” I said bravely. “Can we reset? We have a beautiful field of sunflowers to explore.”
“Yea, until a monster shows up,” Jodie shot back.
“She has a point, Redd. It’s guaranteed something will show up.”
“Listen, I have been practicing emptying my mind but I won’t deny it’s really hard. Can we just try to be a normal family, with normal problems?” I said watching a horse-taur trot past the front of the car. Followed by a mare and children. I noticed, as I often do, something curious.
“Did you notice Taur don’t swing their arms like humans do when walking?” I said aloud.
“I just noticed,” I smiled and stepped out of the truck. I helped Candice from the backseat as Sherrie did the same for Jodie.
“The world is so different,” Sherrie said to me as we scanned the scene around us.
“So unpredictable,” I replied as I allowed a pair of satyrs to pass. “Humans don’t run the world anymore, that’s for sure.”
“Let’s go girls,” I said and marched toward the field of giant, round-faced, yellow flowers.
The girls ran ahead but not without a warning to stay in sight. Each girl was armed with a knife and as much skill as you can teach a 9-year-old. I was confident they could take care of themselves. I knew I couldn’t keep my magical summoning ability from appearing too long and I could only hope it wouldn’t be too awful.
I looked again at the Taurs, they were well-known provocateurs but with a family in tow, I hoped they would be preoccupied.
There was a berm built up prior to the field of flowers. I walked up and over. My wife was several steps in front of me when the first scream shot through the air, followed by a second then a third. I immediately drew my pistol as did my wife. We were on guard but I saw nothing. There was a pair of human girls with hands on their mouths fifty feet from my location. I raced over there only to be stopped by more screaming. This scream I knew and I didn’t think twice.
I ran through the field of sunflowers. Pushing past the large yellow disks. I stopped to see points.
I looked to see a human arm standing the same height as one of the sunflowers. At the top of the arm were a meaty palm and five meaty fingers. It stood, almost motionless, except for moving slightly in the wind.
Mid-arm length I noticed a crease and an elbow.
“Seriously,” Sherrie said, smiled, and chuckled slightly.
Another scream from within the field, was too far for me to see what was going on directly but I could tell the screamer was frightened.
“What does it do?” I asked my daughters.
“I don’t know,” came a reply from Jodie. “I think it waved at me.”
“Waved at you,” I asked. “ As in friendly wave?”
I waved. I noticed the hand, growing from the ground, waved back vigorously.
“My gawd, this is weird. Sorry girls,” I apologized but I barely had control myself.
“It’s kinda cute,” said Candice.
“A hand growing out of the ground is not cute,” I replied.
“What are we going to do with this,” Sherrie asked and I didn’t know what to say. The Zoo was designed for monsters not friendly hands growing in a sunflower field.
Jodie approached the creature with no fear and attempted to start a conversation with it. It didn’t feel dangerous but all my monsters were unpredictable so I stopped her.
The creature bent at the elbow and waited for a handshake. Jodie stepped forward and Sherrie was right there to stop her.
“That is not a good idea,” I warned, a step behind both of them.
Sherrie had positioned herself between Jodie and the creature.
I looked for Candice, found her, and told her to sit where she stood.
The creature, called the Hand-delion grabbed a hold of Sherrie’s coat and pulled. Sherrie fell backward and under the Hand-delion. I watched as the creature balled its hand into a fist.
I grabbed Jodie and threw her toward her sister. Hoping I didn’t hurt her. I took several long steps and grabbed the arm by the wrist. The creature had a lower center of gravity making it harder to stop it completely but I slowed it down. It was very strong but it was enough time for Sherrie to escape. The creature then swung in my direction throwing me backward. Barely missed me with its meaty fist. I kicked it. It opened the hand and shook. Then closed the fist again. It attempted to hit me but I dodged it.
I crawled backward and took a breath. I heard around me dozens of men, women, and Taurs battling the creatures. One thing is for sure our generation was not afraid to confront anything.
“How many are here?” I asked
“I don’t know,” Sherrie replied. “There are at least six groups, that I can see, but that doesn’t mean there are not more in places… this is a large field.”
“My powers have a range limit,” I added as a stood to join my family. “I am not sure what it is but it’s not as large as these fields.”
“Dad,” Jodie screamed. “There are more,” she added and pointed.
I looked to see a pair of sunflowers with large blue human eyes. They were staring at my family.”
“The girls, Redd,” Sherrie said.
“I understand, Sherrie, but listen are they safer with us or away from us?”
“They are not safe anywhere!”
“I know, I’m sorry… but these creatures don’t seem to have any power outside the ground they are planted in.”
“Not what others are seeing!” She snapped.
“I can’t stop that. I can only account for my —-“
The ground shook under my feet. Another arm erupted from the ground. I watched as the dirt under the sunflowers rose.
“Sherrie, things have changed! Get the girls out of here!”
I watched a form appear. I skipped over column-sized legs rising from the ground. The hand-delion transformed into a headless giant. The giant had the chest, torso, and legs of a human. Small arms, compared to its massive body, and two tall sunflower stalks for eyes.
It sat on the ground. The ground it just rose from. It stared at me as I stood looking at it. For a second, a glint of sorrow pierced my soul.
That sorrow multiplied. Something behind me caught its attention and it instantly stood up. Dirt and sunflower erupted and fell around me. Once I cleaned myself off I looked left of me to see a centaur standing over another giant. A large spear was in the creature’s chest.
I looked at the creature and saw the horror in his eyes. I saw another creature begin to rise and the centaur saw it too. I knew the four-legged warrior could knock out the next creature easily if it didn’t get up so I had to do something, or did I?
I wasn’t killing the creatures. It wasn’t my fault so could I park my guilt and watch it happen, right?
No, the No’doer had different plans. Sherrie appeared at my side for a moment then walked quickly to a position where the giant could see it. She jumped and screamed, though I doubt the creature could hear.
The centaur saw it and he froze for a moment. I watched as Sherrie successfully got the creature’s attention. She then began to form words with her hands. Words the creature seemed to respond to. An amazing gift to the whole situation and just the motivation I needed to stop the death of an intelligent being.
I ran behind my wife, in clear view of the first creature, and targeted the centaur. This huge, brutish creature grunted and pawed at the ground. Many had lost their ability to communicate with humans but they understood the language.
“You can’t kill that other giant,” I said.
The centaur pulled the spear from the chest of the dead giant. His human face displayed anger, which is understandable, and reluctance.
“They’re intelligent. Not monsters,” I pointed to my wife who was talking to the giant behind me with her hands. “She’s amazing right?”
The centaur grunted and growled but he didn’t attack the third giant. That giant sat up and looked to find his brothers.
My wife called and I turned. She stood in front of the standing giant, having a conversation. The creature, with its undersized arms, was a master signer. Its flower eyes focused on Sherrie.
The other giant was unsure of its next move. It sat searching the field. Outside the radius of the giants and me, a group of humans crept closer.
“Sherrie, we have to contain them. I’m calling the Zoo. How are we going to transport them?”
“The creature agrees to comply. Not happy that one of his brothers has been killed.”
“Tell him I’m sorry.”
Sherrie continued to speak to the creature. I returned my attention to the centaur family. I apologized. I explained my powers. This was a mistake. The centaur turned his rage on me.
He picked up the spear and stepped forward. His partner stepped up from behind. The smaller goal stayed a safe distance away.
The centaur growled. I had endangered his children, that was fair to be angry but murderous. That was not.
I tried to explain that my powers were not something I could control. I had little responsibility in endangering anyone but that was a half-truth. I knew somewhat and I knew I was responsible.
“Please, stop. You don’t want to do this,” I pleaded.
The centaur raised his spear to strike me down. A bullet sped past my ear and struck the horse-like chest of the male centaur. He collapsed. The mare snarled and stepped forward. I, the slowest hand in the sunflower field, began to pull my own gun when the giant stepped over me.
I think we have all experienced a dark cloud floating above us, this was similar except with dirt falling on your head and the earth moving under your feet.
The creature stepped into my field of fire, knelt, and began to treat the centaur for his bullet wound. I stood, shocked at the act of kindness. The mare hesitated and stepped back to allow the creature to help. The second giant approached and I noticed they communicated by touch. The second moved to the fallen giant and began to pray.
I called the Zoo and they sent some large transports but they were a couple of hours away. While we waited the landowner and I had a conversation. We talked about the possibility of starting a reservation for these creatures.
Several more creatures sat up from the ground and there were ten at the end of the day. I set up camp with the Zoo directors and we plotted out a plan. They are very fragile but gentle giants.
The male centaur survived. His partner was forever thankful. The family stuck around and our families became close. They ran the hand-delion reservation.
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.
Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive 