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.
Thanks for Reading- Check this out before you go
Unlock the World of Imagination with Custom Artwork by Matthew R. Stitt
Step into a realm where creativity knows no bounds. At MatthewRStitt.com, I bring your visions to life through bold, immersive digital art. Whether you’re looking for whimsical creatures, surreal landscapes, or one-of-a-kind character designs, every piece is crafted with passion and attention to detail.
Explore. Imagine. Create. Visit MatthewRStitt.com today and bring your vision to life!
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.
Erik wiped sweat from his brow as the summer heat loomed over him. His hands trembled as he set the duffel down, though he didn’t need anything it. He released the pry-bar and let it fall the short distance to the ground. He shook off the anxiety, wishing he had a shot to medicate it away. His knees throbbed and he knelt.
“We shouldn’t stop here long,” voice low but urgent. Rebecca, who stood nearby, nodded silently. Her eyes darting from one sleeping thrall.
In front of them a large patch of towering grasses mixed with stalks of corn and pigweed.
“Let’s go,” he said to Rebecca. “Be careful, anything could be in here. Follow behind me, please.”
“You may want to be extra careful…” Rebecca tried to add the Erik had already disappeared. She swore and followed.
Erik parted the grasses and stepped carefully. Took a second step, then a third. Every step rustling. The noise felt louder then it should of been. Every step felt like a signal to the monsters outside.
The inability to see what’s mere steps away. The corn, towering over him, swiped at his bare arms. The waist high grass brushed against his legs. The pig weed scratched at his vulnerable skin. Erik was on edge. Rebecca was somewhere behind him. He could hear the steps but another problem is he couldn’t be certain it was her and not a thrall stumbling through to snatch him up.
He began to recall the day his life changed. The moment the monsters destroyed his wife and stole his daughter.
“Five years, it’s been five years Erik.” He said to himself.
“They came into my home,” he replied. “They were targeting me, I know it.”
“For what, Erik? You have this fantasy that you’re important. You were a janitor. It was a coincidence.”
“A coincidence my ass. Why did the Collectors target the house. Answer that question. Why did they swipe Diana? I never found her body.”
Erik fumed. The world had disappeared. The stalks fell over by themself and he walked forward automatically. That was until he tripped and tumbled forward. He crashed into a pile of thorns. Something tighten around his ankle. It pulled him forward thorns digging into his back and head. He wanted to scream to just end it… till she showed up. Her brown hair fell over her little face. Her brown eyes looked down upon him. Horror reflected in the afternoon sun. Erik remembered and it hurt.
“Give up Erik?” He said to himself as he looked up at her.
“In front of her?” He said silently, as he started to struggle. He tried to clear the bramble thorns from his head. The points digging in. The tentacle pulled. Erik lifted his knee and tried to back up.
“She’s not Diana,” his thought continued.
“I’m aware she is not Diana. She looks like her. What would she say?”
“She wasn’t the same age. She was younger but I would like to think she would want you to live.”
Erik watched as Rebecca flashed her knife. She pointed it down. She stabbed through the fleshy appendage.
Something screamed. A pained scream but it also sounded like a warning or a lead for a trap.
Rebecca stabbed the tentacle again. A second tentacle struck out and punch Rebecca in the side. Erik watched her fall backward and into the stalks.
Erik sat up in seconds, his doubts vanished. He tore the remains of the thorns from his head. He kicked the remains of the tentacle from his ankle. He leapt. His ankle was sore but functional.
Rebecca began to sit up. Erik held out his hand to slow her down.
“Let me help you.”
Rebecca looked up. Blood tracing paths down the crevices of her dirty face.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. Bent down and grabbed her arm. Rebecca stood. She held her left arm. Her face was red and would likely bruise.
She suddenly snapped at him, “I’m not some helpless damsel! I know things. I’ve been here 5 years!”
Erik said nothing.
“I could have stopped you from running into that… we call it a Groundling. It’s a mass of flesh, teeth and tentacles. You, seriously, just run headfirst without thinking.”
Erik smiled, a bit, “Ya.. I tend to do that. You call that octopus thing a Groundling.”
“Yes, and a siren because it calls the thrall and they are headed to us now.” Rebecca said.
“So we need a new plan,” said Erik. “The thrall still can’t see but can hear. I think we can whip them into a frenzy by messing with that puddle thing.”
“Where the hell am I going to go,” Erik said to himself.
Erik and a young girl, named Rebecca, walked alone within a sea of brainless thrall, stalled cars and tall grass. Erik carried a duffle bag, Rebecca a backpack.
Ahead of them a few neglected buildings, behind those a forgotten city. High-rise buildings rotting and falling apart.
“I don’t want to go into the city. I want to avoid it if possible.” Erik said after confirming there was no thrall within listening distance.
He looked back to see Rebecca holding a knife near his side. Upon her face, fear.
“Stab me if you want,” Erik said. “I will scream the entire time. You will not make it 100 feet.”
Rebecca stared at Erik.
“I just… almost lost my life for you.” He snapped.
“That’s a great sign. I’m starting to think this was a stupid idea,” Erik thought.
“I need a drink,” he said, ignoring the threat.
Erik and Rebecca stood within a column of closely parked cars. Thrall stood 50 to 100 feet away. The monsters, when not triggered by noise, would sleep. They would sway like large monstrous blades of grass.
Erik set his duffle on the ground, opened the bag. The whiskey bottle inside was busted. The pungent smell of whiskey wafted up and out.
“Are you a drinker?” Rebecca asked. “My father was a drinker.”
The suddenness of the comment/question caused him to pause. He hadn’t had a conversation with a real person in a long time.
“Where is your father now?”
“Dead and in the van back there,” she said emotionless.
“I see,” was the only reply he could muster. He pulled out the contents of the bag and dumped out the wet garbage.
“All this crap is destroyed and I forgot my bat,” . “How am I going to defend myself… you,” he added as he stared at the nearest thrall 100ft away.
“What else is in this bag,” he continued. “I guess it would be good to have a bag but I have a couple knives and a tire iron. I need to fill it back up.
“So killer,” Erik said. “You’re rescued, you’re free to go in any direction. I don’t know where I’m going,” he admitted.
He turned to face Rebecca. Her face solemn but strong reminding Erik of his daughter he lost but with glaring exceptions. Anne was never tough as nail, like this young woman. Dirt on Anne’s face.. oh no.
She wouldn’t have stood for that. Rebecca looked as though she has been through 3 lifetimes. Hard lines and scar-traced tears upon her face. Rebecca’s dark hair was the same color as Annie’s but Rebecca’s was unwashed… and Rebecca didn’t seem to mind.
Something Rebecca did mind was a middle-aged stranger staring her down as he dreamt about a lifetime that no longer existed.
Her knife struck out at Erik. It was a warning and not an attempt on his life but it was enough for him to fall backward and string together an obnoxious combination of swear words.
When Erik regained his senses he recognized the consequences of his action when thrall began the stir.
“F – you lady,” Erik snarled. “I don’t care if you’re a kid. That was uncalled for. Can I go pass? Are you going to try to cut me?”
Erik had an adrenaline, filled fury. She had the advantage and could easily get a few swipes in. She would definitely hold both of them up long enough to face the thrall. Erik didn’t want to die under the thrall. That was not an honorable way to die.
“Honorable… ha,” he thought. “Of all the words in the English dictionary. You’re a bum, Erik.”
“I was honorable once,” he accidentally said out-loud as he slid past Rebecca.
Erik watched as Rebecca glared at him. Erik slid clear of her and passed the bluish bumper of an older coupe. He looked out into the sun-drenched, grass-covered wasteland. He saw a sea of heads bobbing back and forth. Thrall marched toward them. He was mapping out, in his head, an escape route but it just wasn’t appearing. He walked past the bumper and sat down beside the car.
“I don’t know what to do next,” he thought as he let his shoulders fall.
“I don’t know where to go. Maybe this is the end.It was a great plan.”
“Are you serious?” He replied in thought. “You complement me and my plan. My impulsive rescue plan that…”
He stopped because Rebecca sat beside him and apologized. She explained her situation. She explained that she had to kill her parents in the van. She was a resident of MARS and had a plan.
Erik sat for a moment. He watched as the closest thrall came within a 50 foot radius of them followed by 3 or 4 additional rows of brainless, humanoid monsters.
Erik stood near a pale blue minivan. Its windows blacked out with dirt. He tried the driver’s side sliding door, but it was locked.
A pair of tall, blond, thrall twins mill nearby. They blindly search for the source of the noise. The tinyist ‘chunk’, ‘chink’ or ‘ding’ sets them in — It’s a weird sight, for sure, but they would be listening for any noise. The twins slapped the sides of the van. They tried the door handles but they were locked, Erik assumed.
He stood motionless. He watched as the blond twins search for a way inside. The nearest crept closer, but Erik kept quiet. If they couldn’t hear him, they had no idea where he was.
Erik swore silently when the woman screamed again. He grasped the bat tightly. The twins immediately escalated their abuse of the van. The scream also attracted other thrall, which hobbled, with purpose, toward the noise.
“The situation is escalating. Soon a rescue will be impossible.” He thought as a human-like… but fur-covered creature brushed his shoulder.
Erik held in a yelp but then gasp as a brown torso brushed past him. He tracked the creature with his eyes. The torso was covered in blood and patches of short fur. Above the torso was a human form, infected, blind and a thrall.
“A Bridger?This is a whole new low for the world…” Erik thought, his posture stiffened. We can address the obvious escalations by the Vampire later… What are you going to do about the woman?”
Erik’s thought turns into an argument as many of them did.
“You stepped out of that goddamn car to help this woman but now you’re just standing here.”
“I’m trying to save my own life here,” he replied.
“Moments ago you woke from a whiskey coma with thoughts of suicide… did you even remember the pistol?”
“Damn it no,” Erik silently retorted. “I left it in the car.”
“Great… good job. What are you going to do with that bat?”
Erik held the bat in his left hand. The Bridger creature, often called a satyr within ancient stories, approached the blue minivan. It felt around the sides of the van till it reached the windows. It began to dig its human fingers into the creases of the minivan windows and began to pull.
Erik moved automatically and struck the satyr legs with the bat. It’s thin legs broken. The satyr screamed and collapsed. The other thrall turned, distracted from there original mission and began to beat upon the disabled creature. They viciously tore the satyr apart only feet from him.
Erik, finding an opportunity within the gory scene turned and walked to the drivers side door handle and jerked it. It was locked. Moved to the side door and said.
“Lady, I am human. Open the door. I mean to rescue you. Not hurt you. We have a small window of time. I need you to trust me… please.”
He banged on the sliding door gently, so to not make too much noise.
“Please,” he repeated.
Erik searched the area. A large, overweight thrall stumbled toward him. It passed a small coupe. Erik looked at the sliding door then stepped toward the monster. Erik struck him with the bat. The bat blasted the upper thigh. The thrall stutter-stepped. Paused then walked forward like Erik hadn’t hit him. Erik threw the bat back for another swing when the van door opened. Erik turned. He expected a woman but saw a young girl. Behind her a pair of human bodies, motionless. He struggled with memories of his own daughter. This young girl was the same age.
After a few seconds Erik shook himself free of the memory and turned to face the thrall. The overweight creature grabbed Erik’s shoulder. Erik twisted his body but lost his balance. He tumbled forward and fell onto the grass-covered concrete.
The thrall grabbed his ankle. Erik twisted and lay on his back.
The thrall stood over him. Its eyes pale and dead. Scars upon its fat face. It tried to collect Erik’s other foot but Erik kicked out of it. The thrall served their vampire master but they were not really good at anything. They were violent but loyal. Within MARS, the thrall had a number advantage.
The twins, attracted by the noise, appeared. The young girl within the van closed the sliding side door. The noise attracted the attention of the twins and they grasp the door. The girl screamed. The twins pulled harder.
Erik watched, from the ground. His captor, the thrall, had him and would not let go of his ankle. Erik’s ankle twisted and he growled. The pain shooting up through his body.
He then suddenly screamed, struggled and began to search and grab anything that could make noise.
He found a few aluminum cans, rocks and finally a good sized piece of metal. He thrust the jagged piece into the soft part of the large monster’s throat.
The twins, drawn from the van, hovered above Erik’s head. The large thrall released his grip from the ankle. Erik freed himself. Blood fell upon a dirty, white shirt. The thrall grasp its throat and fell forward. Erik rolled away and got as close to the car, nearby, as he could.
The twins, mistaking the larger one for Erik, began to beat on the injured thrall. The thrall squawked, blew air through blood. Erik crawled, as silently as he could forward and pass the commotion. He stood, scanned the area and found several dozen additional thrall heading toward him. The minivan door was open and a five-foot-one young girl stood beside the vehicle. A backpack in her hand and behind her, in the van, a pair of dead human bodies.
The cold sat and ate upon Erik’s fingers like rabid dogs. Nibbling away at the nerves as quickly as they could as he stood outside the bus stop waiting for the five o’clock Red line. Erik had lost his gloves and his pockets were full of rocks. Rocks collected from his quarry, for the last few days. The rocks, a minor compulsory addiction for Erik when he couldn’t feed his other toxic addictions. The Red line bus was a two story monster on six wheels. The driver sat on the bottom right side behind a large front window. The doors, two of them, sat on the left side. One next to the driver and the other near the back. The driver slowed the monster. It growled and jerked and finally stopped with an angry burst of smoke from a metal pipe in the back.
Erik shook his hands, willing the dogs from his fingers, picked up the duffel and stepped inside.
The driver stopped him.
“Blessed by the Omnipresent No’doer , you are,” the driver said. His chest and head human. His body was covered in black fur. His hands and feet large and clawed.
“How have you not lost your fingers?”
“There is still time,” Erik said as he placed the duffel on an empty seat and placed his bare hands under his coat.
“The bus is a bit empty this morning Harry. Did you scare them all off with your ugly face and fierce temper.”
“Ey, ridership has been falling off lately. This old Bear has nothing to do with it.”
“The vampire population is growing again. It makes it hard to trust anything. I done no’ how you survive in these conditions. You need to settle somewhere.”
“I haven’t…” Erik began. “I don’t… never-mind.”
“How do you drive this thing being a taur and all.” Erik add.
The bear/man laughed as he closed the bus door and put it into Drive. The Red Line bus growled and lurched forward.
“Where u heading tonight?”
“I’m off to get arrested,” Erik said.
“You can get arrested trespassing, which you do often. Where are you headed?”
The bus begins to slow, it jerks to a stop. Harry opens the bus doors and a pair of gaunt men step upon the bus from the back door.
Erik knows what they are immediately and he begins to stand.
“Sit down!” Harry growls. “No judgement on my bus, ever. Everyone is allowed a ride on this bus.”
“I’m not riding a bus with them on board!”
Erik shouts as he steps toward the front door.
“They are the sole reason for the death of my family!”
Erik glared at the pairs elongated, muscular jaws and bulges beneath the loose fitting clothing.
“Why are they here Harry? They can fly. I thought you were smarter then this.”
Harry stood over Erik, who was not a small human, but was smaller then the human-like bear.
“Sit down Eric,” Harry said, exposing large teeth and a powerful human torso.
“On my bus, you are my guest and will be treated as so, understood.” He adds then repeats the statement to the young vampire. The vampire nod and sit near the back door.
“No one is leaving till they reach the destination. Erik, please finish this plan of you wanting to get arrested.”
Erik sits down.
“Where are they going?” Erik asks.
“I don’t ask. They have passes.” Harry replied.
Erik sat quiet for several moments as the Red Line bumped along roads that had not been maintained in 5 years. Traffic had all but stopped while the vampire-infected humans known as Resurrected prowled the streets.
The North Eastern Territory didn’t used cars much anymore. The Red Line and other buses filled the need mostly.
The bus hit a large patch of trash lying in the street and the bus lurched left then right tossing the passengers around like dominoes.
“Fine… Harry. Fine, I’ll tell you. Stop hitting shit in the road.”
Harry smiled, slowed the bus and it stopped with a jerk. Harry opened the doors. Outside the door, a half mile away was a large stone wall. Erik watched as the two vampires stepped down. Through the grim covered glass he could see them unfurl a pair of wings each and begin to fly. The headed to the wall.
“For the gods sakes, tell me the plan,” the bear/man growled as his claws scraped the metal floor. If it wasn’t for you mother I wouldn’t care less but I promised I would take care ya. Spill it boy.”
“I need to get into the Zoo Harry there is someone I got to find.”
“The Zoo? Are u mental? You know what’s in their, right?”
A Speaker is a traveling storyteller, an ancient tradition brought back by a tragedy. An event disguised as an infection. That infection spread toppled the crippled US government but under the hood of the infection was a revolution. This was a bloodless coup. An explosion of a new population of humans. The new population split into three types Taur, Vampire, and Magicians.
Eric Carson is a Speaker, quite accomplished and quite old now. At seventy-plus years old he travels less but he has more stories than all the other Speakers. He lives in the Northeast Territory which contains the former States of New York, New Jersey, and West to Wisconsin.
Speaking at the Fox theater in downtown Detroit, Eric removes a heavy coat and adjusts a stool. He begins his story with a smile.
“So happy to be in this grand theater. Certainly, a privilege to be invited to tell my story here. You recall the Creature Revolution started with a pigeon, brought back to life, then an explosion of creatures that overwhelmed the world order. This change caused fifty years of anarchy, authoritarianism, and finally peace.
Human ethics has always ebbed and flowed. We do what we want but unpredictable tragedy turns up the dial. We are not all 100% human anymore. Human on the inside, Taur on the outside, or vampire. Some of us are magic and that’s always unpredictable. Wars and battles drag on for years in an attempt to establish a dominant species. Can we all agree we are now in a good place? Mostly? I was an alcoholic. I was angry. Drinking was an excuse to be angry.
At the time I lived under bridges. I had no money so I stole to survive and drink. Every time I went out I risked exposure and local enforcement. I sat in a drunken stupor, one night. Nothing like a baseball bat in the gut to sober a man up. After the guards bloodied me up, to sober me up, they claimed.
There was no drunk tank back then. All the “undesirables” were sent to the zoo. I’m sure you all have heard of zoos. Large walled cities they dumped the undead, criminals, and drunks into.
They caught me under a bridge a few miles West of Central Containment Facility. West was home but I had lost my wife and daughter so barely a home. I was captured, shackled, and transported to the Central Containment Facility, or zoo as I like to call it. Men dressed in black pulled me from the car and chained me to a wall outside the zoo. I stood with a large diverse group of humans, no other creatures. A machine gun would go off every few minutes. Scared the crap out of me. Drunken ears were always so jumpy. Regarding the zoo, we all knew what was inside. We knew the guards didn’t have to care what happened to us. Escape would only prompt cruel beatings outside the wall. Inside the wall, the Resurrected would dispatch us in painful, brutal ways. The once human monsters were once thought a moment of scientific miracles. Death is avoided and a new life is given, they said. The Resurrected were nothing but unbridled rage.
The guards were happy to count down the time as we prisoners waited. Anxiety drowning us. All those years ago, the kindest words… “the automatic guns gave us 500 feet before they would overwhelm us.”
Those zoo walls towered over us. The guards unchained us and pushed us through the opening gate. I was near the center of the group as we approached. A pair of infected slipped out from the gates. They attacked the first prisoner, tearing clothes and violently pulling his head to the side. A second prisoner turned and ran. He was quickly captured by the guards. The gate was closed. Multiple additional guards rushed forward. They stabbed the Resurrected multiple times, which did little to stop them. The super strong Resurrected threw several guards. Gun fire erupted and the Resurrected fell to the ground but were not still. They shook and struggled where they fell. They wanted to move but physically were unable. Around the mound of disabled Resurrected was blood and bodies. Three guards lie motionless, their bodies broken. Two additional prisoners were dead. The distraction prompted a few prisoners to flee but they were captured, beaten, and pushed to the front. The guards opened the gate a second time and pushed us through.
The machine guns above the wall fired a final time. Several hundred feet away some Resurrected collapsed to the ground. The noise prompted the attention of a group from the right. They moved forward en masse toward us. The guards, the wonderful human beings they were, began to fire in front of the group. Attempting to lead them to the prisoners faster.
The mob of Resurrected approached. The guards increased their taunting. Tried what they could to move the inevitable faster. The nearest infected begin to growl as the scent of life came closer. They listened to slight movements. Shuffling feet, panicked breathing, screams. A funny thing about the group of men and women I was imprisoned with, the men were the screamers. The scream erupted suddenly. It scared the crap out of me. It split the group immediately. Half the group ran in all directions. The other half froze or tried to get back through the gate. That gate wasn’t going to move. The runners sprinted through a tall field of grass toward a paved road nearby. The Resurrected stood in small groups, within the grass. They were motionless, sleeping. waiting to tear us to pieces. Several runners sprinted past and into the grass ahead. I’ve never been athletic. My running lasted maybe 50-100 feet. After, I tried to just avoid the groups of Resurrected. I found a path beaten into the grass when two runners collapsed beside me. They stumbled and disappeared into the tall grasses. After the fall, I stopped and listened. I wish I hadn’t because the sound was horrific.
“There was something in the grass. I can hear it grunting.” I remember saying. I also pointed this out to one of the Baker brothers behind me but we were all kinda paralyzed. The thought of death waiting to take you without you seeing it. There were monsters waiting for us in the grass and they could be anywhere. We couldn’t just run through the field now… but there was this path.
“Follow the path,” said a voice from behind. “The Resurrected are easier to see within the path. You want to go that way and do it now.
The man had been through some horrific things. The left side was covered in scars and the right a mask. “We call them Crawlers,” he added as he pushed us gently to the path. “They have broken or missing legs. They crawl through the grasses. They are very slow.” “Pale, sickly things. You don’t want to run into them or see them.”
I lead the group. The brothers behind me then the masked man. Behind him was a gaggle of others following farther away. I approached the location when a young man sprinted past me and through the grass. Behind him was a Resurrected, thin but strong human monster, running after. Gawd, I didn’t even know they could run. The only advantage we runners had was that the Resurrected were blind. Cancerous tumors blocked their sight. The masked man turned and swept the monster off his feet. The creature hit the ground hard and tumbled into a Crawler. I saw its pale limbs and stretched unnatural jaw. To my absolute shock, it was a disabled vampire.
I turned back to the runner but he had disappeared. The masked man urged us to move forward. The mob of remaining prisoners fell in behind the four of us. We approached a curved glass building, atop the glass was a sculpted wooden red slab. A second slab covered a large neglected parking lot. Beneath the second slab was a city bus. The bus lay, its tires deflated, across the bus carport. The masked man pointed us toward the bus, specifically the closed folded door.
To the right, two large centaurs milled within the lot. Their human forms leaned forward, barely able to stay atop their equine host. Behind us was the Resurrected. The barely-human monsters targeted the stragglers in the human mob. The attacks sent the mob into a panic and they pushed forward and past us.
The masked man pointed toward the bus. I noticed this was a school bus. Its rear tires had been shredded and it sat against the front door of the bus station. The entrance to the bus was closed.
Knowing the noise from the mob would attract everything in the area I ran as fast as I could to that door. I slapped the center of the folding bus door, hoping it would open but it did not. I continued to bang on the door as the others in the group searched for a different entrance. I looked to the masked man for guidance but he had suddenly become as panicked as the rest of us. He fumbled through his pocket till he pulled out a radio.
“Tweety, open the door, now!” He shouted into the radio. “Ai, Scotty… I’m on my way,” was the eventual reply.
Infected approach from the rear and the human forms on the Resurrected Taur woke. The large human-horse creatures pawed at the grass-covered concrete. Both centaurs bolted toward a runner, that has passed in a panic. They gained on the poor woman as she screamed. I watched as the monsters plowed into the woman and she stumbled into a building wall. I remember being unable to move. Unable to help the woman at all and really wanting a drink. “Remember, they can’t see us,” the masked guide named Scotty said to me. “If you are quiet, you should survive if they surround us.”
I turned to repeat this to the brothers, they had stuck very close, but they had disappeared. I looked back toward the woman and I see them trying to figure out how to fight the centaur to save the woman. The two men had thick beards and a suicidal attitude, my opinion- of course. I looked back at Scotty and he signaled I hit the door again so I did, only harder. The door stayed shut. I heard him curse under his breath.
“Tweety, get this damn door open,” he shouted only to regret it when several Resurrected rushed us and shoved us into large piles of trash surrounding the bus.
That masked man bounced to his feet like a rubber band. He ducked and swerved, finally planting a foot-long blade into the Resurrected’s head.
I was not so lucky to know a damn thing, let alone karate. I wrestled with the brute. Trying to deflect blows and possibly forcing the thing to hurt itself. It grabbed my throat and squeezed. I felt my breath disappear. I gasp for what was no longer there. Any plans I had were gone. I fought with the energy I rarely had but with the lack of strength, I had always had.
My arms went numb and I stopped fighting. I stared up at my attacker. It was a young fifteen-year-old female child gifted with upgraded strength, upgraded anger, and pale, lifeless eyes.
I watched as the young child, so focused on my fall and collapsed after Scotty stabbed his large knife through her head. Painful memories of my own daughter lost years prior, reappeared. The resignation… the darkness returned with a gasp of air.
Scotty pulled me to my feet. My head spun and I stumbled into the open bus door. I recovered and looked to move forward.
I heard them before I saw them. The swearing and the gruff cackling as the Baker brothers approached and stepped inside the bus.
That was until we saw a little girl standing in the chaos. She stood pipe straight and silent as Resurrected passed by to attack panicking adults.
“I understand why we are here,” Sean Baker said to me. “Why is she her?”
The only thing I could think of at the time was the girl refused to leave her family.
“She must have lost her family,” I said and began to push past the two large men.
“You are in no condition to fight these Resurrected,” Sean shot back and he was right. I had not fought anyone but myself in several years. I demonstrated my skill just a few minutes prior.
“…but this girl can’t die.” I protested. “We have to save her.”
“Listen, man” Sean replied. “You ain’t saving anyone. Leave the saving to the Baker boys and Phantom of the Opera masked man out there.
The Baker brothers, Sean followed by Andrew stepped from the bus, past Scotty, and into the mess of panic and monsters.
They dodged and weaved through the crowd of Resurrected, careful to avoid many of the survivors who were increasingly unpredictable. Without their sight, the Resurrected relied on their hearing but with the mass of bodies and screams, I imagine it was hard for them to pinpoint anyone individually. They would attack en mass any loud noise, which prompted an idea. The rear of the bus was shoved inside the bus station and served as a door into the shelter. I ran from the door through the back of the bus and into the station.
I ran to the far end of the station nearest the mob. There was a glass door, locked. I jerked the door closed in an attempt to make a noise. That only worked to catch the attention of the nearest Resurrected. It didn’t clear any from the survivors. I banged upon the glass of the station all along the side. I managed to distract a half dozen. I went back to the door. Three angry men slapped the door with their malnourished hands. They attempted to pull the door open but it was chained thoroughly. I screamed profanities as loudly as I could to try to draw more and it was moderately successful but I wasn’t thrilled with my attempts at heroism. I pulled a couple more but I watched as several more survivors fell and the young girl had disappeared from the silent island she had successfully created within the center of the mob.
Andrew and Sean Baker continued to navigate through the crowd, attempting to find this young woman. They pointed to the remaining survivors that would listen to the bus door.
I continued my mostly fruitless distraction to pull away 50-some angry, vengeful Resurrected and I continued to pull only the closest.
A door opened behind me and a quartet of guards, dressed in the same armor as the ones outside the fence, rushed from the door. Within the hands of the lead, the guard was a crude cassette and radio. This radio played a symphony of screams as loud as I had ever heard. The guards rushed past me and shoved the radio into the crack in the doorway. The noise drew a least the crowd of Resurrected to the glass walls of the bus station. I admit in the end it wasn’t the greatest idea after they began to shake the entire building.
I ran back to the bus, climbed inside, and to the bus door. Scotty, his mask gone and his face monstrously scarred stood at the door. A pair of women and a man sit on the seats of the bus. I recommended, with some choice words, that they move from the bus to the station and they obliged. I stepped out of the bus door to see the brothers, bleeding and bruised walking toward me with the young lady. Behind them the remaining two survivors. Five survivors and I stepped onto the bus and the driver closed the sliding door.
“No! I said don’t do that. What the hell!” Tommy stepped toward the woman as she attempted to sprint between two pair of outstretched arms. The eager arms trying to find lunch, which was the source of the screaming. Tommy winched as the zombie on the left grasp her ponytail. The woman’s face, joyful she had made it past them, would soon change to horror if Tommy couldn’t help her but he had his own problems. The woman’s screams had attracted a mob of zombies but worse, other prisoners had made the zombies ravenous.
The zombie we’re blind, their eyes covered in a cancerous white film but they felt everything. Tommy had developed a particular set of skills, allowing him to avoid the sun bleached, hungry grasped but he also avoided stupid moves like running between two zombies expected a miracle. “Miracles didn’t exist”, Tommy thought as he watched the woman fall backward landing on her ass first, then her back. “Miracles were part of that Christian revolution that disappeared once the world changed.” He continued the thought as he crouched low and walked forward, careful to avoid any noise.
“Some of the Coyotes take a stabbing approach…,” he silently explained to himself, running through a speech he planned to give at the Rail Station downtown later in the day. “… but I prefer the silent, stalking, carefully planned approach. Avoiding conflict, wasted energy and potential surprises. It’s a far smarter approach.” His thought concluded. He grabbed the woman by the ankles and pulled. The zombie holding her hair grasp tighter as he as his partner began to bend down. “Her screaming doesn’t help.” Tommy said to himself as hope of rescuing this group of prisoners disappeared along with the credits he would receive from the families.
“Five thousand credits per, multiplied by ten, now three… possibly two if I can’t rescue this dumb screaming woman. Hold it together Tommy. You can only do so much.”
Tommy lifted the woman by both ankles and violently pulled her toward him. She slammed her head on the concrete beneath her but the zombie holding her hair lost his hold. Tommy pulled again, careful to be as stealthy as he could. Other zombie stood waiting, listening groping for a clue. The woman lie under him. “Shut up!” He said looking into her terrified eyes. The look, familiar always haunting. “Your going to kill us both. Stop screaming.”
The woman stopped screaming, for the moment, and Tommy helped her to her feet. “We are 200 yards from Station 1,” Tommy said. “You can do this.” He encouraged her as he pulled a large gauze pad from his bag to stop the bleeding beneath her blond ponytail. He held it to her head for several moment as the two zombie approached from behind. The two other survivors, that had listened, stood like statues. Every bone and muscle in their body shook but they stood silently waiting. “Let’s go, quietly,” Tommy instructed. The four, two woman and two men walked slowly toward Station 1, a run-down restaurant with a large plate glass window in the front
Tommy placed the screaming woman’s hand on the gauze bandage and encouraged her to move forward quietly. She seemed to want to comply this time.
The two zombie behind them, encouraged by the interaction with the woman, approached. Their hunger insatiable. Tommy, was aware and searched for anything to lay in the pairs path. A shopping cart, covered in weeds, would work. Tommy suggested the group continue forward carefully and quietly as he veered off the the left to get the shopping cart. He freed the cart, in moments. Picked up the cart so it would not make noise and turned. All three survivors had began running toward the restaurant. Tommy cursed like he had never before. “The ignorance of these people,” he thought as he watched one of the men fall and get brutally beaten up, then eaten. The women ran erratically around the zombies that approached. Skillfully, avoiding the hungry lunges of the predators. “The zombie, though would overwhelm them,” Tommy thought. He knew it would happen, because it always did.
The numbers around the women grew till the commotion had drawn all the zombie from around where Tommy stood. He stood alone, behind a shopping cart, watching the entire scene. The tragedy of the inability to listen and check the fear for sake of survival. Tommy was void of fear anymore, reborn to this brutal new world of terror. He walked pass the growing mob of zombie and headed toward the back of Station 1. He approached the back door, withdrew a key and unlocked the door. He opened the door and disappeared.
Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive 