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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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.
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.”
“So what’s your plan?” Erik asked Rebecca, as they sat waiting for the mob of thrall to surround them.
“First step is to not die.” Rebecca said.
“Honestly… and I always try to be honest,” Erik promised. “I’m good with dying. I’ve lived long enough. You wanna stab me and run, do it.”
“Liar!” Rebecca shouted. It was a whisper but emotional, triggered by memories.
“If you wanted to die so much then you wouldn’t have saved me.”
Erik had a problem with her statement, a huge problem. He had set himself on a path to suicide years ago, after they died.
“You can’t say their names?”
“Shut up,” Erik snapped.
“What?” Rebecca growled.
Erik presses his lips together, biting down upon his remaining teeth till they hurt then says, “never mind my crazy. I have an aggressive self conscious.”
“You hear voices?”
“Yes, my own voice.” He then changes the subject. “There is a mob of thrall, probably Collectors, out there. There are three coming toward us, alerted. I didn’t think this through. I don’t know where to go.” He admitted.
A smile grew upon Rebecca’s dirt streaked face. Unkept brown hair clung in strands, matted to her face due to neglect. Her smile ignited a past warmth within green and amber flecked eyes.
It then disappeared, lost for the time being.
“Station 5”, she said and pointed through the sea of swaying monsters. “A quarter of a mile in that direction is a Network station. A safe place for us.”
“I see,” Erik said impressed. “We just need to get there then?
“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.
Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive 