The air shifted, and a light breeze pressed itself up against Will's body. It felt cool and comforting, and he half closed his eyes, letting the wind wash over him. It had been hot and muggy all day, Will considered this one of his few escapes. He heaved his bag out of the back of his truck and slung it over his shoulder.
Will shot a glance at his watch as he crossed several patches of wet mud. The thick, juicy material glued itself to his shoes and he scoffed. These were only a few months old. At least it was early, Will resolved. Only seven o'clock. His parents should still be awake. He'd been trying for years to convince his parents to move out of the bayou. His arguments weren't having too much of an effect. Unfortunately, as his dad liked to put it, "The Spencers don't pack up every time things get uncomfortable. They stick to their guns." Will thought about the mud sticking to his beautiful shoes. Ignorance definitely is not bliss.
The Spencer family home was a bungalow more than anything. It sat on five foot high stilts in the middle of a great clearing to the North East of New Orleans. It looked like the last time the house was painted was somewhere around the time Will was born. He stomped his feet as he walked up the five steps to the entrance, shaking loose what dirt and mud that he could. Despite the fact that he probably destroyed a relatively new pair of shoes, Will couldn't help but to smile.
He was home.
Will adjusted the worn gray sack to more loosely fit across his back and ran his fingers through his hair. It was the first time he'd see his father in six months. Will inhaled deeply, broke out into a grin again, then pressed the doorbell. The deep green leaves on the trees encircling his parents property danced as the wind cut through yet again. He could almost taste the ribs that he'd most definitely be eating for dinner tonight. Will pressed the tiny white dot that was their doorbell again. He heard it chime inside, where were his parents? Will braced the sack on his back with one hand and pulled open the screen door with the other. The front door was slightly ajar.
The door shouldn't be open.
Something was wrong.
Will's large palm pressed the door open. Nothing but silence and shadows echoed off the walls inside. He should've been hearing a voice, footsteps, a television, something.
Nothing.
Not a sound could be heard. A rank smell, something along the lines of vomit and dead rodent filled his nose. "Hello?" Will called out. He craned his neck back out the door. The car was still there. Will's heartbeat accelerated. He dropped his nap sack down and trudged in.
As Will made his way across the slim hallway a leg came into view. It was on the floor and twitching. Will quickened his pace only to find his father.
Will's father's chest was completely bored out. The whole was marred in blood and loose entrails that were hanging over. He laid twitching, his eyes still wide. His mouth hung open. Will's heart sank and he felt fluid rush up through his throat. He puked it out onto the linoleum floor without even realizing it. Will managed to tear his gaze away just long enough to suppress a second heaving. He walk over to his father's side. Will knelt down and scanned his father's remains. The word dad escaped his lips again and again.
After a few moments, Will noticed that someone was watching him. He felt a pair of eyes pressing up against his skin, encroaching on his personal space. Will stood and wiped the wet streaks from his cheeks. No one was in the hallway. Or out the window.
Will carefully stalked his way out into the living room.
There he was.
A man standing half naked, his eyes like hubcaps. His mouth hung open awkwardly. He looked drugged. Something wasn't right about him though, something more than whether or not he was on drugs. It was hard to see in the dark, but patches of his skin looked green. It looked almost like he had carved symbols in.
The man's head cocked unnaturally to the side. He groaned, and his eyes narrowed. He took a step forward. His arms lifted and extended towards Will.
"What the hell?" Will muttered to himself. He backpeddled and turned to the kitchen.
Will rushed through the rustic old kitchen and over his father's corpse and back into the hallway. He was so busy looking behind him that when his neck finally uncoiled he was caught completely off guard and froze.
The door was gone. It was replaced by a section of wall looking similar to the rest of the hallway. Will almost collapsed. None of this made any sense! He turned for the kitchen again.
But the man was there.
Light from the kitchen windows poured in, reflecting off his black dress slacks. Will turned again and started to kick at the wall where the door had been. He could feel the man closing in behind him. The wall bent in slightly, refusing to break under the pressure.
Will felt a twang in his knee after another solid kick and he practically fell. He spun around. The man was only a yard away now. He stumbled forward like a zombie. The green symbols etched across his arms and part of his chest shifted.
Will cried out in horror. That's when the wall beside him shattered. Fragments of dry wall and wiring blew out accompanied by smoke, assaulting the young man's senses. Will threw his arm up to shield his face.
Another man stepped through. This one was older, and he was wearing a perfectly formed suit and black sunglasses. His head turned almost mechanically and he stared at the strange half naked guy.
"Nice to see you again, Agent Mills."
The half naked man cocked his head unnaturally far again and froze. His arms dropped and his hands balled into fists. Will's breaths escaped in long and short bursts, his head darting left and right. Behind the well dressed man a trail of green symbols fell like a waterfall. They canvassed the empty space of torn wall, each new symbol leaving a trail behind it. Before long the wall was replaced, and the symbols melted into it. Will's eyes shifted back to the well dressed man, then the half dressed man again, all the while his hand patting against the space behind him.
He felt the cool brass doorknob.
Will ripped the door open and stumbled out. He launched into a sprint, but the twang in his knee pulled at it, and he almost tripped. Will awkwardly made his way down the steps and this time held no regard for the mud below him. Inside he could hear movement. Fighting. Things crashing. Will hobbled across the yard over to his pickup.
His eyes scanned the yard as he went. That was odd, there were no other signs of vehicles. No tire tracks. No large hunks of metal. He turned back towards the house again. Where did these people come from? How the hell did they get out into the middle of no where? It didn't matter. Will's truck was fire truck red and had a large sign that read MORPHEUS PLUMBING on the side. It would stick out in traffic like a thorn. He was going to have to get the hell away from here before either of those freaks would notice him.
Will popped open the door and slid into the truck. He slipped his keys out of his pocket and spun them into the ignition.
That's when the well dressed man appeared at the door. His glasses were still on, and he looked disheveled, but other than that he still looked… mechanical. Will threw the truck into reverse and slammed his foot on the gas. The tires flailed their way through the mud, throwing it in every which direction.
The truck would not move though.
Will took his foot off the peddle and tried again. Still nothing. The man was walking towards the truck now. Will tapped his foot repeatedly, lightly against the pedal. He could hear the engine of his S10 growling with might. "Come on" Will grunted through his jaw.
The man was now 20 steps away. He pulled out a black gun from underneath his suit jacket. Will's heart practically jumped out of his throat. The man raised the gun, aiming it right into Will's eyes. He kept tapping, almost rhythmically now. "COME ON" Will cried out. 15 steps away.
13 steps now.
Will threw the vehicle into drive and slammed on the pedal. The tires spun wildly again but this time they grabbed hold of the ground and pushed the car forward. Will angled the wheel so that the car headed right for the well dressed man. Shots rang out, ear piercing ones. Will naturally winced and ducked his head as the bullets pierced the windshield. He almost thought he could hear them whiz past.
SLAM! The bumper of the car collided with the legs of the well dressed man. His torso was propelled forward and it slammed up against the hood. His arms flew out, but he kept his grip on the gun. Will jammed on the brakes, and the red pickup truck skidded across the mud. Inertia pushed the man off the hood and into the mud several feet away.
Will grabbed the transmission and threw it into reverse again. This time the vehicle obeyed and he backed up. He fumbled with the wheel, turning himself around, and started down the only road that led away from his parents house.
More shots ran out, and Will instinctively ducked again. He turned and looked back. The well dressed man was standing and aiming again.
He looked completely fine, as if the car crash didn't even phase him.
Will blinked repeatedly. He ran his stubby fingers across his eyes. This didn't make any sense at all.