8:00 a.m. and the sound of my alarm rings impatiently as he staggers out of bed. It's a Monday, and he has to be at work in an hour. May not seem early to others, but for someone like Carl, it's early if the clock still reads "a.m."
After taking a shower he stops to comb his hair and feels a stillness in the air. Carl's parents have always left for work before him, but today it seems as though the house has been vacant for years.
The weather outside appears cold while looking out through his bedroom window. Such that he puts on his black leather jacket over his navy blue scrub top while heading out the door.
Thin purple clouds stretch across the sky like fingers as he approaches his blue Hyundai. Their arrival brings about a sense of gloom to the already brooding day. Carl soon notices that his parents' cars are parked at the house. He stops to wonder if they're still at home, but quickly realize that it's now twenty till nine and he's already running late.
While hauling ass to work he thanks God that traffic is good to him today, as there are no cars to be found up ahead. Granted, the back roads to his job are through a few vineyards, which have always proven peaceful with little traffic. But today, the drive seems desolate.
While breaking the sound barrier at about ten miles over the speed limit, he suddenly comes to the only stop sign on the two-way road. His abrupt stop causes his body to slightly pull forward. Its subtle jolt forces Carl to catch his breath as he lights his first cigarette of the day.
Before driving off, he takes notice to a white broken-down truck off to the right side of his lane. Smoke steadily steams from underneath its cracked hood as his gaze becomes drawn towards movement. From the bed of the truck, an elderly man slowly climbs out and approaches. His right foot drags across the dirt while pacing towards Carl, the blank expression on his face making it unclear who he's addressing.
It is now five till nine, and Carl have no time to help this poor bastard, so he makes haste and speeds past him. The old man quickly grows smaller and smaller in the distance. His body sways and fades through the rearview mirror as Carl drives away.
While still feeling lucky that traffic was good to him today, Carl pulls into his regular parking spot and finally arrives at work. "Animal Care Clinic" is lit up in big blue letters that reflect off his mirrors. The sign's very image causes him to cringe, yet he finds comfort in seeing that its doors remain locked.
9:06 a.m. and Carl's relieved to see that he's the first person to show up to work, an unusual development given the current circumstances. As he steps out of his car, he takes a deep breath and quickly makes his way inside, thinking of how well the day has gone so far.
The air feels stagnant within the clinic. Like it did in his house earlier today, a feeling of desertion now surrounds Carl. Its aura comes at him in waves and feels more sterile than usual; a sensation he's grown used to, yet suddenly find unsettling. While making his rounds, Carl turns on the lights and proceeds towards the treatment area. Its section resides past a small lobby and adjacent exam rooms.
He keeps himself busy as he now prepares for the day, bringing in the lab box, clearing out the rooms, booting up the computers, and running calibrations on the in-house lab equipment. All while staying efficient to things that should have already been done. A routine he's grown accustomed to as he finally open the door towards treatment.
A sudden smash of metal is heard as Presley, an eleven-year-old Australian shepherd with pancreatitis, growls and barks at Carl through his cage. Startled, he staggers back and takes a hard look at the dog, shocked by its recent aggressive behavior.
He came from a good family, loving and caring. They always brought him in for routine vaccines and checkups, along with the occasional ear infection. He was a very friendly dog… almost too friendly, who loved to play and was a pain in the ass to hold still while drawing blood.
As he continues to snarl, Carl realizes that taking him out for a walk is out of the question. His limits, however few, have never subjected him to stupidity. After finally remembering to clock into work, Carl slowly begins to pull Presley's IV line through his cage.
All while trying not to get bitten.
9:20 a.m. and no one has yet to arrive at work, oddly enough the phones haven't rung either.
As Carl begins to draw up some Cimetidine to administer through Presley's IV, he stops to glance at Snowball, a white, six-month-old cat that was spayed and declawed two days ago. While growling and hissing, she stands in the corner of her cage, her eyes cautiously fixed to his every move.
Ten minutes now pass and Carl's still alone at the clinic. He can't help but question if he has the day off, as he heads towards the lobby and passes the doctor's office. Dr. Creswal Kibbs is the boss and the owner of the practice. He's always late, yet his absence is also unsettling.
Before Carl can even reach for the door, Presley begins to freak out again while trembling and foaming at the mouth. At first, Carl assumes that he is having another one of his seizures, yet at the same time the damn dog is staring him down while frantically trying to escape.
This isn't normal. Even though he seems to be convulsing, Carl can tell by Presley's eyes that he retains focus and will attack at the first chance he gets.
Now worried Carl rushes to a nearby phone and give Dr. Kibbs a call, but there's no answer.
Three minutes pass and he repeatedly tries to reach Dr. Kibbs while keeping a close eye on Presley, but there's still no answer. The ruckus the dog makes has become an extreme annoyance and now puts the cat on edge. In the middle of Presley's cries and Snowball's growls, Carl suddenly stops to hear the subtle ringing of Dr. Kibbs's cell phone within his office.
Relieved that he's not alone, Carl shouts for the doctor. His anticipation, although built, does not mask his nerves from the sight of the doctor's door left slightly open.
Vomit rushes and fills the top of Carl's throat at what lies before him. Unable to swallow it all down, he regurgitates its lingering remains onto the floor. Panic hits him in more ways than one as he stands in horror at the sight of Dr. Kibbs's dead body, his cell phone alerting him of missed calls on the floor. The doctor's corpse lies slouched upon his chair, and by the looks and smell of him, it seems as though he has been dead for a while.
Carl closes his eyes and opens them in hopes that he's dreaming, yet the doctor is still there. Each time revealing the man he once knew in his expired and decrepit state. Yet there are no wounds present, a mysterious cause of death as Dr. Kibbs merely lies there, as if sleeping. He now can't help but question what might have happened here, of what might have gone wrong.
Ten minutes pass and there is still no sign of any other staff members. Carl begins to wonder if they are responsible for the doctor's demise. While still shaking at the sight of the body, he frantically picks up the phone and calls 911 again, but the line keeps ringing.
His mind can't comprehend the dilemma he's in, but he have to do something. Death is one thing that Carl has grown accustomed to during his years of working with Dr. Kibbs. He's seen many creatures die expectedly and unexpectedly, willing and unwillingly, yet this is different.
He wasn't properly trained for this.
Carl grows frustrated and angry after repeated attempts to call 911. Their lack of cooperation prepares him to transport the body himself.
Then he sees it.
Presley now stands calmly in his cage, no longer barking or trying to escape, but waiting patiently. Thick strings of blood drip down from his mouth and form a puddle near his paws, congealing with the strands of hair and shards of teeth from his recent struggle. A mixture of blood, urine, and diarrhea now cover the poor dog and his cage. Carl takes notice to his blood-shot eyes and soon realizes that he is no longer paying attention to him, but to something behind him.
With a reluctantly and sense of dread Carl turns and comes face-to-face with Dr. Kibbs, suddenly becoming paralyzed. The brief ten seconds that pass seems to last minutes as he now stands upright and stares directly at Carl. His eyes are blood-shot as well and replace all trace of color. A rotten smell of dead flesh and blood creeps from his mouth and begins to make Carl's eyes water.
All the terror he now feels becomes unimaginable as Dr. Kibbs suddenly reaches out for him. Such force he uses to grab a hold of Carl that it causes him to fall back on the floor. Frantically he slips his way backwards, inch by inch upon the slick tile floor while pulling himself up.
Dr. Kibbs follows Carl closely with each sluggish step, real clumsy like, as though he's been drinking. His white lab coat is smeared with blood and hair, and slowly sways with each step he takes. His now gray complexion develops blotches of brown around the rotting portions of his face. Although he has no obvious wounds that can be seen, he seems to be decaying from the inside.
While desperately backing away, Carl tries to reason with the doctor but his cries go ignored. Unaware of what's overcome Dr. Kibbs, he now fears for his own safety. As Carl backs away, a sudden crash of metal is heard as Presley breaks out of his cage. Now frightened, he stands in horror as both the dog and Dr. Kibbs rush towards him.
Carl's body reacts as he quickly turns; shutting the door that now separates them from the front office. He desperately braces himself up against it as Dr. Kibbs tries to breakthrough, forced to endure the sound of Presley's nails scratching at the door. He presses hard up against the wooden barrier, feeling every bang that the doctor makes with his fists upon the door.
A minute goes by and the shaking eventually stops, yet the sound of Dr. Kibbs's breathing is still heard.
Then he hears it, the screams.
The doctor's cries are so frightening and piercing that it causes him let up on the door.
Carl is now forced to make his move, running as fast as he can out of the clinic and towards his car. While out of breath, he locks himself inside and starts up the engine. The low rumble and tremors of the four cylinder engine are minimal compared to how bad his body shakes. Its influence helps clear his mind of his remaining paralysis.
Within moments Carl rests his head on the top of the steering wheel, but become startled yet again by the sight of Presley.
The rabid dog is relentless and continuously rams his face into the window to the left. Blood splatters upon impact and grows larger with each ferocious attempt, eventually cracking the glass while letting blood seep through.
Carl quickly puts the car in reverse and back up over Presley's leg, detached by fear as he instantly hits the vehicle behind him. For a moment he stops to look back at the black SUV he ran into, dreading the repercussions of a hit and run, yet unwilling to linger any longer.
Without warning Presley jumps onto the hood of the car. His right front leg slowly tears from his shoulder as he now attempts to break through the windshield. The amount of blood before Carl is immense; obscuring his vision as the glass slowly begins to give way. Without delay he drives from the parking lot before anymore damage is done, forcing the dog off the hood of the car as he speeds past him.
As Carl leaves the clinic behind, he pulls up to a stop light and uses his windshield wipers to wash the blood away. While still obeying the rules of the road, he waits for the light to turn green. His conscience for whatever reason gets the best of him, as he looks through his rearview mirror and spots Presley yet again.
The son of a bitch runs towards Carl and seems unfazed, his sprint at full speed with now only three legs. Ticket or not there is no fucking way he's sitting through this light. His actions speak louder than words, guided by fear as he makes haste and drives back home.
10:04 a.m. and while driving back home and pushing speeds beyond legal limits, Carl thinks of his encounter with Presley. He begins to wonder what exactly happened to the dog, and why he became so ravenous. Let alone be able to run after just losing a limb.
He didn't mean to run over Presley's leg and feels bad about it. But then again, he had to come to work on his day off to take care of that little bastard so fuck him. However he can't believe that Dr. Kibbs tried to attack him. His eyes glared with intent to kill and his movements were without hesitation.
Carl can't imagine what he would have done if the doctor had got a hold of him. He starts to question if Dr. Kibbs was really sick or on drugs, for he sure as hell wasn't dead. His aroma and appearance told Carl different though. His skin, although unscathed, smelled and resembled that of decay.
Carl doesn't know what's going on or let alone where everyone's at, but one thing is for sure and that's to make sure that his parents are alright.
While still trembling, Carl pulls a cigarette from his almost empty pack and fumbles to light it. After some effort, he finally exhales the recent rush of panic that overwhelms him. He slowly begins to calm down, relaxing at the same pace that the smoke exits his lungs. Steady as he may seem, Carl's heart continues to race as he pulls up to the only stop sign on the road yet again.
Carl looks to his left and recognize the broken down truck off to the side of the road. While leaving the car running, he puts it in park and takes a moment to look around. There is no sign of the old man he saw earlier. His surroundings remain calm and quiet, as he gets out and walk towards the truck.
The sky is still overcast and lets off a cool breeze which sends a shiver up Carl's spine. As cold as it is, it is nothing compared to the chill he feels inside. The ongoing fear of the madness he's just endured.
Carl slowly take ten paces towards the white truck and it suddenly hits him. The old man, his demeanor and posture was all fucked up like Dr. Kibbs. Carl instantly feels sick to his stomach as he turns to face his car, the cigarette in-between his lips now trembling with fear. All the signs he overlooked could not prepare him for this. The reality of it all is unreal, as he comes to find the old man sitting in the passenger's seat of his car.
With the door wide open the old man now waits patiently within, his eyes dripping and stained with tears of blood. Carl tries gesturing to him from where he stands but receive nothing in response. His silence, although unnerving, becomes suddenly broken as he starts to twitch. Soon the old man's head begins to shake from side to side, so rapidly that his face is no longer visible. Only the thick strings of blood escaping from his eyes and nose are seen as they spread throughout the car.
A shock of panic immobilizes Carl as it did with Dr. Kibbs. Its sensation keeps him planted as if anchored to the ground. He can't help but stare as the old man convulses and abruptly stops. Carl can feel his gaze upon me, his eyes although dark and distant, still manage to strike fear into his very soul. After close to a minute passes, Carl finally get a grip of himself and realizes that he needs to lure him out.
Without a clue in the world as to what to do next, Carl slowly steps towards the car. His entire body now shivers with fear, which he unwillingly make apparent with each drastic step. The old man's eyes follow Carl's every move as his chest rises with each labored breath. Its frequency increases with his approach at about one hundred breaths per minute.
A deathly grin stretches across his blood streaked face as Carl now draws near. While clearing his throat, Carl tries to wave at him through the driver's side window, but the son of a bitch won't move.
The stench of rotting flesh hits Carl again after getting dangerously close. Its smell is familiar and that of a dead dog left baking out in the hot sun. He's forced to step away as he keeps his eyes fixed on the old man, who's gaze remains ever vigilant and without blinking.
While backing away, Carl nearly trips over a rock the size of a tennis ball. Thinking that he now might be able to draw him out, he picks it up and grips it firmly in his right hand. In a desperate attempt Carl tries to stop himself from trembling with fear. His uncertainty takes hold as he takes a deep breath, wind up, and throws.
The stone quickly connects with the old man and manages to pass through the window, ultimately hitting him in the shoulder. In response he becomes agitated and immediately tries to come at me through the driver's side window.
Then he hears the screams.
They plague Carl like nails on a chalkboard while spewing from the old man.
He watches in terror as the old man frantically worms his way out of the car, forcing himself to collapse onto the road. Carl paralysis fades as he runs to the right side of the broken down truck in an attempt to outfox the old man. Although the old man manages to pull himself up rather quickly, he begins to walk slowly away from Carl's car.
His momentum now builds as he rapidly drags himself towards Carl. With only the truck standing between them, Carl tries to keep a safe distance while making his way around towards his car. The old man growls and screams while staring directly at Carl, all the while he abruptly slams his fist upon the bed of the truck.
Carl now ends up playing pickle with the old man, bobbing from side to side while attempting to throw him off. Eventually his strategy fails as the old man ends up flanking him.
He has no choice but to make a run for it as the old man tries to cut him off. His outreached arms graze the back of Carl's leather jacket as he remains too frightened to scream. Carl approaches his car only to be suddenly caught within the old man's grasp. He panics, and in his state of fright he twists and forces himself loose.
Once inside Carl instantly feels the old man's hand grip around his neck. A stretch of cold and slimy fingers press against his skin, guiding Carl's instincts as he reaches for the car's transmission. The rotting smell of the old man's breath is similar to that of Dr. Kibbs. Its aroma intensifies as he opens his mouth and leans in close. While struggling, Carl pulls away and takes off in his car, relieving the tension he feels as the old man is forced to let go.
He continues to chase after Carl as he drives. His speed is something to be admired, as he now becomes slowly lost in the distance.