Pitch Black
Road, an endless stretch of black, always
moving, always going somewhere. It's body dark, flat, never changing shape,
remaining one in itself. It's tar surface holding up against the force of the two-ton
semi truck, not even giving into the incredible weight that bared down on it.
John keppier watched the endless road that laid in front of him. Barren. No
cars, no trucks, nothing on this once busy interstate. He looked around,
scanning the dark horizon for a sign of life. He sighed and fell back, shifting
in the stiff seat, his back aching from the mindless hours of driving. John
leaned over, his large hand wrapping around the small Styrofoam cup of coffee.
He threw back the dark, rich, blend of beans, tasting the mixture as a whole.
The steaming liquid molded in his mouth, forming over his teeth and tongue,
spilling into every gap it could found. The flavorsome coffee kicked him awake,
shoving his eyelids up. His grip on the steering wheel tighten slightly, his
senses now at full speed, John was ready for anything.
John rolled down the window, feeling the
sharp whip of the wind as it slid through the now open hole. He reached over,
grabbing the empty cup of coffee. John lifted it up, taking it close to the
window. His fat arm reared back,
tossing the white cup into the darkness of the night. John watched the crumpled
cup as it hit the dark, windy road, the only movement he saw all night. The
wind still flowed in, this time not as fresh, more sour smelling. John closed
the window as fast as he could, making a barrier between him and the rotten
stench.
" Road kill." The single word dropped under the sound of
roaring truck engine, not having the chance to be heard by another human's
ears. The foul smell still seeped in, gracefully flowing through the cracks in
the truck to reach John's nostrils. He took his hand off the steering wheel and
covered over his face.
" Damn! Whatever it is, it's been out there for some
time." To John the smell seemed to increase in potency, almost like it was
coming from inside the truck cabin. John shook off the insane idea, knowing it
was nothing more than a dead dog or wolf of some type that had laid in the sun
too long. The smell stayed, surrounding
those it had in its grasp.
The truck pushed on down the desolate interstate, still no
sign of life. The smell still there, but not as strong this time. John looked ahead of him, noticing he was
getting closer. Not more than three
miles away from Raccoon city, A town that he had passed before, nothing really
much there, just a stop and go city. He glanced at the glowing dashboard,
noticing the gas gage reaching the tall letter E, meaning he would have to stop
soon. He would have to stop off in Raccoon, if he was going to press on.
The city's lights
were dim, showing the sleeplessness of the town. John slowly pulled into the
city limits, watching the dark buildings as he passed by. John scanned the
area, no people, no cars, no one.
Something stirred to the left, burning from the corner of John's eye.
Shadows danced across the night, forming, shaping into their human makeup. A couple stumbled out into view, walking in
front of the truck. Their clothes ruffled and matted to their bodies. Dark
stains filtered down the two's face and shirts, barley showing in the dark
light.
" Damn kids." John growled. The truck started its forward
movement again, barreling down the lone, gloomy street again. John looked down
at the fuel gage again, checking how much further he could go before stopping
for gas. The needle pointed to the E again telling him he better stop. The
glowing, neon Taxago sign become his beacon. He pulled the large truck into the
pump station, the brakes hissed with displeasment as they clumped down on the
wheel well. The door opened with a clank of metal. John stepped out, his
muscles tired and stiff from the long drive. Once again the rotting smell hit
him, acting if it was coming from city. John once again shook off the thought;
just thinking it was a broken septic tank. He walked over, taking the large cap
off the gas tank. The smell of gasoline mixed with the tainted smell, making it
just a little better to breath. John looked around as he pumped the gas. The
place was a dump. Over turned oil containers laid scattered on the ground. John
didn't care as long as he filled up his truck and got back on the road.
The pumped
kicked, spitting up the thick gasoline. John grabbed it and put it back in it's
opening. He carelessly walked over to the small square building. The door
opened with a charm of bells, showing that someone just walked in. Inside, it
was trashed, looking as if a tornado had just hit the inside of the store.
Shelves laid empty, their context laying on the floor, some oozing out the
blood of their wounds.
"Hello?" John said fill of fright and unknowing. He looked
over the corner, noting the mess that laid on there. No one stood behind the
blue marble top, showing that something was wrong here. A loud, wet snap
floated violently through the gas station. The new sound made John whip around,
wanting to know where the it came from. John peered over one of the shelves,
seeing some light movement behind it.
" Sir, can you help me. I am in a hurry." The words float lightly on the air, also not
coming out of John's dry mouth. He peered over more, moving around the shelf to
see a clearer picture of the attendant. The snapping sounds continued, blending
in with a wet squishing sound now. John's eyes bulged out of their sockets as
he saw the gruesome scene that went on. The gas station attendant was laid over
something, something that looked human. John couldn't believe it, it appeared
to be eating whatever was in front of him. The gas station attendant stood up,
showing the blood stains on its thin shirt. He turned around, facing John, its
broad mouth open, its slender arms outstretched in front of it. From its throat
came a groan, unearthly and abnormal in many ways. John stumbled back, trying
to make some distance between him and the crazed man. The demented man grabbed
John, sizing his arm up. Before John could do anything, the man's mouth was
wrapped around his bicep, his teeth sinking into his flesh. John pushed the man
way with everything he had. The frenzied man stumbled back, holding a chuck of
wet, pale flesh in its jaws. John looked at his wound, seeing the over whelming
amount of blood that continued to pour out of it. Anger came over him and then
retribution. John wrapped his massive hands around the man's dirty, blood
stained shirt and threw his limp body through the front window. John climbed
back into his truck cabin, holding his wounded arm tight.
" That guy's a manic. Why did he bite me?" John says
confused even by his own words. The truck started off again, heading down the
main road. Once again, John was alone on the street, nobody out to help him. He
looked around nervously, worried that he wouldn't make it to the hospital or
the fact that no one would be there. He
grasped his arm tighter, trying his best to stop himself from bleeding to death.
He tried his best to drive the immense truck, but to no prevail. His eyes
blurred, blending the road into one giant blob of black. John didn't know what
was happening to him. His head ran hot with fever; his body was sticky with
sweat. Something was wrong, very wrong.
His mind
flattered away, leaving him in a state of unknowing. The truck swung across the
road, smashing through several tin garbage cans. John tired his best to hold
on, hold on to sanity, but he couldn't. His eyes rolled back in his head, his
foot still on the gas, pushing the semi down the road. Everything was lost;
John was not John anymore, but a shadow of his former self. John was already
dead, but still moving and craving something odd. He waved his head around
aimlessly, looking for someway out of the truck cabin, but he couldn't think
like he use to. The truck drove itself, aiming straight down the deserted
street. A black and white cop car turned sharply in front of it, its tires
sliding across the rough street. The creature once known, as John didn't pay
any attention to the car that just flew by, the only thing that went through
his mind was his hunger. The police cruiser slammed into the wall and shifted
violently to the right. The car went
out of control, spinning around, crashing hard into a sign pole. John watched
on, the truck still moving, still bearing down on the cop car. The people
inside ran, ran for their lives, ran into the world of the undead. John's semi
hit the dead car, tipping over, spilling the once important deliver it
contained out on the ground below. The fire exploded vividly, slowly forming
into a ball of consuming flames. The area detonated into a new sound and light
of the night. The flames of hell took the creature known as John away from this
world, releasing him from his own nightmare. In one night, one man died
twice.
