"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."
-Edgar Allan Poe
It was a nightmare.
Not the nightmare in which one desperately thinks that one is going to die, and wakes up just before the moment of death arrives. It was the sort of nightmare in which an already terrible situation is made even worse by the fact that anything that could possibly go wrong does, especially if one has taken special measures to ensure that thing which has gone wrong should not have gone wrong.
More importantly, where the bloody hell was my revolver when I needed it most?
I spun partway down the steps of my staircase, my progress hampered by a large and hideous end table given to me as a present by a family I once saved from a...as of this moment, that was utterly irrelevant. The relevant part is that the end table bestowed to me hampered my progress down the stairs and quite possibly saved me from suffering a broken neck. I realized with grim regret that I should have locked the door to the laboratory, and made a silent resolution to do so provided I survived this.
I lunged down the stairwell and hurried into my study, vaguely remembering laying the gun there hours previously as I dismissed my assistant.
I entered the room. It wasn't there.
I wheeled about in some confusion and wondered what was going on today, and if my day of reckoning had finally come. I hoped nobody realized I had made such an elementary mistake should my mutilated body be discovered.
I paused as I heard slow, heavy footsteps begin to make their way up the stairs. I may have paled slightly at their approach. I never did find out.
The important thing was not to panic. To panic meant death, had my professor not drilled that into my head from day one?
Search for potential weapons. Even the most ordinary objects can be put to use.
Unfortunately, I failed to stock my chambers with high explosives or anything resembling a chemistry set. Blasting the foul creature was not an option. And that blasted cleaning man had cheerfully neglected to leave the ammunition to the shotgun EXACTLY where I told him to leave it. What was the world coming to?
The footsteps stopped outside my door. I heard heavy breathing and excited pants.
The door slowly swung open. I breathed a silent curse when I realized I had forgotten to barricade it.
From without entered a creature that could have stepped out of a deranged child's imagination.
It stood at eight feet tall, a powerful stench of rotting flesh emanating from its form. What could be called its skin was a horrible greenish gray, like a corpse.
It WAS a corpse, albeit with two heads and six horns. More specifically, it was a specimen of the ambulans mortuus, which literally translates to 'walking dead'. A somewhat pedestrian term for it is 'zombie'. It is a dead body inhabited by a virus that reanimates the basic movement capability and senses but with enhanced strength, speed, jumping height and an unquenchable bloodlust. It does not feel pain, and so the only way to stop such a monster is to render its ability to function useless. A popular method is to burn them with fire, but some prefer to discombobulate them. And because it is not hampered by injury, conventional weapons are next to useless. You could blow the head off of one and it would still have time to rip your throat out before it realized it was dead. Thus, the problem.
I had acquired this particular beast on behalf of a colleague who wished to study it and its various subspecies. The colleague was understandably not one I often associated with.
Back to the situation at hand. I knew with a sick certainty that this could very well be the end of me, and I had nobody but myself to blame. Why, oh, why had I failed to lock that door?
The creature lumbered forward, confident that it had me. It had every reason to. I was only human, and had nowhere to run. If I did not find a permanent solution to this problem, I would very likely be found the next morning in pieces. Small pieces.
I inched forward, praying to God I would find what I needed taped beneath the desk, not taking my eyes off the creature I had so unwisely brought into my home. I immediately reflected on this thought and found it foolish; I have had mishaps much worse than my current one and had gotten out of all of them fine.
I merely wish I could recall when, and what I had been doing.
Warily watching the monster, my wandering fingers encountered a bulky, metallic object. I pulled it out slowly, revealing an antique crossbow with a single shot. Because the creature had no sentience, it would not comprehend the implications of the weapon I held.
All I needed now was an opportunity. The shot in the crossbow wouldn't nearly be enough to kill it, but it would buy me time while it tried to remove the bolt from wherever I chose to fire it. I knew for a fact that I had a firebomb in the laboratory in case the creature got loose. If I could only get to the lower floor...
Sudden movement! The creature lunged forward with something approximating a screech. I ducked out of the way as it flailed past and fired a single shot into the back of its left head. It may not be able to feel pain, but nothing likes it when you fire something into one of their heads. As it weaved about, confused, I turned and fled the room, keenly aware of the pursuing footsteps.
I threw myself over the banister to give myself ground. The monster would be too stupid to think of throwing itself down the stairs.
Ten steps from the lab. So close...
I only now realised a sharp pain in my side. Looking down, I saw with disgust that the creature had managed to rake a clawed hand into my side, possibly nicking a rib in the process. I would have to treat the wound with hot water and carbolic acid later. If there was a later.
I lunged towards the door, hoping to shut and bar it before the creature got ahold of me. If I got to my lab, all would be well.
Too fast! I was caught from behind and thrown forward, landing painfully on the stone floor. I knew then I wouldn't be able to get up. I was going to die.
The poison secreted in the monster's claws was already working its way into my system, making me dazed and giddy. I looked up at the creature, its remaining head howling triumphantly. I wondered if it would hurt. Death, I mean.
I closed my eyes and prepared for the end.
The end never came, at least not then.
I heard loud shrieks and gurgles and a series of bangs that sounded like gunshots. The sounds were all slightly muffled, as if they were coming from far away. I opened my eyes and saw the creature fall backward. Standing behind it was a man I thought I would not get to see again.
The man paused for a moment, checking to see if the creature was really dead. Satisfied with what he found, he hurried to my side.
"Professor! Professor Black! Are you all right?" He asked in what seemed to be urgency. The words seemed out of sync with his mouth.
My vision was fogging at the edges. Left arm numb.
"Professor! Say something, please!"
I was slipping away...
"PROFESSOR!"