Harry stirred. He tried to move forward but the seat belt held him back, digging into his neck. The crumpled bonnet of the jeep obscured the view out of the smashed windscreen, the crash must have been bad. He felt the biting chill of the air on his face as he regained his sight. The drivers door had been completely torn off, lost in the thick fog that surrounded the car.
Cheryl! His head snapped to his right when he remembered his daughter. The seat was empty. The door open.
Panic flowed through Harry like a drug and he fumbled for the clasp on the seat belt. Wrenching it free, he fell out of hole in the red jeep onto the cold concrete. On hands and knees he crawled round to the front of the jeep, leaving long trails behind him in the thin layer of snow. To his relief, his 8 year old daughter Cheryl had not been thrown from the car, as he first feared, but panic soon set back in as she was still nowhere to be found. He tried hard to stand, his right leg screaming with pain, his chest feeling tight and sore.
He looked around, squinting through the fog. The front of a row of terraced houses was barely visible and the bleakness of them was depressing. Even in the dark of evening, not one house light or street lamp could be seen. Harry felt alone in the middle of a cluttered residential area. The town felt somewhat strange to him.
The jeep had to be left as Harry hurried away from it down the street, trying hard to pierce through the endless fog. The sound of his dragging leg and the rustle of his brown jacket flooding his ears. He tried to pick up the pace and soon seemed to run off most of the pain in his leg. Running down the street, a small figure through the fog ahead jolted him to a stop.
"Cheryl!" He cried out through the mist. Cheryl's bob haircut and blue dress could barely be made out through the intruding grey filter that consumed everything around him. The figure walked on, seeming to ignore Harry's calls, and turned to disappear behind the thick concrete wall of a garage.
"Cheryl! Come back! Where are you going!?" Harry's voice boomed against the gloomy walls of the surrounding houses. He hurried on after the defiant figure, following the tiny footprints around the corner of the garage. He spun, head darting around the floor. The footprints stopped! As if the figure had just vanished. Goosebumps covered Harry's skin and the hairs began to rise on the back of his neck.
A small high pitched squeak, followed by a clatter. The sound of somebody passing through a gate was obvious and was Harry's only clue as to where the figure had gone. He ran down the alley, residential garages facing him on either side as he went, dark blocks in a grey world. The alley ended and a small gate emerged through the fog. The gate made the same series of sounds it had moment before as he closed it behind him.
"Che..." He felt sick. What the hell is going on here? So much blood. Puddled on the floor and spattered up the garage wall. The remains of a skinned dog lay at its centre. Harry covered his mouth and nose as the putrid smell flooded his senses. Who would do such a thing? He could not take his eyes off the sight before him as he edges his way to a small alley ahead. More footprints. The trail brought him back to reality and he darted down the dank corridor ahead. The alley was cramped and seemed to get tighter as he turned left and right and left and right. The layout seemed to make no sense, but he soldiered on. An upturned wheelchair halted his progress somewhat as he passed, the wheel spinning slowly almost unnaturally.
He looked ahead. Another turn down a nonsensical maze lay before him, before he was plunged into darkness. It was as if someone had turned off a light switch and turned the world off for a second. He was becoming acclimatised to these strange experiences and knew he had to press on. Pulling out a lighter, he turned the wheel and a flame danced before him. The dank walls were bathed in colour. It's odd, he thought as he gazed at the lighter, he didn't even smoke.
The alley opened up ahead. The dark orange of the walls turned to black as he approached the small courtyard hidden between the buildings. Rusted chain metal covered walls of the courtyard, with razor sharp barbed wire threading the top. He walked further into the courtyard, shaking with fear. The far wall gradually brightened as he got closer. What he would have given to be back at the car with Cheryl now.
The back wall was bathed in a flickering orange glow. A shape was on the wall ahead, hard to see from the dancing flame. What was it? A body! Harry jumped back with such urgency the flame went out. Shuffles emerged all around him, getting louder and louder. He fumbled with the lighter. The darkness enveloped him as he started into nothing. He pressed hard on the wheel, his finger burning with pain, and the flame re-emerged. The body was hung to the barbed fence, crucified. Brown and bloody, bloated from decomposition, Harry spun away from it. He needed to get out. The entrance to the winding alley behind him was filled with bodies. But they were... alive. Shuffling towards him with violent jerking movements. It was as if the gates of hell had opened before him. The 3 foot high monsters shambled towards him, bloated and clumsy. Harry screamed and dropped the lighter. Darkness.
Harry sat up, sweating but cold. He looked around. No bodies, just tables and chairs. No chain fences, just regular concrete walls. No alleyway, just the breakfast bar. He awoke in the diner, dazed and confused. He looked out of the window through the rusty metal shutters. Fog still engulfed the world, much to his despair. What is this godforsaken place?
"Hey." Harry spun to locate the source of the female voice. A blond woman, maybe early thirties, stood before him with a wary smile. She wore a light blue blouse, the gold of her police badge obvious on her chest. The motorcyclists trousers and helmet under her arm jogged Harry's memory. We passed her on the way here, he thought, just before...
"Are you okay?" She sat across from him in the booth, "You were dreaming."