3
'Here there be Monsters'
The path widened slowly as he followed it, curving around a high chain link fence, marked periodically with 'DANGER! NO TRESPASSING!' signs. He came upon a high brick wall, which he remembered as the water breakers the town had built to prevent erosion from the lake. He followed the edge of the wall, feeling vaguely surprised at how out of repair the structure appeared. It was pitted and badly cracked along most of its length, and charred with what looked like soot.
He passed under a narrow tunnel, coming to another fence, also marked with a keep out sign, which he guessed marked the edge of town. The passage opened onto a narrow paved road, and he almost sighed with relief as he passed a street sign marking it as Toluca Road. He pulled out his map and checked it, nodding to himself. He just needed to follow the road up to the intersection, and then take street, which would take him straight to the park. From there, he could follow the road around the lake to the hotel.
His stomach rumbled in protest to his current plan, and he remembered he hadn't had anything to eat yet. He remembered this corner of the town. There should be a diner just across the road. The fog had become so thick he could no longer even see that far. He walked across, not hearing a single car or spotting a single light. A blue street diner suddenly loomed up out of the gray, all the curtains drawn across, and the lights behind them off. He blinked in surprise, walking up the stairs and trying the door. Locked. The hours sheet was still taped to the inside of the door, and by them, the diner should've still been open. But he couldn't see a single form stirring. He grumbled faintly, and turned away, walking further down the road. There would certainly be other places to get some food further up the road. Maybe the diner was closed for repairs, and had forgotten to put up a sign.
His heart suddenly began to race as he reached the intersection. There was fresh blood splattered across the road in a wide curving smear, which extended a few feet up the avenue, in the same direction he wanted to go. It looked far too large a mark to have been made by an animal run over by a car. It looked more like something had been dragged away. He looked up the road, and could, for a split second, make out the shape of a person stumbling away. He might be hurt, James thought, and looked back down at the road. And hurt badly, from the looks of it. He started jogging, following the blood trail, trying to catch up to the retreating shape which had already vanished into the mist. He didn't view himself as a knight in shining armor, but he couldn't just ignore the possibility that someone might be dying less than a hundred feet away from him. He came across the entrance of a long, narrow road, which the dragging smear of blood continued down. "My God," he murmured. He broke into an all out run. Forget hurt, he thought. If one man had bled that much, he was almost certainly on his way to bleeding to death.
The asphalt broke into a wide dirt road again, which ran up to a high fence ringed capped with barbed wire. The entrance was ajar though, and James stepped through, crossing a wide, empty lot towards the mouth of a red brick and stone tunnel passing a rusting pickup truck. He called out again, but received no reply. He stepped closer to the mouth, which was crossed over with a chest high ramshackle wood fence; as he drew closer, he could pick up the droning hiss of radio static. He crossed under the fence through a gap, and found himself in the dark, the white noise just off to his left. He felt around, and came across a small box the size of his hand, which he picked up to hold into the light
It was an old hand held radio, blaring white noise, and he batted it with his free hand in a vain attempt to clear up the signal. The white noise of the radio suddenly intensified to a high pitched whine, and James felt himself wince slightly. As the noise rose and fell, he suddenly heard something stirring behind him, and the sounds of several wood planks made him spin. "Is someone there?" he blurted quickly. Probably only an animal, but his heart was already racing again. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a human form lying on the ground, resting against the wall of the pipe, and standing over it was another human form. "Hey, are you okay?" His voice died in his throat as the thing heard him and came into the light
What stumbled towards him was something out of a nightmare. It looked almost human, but it possessed neither arms nor a head. Its flesh was almost gangrenous, covered in mottled wounds, and weeping, open sores, which slid over its torso as it convulsed madly. On two disjointed, cancerous legs, the thing shambled towards him, letting out a cry that was almost a cross between a belch and a scream.
James stumbled backwards, almost dropping the radio, as he searched frantically for a weapon. There were rocks lying about, but they were mostly pebbles, and everything else he could throw was far too heavy. His hand suddenly closed around a thick piece of wood. Looking down, he saw it was nailed into the support. He leaned, and pulled up. The wood groaned as it suddenly ripped free, pulling most of the nails with it. Iron tips jutted from the head of his improvised club. He held it tightly in both hands, and stepped back further, into the foggy light outside. The thing shambled after him, and he gagged suddenly as a rush of air down the tunnel carried the fetid stench of the monster into him.
When his wife Mary had been dying, he had waited patiently by her side. He had walked through the corridors of the wing where she was housed with other terminal patients. The smells of decay and illness seemed to permeate the walls of the building. Death was a constant companion to the patients, and their agony seemed only to intensify the vile stench of the place.
This shambling form before him seemed to exude that same smell of decay and corrosion, of wasting disease and sickness, and he felt himself sneer in rage at the memories that it had made him recall. That hospital, that ward, that bed. His grip tightened, and he stepped forward, swinging his club at what he thought was the monsters head. The nails ripped into the rotting flesh of the thing, tearing strips of decaying matter away as he carved a path along its torso. It seemed to let out a sort of cry, a high pitched whining like a dog. Black ichor gushed down its torso and across its legs as James tore the weapon free, preparing to swing again.
Suddenly the thing leaned back, almost to a degree that James thought it would fall over, that he had already killed it, but instead it released a roaring belch, and he was suddenly sprayed with a revolting brown mist. It felt acidic, and his eyes watered even as he tried to close out the rank material. The same stench nearly overpowered him again, and he was certain he would've vomited had he actually inhaled any of it. He flailed madly, dissipating the disgusting cloud, and he swung at the thing again, catching it almost at the waist. The monster suddenly doubled over, and he ripped the club free as it collapsed to the ground. He reared back and kicked it hard, rolling it over.
Dark red blood began to ooze out of the corpse, and he poked it with the nails. What the hell was it? It looked almost human, but it certainly wasn't. Now that he had a chance to stop and look at it, he realized that it was rotting before his eyes, slowly melting into a gray-brown slush. Realizing his eyes were still burning from the attack, he scrambled back towards the pick up truck. He had seen a water hose nearby. Following the plastic line on the ground, he unscrewed the water valve, and gushed cool, clean water on his face. The stinging in his eyes faded as he washed the stink from himself.
He shook the water from his face as he looked back towards the town. The familiar and beautiful place that had held such a place in his heart now looked ominous and foreboding.
What the hell was going on? He straightened, suddenly remembering the second form in the arched tunnel. He ducked back inside and stepped over the dissolving form. He could make out in the dark the body of a man, his shirt and pants coated with blood. James grimaced and swallowed hard, and reached a timid hand out to the man's throat. No pulse.
He sighed heavily, stepping back out into the light. This had started out as a search he had somehow known would be fruitless, and was now evolving into a waking nightmare. He reached down and picked up the board, and blinked in amazement. The head of the plank, which had just thirty seconds ago been splattered with ragged flesh and blood, was now spotless. It even looked almost new, save for the nails, which had already been bent and coated with a faint patina of rust. He didn't have a better weapon close at hand, and decided to take it along. He was afraid he may need it again. He increased his pace to a slow jog, back towards the main road. He had a good reason to hurry now; he wanted to get far away from that tunnel, in case another one of those things came shambling out. Suddenly the radio crackled to life, and he could make out a voice through the rolling static.
"Ja..I..ere." He felt his breath catch in his throat. It was badly distorted, but he could still make out the voice. For just a moment, it had sounded just like Mary. He pulled the radio out of his pocket and held it up in front of him. He hadn't even realized he had put it into his coat.
"eed..mes..find." Come on, he thought intently. The sound was too distorted to make out anything clear. He felt his heart sink as the static subsided, along with the message, and he stuck the radio back into his pocket. Monsters, weird messages from the radio directed to him sent by his dead wife, and a town full of dead people and empty buildings. This was certainly turning into a wonderful vacation.
'Here there be Monsters'
The path widened slowly as he followed it, curving around a high chain link fence, marked periodically with 'DANGER! NO TRESPASSING!' signs. He came upon a high brick wall, which he remembered as the water breakers the town had built to prevent erosion from the lake. He followed the edge of the wall, feeling vaguely surprised at how out of repair the structure appeared. It was pitted and badly cracked along most of its length, and charred with what looked like soot.
He passed under a narrow tunnel, coming to another fence, also marked with a keep out sign, which he guessed marked the edge of town. The passage opened onto a narrow paved road, and he almost sighed with relief as he passed a street sign marking it as Toluca Road. He pulled out his map and checked it, nodding to himself. He just needed to follow the road up to the intersection, and then take street, which would take him straight to the park. From there, he could follow the road around the lake to the hotel.
His stomach rumbled in protest to his current plan, and he remembered he hadn't had anything to eat yet. He remembered this corner of the town. There should be a diner just across the road. The fog had become so thick he could no longer even see that far. He walked across, not hearing a single car or spotting a single light. A blue street diner suddenly loomed up out of the gray, all the curtains drawn across, and the lights behind them off. He blinked in surprise, walking up the stairs and trying the door. Locked. The hours sheet was still taped to the inside of the door, and by them, the diner should've still been open. But he couldn't see a single form stirring. He grumbled faintly, and turned away, walking further down the road. There would certainly be other places to get some food further up the road. Maybe the diner was closed for repairs, and had forgotten to put up a sign.
His heart suddenly began to race as he reached the intersection. There was fresh blood splattered across the road in a wide curving smear, which extended a few feet up the avenue, in the same direction he wanted to go. It looked far too large a mark to have been made by an animal run over by a car. It looked more like something had been dragged away. He looked up the road, and could, for a split second, make out the shape of a person stumbling away. He might be hurt, James thought, and looked back down at the road. And hurt badly, from the looks of it. He started jogging, following the blood trail, trying to catch up to the retreating shape which had already vanished into the mist. He didn't view himself as a knight in shining armor, but he couldn't just ignore the possibility that someone might be dying less than a hundred feet away from him. He came across the entrance of a long, narrow road, which the dragging smear of blood continued down. "My God," he murmured. He broke into an all out run. Forget hurt, he thought. If one man had bled that much, he was almost certainly on his way to bleeding to death.
The asphalt broke into a wide dirt road again, which ran up to a high fence ringed capped with barbed wire. The entrance was ajar though, and James stepped through, crossing a wide, empty lot towards the mouth of a red brick and stone tunnel passing a rusting pickup truck. He called out again, but received no reply. He stepped closer to the mouth, which was crossed over with a chest high ramshackle wood fence; as he drew closer, he could pick up the droning hiss of radio static. He crossed under the fence through a gap, and found himself in the dark, the white noise just off to his left. He felt around, and came across a small box the size of his hand, which he picked up to hold into the light
It was an old hand held radio, blaring white noise, and he batted it with his free hand in a vain attempt to clear up the signal. The white noise of the radio suddenly intensified to a high pitched whine, and James felt himself wince slightly. As the noise rose and fell, he suddenly heard something stirring behind him, and the sounds of several wood planks made him spin. "Is someone there?" he blurted quickly. Probably only an animal, but his heart was already racing again. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a human form lying on the ground, resting against the wall of the pipe, and standing over it was another human form. "Hey, are you okay?" His voice died in his throat as the thing heard him and came into the light
What stumbled towards him was something out of a nightmare. It looked almost human, but it possessed neither arms nor a head. Its flesh was almost gangrenous, covered in mottled wounds, and weeping, open sores, which slid over its torso as it convulsed madly. On two disjointed, cancerous legs, the thing shambled towards him, letting out a cry that was almost a cross between a belch and a scream.
James stumbled backwards, almost dropping the radio, as he searched frantically for a weapon. There were rocks lying about, but they were mostly pebbles, and everything else he could throw was far too heavy. His hand suddenly closed around a thick piece of wood. Looking down, he saw it was nailed into the support. He leaned, and pulled up. The wood groaned as it suddenly ripped free, pulling most of the nails with it. Iron tips jutted from the head of his improvised club. He held it tightly in both hands, and stepped back further, into the foggy light outside. The thing shambled after him, and he gagged suddenly as a rush of air down the tunnel carried the fetid stench of the monster into him.
When his wife Mary had been dying, he had waited patiently by her side. He had walked through the corridors of the wing where she was housed with other terminal patients. The smells of decay and illness seemed to permeate the walls of the building. Death was a constant companion to the patients, and their agony seemed only to intensify the vile stench of the place.
This shambling form before him seemed to exude that same smell of decay and corrosion, of wasting disease and sickness, and he felt himself sneer in rage at the memories that it had made him recall. That hospital, that ward, that bed. His grip tightened, and he stepped forward, swinging his club at what he thought was the monsters head. The nails ripped into the rotting flesh of the thing, tearing strips of decaying matter away as he carved a path along its torso. It seemed to let out a sort of cry, a high pitched whining like a dog. Black ichor gushed down its torso and across its legs as James tore the weapon free, preparing to swing again.
Suddenly the thing leaned back, almost to a degree that James thought it would fall over, that he had already killed it, but instead it released a roaring belch, and he was suddenly sprayed with a revolting brown mist. It felt acidic, and his eyes watered even as he tried to close out the rank material. The same stench nearly overpowered him again, and he was certain he would've vomited had he actually inhaled any of it. He flailed madly, dissipating the disgusting cloud, and he swung at the thing again, catching it almost at the waist. The monster suddenly doubled over, and he ripped the club free as it collapsed to the ground. He reared back and kicked it hard, rolling it over.
Dark red blood began to ooze out of the corpse, and he poked it with the nails. What the hell was it? It looked almost human, but it certainly wasn't. Now that he had a chance to stop and look at it, he realized that it was rotting before his eyes, slowly melting into a gray-brown slush. Realizing his eyes were still burning from the attack, he scrambled back towards the pick up truck. He had seen a water hose nearby. Following the plastic line on the ground, he unscrewed the water valve, and gushed cool, clean water on his face. The stinging in his eyes faded as he washed the stink from himself.
He shook the water from his face as he looked back towards the town. The familiar and beautiful place that had held such a place in his heart now looked ominous and foreboding.
What the hell was going on? He straightened, suddenly remembering the second form in the arched tunnel. He ducked back inside and stepped over the dissolving form. He could make out in the dark the body of a man, his shirt and pants coated with blood. James grimaced and swallowed hard, and reached a timid hand out to the man's throat. No pulse.
He sighed heavily, stepping back out into the light. This had started out as a search he had somehow known would be fruitless, and was now evolving into a waking nightmare. He reached down and picked up the board, and blinked in amazement. The head of the plank, which had just thirty seconds ago been splattered with ragged flesh and blood, was now spotless. It even looked almost new, save for the nails, which had already been bent and coated with a faint patina of rust. He didn't have a better weapon close at hand, and decided to take it along. He was afraid he may need it again. He increased his pace to a slow jog, back towards the main road. He had a good reason to hurry now; he wanted to get far away from that tunnel, in case another one of those things came shambling out. Suddenly the radio crackled to life, and he could make out a voice through the rolling static.
"Ja..I..ere." He felt his breath catch in his throat. It was badly distorted, but he could still make out the voice. For just a moment, it had sounded just like Mary. He pulled the radio out of his pocket and held it up in front of him. He hadn't even realized he had put it into his coat.
"eed..mes..find." Come on, he thought intently. The sound was too distorted to make out anything clear. He felt his heart sink as the static subsided, along with the message, and he stuck the radio back into his pocket. Monsters, weird messages from the radio directed to him sent by his dead wife, and a town full of dead people and empty buildings. This was certainly turning into a wonderful vacation.