Silent Gulch Chapter 6
"We can't just wander the streets," Simmons complained as he followed Grif down the cracked and broken sidewalk.
"Well, what else do you think we should do?" Grif asked, looking over his shoulder at the maroon soldier.
"I think we should find someone that can help us. If you want I could write up a report and mission plan," Simmons replied, smiling. "Then they could point us to the local whorehouse, and thus, your sister."
"First, you are such a dork. Second, did you just make a joke? Third, screw you, man." Grif frowned. He walked over to a door casually, not ready to admit that he was taking Simmons's advice. He pulled on the door but it was locked shut. He let go of the handle and walked over to Simmons. "Any other bright ideas?"
"Well, you have to try more than one place." Simmons looked around the empty street at the shops. The fog limited how far he could see, but he was still going to try. He stopped looking when his eyes fell on a diner across the street. "Like that place, the door is open." He pointed to the slightly propped open door.
"Well, then why are we standing around?" Grif asked as he stared across the road. He didn't even bother checking for cars. It seemed as though every car in the town had broken down and useless. They'd already walked past three cars that were on the side of the road and wouldn't start. Grif had just tuned Simmons out when he started into a rant about all the things that could have caused the cars to break down all at once, none of them interesting. He walked over to the diner, not able to make out any reasonable words from the faded sign.
Grif pushed the door open and it glided with ease. A bell was tripped and its ring filled the empty diner. The floors were dusty and there were patches of mold on the checkered black and white tiles. The tables were covered in a layer of grime and dirt that turned the red surface to a light burgundy. The blue fabric of the booths were torn and faded from their once rich royal color. Grif walked along the booths, looking at the dirty tables. Simmons walked over to the bar that doubled as a checkout counter for patrons. Simmons looked behind the counter at the flat grill that was still covered in grease. He sure as hell was never going to eat anything from this place.
Grif wandered past a series of tables until a sound caught his ear. He turned and noticed a radio laying on one of the tables. It was emitting nothing but static that seemed loud in the quiet. Grif moved over to the radio and cautiously picked it up. The static made his skin crawl and gave him a bad feeling. He was about to say something when the sound of a bell cut him off. Simmons had rung the service bell beside the register. The radio suddenly grew in volume causing the static to drown out the bell. Grif flinched in pain as the sound beat against his eardrums painfully. There was a sudden sound of shattering glass as a monster smashed through one of the front windows. There was a stunned silence as the creature turned toward the soldiers, spreading its wings. Grif finally found his voice. "Bat monster!"
~Sarge/Donut~
"Why is this a good idea?" Sarge asked, looking from Donut to the run-down school before them.
"Because whenever something bad happens, you always go to your local school," Donut replied. "That's the way they've done it for years. If there's a tornado, go to the school. If there's a nuclear attack, go to the school. If Canadians invade your town for a seven-day kegger, go to the school."
"Canadians invaded your town?" Sarge asked, a bit surprised.
"Well, sort of. They invited us to join but my mother wouldn't let me. She said that a five-year-old kid shouldn't be at a kegger," Donut replied.
"Well, your mother doesn't know squat," Sarge commented before turning toward the school and heading up the steps to the double doors. He pushed one of the doors open and he and the private entered. The brown tiles, or what were not brown tiles, were chipped and some were missing from the floors while the paint of the walls was peeling off. The lockers that lined the walls were riddled with rust and the green paint was missing in patches. "So, where do we go?" Sarge asked.
"I would have to guess the gym," Donut replied. "You always make the shelter in the gym."
"Then this way we go." Sarge turned to the left and walked down a hallway.
"But, Sarge, the map says that the gym is that way," Donut said, pointing to the right after checking the map on the wall.
"Don't question your superiors, Donut," Sarge countered. The pink soldier looked from the map to Sarge for a second before he hurried to catch up with his CO. He followed Sarge as he turned every which way. They passed the library, empty classrooms, and science labs.
"Sarge, I don't think this is the right way," Donut said again. He was starting to get the feeling that something was following him, and it was freaking him out. Sarge just ignored him as he had for the last ten minutes. Donut glanced behind him and saw a bit of movement. "Um, Sarge I saw something move," Donut said, moving a bit closer to the red soldier.
"There's nothing moving besides us," Sarge said, not really paying attention to the private's fears.
"I really think there is something there," Donut persisted. The shadows looked as though they were crawling, and he was right. Small black colored beetles like bugs crawled along the floor and walls toward them. "Bugs!" Donut shouted in pure terror.
"What is it now?" Sarge asked, turning around. He noticed the bugs that were crawling closer by the second. "Holy cheese on a cracker."
"Oh, I like cheese," Donut said, easily distracted from the fact that they were about to be eaten by bugs.
"Donut focus, death by bugs," Sarge said, snapping the private's attention back to the danger before them. Donut then turned and ran like hell in the opposite direction of the bugs. Sarge cursed the fact that he had lost his shotgun and turned to run after away from the bugs. "Tactical retreat!" he shouted as he ran.