Chapter 8 – Echoes of War

Alex lay in his bed, the old mattress felt too stiff as if the years of absence had made him forget what comfort was like. The Shepherd's home was one familiar to him but seemed twisted by time and memory. Sleep came and went, dragging back to the places he'd rather have left behind. But once he drifted off to sleep, the thin veil was lifted, throwing him into the dark chasm that was his subconscious.

He tossed and turned in another nightmare. The air was heavy, too hot in that dream. Dust swirled in the air, like the fog outside the house. Once more, he was in Iraq, boots on the ground. The sounds of the distant gunfire were different than popping off fireworks on the Fourth of July back home. They were growing louder and closer now. Alex's hands were shaking now, but he couldn't look at them. Because if he did, he would see a rifle in his grasp, blood staining his hands.

His squad leader's cries could be heard through the smoke. "Shepherd! Get moving! Rangers lead the way! We need you now!"

His vision dimmed, and he was breathing rapidly now. The streets of Shepherd's Glen blurred, merging with the war-torn alleyways of Baghdad: the storefronts and shuttered windows blending into a single nightmare.

Then a figure in the distance, "Joshua? No that wasn't possible. But who then?" His outline was unmistakable. He stood there looking at him, amid the chaos, unfazed by it all, as if he didn't belong to this world at all.

"Joshua!" His voice caught in his throat as he ran towards him, but somehow the ground itself seemed to shift under his feet. A chasm opened, a gaping wound in the earth. His legs and muscles protested, yet he fought ahead, every step breaking his mind. Artillery roared with a deafening boom, shaking the city.

Finally, he reached him, but Joshua turned his back on Alex. "Joshua we need to get out of here!" he said desperately.

Joshua turned, but it wasn't his face. It was wrong, a twisted, hollow parody of the boy he once knew. His eyes were dark, empty pits, blood dripping from his lips.

"Why didn't you save me, Alex?"

His voice wasn't his own, it was like a layer: his squad mates', his brother Joshua's, Elle's, and something else, something darker. The figure suddenly reached towards him with skeletal fingers digging into his chest.

Alex awoke with a jolt, bolting upright in bed. He could feel the sweat drip on his forehead. Their heart pounding as if it was trying to break out of him. He was back in his old childhood room now, safe. Yet the dream did not fade, the dreams rarely did. They weighed on him like a shroud. Alex may have returned physically to Shepherd's Glen, but a part of him will always be left behind in the Middle East.

He pressed his hands against his face, taking long, slow breaths. The floorboards groaned in the hall, and for a moment he was still, muscles tensed. It was how Adam, his father, had always moved, silent and purposeful. But Alex didn't call out. He didn't want to have to explain why he couldn't sleep, why his heart was pounding in his chest.

He took a moment to glance at the time on his alarm clock: 3:17 AM. He couldn't get back to sleep. With a groan, he swung his legs over and stood up off the bed.

His past was getting to him now, his time in Iraw, what was never said between him and his father, threw in unresolved feelings for Elle and his missing brother, her missing sister.. This wasn't just another nightmare, it was a reminder. No matter how he tried to shut things out, his past would always follow him, back to Shepherd's Glen.

Alex stood beside his bed, running his fingers through his damp hair. His pulse was still racing from yet another nightmare. He had reached for the light switch, flicking it up. Nothing. Frowning, he flicked up and down, the familiar click of the switch echoed but no light followed.

"Great." He muttered under his breath, frustrated. His dad paid his bills, didn't he? The lights were working when he went to bed.

Scanning his eyes on the room, his fingers traced the edge of his bed table until they found something solid, something familiar, an old army flashlight he had given to Joshua years ago.

He had given Joshua that little flashlight before he left for the Middle East, telling him to use it to light his path when things got dark. Joshua let out a small smile at this, it was rare back then.

Alex clicked the flashlight, and it shot a narrow beam through the room. The light danced as he moved it across his bedroom. The flashlight now felt wrong in his hands, even though it shouldn't. It was once his after all. But it belonged to Joshua now. He had held it in his hands like a prized passion, beaming with childlike excitement. Now he couldn't find Joshua. He was gone, like so much else in his life.

As he walked, the house creaked all around him. It wasn't like the usual groaning of an old building. Shepherd's Glen always had a way of twisting something so ordinary into something more sinister. Something changed about his home, his family, and the town itself. It was beginning to feel like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.

Alex raised the flashlight higher, sweeping it across the room. Shadows around him danced unnaturally along the walls as if they had a life of their own.

Something felt wrong to him.

The family home was empty again, no Joshua, no mom, no sign of Adam. Alex had nothing to concern himself with, such as waking someone. He came out of his room, the floorboards creaking as he walked. This darkened house, once life with the hum of family life, now felt like a shadow of its former self.

His flashlight bobbed up and down as he walked down the narrow hallway, tracing paths he'd walked a thousand times before while growing up. He stopped at the basement door and paused. He had no reason to hesitate, there was nothing to be afraid of in the old house. Not anymore.

The door creaked as he slowly descended the stairs, the dim light showing the cobwebs along the ceiling. The basement did possess that characteristic smell of old wood and staleness of air, untouched. Various Memories tugged at him such as Joshua briefly playing down here, Mom yelling for them to come up for dinner. Adam's few moments with them when he wasn't shut away.

At the far end of the basement, the breaker box was still intact. Alex walked over and opened it. All of the switches were in order. Everything was OK. The house had power.

That meant the blackout wasn't confined here. It must be the whole town.

Alex closed the breaker box and stood a moment in the quiet darkness. His heart had slowed, and the adrenaline of the nightmare had worn off, but the tension remained. There was no way he was going back to sleep. The nightmare would return if he did. They always did.

He sighed, as he made his way upstairs. He snatched his jacket from the chair in the hall, yanking it on without a thought. His boots were by the door, caked with dried mud from the last time he'd ventured out.

Alex didn't know why, but he couldn't stand the thought of staying indoors anymore. The house was starting to feel like a tomb. He needed air.

He stepped back out into the cool night. Shepherd's Glen stretched out before him under a moonless sky. The blackout had plunged the town into all but complete darkness, the streetlamps that normally lined the streets all dead. Without the electricity, the town seemed even more abandoned, even more of a ghost town than it already was. This fog wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Alex took a deep breath, feeling the chill seep into his jacket. He started walking, letting his feet carry him down familiar streets, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the darkness. The town seemed strange and wrong.

For now, though, darkness was still. The only sound that could be heard was the crunch of his boots upon gravel, as he pressed on, wondering what Shepherd's Glen had in store for him at this hour. He stepped deeper into the fog, the thick stuff that clung to Shepherd's Glen like a weight. The beam from the flashlight in his hand barely cut through the thick veil. It too was swallowed whole by mist.

Everything that had happened since his return to Shepherd's Glen flickered in his mind. Judge Holloway, with her watchful eyes, had been less than warm the second time around. Alex had never been her favorite, and that was no secret to him. She didn't like him much, either. It was that stern look of hers that was hard to get rid of. Even now, it lingered in the back of his mind, like an accusation of some sort.

But Elle, she had been a lifeline. Seeing her again stirred in him something he was not sure he was ready to face. She was stronger in his absence, more sure of herself. Yet with the same warmth in her smile, he remembered from their childhood years. The way she looked at him, somehow made him feel his return wasn't a complete loss.

And there was Dad. Adam.

His father hadn't changed much, still cold, still distant. Alex had tried as hard as humanly possible, but he had never been able to crack his father's shell, to get approval of any kind. But perhaps now, after Iraq, it would be different. Perhaps coming back from war did grant him that respect. He'd seen it in Adam's eyes, just a flicker, but it was there, even if his father hadn't said the words.

"But where was Joshua?"

That was the very question that had been haunting him since he got back home. Every corner of this house seemed to whisper Joshua's absence. In his hand held the flashlight that once belonged to Joshua, a reminder of what Alex had failed to protect.

He stopped walking, the middle of the street consumed in the fog. The face of Joshua was there, in his mind. His little brother looked up to Alex like he was some kind of superhero. But Alex wasn't a hero. He hadn't been there for Joshua when it counted.

In an instant, the fog around him began to thicken, swirling almost unnaturally, and for one fleeting moment, he could have sworn he saw a figure far off, just out of range of his flashlight.

"Joshua?" he whispered.

It stood there for a moment, then retreated into the fog.

Alex swallowed hard, clenching the flashlight harder. He knew better than to believe in ghosts. But in Shepherd's Glen now, he wasn't so sure what to believe anymore.

Alex ran faster, after a figure that dissolved into fog, boots crushing against the pavement. The mist turned around in chaotic patterns as if it were ridiculing his attempt, dragging him into its clutches.

But nothing was there.

He stopped, allowing the beam of his flashlight to flash across the fog-drenched street. Nothing but emptiness greeted him, empty sidewalks, darkened storefronts, and the familiar dead stillness of Shepherd's Glen.

"Joshua…" he whispered again, this time more desperate.

A chill ran down his spine as he turned back the way he came, freezing in place, as a low growl cut through the silence behind him. The suddenness sent a jolt of adrenaline suddenly coursing through his body. It was close, too close.

Instinct kicked in, honed by army training, and his time in Iraq.

Automatically, one hand went to his waist, his fingers closing around the hilt of the knife he always kept with him. It was a habit he'd never been able to break since his return from war. You never knew when you might need to defend yourself when in a split second your world became dangerous.

He drew the knife free, its weight both familiar and comforting in his hand. His pulse was pounding hard in his ears, tensing his muscles. Whatever was out there in the fog wasn't human.

Louder this time, the growl came closer, and closer echoing through the heavy air. Slowly he spun around, casting his light beam this way and that, forward into the darkness, trying with all his might to see what was stalking him. The beam picked up flashes of movement, too fast, too fluid to be from anything natural.

His heart was racing now, he took a step and peered into the darkness. His hand closed more tightly over the knife. He wasn't afraid to fight if he had to. He'd fought before, even killed before, in places far worse than this one.

Suddenly, a form hurled itself from the fog, staying low and fast. Its shape was only barely defined. Alex hardly had time to react to it. Sidestepping the thing, he swung the knife in a wide arc, its blade whipping through the air.

It snarled, skidding to a complete stop just outside of his knife. Its eyes glinted in the dim light of his flashlight. A large, canine-like creature stood before him, but this wasn't any dog he'd seen before. It was acting aggressive, like on rabies. Only it wasn't It was wrong, distorted, twisted, something pulled from his nightmares. Its flesh seemed to ripple and pulse.

He stared it down, chest heaving, heart pounding against the ribs. His mind was racing, but his body was still, steady relying on his highly tuned instincts. This wasn't the first time he'd been in a fight for his life. The streets of Baghdad had taught him that much.

But this wasn't Iraq. This was Shepherd's Glen back in America, and whatever this dog thing was, it didn't belong in either world.

It made another growl, tensing its body, ready for another attack.

Alex swiftly adjusted his stance and the hold on his knife, the handle pressing against his palm. Their eyes focused on the shadowy form in front of him.

"Come on," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's do this."

The twisted, dog thing came out of the fog again, finally coming into full view. The closer it got, the more distorted it seemed to be. Fur patchy, hanging from its body in clumps. A low, menacing growl came from deep within its throat and bared its teeth in a snarl.

But Alex stood his ground. He knew running would encourage the thing to chase after him. He didn't want to look like weak, easy prey. His combat knife was still clutched in his hand, a comforting reminder of all his training.

The dog, or whatever the thing had become, began circling him. Its snarls grow louder, more erratic. Its movements became twitchy and unnatural. Alex took a breath, widening his stance, as every muscle tightened like a spring.

"Easy," he whispered.

Then, without warning, it lunged after him.

The beast flew at him again with terrifying speed, snapping its jaws, and leaping through the air. Alex barely had time to react, raising his arm to shield himself as the dog's body hit his. The impact was brutal. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him as he went backward, crashing into the ground. His flashlight skidded across the pavement.

The dog's weight bore down hard on him, teeth gnashing from mere inches from his face. Alex grimaced, his teeth clenched as he fought to keep the thing's jaws from closing in on his throat. The stench of its breath filled his nostrils with something rotten.

He struggled under its weight, his free hand desperately shoving at it as his other hand was fumbling for the knife. Its claws raked across his jacket, ripping through in a tear. Alex grunted in pain as it leaned harder onto his chest, its eyes filled with wild, savage hunger.

The blade was close yet so far.

His fingers closed over the handle of the knife and in a sudden burst of adrenaline, he clasped it tightly in his hand. With all his remaining strength, Alex plunged the knife upwards in a swift desperate gesture. The blade bit deep into the dog's torso.

A high-pitched yelp erupted from the creature as it recoiled. Alex seized on that and rolled onto his side, tossing the dog off him. Scrambling back to his feet, he gasped for breath, the blood pounding in his ears. The dog was staggering, its growls low, pained whimpers, but it wasn't retreating. Still dangerous.

Alex heaved the knife up once more, bracing himself. He had been through worse and fought more dangerous enemies. But this, this was different. The thing before him wasn't a wild animal. It was something twisted, something that didn't belong in this world.

The dog snarled low in its throat, the sound full of pure malice, bleeding by its side heaved while circling Alex, dragging its injured leg yet refusing to stop. The fog hung heavy around them, thick as smoke, making their fight feel claustrophobic and surreal. The beam of his flashlight flickered faintly on the pavement where it had fallen, but Alex had no time to grab it.

His knife was slick with the creature's blood, he could feel the weariness seeping into his muscles. Already, the fight had gone on too long. He didn't know how much longer his body would hold up. But the dog, whatever nightmare had twisted it into this monster, wouldn't quit unless Alex killed it, or it killed him.

It lunged again, faster despite its wound. Alex barely had time to react as it slammed into him, teeth gnashing inches from his face. He took a few steps back, boots slipping on the dampened ground. But this time he managed to keep his balance. The dog's jaws snapped close to his neck, forcing him to shove his forearm against its throat, holding it at bay by pure strength alone.

He drove his knee into the creature's ribs. It yelped, stunned for a moment, and Alex took advantage, rolling out from under it and springing to his feet.

His heart was racing in his chest as the dog went backward, injured but still charging at him. Their eyes burned with a hunger that chilled his very spine, but he didn't back down. Not now. Not when the fight was so near to being won.

He steadied himself and kept the knife raised. The dog lunged again, this time more sluggish but no less dangerous. Alex dodged the attack, pivoting sharply. In one swift, practiced motion the blade found its mark.

With one last, desperate growl, the dog twisted in midair, but it was too late. Alex buried the knife deep into the creature's chest, driving the blade with all the strength he had left. The dog let out a strangled guttural yelp, body convulsing. It staggered and fell heavily to the ground. Its legs kicked once, twice, before stopping.

Alex panted, still clutching the knife. The world fell silent again, eerily so, as if nothing had happened. He stood there and stared at the creature for a moment longer, expecting it to move, expecting it to get back up and attack him again, but it didn't.

It was over.

He took a step back, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His heart was still racing, blood still pumping with adrenaline, but he was calm. He'd been here before, the fights for survival, moments when life and death were separated by the weapon in his hand.

But this time it was different. The dog, if he could even call it that, had been something else. Like something straight out of a nightmare. And that's what made it even worse.

He hunched over, wiping the blade clean before sheathing it. The flashlight still flickered on the ground nearby. He grabbed it, shining the beam over the creature. It looked less monstrous now. Just a broken and twisted animal, like it had once been something normal that had somehow twisted into this.

Alex finally allowed himself to let out a breath, the ache of battle still hounding his body. He had no idea what was going down in this town. But it couldn't be over. Yet.

Alex stood over the fallen creature, the moment weighing heavily upon him, but his mind was already racing. The feeling that this was only the beginning simply would not secede. Whatever had twisted that dog into a monstrous version of itself wasn't just out there in the fog. It was everywhere, in the very grain of Shepherd's Glen.

He knew what he had to do next.

"Elle." He had to find Elle.

The name was echoing inside him now. She had always been there, he realized. The only person he'd ever truly trusted in this town. If there was something wrong here, which deep in his heart, he knew there was, Elle was the person he wanted to find.

The dog had attacked him, but of all the dangers in this town, it wasn't him alone that was in peril. Elle had to be safe, he needed to make sure of that.

Strong, and kind, the memories of her anchored him as he started to walk with a newfound purpose. She was there for him when he returned, just as she had always been but now, there was no time for distance, no time to waver.

He moved swiftly, his mind replaying the conversations they'd had since his return, the way her eyes lingered on him when she thought he wasn't looking, the way her voice softened when she asked him if he was okay. She had always managed to see through him, more than anyone else.

Pacing quickly down the empty street, every step felt like it echoed. Even with a knife at his side, he was not beyond feeling exposed, eyes watching him from out of the mist.

Elles' house wasn't too far away. If anything was wrong, she'd be there. He quickened his pace, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that the town was closing in on them all.

He had fought enemies, but he had seen them before. But this? This was something far worse.

"I'm coming, Elle," he whispered into the fog.

Whatever was waiting for him in Shepherd's Glen, one thing he knew: he wasn't going to face it alone.