The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County in Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a nearby ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, making a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.

To whom it may concern: this message is of the utmost importance. Please do not disregard it. I don’t know for sure what website you’ll be seeing this on, whoever you are. Probably something submission-based, hopefully one where it stays up. Regardless, it is imperative that you keep reading. I’ll explain why soon, but before I do, some context is in order.
My brother was a brilliant man. Brilliantly talented, brilliantly clever. It was difficult growing up in his shadow. We were raised in the same nurturing, middle-upper class environment, with two loving parents that encouraged us at every turn, but it seemed there was nothing I could do that he wouldn’t outshine me at. He was no savant, you see. Julian held his own in any situation, whether that be an exam or a party with friends. Hardly ever was he not the smartest person in the room, or the most popular.
Needless to say, I was a jealous sibling. My main source of bother was academic performance. I’m not an idiot, even in comparison to my brother, but I was an underachiever for a long period of my adolescence. I’m not sure what I’d attribute it to. Hanging around the wrong people, perhaps, having my head in the clouds, something like that. I’ve always been intelligent, but for a while I really struggled to knuckle down and use that intellect. For so long, I heard the same tired expression: “if you’d only apply yourself…” I’m sure some of you reading this can relate. It wasn’t until many years later that that sentiment really rang true.
I never outright hated Julian, but I have to admit there was invariably a growing seed of resentment in my heart for him, especially as we got older and his natural aptitude really began to shine. We both had an interest in computer science from a young age, most likely inherited from our father, who worked for Microsoft before they went out of business. I still remember those nights as kids when he’d sit us down in front of his computer and show us all the little intricacies of the code he was working on. Any other children our age would be bored out of their skulls, but there we sat, attentive as ever, our developing minds fascinated by the job’s seemingly endless possibilities. Julian’s other main curiosity, which I did not share, was an affinity towards online horror fiction, though he grew out of that kind of stuff in his late teens.
He knew I had a chip on my shoulder. Mostly, he was apathetic towards it; we were never estranged, but he wasn’t going to let my discontent get in the way of his success. Though I don’t blame him, I suppose that was always Julian’s downfall. He was just too headstrong, too confident.
When we became adults, we parted ways. He went on to study at Harvard while I ended up dropping out of some bang-average local university you won’t have heard of. Following that, things were a little rough. My parents were fairly disappointed. They didn’t cut me off, rather, interacting with them became a depressing chore as they waited for their son to get his life together. At family gatherings, I gritted my teeth at the stories Julian told: developing virtual reality hardware, cutting-edge stuff, pushing the boundaries of the way we interact with technology, all while I was couch-surfing, barely making ends meet as the IT guy at a shitty school in a town I hated. It only made the prospect of snapping out of whatever haze I was in feel more difficult.
It all changed one day soon after I got my first apartment. Julian showed up out of the blue on a dewy morning with an armful of equipment and a huge, beaming smile on his face. I let him in, we talked, and he promised that what he was going to show me would completely blow my mind.
I watched as he paced about my living room setting up all his gadgetry. As soon as everything was ready, he switched on my computer and handed me a thin, plastic headset with exposed wires. Two nodes hung from either side of the thing, which fitted snugly over my temples. While I sat back on the sofa and stared at the monitor before me, he gave me one simple instruction.
“Type something into Google.”
“But I don’t have a keyboard.”
“You don’t need one.”
According to Julian’s wishes, I simply thought about the action, and it happened. The word “something” came up in the search box, and my jaw dropped open in shock. At first, I thought the obvious, that my brother was purposefully fooling me with some kind of prank or gimmick, but repeated tests all came up with the same result. And it wasn’t just searching I could do telepathically, but anything. Literally anything I could think of, limited to the capabilities of the computer, of course. I had total control. There was even a sort of projection in my mind’s eye as it was happening, like the process was actually occurring inside my brain. It wasn’t perfect, but it was nothing short of amazing.
“You’re one of the first people to try it,” he told me once I’d tested everything out. “We’re calling it NeuroWorks, or something to that effect.”
I don’t think that feeling of astonishment ever truly left me. It was then that I realised my petty indignation, the dissatisfaction I felt after so many years of being outclassed, meant nothing in the face of my brother’s achievements, and I would be doing the world a disservice by failing to assist him. Julian departed that night after some drinks and a few laughs, and the next day, I enrolled once again for a degree in computer science. Four years later, I passed with flying colours, and Julian hired me to work for him at his company. There may have been a bit of nepotism involved, but that’s neither here nor there.
The next few years were dizzying. During the time in which I was getting (re)educated, Julian had been working with a team of elite neuroscientists, specialists that filled in the gaps in his knowledge, did all the things he couldn’t. Immediately, I felt I was in way over my head, but as my learning advanced, I gradually got up to speed, and my mood improved quite rapidly. That feeling of pride, like I was finally doing something productive with my life, was nothing short of fantastic, especially in the face of so many wasted years. I was never quite on Julian’s level, of course, but with enough time, I grew to be a valued contributor to the NeuroWorks project. Off the back of a long period of arduous work, the device fully came to fruition, culminating in an international commercial release.
It was a global success, and we made a fortune. Once we’d fully optimised it, it ended up being surprisingly cheap to produce and implement. The result was its adoption in billions of households and businesses. As expected, it completely changed the way we live and work in the virtual world. Worldwide productivity and efficiency increased tenfold. Even now, I’m typing this message with those same two nodes attached at either side of my head, hands-free. As cliched as it sounds, at that point, it truly felt like we were living in the future.
Honestly, I would’ve been happy to stop there. I could’ve moved somewhere green and sunny, spent the rest of my days doing TED Talks and sipping cocktails on the balcony of a villa, not giving a single damn. But not Julian. Like always, Julian had his eyes set on further horizons, on the subsequent stretch of progress. No sooner than a few months after NeuroWorks was released did he come up with his next magnificent idea.
“Consciousness splicing.”
That was how he described it on the day he first sat me down to try and explain. We were outside a café, some pretentious, gentrified establishment in the heart of London, with a coffee each.
“The next stage of human learning, or maybe even existence as a whole. NeuroWorks, compared to this…it’s just a stepping stone, Alex,” he told me. “If we get this right, we won’t just be able to use computers with our minds, we’ll be able to think like them, too.”
I struggled to wrap my head around the concept. “How do you mean, exactly?” I replied.
“Take what makes us sentient. Our minds, our passion, our free will. Everything a machine lacks. How can it be improved? How can it be bettered? What we lack naturally, we as a species, I mean, can be found in a computer. The processing power, the boundless memory, the objectivity. Not to mention the ability to conjure up any kind of information on a whim, the entire collective library of human knowledge, dating back thousands of years. But there are limitations. Computers can’t truly think for themselves. Not yet, anyway. They require input, direction. If we can intersect the strengths of man and machine, cross the gap that separates us…”
He was stirring his drink all the while. Julian had a thing about that: he could never look at you directly when he was thinking, like the image of your baffled face would put him off somehow.
“Okay, but you’re talking purely in theoretical terms, right? We’re centuries off reaching that point. I mean, creating a neural link between a person and Mac OS is one thing-
“I think it’s possible.”
A beat passed before he sighed, grabbed a napkin, and produced a pen from his pocket. I waited as he sketched out a crude, yet complicated diagram. I can’t recall it exactly – it was something to do with the relationship between time, space, and information. Far more philosophical than scientific, I remember thinking.
“The internet is a powerful beast. Our means of controlling it, of accessing it, even with NeuroWorks, are subpar. We just need another breakthrough, and then that could open the door for who knows what else. Traversing through decades online, going back and forth whenever we want-
“Easier said than done.”
“But it could be possible. It could.”
“I disagree. Not in our lifetimes, anyway. And even if it is, it sounds…dangerous. Very dangerous. The number of things that could go wrong, the variables…it doesn’t bear thinking about. We don’t want to get too far ahead of ourselves. Let’s learn to walk before we run, eh?”
He was quiet after that. The conversation stuck with me for the next couple of years. We were working mostly on maintaining NeuroWorks at that time, delivering a steady stream of updates and enhancements as society began to mold itself around its advent. There was some discussion as to when the next big leap forward would be, the next huge announcement from Julian’s company, but he remained tight-lipped about anything regarding that.
It was then that he started acting…weird. I saw him less and less in what was supposed to be our spare time together. The cancelled reservations and missed family events added up, but whenever I asked him about it, he just shrugged it off. “I’m a workaholic,” he would say. “You know you all mean the world to me, but so does this job.” I tried to comfort myself with that, but deep down, I think I knew he was hiding something. Something he thought would worry me, that was outside my area of expertise. I was going to confront him about it eventually. I just ended up waiting too long.
One night, he rang me out of nowhere. I remember shooting straight up into a sitting position in a pitch-black room – I think I’d been having a nightmare. The metallic surface of my phone was cold and smooth in my sweaty palm as I picked up the call and pressed it to my temple.
“Meet me at this address in half an hour. And be quick.”
I spoke a word or two in return, but the call had already ended. There was a soft blip, and some postcode I didn’t recognise appeared at the top of the screen.
Doing exactly as my brother asked, I got up, got changed, and made the 20-minute journey by car.
The place was a run-down warehouse in one of the rougher areas of town, where property prices were at their cheapest. I parked up and stepped outside, shivering as I cursed myself for not having the foresight to bring a thicker jacket. It wasn’t immediately obvious which building I was looking for, until I saw a flash of light through a broken window in the distance. Cautiously, I approached it, glancing around to assure myself I wasn’t walking into a trap, as stupid as that thought was. The main door being completely boarded up meant an obscured gap in the brickwork was my entry point.
Dodging the tiny droplets of water trickling in from the broken ceiling, I rounded a corner. The main, spacious area of the warehouse had been kitted out as a kind of makeshift workshop, near identical to a setup from NeuroWorks. It was as if someone had carved out one of our labs and dumped it here, beside walls of crumbling paint. My brow was furrowed as I stared from a distance at the scurrying scientists, who flicked me awkward looks as they went about tending to a central apparatus. I recognised a few of them, but they paid me little mind. I’m sure they knew I was coming.
It took me a few moments to realise, but Julian was part of the almighty cluster of machinery in the middle of it all. His body was a biological cog in an otherwise artificial setup; he was on his back, head tilted slightly forwards, arms splayed in a t-pose like he was being crucified. I’ll never get that image out of my head: him lying there, not having quite noticed me yet, sweat upon his brow. He was shirtless, too, wires running up and down his arms and a mesh inserted atop his shaved head, which was next to a monitor. The wires came down in gangly clumps off the side of the ‘bed’ he was on and fed into this gargantuan hunk of steel by his side. It was truly massive, topped with blinking lights and seemingly missing its outer casing. If I didn’t know better, I’d have assumed he’d been kidnapped and experimented on.
He looked at me, directly upwards from his perspective, and said, “You’re late,” through a smile.
I wasn’t smiling. “Julian, what the fuck is all of this?”
“I apologise for not telling you sooner. Truth be told, I didn’t want you to worry. But this is too important for you not to see.”
I was at a loss for words.
“What we’re going to do here, today, right now, will change the course of humanity. And you need to be here to witness it. So get ready. We’re starting!”
He shouted that last sentence, and all the scientists in the room shuffled to what could only be described as their ‘posts’. I merely watched as they started a countdown sequence of sorts, dutifully coordinating the machine through a large control panel. They communicated with short, snappy gestures and mumbled technobabble that I could barely pay attention to. Instinctively, I stepped back until I was at an arbitrarily ‘safe’ distance.
Seconds later, my mouth turned dry and a quiet ringing in my ears began to form. I chalked it up to nerves initially, but it soon became apparent there was some kind of static in the air, palpable interference that manifested in a painful shock as my hand grazed the shiny edge of a worksurface. It seemed to be emanating from the middle of the room, where Julian was. His eyes were closed now, tightly; he gave the impression of someone concentrating very intently on something.
There was a hum, so low you almost felt it before you heard it, slowly increasing in pitch. I suddenly had a headache, and I’m almost certain my hair was standing up under the confines of my flat cap. Panic surfaced within me as I noticed the scientists arguing. I shouted a word of protest, only to realise my ears had popped, and the faint ringing from earlier now sounded like a cacophonous bout of tinnitus.
Something was clearly and utterly wrong. Julian’s deathly stillness as he honed his thoughts had ended, and he was now thrashing around, foaming at the mouth, unable to break free of his confines. I ran back over to his side-
“Don’t touch me!” He managed to force out. I could barely hear him, but the crazed look in his eyes, dilated like a cat’s, convinced me to leave him alone. Instead, I focused my attention on the scientists.
“What are you maniacs doing to him?” I yelled. “Fucking switch that thing off! Now!”
One of them came and pushed me away. His mouth was moving, but I couldn’t make out the words. The noise of the machine was just too loud. There was a collective moment of fear as the tone became ear-splitting. No-one could hear anyone anymore.
Julian looked like he was being possessed. My attention was drawn to the monitor beside him; before, it had been inert, but it was currently displaying a fast-moving, almost psychedelic kaleidoscope of uniform shapes and colours. If you’ve ever seen what a computer looks like when you remove its RAM while it’s running, it was like that, but even more erratic and animated. I was practically hypnotised by it, and as I gazed further and further into its depths, an awful image began to emerge.
It was Julian. I swear to god, I know it sounds crazy, but Julian’s face materialised in the form of this…nightmarish coalescence of text and code. His mouth was open, and his eyes were bulging out of his skull. I turned to my brother to see him doing the exact same expression there on the table, unable to breathe. It made me feel sick to my stomach.
Suddenly, the machine shut down, taking the monitor’s display and oppressive interference with it. Julian’s eyes glazed over, his face went pale as a sheet, and he slumped down onto his back, letting out a huge exhale. It was when he didn’t take another breath that two white-coated men went to check his pulse.
A single head shake between them confirmed what I feared. Gone.
I think I was in shock the whole rest of the night, because I didn’t speak a word to anyone until the morning. They sent me home in a taxi and promised to take care of what had happened. I burst into furious, bitter tears as soon as I put the keys in the door. I was so, so angry at being kept in the dark and lied to for so long, with this having been the culmination. Little did I know that was just the beginning.
Julian’s team called me into work the next day for a private meeting. To maintain the company’s work and appearance, they were going to sweep the whole thing under the rug. Fucking figures, I remember thinking. My first urge, naturally, was to fight this burial, to expose them and bring about some sense of justice, but I was talked down from it. You might call me cowardly for that, but put yourself in my shoes for a minute; I had no real evidence at hand, and it soon became apparent that the scientists were only operating under my brother’s command. Everything had been planned out in advance, even the system that was being followed now, for what would happen if a fatal accident occurred. Telling the world the true events of that night would’ve been a losing battle – already, they’d began cleaning up their mess – demolishing the warehouse lab, scrubbing all evidence from the archives, etc. It was a tough call, but I felt compelled to adhere to my brother’s wishes and keep moving forward with NeuroWorks. You can judge me for that if you want, but I don’t care.
I forgave them all over time. It wasn’t even really their fault Julian had died that night – there’d been a freak malfunction with the equipment, leading to them being unable to turn it off. I won’t go too in-depth; there’s a lot about it that I still don’t understand to this day. Anyway, once the dust had settled, we put the incident behind us and gave up the whole ‘cutting-edge’ angle for a while. We started pursuing safer technological ventures like media creation, but that was when something strange began happening.
You see, Julian’s cause of death seemed obvious initially – most likely a heart attack or stress-related aneurysm – but the autopsy revealed something startling. There was little to no internal damage anywhere in his body: no burst blood vessels or spasmed arteries. Rather, all the electrical signals in his body had simply vanished simultaneously, deactivating his brain. It was as if he had literally been switched off.
None of this ever got out, of course. NeuroWorks, now one of the most valuable, powerful companies of all time, made sure of that. Julian’s death was publicly credited as a stroke due to undetected high cholesterol levels. But it’s certainly interesting considering what came after.
Over the next few weeks, we had virus troubles. A malicious software was making its way through our computer system. There was a bit of a panic to begin with; an internal investigation revealed we had far too much unsecured data that anyone working for a market competitor would be happy to steal and sell to the highest bidder, but the more we found out about it, the more curious we became. The strange thing about it was only partly what it did. Corruption and deletion are pretty bog-standard as far as viruses go, but its effects were largely patternless, like it was picking items at complete random. But it was also when it was doing it. After some research, we found that people had been complaining about this mystery malware they’d designated as ‘WerStar’ (due to the word apparently repeating itself over and over again in damaged code and text boxes) since the beginning of the internet. Despite this, its existence had never been formally documented anywhere, which is extremely bizarre. Whatever WerStar is, it’s completely transcendent of time.
We think we know what’s going on, though. We had our ideas to begin with, and there were plenty of skeptics amongst us, but a recent event has all but verified it. A couple of months ago, I found a .txt file on my computer that wasn’t there the day before, entitled ‘WerStargift’. It was an enormous mass of code that took weeks to fully analyse. Delving into the nitty gritty of the whole thing would take forever, but from what we’ve been able to glean from it (and I promise I’m being serious when I say this), it’s a formula for communicating virtually with the past.
Which brings us to today. Well, our today. We’re sending this message from the year 2050 to what we’ve calculated to be the mid-2010s. Myself and Julian should only be little children. Don’t worry, this isn’t some Terminator-style mission to erase or alter a former timeline. We just need you to tell us something.
The code wasn’t the only thing in the .txt file. There was a message, a message we can’t read. It’s been cobbled together on an old, outdated editor that isn’t compatible with the modern NeuroWorks setup anymore. Believe me, we’ve tried everything, but not even old computers will display it. We think our failure to view it is the whole reason we’re even able to talk to you now. In your time, it should still be legible. You may need to do something with it, view it through a Source editor, perhaps, but it won’t be hard to decipher.
You should be able to communicate with us, too. Hopefully. We’ve tested this with random forums – dozens of messages we made that were supposedly sent in 2012, and had people respond to them in that same year. We’re well aware of the danger associated with this, but at the same time, it’s the only chance we’ve got.
I’m going to wrap this up by apologising. I’m sorry that I haven’t been more specific throughout this message; there’s a lot I’ve glossed over in the pursuit of keeping things relatively short. Maybe this is just a lost cause – the technology we’re using is still extremely unrefined, so there’s a chance this might not even get out there. But it’s been 10 years since Julian ‘died’, and I’d give anything to be able to see my brother again. If this works, if we’re able to somehow establish contact, then we may even be able to reverse the process, to find him a human host.
So, please, for the love of God, please, what does it say? Where is Julian?
...
...
...
https://imgur.com/a/hu9jOuk

I’m not an extraordinary individual. Not to my knowledge at least. However, there have been many anomalous things that have happened to me throughout my life. Some of these incidents were harmless while others were downright haunting. Either way, all these incidents were well beyond simply being “out of the ordinary.”
The most recent of these incidents involve my reddit account. Specifically, a post that I don’t ever remember posting. I don’t have any medical or family history of memory-related disorders. I have never shown any signs of such memory disorders, nor do I have any predisposition to them. I also do not partake in injecting any drugs including alcohol or anything else that could cause me to forget certain events. Therefore, I would’ve remembered originally posting the following post and yet I don’t. The original post was titled, “A former work partner sent me a strange email last night, now I fear for my safety.”
I discovered this post this morning after vomiting for the first time in years. However, the vomit wasn’t what scared me. The fact that it was partly black. Closing the lid of the toilet after vomiting in it, I noticed something on the underside of my left forearm. “Subject Number 9: Attempt number 1; Result: Conversion Rejected; minimal to no physical alteration; failure” where the words printed on my arm. That was the final straw and that’s why I’ve decided to repost the original post rather than simply deleting it.
-Original Post-
It happened last night around 11:30pm. I was getting ready to go to bed when I heard a notification sound from my laptop. It was an email titled, "If you get this email, you’ve been selected for a true opportunity. Don’t resist it!" and attached to it, was a Word Document. It was from an ex-coworker whose real name I won't use (I'll be using the name Dave as a replacement). Not wanting to stay up for what I thought was an advertisement or promotion of some kind, I simply saved the attachment after verifying the email's origin.
I then went to bed before being woken up around 3:00 at night to a loud thumping sound and my laptop being turned on seemingly by itself. Upon opening the laptop, I saw that it was opened to the word document while a page to reddit had been open. After reading the Word Document in its entirety, I was dumbfounded. It wasn’t an advertisement; it was a warning. At first, I would’ve assumed it was just a dumb, ridiculous prank. However, following events made me convinced that’s not the case.
I tried to delete the word document and close reddit with no success and laptop will only pull up reddit, email, and Microsoft Word. I then tried to turn off my computer, but it only gave an error sound in response. Worse yet, my phone won’t even turn on so calling for help via my phone isn’t an option. It’s definitely some sort of virus. Furthermore, in the process of trying to leave my apartment on the fifth floor, the door wouldn’t unlock, and the peep hole was obstructed. Following this, I tried to scream for help, but nothing happened. This has only made me fearful and desperate. That's why I've decided to post the document I received here so I can maybe appease whatever virus this is.
To give context, I met Dave when we were both hired in the same group. Long story short, the job simply wasn't for us, and we were both let go the same day right before the end of our job's probationary period. After that, I went to work for a warehouse job to stay paying for the bills. I'll admit it's not the best job, but I won't complain because it pays enough for me to afford my monthly expenses. However, that didn't stop me from being jealous of Dave once I had learned that he had found work in an unnamed experimental treatment facility.
I live in an area on the southeast coast of North America that's known for constant innovation. Dave on the other hand, lived 20 minutes away from me. That's partially why it wasn't so hard for both of us to find replacement jobs. However, it didn't explain his luck as I never took him as the kind of guy to work in the field of Biology and Gene Therapy. He seemed more of a mechanic than a scientist. Regardless, I was happy for him and moved on with my typical life.
That was all about 2 months ago.
The document that was attached to the email was a letter. Any details such as the name of the CEO or the company Dave worked for have been removed. This was the message I saw when I read the document.
-Message Starts-
[My Name], you’re one of the people I sent this to. You need to read everything that is in this document very carefully, word for word and then post this to a site that it is or will be pulled up on your device. I’ve installed a virus on your computer that will only be nullified once this document has been posted onto a specific internet page designated as “Safe to post” by the virus’ code. I’ve done this to ensure that the truth gets out there not to harm you. I’m sorry it had to be this way.
However, I shall give you some context first.
It all started after I didn't make my previous job's probationary period. I had moved to the local area just for that job. So, when I didn’t make the cut, I originally was planning on moving back to my home state. However, that soon changed as two nights before I was going to begin the move. I had gotten a letter from [Removed] Inc. It was a job offer.
"Hello [Removed], we've heard about your recent and unfortunate separation from [Removed]. We would like to extend a job offer after reviewing your skills and experience as we’ve determined that you'd be a better fit here with us and your contributions valued. Your job would be relatively simple, safe, and rewarding. You will be trained, costs covered by us. Should you choose to stay, you’ll enjoy our amazing benefits including, but not limited to, full insurance coverage, competitive pay, and 152 hours of PTO! All we ask is that you're willing and able to work 12-hour shifts, lift more than 50lbs, comply with our reasonable NDAs and do the job with quality and safety in mind. Should this offer pique your interest, don't hesitate to call us or email us!
Sincerely, [Removed].”
“Today’s biological questions are tomorrow’s biological achievements here at [Removed].”
I must've read it twice before deeming it as "too good to be true" However, the truth is, I was desperate. Desperate enough to take the time and reach out to the company. The fact is, I didn't want to go back to my home state. If I had a chance to stay here, why not try and see if the job is genuine. “The worst thing that can happen is I get my time wasted” I thought.
I called the CEO the next day and to my surprise, long story short, it was successful! I was hired! Not only that but the job's hourly wage was $10 more than my previous job and I only had to work 3 days a week! I was told to come in the next available shift for training.
I eagerly began my first two weeks here normal enough. It was mostly training videos relating to our job procedure, receiving hands-on training for simple tasks, and meeting my coworkers. On the first day, I noticed that all the coworkers barely ever talked. I chalked it all up as they simply being standoffish to me, the new hire. I figured they needed to warm up to me.
After the first 2 weeks were done, I had a good idea of what I'd be doing. I would be experimenting on human and wild animal tissue as well as live animals. This was to study the effects of mutating and altering certain genetic codes. I know the last part might seem unethical, but it was to discover cures for diseases using gene therapy. I wasn’t hurting animals; I was helping them. However, the job still began to feel wrong.
It started with me meeting the CEO. Immediately I noticed something was different about her. Specifically, the way she looked for a CEO. She towered above me at almost seven feet in height and her skin was insanely pale. Her hair was jet-black as was the color of her eye’s irises and the shape of her upturned eyes made her gaze very intimidating as well. She looked young, perhaps 25 at the oldest. Furthermore, the way she dressed; she wore a black and grey camo military-style uniform didn’t help. There was what looked to be the patch of a flag or symbol on her left shoulder, but it wasn’t that of any nation or group I recognized. The symbol/flag in question was a red-letter X in the middle of a red outline of an eye with a black background. Her voice was also very off.
After meeting her, I was then made to sign several NDAs and other contractual documents. The documents I was signing seemed standard but something in me felt wrong with it. After signing the NDAs, I was then introduced to Arin, the person I'd be shadowing. Everything went downhill from there. Immediately, within 5 minutes of meeting him, Arin began to give me a list of ominous, strange suggestions that sounded more like warnings.

1. If you hear the CEO seemingly talking to herself behind a locked door with the hallway lights flickering outside, walk away. She’s talking to the voice. Whatever they are talking about is none of your business and you want to keep it that way.
   
2. If you are working by yourself and the lights turn off. Don't move. You will hear a voice, cooperate with it, answer any questions it has and do what it says. I don't want to have to clean up after another, "unfortunate work accident."
   
3. Though this is unlikely, if the CEO tells you to meet them in their room. Do not keep them waiting. She doesn't like it when you're late because it is likely demanding your presence.
   
4. If you have questions about what exactly we do, don't ask. Don't try to tell anyone outside of this facility the nature of our work and its end goal should you find out. It's not us that will come for you, it's the voice.
   
5. If you happen to see the figure that the voice belongs to, it has respect for you. Keep it that way but avoid eye contact with it.
   
6. Do not refer to the voice as the CEO or a mental illness. Even if that’s what it seems like, I promise you It not that. You treat it with the utmost respect and legitimacy even when it's not around.
   
7. None of these suggestions I’ve given you are a "joke" of any kind. Take it seriously.
   

I didn't say anything, but I was more than confused. I could tell by his face that he was intent on convincing me. In fact, he had the most serious look I had ever seen on anyone’s face. He then said, "I have your back but don't get yourself in trouble. Don't mention what I've told you at lunch either. Everyone learns in their third week. Now, you know what they say about Rome? When in Rome, do as the romans do yeah? Well, you're in Rome so do as we do. Oh, and I'll say this one final time, nothing I've told you is to be talked about outside of the workplace. Don't think about it too hard though. Just don't forget either." My heart began to race slightly after hearing this as I struggled to go about the work routine of isolating and studying DNA strands, reorganizing documents, Injecting certain labelled syringes into various lab animals, etc.
The next 4 days went roughly the same as I got into the routine of things. I got better at my tasks and was even allowed to work alone by the end of the week. All the other coworkers at lunch would say things like, "I went to go work at my station but the door to the room was locked, I then heard the CEO talking on the other end." or "The lights went out at my station yesterday, IT didn't say anything. The lights came on after 2 minutes. IT must've been observing." As these things were said, they exchanged knowing looks with no sign of any joking going on. At this point I was beginning to be convinced that the CEO was insane just by that alone.
The following 4 weeks were almost completely normal. There was no mention of "The Voice" except towards the end of my 4th week when Arin said, "IT must be taking a break or a vacation if it does that sort of thing." before one of our coworkers apparently got a little too clever and said, "IT might just decide to screw off for once." Everyone then stopped to look at him with stern expressions and no one even smiled. No one else said anything about the voice for the rest of lunch that day. The whole event made me nervous even more.
Midway through my 5th week, I had my first encounter with the voice while working the last hour of my shift. I was in a level A biohazard suit and about to mix two separate solutions in a petri dish based on instructions projected on my station's computer screen. One was dark red and labelled, "Human Blood; O- Type" and the other was black and simply labelled, "Black Blood." I was just about to mix them when the all the lights, including the light from my computer monitor cut out. Then, I heard a low-pitched, inhuman voice speak, "So interesting.” It spoke before continuing, “Tomorrow you will be made to do something dangerous but very important. In fact, that's why we brought you here. You are expendable due to your lack of prior experience and knowledge. However, I know you need the money and if you come in tomorrow, I’ll pay you 100k after you complete the task.”
The voice was beyond haunting because of how abnormal it sounded. It was like 3 people speaking at once. One voice was a deep, yet feminine, prominent, and loud voice while the two sounded like a man’s faint whispers echoing the same words. The voice then continued to my dismay, “Now, you were about to mix the two agents. Remember to destroy the petri dish after 3 minutes.” I didn't even ask how it knew to respond with that. I just stood there drenched in sweat and shaking, horrified at the whole experience. Then I thought back to the rules I was told on day seven. There was no doubt in my mind that this place was insane!
The voice then left without a trace as the lights came back on. I then completed the task according to instructions given. I watched as the Human Blood mixed with the Black substance. The entire petri dish became black within 1 minute before reverting to blood. When analyzing the liquid under a microscope, I saw that the cells had their entire genetic code rewritten. There were also what appeared to be stem cell like cell in the blood. They were black and moved through the other cells mutating any that hadn’t been converted. I immediately stepped away from the microscope as I gasped and then disposed of the mutagenic waste by placing it in the incinerator. The day then ended not long after that. I was reluctant to come back but the money promised was undeniable.
When I got to my assigned station at the basement level of the facility the next day, I was greeted by the CEO again who told me we’d be working on a "willing test subject" for an experiment. She also told me that I and my immediate coworkers were the only employees on site except for a few executives that would also be present. I was still shaken up from the previous day’s experience and the weirdness of that current day. However, I was then fully convinced with the promise of an additional 100k being deposited into my account immediately after successfully completing my task. I would've turned back had I known what would happen less than 30 minutes later.
I was escorted by the CEO to an all-steel room except for a panel of heavily reinforced, thick observation glass and door that looked like it belonged in Fort Knox. In the middle of the room lies a medical bed with a tube full of black fluid beside it. Several of my coworkers then stepped in the room with me as they saw my confusion. The door then closed behind them. Then Arin spoke, “So I guess the CEO didn’t tell you. Listen, there’s a reason why our team is the only one here today. It to put you in that bed.” I shouted in protest, “What! No! I don’t agree with this! Please, you can’t do this to me! This is illegal! Stop it!” Arin then replied with the last words I heard him speak, “Sorry buddy, this is why we brought you here. No one’s going to find out! We are all getting 100k individually to do this. You’re not the only one who needs money right now. Now let’s just make this easy for everyone. Get on there!” I then replied with, “Fuck you! I kill all of you!” as they wrestled me to bed with ease. They then cuffed my feet and hands to the bed with metallic restraints. The last thing I remember is a cloth being put over my nose as a strong scent filled my nostrils.
The next thing I remember was my eyes being covered by my hands as cried. I then pulled my hands away to see that they had become elongated, and my fingers had become claw-like. I then looked down at my mutated, blood-soaked body in horror. All around me was death and bodily destruction. I didn’t recognize a single body. The bed, equipment, walls, and floor were painted with blood and littered with human tissue. I immediately froze for a second time before retching. As a towered above the destruction, I realized I was significantly taller than I remembered. Then I looked ahead of me and saw that the tube with the black fluid was empty. “…No” Was the only word I could get out. That was when I noticed that my voice was altered. I sounded like the voice except prominent voice was a demonic version of my original voice and the faint whispering voices that came from my throat afterwards were feminine. Then I heard The Voice call out to me from the direction of the door behind me. I turned and saw the CEO. “It’s okay child, you’re mine now.” Were the words she spoke to me… and they will be the words she speaks to you.
Dear viewer, I am known by many names. One of them is Goddess Cerridwen. I know all of this is a lot to take in but soon it will all make sense. You were meant to worship me and soon you will as well as everyone else revieing “An email supposedly from [Dave’s real name]”. Your device is being tracked as of the time the Virus is installed onto it. I’m on my way to take you. You shall spread the word. It will do you no good, but it will make my name known furthermore so they may worship me.
-Message ends-
After I first got done reading this, I thought it was some ridiculous joke but now I no longer feel that way as the lights have begun to flicker and I’m beginning to hear whispering sounds from my closet. I’m going to try one more thing to escape.
I thought of an idea to get out of this situation and that was to start a fire in my kitchen to trip the fire alarm and get help. However, as I went over to the stove the power shut out and all the light from the outside streetlights seemed to dim unnaturally until no light came through. The only thing illuminating my entire apartment was my now laptop with its now eerie blue glow lighting up the dark world around me.
I decided to do the only thing I could think of, post the document on reddit. However, just as I was about to do this, I heard what sounded like three demonic voices speaking at once coming from behind me. Then I lost all hope of escape as the horror of reality sunk in and froze my body still as Goddess Cerridwen, the CEO, spoke to me, “Once you read the document, I simply manifested myself near your device’s location. That’s how I’ll get the first of the other ones too. You’re mine now. Go on, post it.”
-End of Original Post-
As I’m reposting this on here, there’ve been several local reports of people in my area going missing with no trace. “The first 10 of the missing people had received an email from [Dave’s real name]. However, now people are going missing without having received any previous let-” I turned off the TV after hearing that. The local news had also been saying that some other people had been waking up with words stamped on their arms. Some of these people that had reported these words on their forearms have since gone missing again. I fear that whatever this “Goddess Cerridwen” is, they are responsible for the disappearances. I fear that she might come for me now. I saw this because no light is coming through my apartment despite it still being mid-day and the lights of my apartment… have begun to flicker rapidly.

Part 3
Day 14
Chloe walked into what had once been the beautiful home of the Garrisons. The room she walked into was the main hall. It was large and square-shaped with a room on both sides and a hall on the other side of the door. In the middle of the room, a large antler chandelier lay in a destroyed twisted mess on the hardwood floor. She looked over at the walls and saw a few small circular holes. Bullet holes. She thought, taking a step closer to get a better look. Herman followed her wagging his tail like nothing was wrong with this situation. She looked down toward the floor and spotted large claw marks on the hardwood floor. Some looked like hound claw marks (she became acquainted enough with the marks to recognize them) but others were much larger. Far too large to be from one of the hounds.
After scanning the room for another minute she decided she’d go into the left room first. The left room was a small lounge that seemed unassuming at first glance until she noticed the couch that had been thrown against the wall and the dried blood stains on the walls and carpet. It was human blood and was mostly frozen.
She walked across the main hall and into the room on the right. This room was unassuming with very little apart from bookshelves and a small desk. It also seemed relatively undisturbed with little to no damage.
She walked down the hall into the main part of the house. This main section had an open-air kitchen/dining room and a large living room. It looked horrible, it was clear a massacre had happened here. Blood was everywhere on the floors, the walls, and even the ceiling in certain spots. Most of the blood was a dark red with occasional splatters of yellow-greenish blood. She saw bits of muscle and tissue in the blood, and all around that was wreckage. Their large 100-inch flat-screen TV lay crushed on the floor. The leather couch was flipped over and ripped in countless places. The fan lay on the floor looking like it had a sledgehammer taken to it. The kitchen was worse though… slumped against the wall was a mostly eaten body. It was essentially just a skeleton with small bits of meat and tendon still clinging on. Despite being absolutely terrified something made her want to get a closer look. She noticed most of the bones were broken if not shattered, and it wasn’t until that point she realized everything below the rib cage was missing. She yelped and looked away. The rest of the kitchen was destroyed with the drawers and cupboards broken, and one section of cupboards laying on the ground with shattered glass all around it. Lastly, the dining room. Another antler chandelier lay destroyed on the ground and the table was leaned over like it had been used as firing cover.
She walked over to the dining table only to realize another destroyed body lay behind it. This one looked like it had been thrown around by the look of its breaks. This one only had half a skull with the frontal and parietal bones absent. She looked and saw this was wearing dog tags. She let out a small sob when she saw that. She knew who it had to be. It had to be Timothy Garrison. She and Timothy were the same age and had dated through most of high school. After they graduated they had a mutual break up and she met Joey in college, but she and Timothy remained good friends. He had come to their wedding and he was the one who taught her how to shoot a rifle, and he had been the only person in his family to serve in the military.
Herman slowly walked up to the body and started sniffing it.
“Get away from him!” She screamed at the dog.
She started to sob when her brain seemed to kick back into gear. Pull yourself together and cry later, She told herself. She stood up, wiped the tears off her face, and kept going. She went back over to the kitchen and yanked their fridge open. It was stocked to the brim with meats, fruits, vegetables, and bottles. She restrained her excitement at the sight but still grabbed as much as she could. She filled a duffel bag full of only a portion of the goodies in their fridge then moved on. CREAK! The loud sound interrupted her walk over to the pantry. It came from the wooden ceiling just above her, and whatever it was that caused it sounded large. She froze and listened for more sounds, but after a while of nothing she moved on hoping beyond all hope that it was just a house noise.
She and Herman crept over to the pantry and with a quick pull she opened it. The pantry was large and also stocked with food. Most of it was crap that would expire or had already expired, but what excited her was the large sack of potatoes sitting by the door. She grabbed the sack and set it on top of the duffle bag by the fridge.
CREAK! This one was louder than the last and sent a chill down her spine. She wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to run out of the house or go upstairs and investigate. Her head was telling her she should leave but the other part of her so wanted to know what was making that sound. Finally, she made a decision. She’d search the bottom floor then she would go upstairs to check out the noise. CREAK! This one was the quietest so far, coming from below her. The basement, she thought, looking down at the floor.
She crept down a hall on the first floor with Herman right behind her. She was following a trail of blood like it was a trail of breadcrumbs. It was a deep crimson red and there was a lot of it. Whoever was bleeding definitely wasn’t alive anymore, she thought. She slowly followed the trail up to a white door which was now half covered in blood. Shakily she reached for the blood-covered knob and pulled the door open. It was the basement staircase but she looked at the way the blood had puddled and it told a story. They had hurried halfway down the stairs before something knocked them down to the bottom. There they are killed and then dragged into another section of the basement. She slowly walked down the stairs watching each step carefully until finally, her boot made contact with the linoleum floor.
Meanwhile…
I sat messing with and poking at the satellite phone trying to see why it wouldn’t send a call through. I’d looked through the manual and popped it open to see if anything had broken, but it was perfectly fine. I angrily smacked the phone against the coach, but still, nothing happened. At last, I set the phone down in defeat hoping Chloe was ok.
I turned from the couch to the window and saw Gretchen and Mom still busy with the shoveling. For the amount of snow on the driveway they’d made good work. Almost half of the driveway was clear of snow and covered in salt.
I watched on for a while before I heard a little beep. I looked over and saw the little screen of the satellite phone was showing an empty battery. I smacked my palm into my forehead annoyed by my stupidity.
“Hey Alby, can you get me some batteries?” I asked, looking over at him.
He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen a minute or two later he came back out holding the box of batteries.
“Thank you!” I said taking the box and quickly popping two new batteries in.
The basement was dark, very dark. Chloe could hardly see a thing, but she had thought of this scenario and pulled a flashlight from one of her pockets. Ca-Click! The thin beam of the flashlight kicked on. She was expecting to see the light illuminate the wall on the other side of the room or maybe a piece of furniture. But it illuminated a wall of webs. She saw through the webs at least a dozen cocoons far more than just the Garrison family. But even worse she saw dozens and dozens of stingers. They’d made the basement into a nest.
Bzzz…
The satellite phone continued to buzz and an uproar began to grow around her. Herman let out a growl and looked ready to pounce. Chloe in a hurry grabbed Herman’s collar and started running upstairs with him. The basement became full of the sound of screeches and she heard something big started moving down there. She sprinted as quickly as she could, making it to the top of the stairs and turning around to see at least a dozen stingers following her. Rat-a-tatatatatat!! She shot a barrage of bullets down at the stingers hitting most of them. Then something big appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Two things actually. Two hounds. She yelped and then slammed the door shut. She looked around quickly for something to barricade the door. Her eyes met a small dresser in a bedroom near the door. She pulled it out and shoved it against the door. CRACK! It came from the other side of the door and was quickly followed by a loud slam. She grabbed the still-growling Herman and started pulling him along with her. After a minute he started walking by her side and she let him go.
Suddenly she remembered the walkie and pressed the button.
“Joey… Joey, I'm here!” She yelled half excited and half still terrified.
I let out a sigh of relief; “Did you check out the Garrisons already?” He asked.
“Sort of… I’m still over there,” She explained.
She thought about telling me what she’d encountered but didn’t want to overly worry me. Plus recounting that day's events would just make things worse for her, not better.
“Ok, just be safe. I love you,” I told her.
“Love you too,” She said.
Bzzz…
She sat in the kitchen near her bags thinking for a minute. Since the crash, she hadn’t heard a thing from the basement door which made her start to suspect that the stairs had collapsed. Her curiosity had gotten desperate and she now felt like she had to check what was upstairs. She would never forgive herself if someone was still alive up there and died because she didn’t go and help them.
She slowly crept upstairs, her rifle trained and Herman at her side. The Garrison's house was set on a hill in such a way that the second floor was larger than the first. The second floor was made up of four halls that made a square with rooms within and outside of that square. The spiral stairs entered a corner of the square. Chloe reached the top stair and looked down the halls. Both were wrecked like upstairs but down one of the adjoining halls a body lay on the floor, or what was left of a body. She slowly walked over and saw this was by far the worst body she’d seen so far.
This one looked like it had been eaten similarly to Carl. The sternum and ribs were shattered and the spine was broken, but this one was worse. The bones were covered in bites and scratches, but worst of all the splatters around the body were immense; the person had likely struggled while they were being eaten alive. Chloe shivered at the thought and could only hope that they didn’t suffer long.
She stepped away from the body and got a better look around her. Apart from the body and the blood around it, there wasn’t much sign of death up there, but it still looked awful. Just like downstairs, the walls were covered in gashes and holes, and Chloe was becoming very surprised that they didn’t hear any of these gunshots.
CREAK! She looked down the hall where it had come from. For a brief second, she saw something at the end of the dark hall then it disappeared. It was only then that she noticed how dark it was up there, because of the houses set up there were no windows in the hall and the power had been out for days. She pulled out her flashlight Ca-Click! The narrow beam popped on and barely illuminated the end of the hall, but as she had thought whatever was there was gone now. She started to go about the search process methodically slowly going down the hall checking a room on the inside of the hall and then on the outside. The first room she poked her head into was a girl’s bedroom. It was decorated with a wallpaper of pink flowers and a small bed with pink covers. It was the stereotype of a little girl’s room. She noticed the covers were disheveled and a few things were knocked over. It looked like something had happened in the room but she wasn’t sure what.
She stepped out of the room and moved on to the next and the next. They were both similar with a similar disheveled nature. She started to realize whatever had happened it had woken them all up. She tried to push the last door in the hall open but it wouldn’t budge.
She continued up to the corner where she’d seen the thing. Multiple things then happened at once. She saw something massive lurking in the hall she began to turn down, she heard a creak behind her, Herman barked, and screeches began coming from downstairs sounding like the things had finally escaped the basement. Before she could stop Herman he started making a charge for the thing growling and barking. Chloe made a move after him but a gloved hand grabbed her and then covered her mouth. She watched Herman lung towards the thing then SLAM! It whacked Herman mid-air sending the dog flying back down the hall. He landed with a crash right next to her, a large bloody slash across his body. SCROAR! The sound came from the massive beast and nearly shattered her eardrums, and for one brief second, she raised the flashlight from Herman to the creature. She didn’t see much but that was enough.
She saw its face. It had four disturbing brown eyes, they were eyes she recognized. Those eyes… Those were the eyes of Mrs. Garrison. She gasped in horror through the gloved hand and she heard the person holding her let out a slight sob. The rest of its face wasn’t any better. Its top of head and forehead were all one bony plate. Its mouth was a black hole of teeth, and like the hounds, its lower jaw split into two mandibles. The back of its head had strange thin attachments that reminded her of the gills on an axolotl's head. Then in an instant, a few more things happened. The person holding her made a move for a door, the monster made a move for them, and the slamming footsteps of the hounds as they sprinted up the spiral staircase.
“Get in,” The person said, letting go of her and opening the door.
She turned around and saw the person who’d grabbed her and saw Fred Garrison standing next to the open door.
“NOW!” He yelled, grabbing her and pulling her into the room.
Fred hurried inside after her and quickly slid a fridge against the door. Seconds later angry screeches and slams rang out from the other side. They sounded like the hounds, not the big ones. Then she caught one other sound in the chaos, a wine. Oh gosh, Herman is still alive, She thought.
Fred stood by the door shotgun in hand while the slamming and screeching continued. She stood there and listened as they continuously tried to get in. Suddenly she heard Herman let out a growl, seconds later one of the hounds shrieked like they were in pain. CRUNCH! The sounds of Herman’s attack stopped and were replaced with sounds of meat ripping.
Chloe let out a small sob with her only comfort being that the crunch was likely Herman’s neck breaking.
Fred stepped away from the door and looked at her. He did not look like the man she remembered him as. His hair and beard looked like large rose bushes that were never cut. His blue eyes looked depressed like there was nothing there but sadness. Then she noticed a large bandage on his left arm. It looked like the whole arm had gotten cut open at some point.
Then her eyes wandered around the room. It was a small shop/man cave room. There were a few guns on the table, but more importantly, she noticed lit candles everywhere.
“I… I… I’m sorry,” He said with tears in his eyes.
She let down a quiet sob and Fred walked over helping her find a seat on the couch. After a minute of crying with Fred awkwardly trying to comfort her, she pulled herself together and looked up at the man.
“What happened?” She asked.
The man's face changed and she saw tears build up in his eyes; “A massacre,” He said grimly.
Then he followed with his story: “It happened around the fifth day I think. It was late and Jess and I were watching TV in the living room. Tim, Tom, Bart, and Gerry were chatting at the dinner table. Tom's wife and my four daughters were upstairs in bed. Everything was quiet and peaceful when suddenly my two dogs started barking outside. Now I know sometimes they’ll bark at dogs but this wasn’t that type of barking. This was get the heck away from me or I’ll kill you type barking. Then I started hearing weird screeching noises and at that point, I went over to the backdoor to check out the problem. I saw a bunch of massive spiders outside trying to attack my dogs, except they weren’t really spiders. Some of them had stingers and others kinda looked like slugs with spider legs. They’d stung one of my dogs a bunch and she was lying on the ground, the other was trying to stand her ground but it was a losing battle. I pulled at my revolver and started shooting at them. They were really fast. I think only one or two shots actually hit them. They started running over to me. One ran right in between my legs and a few of them tried to attack me. I shot those ones and turned around to try and stop the one that had gotten in, but it was already running havoc in the kitchen. My sons were chasing it, but they weren’t having the best of luck. Suddenly there was a crash, more spiders jumped through the now shattered windows, and something was banging on the front door. In an instant, the door was knocked off its hinges and one of those creeper things came through the door…”
Chloe interrupted him with: “I’m sorry but what are “those creeper things?””
“The… the big ones. The type that got your dog.” He explained.
“Anyways… it came running into the house, and before any of us could stop it. It threw Tom across the kitchen and into the wall. I came running to help him but that’s when it slashed my arm and threw me into the TV. The TV fell on top of me and then one of those spiders ran over and stung me in the thigh. I lay there with my eyes beginning to grow heavy. I saw Gerry, Tim, and Bart using the table as the shield. All three were hunched behind the table as the creeper began eating Tom. In a quick move, all three made a run for it. As they were running the creeper pounced and threw Tim into the table. Then it slashed Bart across the chest. Gerry managed to maneuver the creature and hurried over to help me. Bart ran down the hall to the basement and me and Gerry started hurrying upstairs. At some point, I blacked out and woke up here. Everyone was gone.” He finished with a somber look on his face.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” She said looking at him.
“And somehow they turned my beloved Jess into one of those.” He said motioning to outside where the Creeper had been.
She stopped to listen and realized that she couldn’t hear the hounds anymore.
“Are they gone?” She asked, looking over at Fred.
“Probably, they eat fast for their size,” Fred said grimly.
They sat there again awkwardly before Chloe asked, “What are all the candles for anyway?”
“Well I started lighting them for warmth, but I realized those things don’t seem to like them. Especially the scented ones.” He explained.
She took a whiff of the air and realized how strong the scents were in the room. It almost gave her a headache smelling them.
“So why were you here anyway?” He asked.
She got a little nervous. She felt like a little kid in trouble with her parents. She didn’t want to tell the truth because she worried it would anger him.
“We were running out of supplies.” She said simply.
Her thoughts turned back towards me as she sat there.
I sat on the couch still watching them work. They were about two-thirds done now, but they were starting to really tire and it was getting late. It had started to darken and I knew soon night would fall, and I just hoped she would make it home before nightfall. I’d tried to call her again, but this time it would ring but not go through. I started to wonder if hers had run out of battery. Bang! I immediately turned to the window in a panic. I saw Gretchen standing holding the rifle a few feet away straight down the barrel as a dead stinger. I let out a sigh of relief and turned back toward the phone in my lap. I hope you’re an ok babe.
“Fred, we have a plan. Come with me, don’t stay here, you'll die,” Chloe pleaded.
“Maybe I want to die.” He said, “Look I’m not stopping you from leaving but I’m not going.”
“Well if I go alone I’ll die, please my family needs me,” She said desperately.
Memories of his family flooded through Fred’s mind. He remembered how he felt when his first kids, Tom and Tim, were born. She hadn’t even had a kid, and suddenly he found himself doing something he didn’t think he’d be doing.
“Fine, let's go send those things back to hell!” He yelled pushing the fridge out of the way.
“Follow my lead,” He ordered turning around to her.
Then he cocked his shotgun and slammed the door open. As he had suspected the hounds and creeper were both gone, but lying on the floor next to the door were two bodies. One was the sprawled-out body of a now-deceased hound. Its neck was broken in multiple places and its yellow-greenish blood was everywhere around it. The other body was ripped off most of its flesh, but she knew who it had belonged to. Herman wasn’t going to sit there and bleed out so he must’ve lunged for one of the hounds nailing it in the perfect spot on the neck killing it. Then the other hound quickly retaliated by feasting on the dying Herman, or maybe it was the creeper she wasn’t sure which one actually ate him. But what she did know was that the skeletal remains of Herman on top of the hound had its teeth in the hound's neck.
Chloe let out a small sob and in barely a whisper said: “You were such a good boy, but you can rest now.”
She reached down and picked up a ripped piece of leather near the bodies. It was what remained of Herman’s collar. She stuff the piece into her pocket and looked over at Fred. Fred had tears in his eyes as he saw the corpse of Gerry just down the hall.
“H… He was only 15,” Fred cried as he got a better look at the scene.
Chloe stood there unsure of what to do or say because Fred looked like he was about to have a meltdown. Then his sad face turned to one of anger. She moved the flashlight past the body and down to the corner and the staircase. Lurking next to the staircase its brown eyes glowing in the light was the creeper. It was guarding the stairs and most likely wasn’t going to let them leave for as long as it lived. Her curiosity was getting the better of her so she turned a dial on the flashlight to make it brighter. She wished she could go back and stop herself. Stop herself so she didn’t have to see the horror that was the creeper. Her first interpretation of the face was fairly accurate except for one part. Inside its gaping maw behind the mandibles almost looked like a separate set of jaws. The second set was much more human-like and looked ready to shred any meat to bits, but its head was nothing compared to the body it sat upon. It appeared to have six limbs, two very long front arms with two large claws at the end, and two more arms that attached to roughly where pectoral muscles would normally be. These arms were much shorter than the previous set. It had two back legs that appeared to be quadruple-jointed. It had the normal heel and knee joints, but it had one additional joint in the foot. Despite this the legs looked vaguely dogfish, but not nearly as those of the hounds. Coming out where the tail should be was a large thorax with two nasty stingers on the end. The thorax was curved like that of a wasp ready to strike when necessary. It almost looked like it had a shell of exoskeleton on its back and thorax, and spouting out of the thicker plates were large needle-like spikes.
It let out a demonic shriek as soon as the light brightened. It ducked out of sight and started making a loud clicking noise. Chloe and Fred kept their guns trained on where it had disappeared ready for it to come out charging, but unfortunately, they underestimated it. It made a loud ticking sound followed by CREAK! Before Chloe could even turn the hound that had crept from behind had her pinned to the ground and was bitting and slashing at her back. BANG!!!! BANG!!!! Fred had lowered his shotgun to its head. The first blast blew out two of its eyes and shattered part of its exoskeleton, and the second blast dug through the broken exoskeleton into the brain. The hound collapsed dead and with his gun pointed at where the creeper had been Fred helped push the body off of her.
Chloe got up a little shaken but relatively ok. She started guarding back while he guarded the front as they slowly made their way towards the stairs. Any second they were expecting the creeper to appear from around the corner, but it didn’t. The creeper was planning something again but they didn’t know what. Just as they made it to the stairs they turned down the other hall, but saw nothing. The creeper had likely walked into one of the rooms and was waiting, but they weren’t there to explore. They hurried down the spiral staircase, but just as they got to the bottom they saw the place was still swarming with stingers, slugs, and 3 hounds. A loud ticking sound came from upstairs and the three hounds charged towards them. They started running back upstairs only to see the creeper now lurking at the top of them. Cornered in the middle of the stairs back to back with each other they began to accept their fate.
I started to really worry about where Chloe was I hadn’t heard from her in a while and it was getting late. I sat there trying to call her every few minutes but it would not pick up. BANG! I dropped the phone and turned to the window. Gretchen stood there with the rifle pointed at something off in the snow, but I couldn’t see what the thing was. BANG! I saw for a brief millisecond the bullet flying into the blizzard then nothing. BANG! I tried to pull myself up to see what it was, but searing pain went through my body when I tried. I looked out again and saw something massive emerge from the blizzard charging for Gretchen.
“I’m sorry we should’ve stayed up there,” Chloe cried as the hounds slowly stepped closer.
“Kid, I would rather die here than die in the room a coward, but you ain’t going to die here!” He said triumphantly.
Suddenly he pulled out a small can of spray deodorant and sprayed it in the hound's faces. All three toppled over making loud hacking coughing noises.
“GO!” He yelled and she quickly made her way past the hounds and downstairs.
There were still dozens of stingers down there and she still wasn’t sure what to do. Before she could do anything. RAT-A-TATATATA! All around her, the stingers began exploding as Fred landed shot after shot.
“A little help would be nice!” He yelled.
She quickly pulled out her semi-automatic and started firing as well. RAT-A-TATATATA! The hall began to fill with the exploded bodies of stingers and slugs. Suddenly she heard shuffling behind her and saw the hounds getting up. Without a second thought, she sprinted down the hall and into the kitchen. Standing in the living room was another group of stingers and a hound. How many hounds are there? She thought, then she remembered how many people in their town had two or three hunting dogs. If all of them were changed they’d be a small army.
She ducked behind the island sitting uncomfortably close to Tom’s body. Fred sprinted in a second later and saw what she did. He jumped to the ground and shimmied over to her.
“Crap kid we really are screwed,” Fred said his momentary confidence completely diminished.
Before anyone could do anything the monster that had emerged from the blizzard was attacking Gretchen. In one quick motion, it slashed open her gut and she dropped the gun. I stared outside as my mom tried desperately to fire, but even from this distance, I could see she’d loaded the gun wrong. In an instant, she was on the ground bleeding. I looked over at the shotgun sitting next to me and fired a round through the window at the beast. The window shattered and I saw the creature get hit right solid in the chest, but it didn’t matter much. Like the dog beasts, this one had a thick darkly colored exoskeleton that the round didn’t pierce. The beast looked up from what it was doing and started charging for the house. I fired again but it didn’t even slow the creature it just kept on charging straight towards the house. The boys at some point had caught onto what was going on and started crying and screaming. I tried to get them to quiet down, but they were too distraught. I grabbed the box and loaded two more rounds just as the door was thrown out of its hinges. SCROAR! It charged into the house. BANG! I shot it directly in that face and saw one of its eyes explode. SCROAR!!!! It swung a large two-clawed hand straight across my face throwing me across the room. I landed against a wall and in my weak state I leaned over and felt myself begin to fall. Unfortunately, it had thrown me right next to the basement stairs. Every time I hit a stair only hurt more than the last. At some point, my bandaged left hand slammed into a wooden stair. The pain was so bad I almost passed out. Finally, with one lass unceremonious thud, I landed on the basement floor.
Chloe looked around her hope beginning to fade then her eyes locked with the pantry. The large pantry with a window.
“Follow me,” She whispered as she started crawling for the pantry.
Fred followed close behind. Chloe crawled into the pantry and ducked into it. She peeked out of the doorway and saw that Fred had froze. The four hounds had gathered right behind him. He looked horrified and clearly unsure of what to do. Suddenly with a loud creak, the creeper's head poked into the kitchen and it let out a loud ticking sound. The hounds started screeching and one began to slowly walk towards Fred. RAT-A-TATATATA! She struck the approaching one 9 times in the face and the sudden burst seemed to wake Fred from his fear. RAT-A-TATATATA! Yellow-greenish blood exploded from the approaching hound's mouth and it slammed its head into the wall in pain. Fred turned around and sprinted into the pantry with Chloe closing the door as soon as he was inside.
Instantly sounds of slamming and scratching erupted from the door. Chloe turned to the window in the pantry and slid it open diving out into the snow. Fred quickly followed slamming the window behind him to give them more time.
Chloe sprinted through the snowy evening as quickly as she could Fred trying his best to keep up with her. The man wasn’t exactly in his prime and combine that with him not having snow shoes to be frank Chloe was surprised he was able to stay caught up at all.
As she sprinted down the darkening street getting closer and closer to home she thought she heard a faint Bang! Followed quickly by SCROAR!!!! Her worries suddenly switched from her and Fred to her family. She hadn’t called them in hours and now there was clearly something going on. She sprinted ever faster looking up and realizing she’d already made it onto their street.
As soon as their house was in view she saw the shoveled driveway, but she also saw my mom laying in a pool of her own blood. Along with that, she saw Gretchen weakly trying to get up also bloody. Chloe ran over to Gretchen.
“Gretchen, what happened?” Chloe asked as she helped Gretchen stand.
“Something… something big.” Gretchen sputtered out.
Gretchen had a lost far away look on her face. She almost seemed drunk but Chloe knew that wasn’t the case. Gretchen was likely in shock. SCREAM! Chloe immediately recognized it as one of the boys. She gently sat Gretchen down and then pulled out the rifle. Fred had finally caught up and quickly but carefully Fred and Chloe made their way into the house guns drawn.
They hurried inside and saw the creeper looming over a now-still Alby. Without a second thought, Chloe raised her rifle RAT-A-TATATA! She shot the thing a few times in the back knowing that it probably wouldn’t do any real damage. It turned around and looked at the two of them standing there. The scene was eerie as the still-burning fireplace cast a strange glow on the creeper. Everything seemed to go still for a second the two of them staring at the creeper and the creeper staring right back at them. All three of them trying to make a decision but are not sure what to do. SCROAR! It dives forward slicing at the welding helmet Chloe was wearing and then pinning her to the ground with its four legs. BANG!! His shotgun blast hardly seemed to phase the thing as started digging its claws into Chloe. She let out a scream that I heard loud and clear from the basement.
I’d managed to pull myself halfway up the stairs with my good arm and leg but my energy was running out and I was feeling lightheaded. I had to save her I had to protect her. BANG! I heard another gunshot followed by an unfamiliar scream. I didn’t know at the time that Fred was putting everything he had into trying to protect my wife.
Chloe gunless and pinned down was beginning to accept her fate when she remembered what she’d done last time. She reached for her knife and stabbed one of its feet. SCROAR!! It backed up off of her clearly in pain. Quickly she pulled the sniper rifle off her back and Bang! The bullet went clean through one of the thing's legs. She’d quite literally found the creeper's Achilles heel. It half fell to the ground letting out another roar of pain and agony. Both its front legs were crippled and it lay there defeated. Fred stepped forward ready to put a shotgun blast to the temple when suddenly. The thing reared up onto its two back legs throwing Fred into the wall. It had to hunch a little as the ceiling wasn’t very high but it still was tall. Chloe figured that on two legs without a hunch it was probably 10 feet tall. SCROAR!! Bang! It lunged towards her and she used her first shot to shoot its arm. The bullet embedded into the exoskeleton but didn’t seem to hurt it. The creature stopped for a moment as if to think. Bang! She shot the creature in the belly. The exoskeleton cracked. Bang! The second shot sunk into its stomach and the creature's blood began to leak out. SCROAR! It bashed one of its arms into her. She felt her left shoulder get cut open and the helmet went flying off.
BANG!! BANG! Two shotgun blasts rang out at the exact same time. The first blast was Fred's. It hit the creeper directly in the back of the head causing it to stumble forward. The second was my blast hitting it directly in the face. The two shots managed to hit at the exact perfect times. The creeper collapsed to the ground critically wounded.
Fred ran over to Chloe who was in a daze on the ground.
“Are you alright kid?” He asked helping her up.
“I’ll live,” She said weakly.
The creeper let out a growl from where it lay on the floor. I pointed the shotgun from where I was on the stairs and fired one final blast into its head.
“Chloe who is that?” I asked cautiously.
“Fred,” She said sounding weak.
I crawled the rest of the way up and saw Alby laying near the fireplace motionless. I froze as I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. Then I looked closer and saw besides a cut on his arm he wasn’t hurt, and better yet it looked like he was breathing.
“Alby!” I yelled trying my best to over to him with my broken body.
He lifted his head and turned it to look at me.
“Is the monster gone?” He asked.
“Yes it’s gone,” I said trying to sound comforting.
“Ba… Babe,” Chloe stammered, now leaning down over me.
Her eyes were locked with mine but she had a horrified expression on her face. I didn’t care and gave her a long tight hug.
“You’re not leaving me again,” I told her.
Finally, I pulled away and looked at her and for a second it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered.
Fred hurried into the house helping Gretchen walk.
“Everyone downstairs now!” He ordered and we all hurried down.
“Alby where’s your brothers?” I asked him as he followed us downstairs.
“They're down here.” He said pointing down the staircase.
“Fred, what’s happening?” Chloe asked the panic-stricken man as we all stepped into the basement.
“More, more of them are coming.” He said a look of fear on his face.
“Well then let's get ready for a fight!” Chloe said, cocking the shotgun she’d taken from me.

Part 3
Day 14

Chloe walked into what had once been the beautiful home of the Garrisons. The room she walked into was the main hall. It was large and square-shaped with a room on both sides and a hall on the other side of the door. In the middle of the room, a large antler chandelier lay in a destroyed twisted mess on the hardwood floor. She looked over at the walls and saw a few small circular holes. Bullet holes. She thought, taking a step closer to get a better look. Herman followed her wagging his tail like nothing was wrong with this situation. She looked down toward the floor and spotted large claw marks on the hardwood floor. Some looked like hound claw marks (she became acquainted enough with the marks to recognize them) but others were much larger. Far too large to be from one of the hounds. After scanning the room for another minute she decided she’d go into the left room first. The left room was a small lounge that seemed unassuming at first glance until she noticed the couch that had been thrown against the wall and the dried blood stains on the walls and carpet. It was human blood and was mostly frozen. She walked across the main hall and into the room on the right. This room was unassuming with very little apart from bookshelves and a small desk. It also seemed relatively undisturbed with little to no damage. She walked down the hall into the main part of the house. This main section had an open-air kitchen/dining room and a large living room. It looked horrible, it was clear a massacre had happened here. Blood was everywhere on the floors, the walls, and even the ceiling in certain spots. Most of the blood was a dark red with occasional splatters of yellow-greenish blood. She saw bits of muscle and tissue in the blood, and all around that was wreckage. Their large 100-inch flat-screen TV lay crushed on the floor. The leather couch was flipped over and ripped in countless places. The fan lay on the floor looking like it had a sledgehammer taken to it. The kitchen was worse though… slumped against the wall was a mostly eaten body. It was essentially just a skeleton with small bits of meat and tendon still clinging on. Despite being absolutely terrified something made her want to get a closer look. She noticed most of the bones were broken if not shattered, and it wasn’t until that point she realized everything below the rib cage was missing. She yelped and looked away. The rest of the kitchen was destroyed with the drawers and cupboards broken, and one section of cupboards laying on the ground with shattered glass all around it. Lastly, the dining room. Another antler chandelier lay destroyed on the ground and the table was leaned over like it had been used as firing cover. She walked over to the dining table only to realize another destroyed body lay behind it. This one looked like it had been thrown around by the look of its breaks. This one only had half a skull with the frontal and parietal bones absent. She looked and saw this was wearing dog tags. She let out a small sob when she saw that. She knew who it had to be. It had to be Timothy Garrison. She and Timothy were the same age and had dated through most of high school. After they graduated they had a mutual break up and she met Joey in college, but she and Timothy remained good friends. He had come to their wedding and he was the one who taught her how to shoot a rifle, and he had been the only person in his family to serve in the military. Herman slowly walked up to the body and started sniffing it. “Get away from him!” She screamed at the dog. She started to sob when her brain seemed to kick back into gear. Pull yourself together and cry later, She told herself. She stood up, wiped the tears off her face, and kept going. She went back over to the kitchen and yanked their fridge open. It was stocked to the brim with meats, fruits, vegetables, and bottles. She restrained her excitement at the sight but still grabbed as much as she could. She filled a duffel bag full of only a portion of the goodies in their fridge then moved on. CREAK! The loud sound interrupted her walk over to the pantry. It came from the wooden ceiling just above her, and whatever it was that caused it sounded large. She froze and listened for more sounds, but after a while of nothing she moved on hoping beyond all hope that it was just a house noise. She and Herman crept over to the pantry and with a quick pull she opened it. The pantry was large and also stocked with food. Most of it was crap that would expire or had already expired, but what excited her was the large sack of potatoes sitting by the door. She grabbed the sack and set it on top of the duffle bag by the fridge. CREAK! This one was louder than the last and sent a chill down her spine. She wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to run out of the house or go upstairs and investigate. Her head was telling her she should leave but the other part of her so wanted to know what was making that sound. Finally, she made a decision. She’d search the bottom floor then she would go upstairs to check out the noise. CREAK! This one was the quietest so far, coming from below her. The basement, she thought, looking down at the floor. She crept down a hall on the first floor with Herman right behind her. She was following a trail of blood like it was a trail of breadcrumbs. It was a deep crimson red and there was a lot of it. Whoever was bleeding definitely wasn’t alive anymore, she thought. She slowly followed the trail up to a white door which was now half covered in blood. Shakily she reached for the blood-covered knob and pulled the door open. It was the basement staircase but she looked at the way the blood had puddled and it told a story. They had hurried halfway down the stairs before something knocked them down to the bottom. There they are killed and then dragged into another section of the basement. She slowly walked down the stairs watching each step carefully until finally, her boot made contact with the linoleum floor. Meanwhile… I sat messing with and poking at the satellite phone trying to see why it wouldn’t send a call through. I’d looked through the manual and popped it open to see if anything had broken, but it was perfectly fine. I angrily smacked the phone against the coach, but still, nothing happened. At last, I set the phone down in defeat hoping Chloe was ok. I turned from the couch to the window and saw Gretchen and Mom still busy with the shoveling. For the amount of snow on the driveway they’d made good work. Almost half of the driveway was clear of snow and covered in salt. I watched on for a while before I heard a little beep. I looked over and saw the little screen of the satellite phone was showing an empty battery. I smacked my palm into my forehead annoyed by my stupidity. “Hey Alby, can you get me some batteries?” I asked, looking over at him. He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen a minute or two later he came back out holding the box of batteries. “Thank you!” I said taking the box and quickly popping two new batteries in. The basement was dark, very dark. Chloe could hardly see a thing, but she had thought of this scenario and pulled a flashlight from one of her pockets. Ca-Click! The thin beam of the flashlight kicked on. She was expecting to see the light illuminate the wall on the other side of the room or maybe a piece of furniture. But it illuminated a wall of webs. She saw through the webs at least a dozen cocoons far more than just the Garrison family. But even worse she saw dozens and dozens of stingers. They’d made the basement into a nest. Bzzz… The satellite phone continued to buzz and an uproar began to grow around her. Herman let out a growl and looked ready to pounce. Chloe in a hurry grabbed Herman’s collar and started running upstairs with him. The basement became full of the sound of screeches and she heard something big started moving down there. She sprinted as quickly as she could, making it to the top of the stairs and turning around to see at least a dozen stingers following her. Rat-a-tatatatatat!! She shot a barrage of bullets down at the stingers hitting most of them. Then something big appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Two things actually. Two hounds. She yelped and then slammed the door shut. She looked around quickly for something to barricade the door. Her eyes met a small dresser in a bedroom near the door. She pulled it out and shoved it against the door. CRACK! It came from the other side of the door and was quickly followed by a loud slam. She grabbed the still-growling Herman and started pulling him along with her. After a minute he started walking by her side and she let him go. Suddenly she remembered the walkie and pressed the button. “Joey… Joey, I'm here!” She yelled half excited and half still terrified. I let out a sigh of relief; “Did you check out the Garrisons already?” He asked. “Sort of… I’m still over there,” She explained. She thought about telling me what she’d encountered but didn’t want to overly worry me. Plus recounting that day's events would just make things worse for her, not better. “Ok, just be safe. I love you,” I told her. “Love you too,” She said. Bzzz… She sat in the kitchen near her bags thinking for a minute. Since the crash, she hadn’t heard a thing from the basement door which made her start to suspect that the stairs had collapsed. Her curiosity had gotten desperate and she now felt like she had to check what was upstairs. She would never forgive herself if someone was still alive up there and died because she didn’t go and help them. She slowly crept upstairs, her rifle trained and Herman at her side. The Garrison's house was set on a hill in such a way that the second floor was larger than the first. The second floor was made up of four halls that made a square with rooms within and outside of that square. The spiral stairs entered a corner of the square. Chloe reached the top stair and looked down the halls. Both were wrecked like upstairs but down one of the adjoining halls a body lay on the floor, or what was left of a body. She slowly walked over and saw this was by far the worst body she’d seen so far. This one looked like it had been eaten similarly to Carl. The sternum and ribs were shattered and the spine was broken, but this one was worse. The bones were covered in bites and scratches, but worst of all the splatters around the body were immense; the person had likely struggled while they were being eaten alive. Chloe shivered at the thought and could only hope that they didn’t suffer long. She stepped away from the body and got a better look around her. Apart from the body and the blood around it, there wasn’t much sign of death up there, but it still looked awful. Just like downstairs, the walls were covered in gashes and holes, and Chloe was becoming very surprised that they didn’t hear any of these gunshots. CREAK! She looked down the hall where it had come from. For a brief second, she saw something at the end of the dark hall then it disappeared. It was only then that she noticed how dark it was up there, because of the houses set up there were no windows in the hall and the power had been out for days. She pulled out her flashlight Ca-Click! The narrow beam popped on and barely illuminated the end of the hall, but as she had thought whatever was there was gone now. She started to go about the search process methodically slowly going down the hall checking a room on the inside of the hall and then on the outside. The first room she poked her head into was a girl’s bedroom. It was decorated with a wallpaper of pink flowers and a small bed with pink covers. It was the stereotype of a little girl’s room. She noticed the covers were disheveled and a few things were knocked over. It looked like something had happened in the room but she wasn’t sure what. She stepped out of the room and moved on to the next and the next. They were both similar with a similar disheveled nature. She started to realize whatever had happened it had woken them all up. She tried to push the last door in the hall open but it wouldn’t budge. She continued up to the corner where she’d seen the thing. Multiple things then happened at once. She saw something massive lurking in the hall she began to turn down, she heard a creak behind her, Herman barked, and screeches began coming from downstairs sounding like the things had finally escaped the basement. Before she could stop Herman he started making a charge for the thing growling and barking. Chloe made a move after him but a gloved hand grabbed her and then covered her mouth. She watched Herman lung towards the thing then SLAM! It whacked Herman mid-air sending the dog flying back down the hall. He landed with a crash right next to her, a large bloody slash across his body. SCROAR! The sound came from the massive beast and nearly shattered her eardrums, and for one brief second, she raised the flashlight from Herman to the creature. She didn’t see much but that was enough. She saw its face. It had four disturbing brown eyes, they were eyes she recognized. Those eyes… Those were the eyes of Mrs. Garrison. She gasped in horror through the gloved hand and she heard the person holding her let out a slight sob. The rest of its face wasn’t any better. Its top of head and forehead were all one bony plate. Its mouth was a black hole of teeth, and like the hounds, its lower jaw split into two mandibles. The back of its head had strange thin attachments that reminded her of the gills on an axolotl's head. Then in an instant, a few more things happened. The person holding her made a move for a door, the monster made a move for them, and the slamming footsteps of the hounds as they sprinted up the spiral staircase. “Get in,” The person said, letting go of her and opening the door. She turned around and saw the person who’d grabbed her and saw Fred Garrison standing next to the open door. “NOW!” He yelled, grabbing her and pulling her into the room. Fred hurried inside after her and quickly slid a fridge against the door. Seconds later angry screeches and slams rang out from the other side. They sounded like the hounds, not the big ones. Then she caught one other sound in the chaos, a wine. Oh gosh, Herman is still alive, She thought. Fred stood by the door shotgun in hand while the slamming and screeching continued. She stood there and listened as they continuously tried to get in. Suddenly she heard Herman let out a growl, seconds later one of the hounds shrieked like they were in pain. CRUNCH! The sounds of Herman’s attack stopped and were replaced with sounds of meat ripping. Chloe let out a small sob with her only comfort being that the crunch was likely Herman’s neck breaking. Fred stepped away from the door and looked at her. He did not look like the man she remembered him as. His hair and beard looked like large rose bushes that were never cut. His blue eyes looked depressed like there was nothing there but sadness. Then she noticed a large bandage on his left arm. It looked like the whole arm had gotten cut open at some point. Then her eyes wandered around the room. It was a small shop/man cave room. There were a few guns on the table, but more importantly, she noticed lit candles everywhere. “I… I… I’m sorry,” He said with tears in his eyes. She let down a quiet sob and Fred walked over helping her find a seat on the couch. After a minute of crying with Fred awkwardly trying to comfort her, she pulled herself together and looked up at the man. “What happened?” She asked. The man's face changed and she saw tears build up in his eyes; “A massacre,” He said grimly. Then he followed with his story: “It happened around the fifth day I think. It was late and Jess and I were watching TV in the living room. Tim, Tom, Bart, and Gerry were chatting at the dinner table. Tom's wife and my four daughters were upstairs in bed. Everything was quiet and peaceful when suddenly my two dogs started barking outside. Now I know sometimes they’ll bark at dogs but this wasn’t that type of barking. This was get the heck away from me or I’ll kill you type barking. Then I started hearing weird screeching noises and at that point, I went over to the backdoor to check out the problem. I saw a bunch of massive spiders outside trying to attack my dogs, except they weren’t really spiders. Some of them had stingers and others kinda looked like slugs with spider legs. They’d stung one of my dogs a bunch and she was lying on the ground, the other was trying to stand her ground but it was a losing battle. I pulled at my revolver and started shooting at them. They were really fast. I think only one or two shots actually hit them. They started running over to me. One ran right in between my legs and a few of them tried to attack me. I shot those ones and turned around to try and stop the one that had gotten in, but it was already running havoc in the kitchen. My sons were chasing it, but they weren’t having the best of luck. Suddenly there was a crash, more spiders jumped through the now shattered windows, and something was banging on the front door. In an instant, the door was knocked off its hinges and one of those creeper things came through the door…” Chloe interrupted him with: “I’m sorry but what are “those creeper things?”” “The… the big ones. The type that got your dog.” He explained. “Anyways… it came running into the house, and before any of us could stop it. It threw Tom across the kitchen and into the wall. I came running to help him but that’s when it slashed my arm and threw me into the TV. The TV fell on top of me and then one of those spiders ran over and stung me in the thigh. I lay there with my eyes beginning to grow heavy. I saw Gerry, Tim, and Bart using the table as the shield. All three were hunched behind the table as the creeper began eating Tom. In a quick move, all three made a run for it. As they were running the creeper pounced and threw Tim into the table. Then it slashed Bart across the chest. Gerry managed to maneuver the creature and hurried over to help me. Bart ran down the hall to the basement and me and Gerry started hurrying upstairs. At some point, I blacked out and woke up here. Everyone was gone.” He finished with a somber look on his face. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” She said looking at him. “And somehow they turned my beloved Jess into one of those.” He said motioning to outside where the Creeper had been. 

She stopped to listen and realized that she couldn’t hear the hounds anymore.
“Are they gone?” She asked, looking over at Fred.
“Probably, they eat fast for their size,” Fred said grimly.
They sat there again awkwardly before Chloe asked, “What are all the candles for anyway?”
“Well I started lighting them for warmth, but I realized those things don’t seem to like them. Especially the scented ones.” He explained.
She took a whiff of the air and realized how strong the scents were in the room. It almost gave her a headache smelling them.
“So why were you here anyway?” He asked.
She got a little nervous. She felt like a little kid in trouble with her parents. She didn’t want to tell the truth because she worried it would anger him.
“We were running out of supplies.” She said simply.
Her thoughts turned back towards me as she sat there.
I sat on the couch still watching them work. They were about two-thirds done now, but they were starting to really tire and it was getting late. It had started to darken and I knew soon night would fall, and I just hoped she would make it home before nightfall. I’d tried to call her again, but this time it would ring but not go through. I started to wonder if hers had run out of battery. Bang! I immediately turned to the window in a panic. I saw Gretchen standing holding the rifle a few feet away straight down the barrel as a dead stinger. I let out a sigh of relief and turned back toward the phone in my lap. I hope you’re an ok babe.
“Fred, we have a plan. Come with me, don’t stay here, you'll die,” Chloe pleaded.
“Maybe I want to die.” He said, “Look I’m not stopping you from leaving but I’m not going.”
“Well if I go alone I’ll die, please my family needs me,” She said desperately.
Memories of his family flooded through Fred’s mind. He remembered how he felt when his first kids, Tom and Tim, were born. She hadn’t even had a kid, and suddenly he found himself doing something he didn’t think he’d be doing.
“Fine, let's go send those things back to hell!” He yelled pushing the fridge out of the way.
“Follow my lead,” He ordered turning around to her.
Then he cocked his shotgun and slammed the door open. As he had suspected the hounds and creeper were both gone, but lying on the floor next to the door were two bodies. One was the sprawled-out body of a now-deceased hound. Its neck was broken in multiple places and its yellow-greenish blood was everywhere around it. The other body was ripped off most of its flesh, but she knew who it had belonged to. Herman wasn’t going to sit there and bleed out so he must’ve lunged for one of the hounds nailing it in the perfect spot on the neck killing it. Then the other hound quickly retaliated by feasting on the dying Herman, or maybe it was the creeper she wasn’t sure which one actually ate him. But what she did know was that the skeletal remains of Herman on top of the hound had its teeth in the hound's neck.
Chloe let out a small sob and in barely a whisper said: “You were such a good boy, but you can rest now.”
She reached down and picked up a ripped piece of leather near the bodies. It was what remained of Herman’s collar. She stuff the piece into her pocket and looked over at Fred. Fred had tears in his eyes as he saw the corpse of Gerry just down the hall.
“H… He was only 15,” Fred cried as he got a better look at the scene.
Chloe stood there unsure of what to do or say because Fred looked like he was about to have a meltdown. Then his sad face turned to one of anger. She moved the flashlight past the body and down to the corner and the staircase. Lurking next to the staircase its brown eyes glowing in the light was the creeper. It was guarding the stairs and most likely wasn’t going to let them leave for as long as it lived. Her curiosity was getting the better of her so she turned a dial on the flashlight to make it brighter. She wished she could go back and stop herself. Stop herself so she didn’t have to see the horror that was the creeper. Her first interpretation of the face was fairly accurate except for one part. Inside its gaping maw behind the mandibles almost looked like a separate set of jaws. The second set was much more human-like and looked ready to shred any meat to bits, but its head was nothing compared to the body it sat upon. It appeared to have six limbs, two very long front arms with two large claws at the end, and two more arms that attached to roughly where pectoral muscles would normally be. These arms were much shorter than the previous set. It had two back legs that appeared to be quadruple-jointed. It had the normal heel and knee joints, but it had one additional joint in the foot. Despite this the legs looked vaguely dogfish, but not nearly as those of the hounds. Coming out where the tail should be was a large thorax with two nasty stingers on the end. The thorax was curved like that of a wasp ready to strike when necessary. It almost looked like it had a shell of exoskeleton on its back and thorax, and spouting out of the thicker plates were large needle-like spikes.
It let out a demonic shriek as soon as the light brightened. It ducked out of sight and started making a loud clicking noise. Chloe and Fred kept their guns trained on where it had disappeared ready for it to come out charging, but unfortunately, they underestimated it. It made a loud ticking sound followed by CREAK! Before Chloe could even turn the hound that had crept from behind had her pinned to the ground and was bitting and slashing at her back. BANG!!!! BANG!!!! Fred had lowered his shotgun to its head. The first blast blew out two of its eyes and shattered part of its exoskeleton, and the second blast dug through the broken exoskeleton into the brain. The hound collapsed dead and with his gun pointed at where the creeper had been Fred helped push the body off of her.
Chloe got up a little shaken but relatively ok. She started guarding back while he guarded the front as they slowly made their way towards the stairs. Any second they were expecting the creeper to appear from around the corner, but it didn’t. The creeper was planning something again but they didn’t know what. Just as they made it to the stairs they turned down the other hall, but saw nothing. The creeper had likely walked into one of the rooms and was waiting, but they weren’t there to explore. They hurried down the spiral staircase, but just as they got to the bottom they saw the place was still swarming with stingers, slugs, and 3 hounds. A loud ticking sound came from upstairs and the three hounds charged towards them. They started running back upstairs only to see the creeper now lurking at the top of them. Cornered in the middle of the stairs back to back with each other they began to accept their fate.
I started to really worry about where Chloe was I hadn’t heard from her in a while and it was getting late. I sat there trying to call her every few minutes but it would not pick up. BANG! I dropped the phone and turned to the window. Gretchen stood there with the rifle pointed at something off in the snow, but I couldn’t see what the thing was. BANG! I saw for a brief millisecond the bullet flying into the blizzard then nothing. BANG! I tried to pull myself up to see what it was, but searing pain went through my body when I tried. I looked out again and saw something massive emerge from the blizzard charging for Gretchen.
“I’m sorry we should’ve stayed up there,” Chloe cried as the hounds slowly stepped closer.
“Kid, I would rather die here than die in the room a coward, but you ain’t going to die here!” He said triumphantly.

Suddenly he pulled out a small can of spray deodorant and sprayed it in the hound's faces. All three toppled over making loud hacking coughing noises. “GO!” He yelled and she quickly made her way past the hounds and downstairs. There were still dozens of stingers down there and she still wasn’t sure what to do. Before she could do anything. RAT-A-TATATATA! All around her, the stingers began exploding as Fred landed shot after shot. “A little help would be nice!” He yelled. She quickly pulled out her semi-automatic and started firing as well. RAT-A-TATATATA! The hall began to fill with the exploded bodies of stingers and slugs. Suddenly she heard shuffling behind her and saw the hounds getting up. Without a second thought, she sprinted down the hall and into the kitchen. Standing in the living room was another group of stingers and a hound. How many hounds are there? She thought, then she remembered how many people in their town had two or three hunting dogs. If all of them were changed they’d be a small army. She ducked behind the island sitting uncomfortably close to Tom’s body. Fred sprinted in a second later and saw what she did. He jumped to the ground and shimmied over to her. “Crap kid we really are screwed,” Fred said his momentary confidence completely diminished. Before anyone could do anything the monster that had emerged from the blizzard was attacking Gretchen. In one quick motion, it slashed open her gut and she dropped the gun. I stared outside as my mom tried desperately to fire, but even from this distance, I could see she’d loaded the gun wrong. In an instant, she was on the ground bleeding. I looked over at the shotgun sitting next to me and fired a round through the window at the beast. The window shattered and I saw the creature get hit right solid in the chest, but it didn’t matter much. Like the dog beasts, this one had a thick darkly colored exoskeleton that the round didn’t pierce. The beast looked up from what it was doing and started charging for the house. I fired again but it didn’t even slow the creature it just kept on charging straight towards the house. The boys at some point had caught onto what was going on and started crying and screaming. I tried to get them to quiet down, but they were too distraught. I grabbed the box and loaded two more rounds just as the door was thrown out of its hinges. SCROAR! It charged into the house. BANG! I shot it directly in that face and saw one of its eyes explode. SCROAR!!!! It swung a large two-clawed hand straight across my face throwing me across the room. I landed against a wall and in my weak state I leaned over and felt myself begin to fall. Unfortunately, it had thrown me right next to the basement stairs. Every time I hit a stair only hurt more than the last. At some point, my bandaged left hand slammed into a wooden stair. The pain was so bad I almost passed out. Finally, with one lass unceremonious thud, I landed on the basement floor. 

Chloe looked around her hope beginning to fade then her eyes locked with the pantry. The large pantry with a window.

“Follow me,” She whispered as she started crawling for the pantry. Fred followed close behind. Chloe crawled into the pantry and ducked into it. She peeked out of the doorway and saw that Fred had froze. The four hounds had gathered right behind him. He looked horrified and clearly unsure of what to do. Suddenly with a loud creak, the creeper's head poked into the kitchen and it let out a loud ticking sound. The hounds started screeching and one began to slowly walk towards Fred. RAT-A-TATATATA! She struck the approaching one 9 times in the face and the sudden burst seemed to wake Fred from his fear. RAT-A-TATATATA! Yellow-greenish blood exploded from the approaching hound's mouth and it slammed its head into the wall in pain. Fred turned around and sprinted into the pantry with Chloe closing the door as soon as he was inside. Instantly sounds of slamming and scratching erupted from the door. Chloe turned to the window in the pantry and slid it open diving out into the snow. Fred quickly followed slamming the window behind him to give them more time. Chloe sprinted through the snowy evening as quickly as she could Fred trying his best to keep up with her. The man wasn’t exactly in his prime and combine that with him not having snow shoes to be frank Chloe was surprised he was able to stay caught up at all. As she sprinted down the darkening street getting closer and closer to home she thought she heard a faint Bang! Followed quickly by SCROAR!!!! Her worries suddenly switched from her and Fred to her family. She hadn’t called them in hours and now there was clearly something going on. She sprinted ever faster looking up and realizing she’d already made it onto their street. As soon as their house was in view she saw the shoveled driveway, but she also saw my mom laying in a pool of her own blood. Along with that, she saw Gretchen weakly trying to get up also bloody. Chloe ran over to Gretchen. “Gretchen, what happened?” Chloe asked as she helped Gretchen stand. “Something… something big.” Gretchen sputtered out. Gretchen had a lost far away look on her face. She almost seemed drunk but Chloe knew that wasn’t the case. Gretchen was likely in shock. SCREAM! Chloe immediately recognized it as one of the boys. She gently sat Gretchen down and then pulled out the rifle. Fred had finally caught up and quickly but carefully Fred and Chloe made their way into the house guns drawn. They hurried inside and saw the creeper looming over a now-still Alby. Without a second thought, Chloe raised her rifle RAT-A-TATATA! She shot the thing a few times in the back knowing that it probably wouldn’t do any real damage. It turned around and looked at the two of them standing there. The scene was eerie as the still-burning fireplace cast a strange glow on the creeper. Everything seemed to go still for a second the two of them staring at the creeper and the creeper staring right back at them. All three of them trying to make a decision but are not sure what to do. SCROAR! It dives forward slicing at the welding helmet Chloe was wearing and then pinning her to the ground with its four legs. BANG!! His shotgun blast hardly seemed to phase the thing as started digging its claws into Chloe. She let out a scream that I heard loud and clear from the basement. 

I’d managed to pull myself halfway up the stairs with my good arm and leg but my energy was running out and I was feeling lightheaded. I had to save her I had to protect her. BANG! I heard another gunshot followed by an unfamiliar scream. I didn’t know at the time that Fred was putting everything he had into trying to protect my wife.
Chloe gunless and pinned down was beginning to accept her fate when she remembered what she’d done last time. She reached for her knife and stabbed one of its feet. SCROAR!! It backed up off of her clearly in pain. Quickly she pulled the sniper rifle off her back and Bang! The bullet went clean through one of the thing's legs. She’d quite literally found the creeper's Achilles heel. It half fell to the ground letting out another roar of pain and agony. Both its front legs were crippled and it lay there defeated. Fred stepped forward ready to put a shotgun blast to the temple when suddenly. The thing reared up onto its two back legs throwing Fred into the wall. It had to hunch a little as the ceiling wasn’t very high but it still was tall. Chloe figured that on two legs without a hunch it was probably 10 feet tall. SCROAR!! Bang! It lunged towards her and she used her first shot to shoot its arm. The bullet embedded into the exoskeleton but didn’t seem to hurt it. The creature stopped for a moment as if to think. Bang! She shot the creature in the belly. The exoskeleton cracked. Bang! The second shot sunk into its stomach and the creature's blood began to leak out. SCROAR! It bashed one of its arms into her. She felt her left shoulder get cut open and the helmet went flying off.
BANG!! BANG! Two shotgun blasts rang out at the exact same time. The first blast was Fred's. It hit the creeper directly in the back of the head causing it to stumble forward. The second was my blast hitting it directly in the face. The two shots managed to hit at the exact perfect times. The creeper collapsed to the ground critically wounded.

Fred ran over to Chloe who was in a daze on the ground. “Are you alright kid?” He asked helping her up. “I’ll live,” She said weakly. The creeper let out a growl from where it lay on the floor. I pointed the shotgun from where I was on the stairs and fired one final blast into its head. “Chloe who is that?” I asked cautiously. “Fred,” She said sounding weak. I crawled the rest of the way up and saw Alby laying near the fireplace motionless. I froze as I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. Then I looked closer and saw besides a cut on his arm he wasn’t hurt, and better yet it looked like he was breathing. “Alby!” I yelled trying my best to over to him with my broken body. He lifted his head and turned it to look at me. “Is the monster gone?” He asked. “Yes it’s gone,” I said trying to sound comforting. “Ba… Babe,” Chloe stammered, now leaning down over me. Her eyes were locked with mine but she had a horrified expression on her face. I didn’t care and gave her a long tight hug. “You’re not leaving me again,” I told her. Finally, I pulled away and looked at her and for a second it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered. Fred hurried into the house helping Gretchen walk. “Everyone downstairs now!” He ordered and we all hurried down. “Alby where’s your brothers?” I asked him as he followed us downstairs. “They're down here.” He said pointing down the staircase. “Fred, what’s happening?” Chloe asked the panic-stricken man as we all stepped into the basement. “More, more of them are coming.” He said a look of fear on his face. “Well then let's get ready for a fight!” Chloe said, cocking the shotgun she’d taken from me. 

Okay, so. Let me start off with the obligatory "I'm actually really loving the game, BUT..." comment. I really do mean that, the gameplay feels fine from moment-to-moment exploration, I love having the expanded biomes (Sky and Caverns) to explore, I like the idea of iterating on the powers from the previous game to make entirely new inventions and creations. The core gameplay loop of TotK is EXTREMELY tight, and I appreciate it for that. I'm constantly remembering that something is only hard because I'm making it hard, I'm not using the tools I have access to.
But what is going on with the story? I've been talking to a few friends about this, and I know, Zelda games are never really about the connecting story as they are about the current version of Hyrule. Every Link is a new Link, every Hyrule a new Hyrule, the connections are best considered random chance or direct references, and not intended connections. But Tears of the Kingdom is a new kind of Zelda game, one that is directly linked to its predecessor. We aren't meeting the Hero of Time from an age long past in a dungeon, we *ARE* the same Link, we're in the same Hyrule. The only other time we've taken up the mantle of the same Link, directly after a sequel, is... Majora's Mask. But even there, we play in an entirely new kingdom... It isn't even Hyrule, it's a new, completely original location, where the only shared similarities are character names and occupations and models.
I'm going to liken TotK to Majora's Mask multiple times in this post, for that exact reason. This game, at it's core, is very closely related to MM in ways that, even if not directly (Mechanically) similar, are at their core spiritually similar.
Okay, here's what I mean by that. Characters who SHOULD know Link, who have had direct interactions with him in the past, are completely oblivious to him now. Even if we're talking about four or five years, Link is... Well, Link. Bolson, the man you help in BotW with his construction company, doesn't recognize you at all. And, well, that could be a canonical inconsistency... It would be absurd to think that Link does EVERY side quest, and EVERY mission from a gameplay point of view, then you really are leaving out people who never did every single side quest in BotW. Mass Effect uses a similar system wherein Shepard has a "set" series of actions/decisions, and specific missions, with specific outcomes, that are decided for you if you begin a new game later in the series without carrying over a save.
Problem is, though, we KNOW that the house in Hateno is owned by Link. Link's pictures are there, along with the image from Champion's Ballad if you did the DLC. So why doesn't Bolson remember us?
Where are the Divine Beasts? The new Champions still exist in the world, we interact with them for our four main Dungeon quests... But where did they go? And it isn't as if Nintendo washed them out, they're still referenced (Albeit lightly) in the gameplay in a few locations, they just -don't exist-. Not one line of dialogue explains it, no environmental clues hint as to their fate. The old Shrines disappearing into the earth once they served their purpose, I can be fine with no explanation. The Towers to scan for Malice and the return of Ganon being torn down and rebuilt into the Skyview Towers, I can also easily enough accept without an explanation... But where the hell did the Purah Pad come from? It's so clearly the Shieka Slate from BotW, but it's inexplicably stripped of its power, renamed, and thrust upon Zelda once more.
And we'll get to Zelda later, don't worry about that. My point, for now, is that the game feels like it's trying to put Link in a world where he's still an unknown, despite being the savior of Hyrule, and the Hero of the Wilds. But the game isn't really sure how to handle the existence of BotW, either. People don't remember or don't know you, when they should. Items, like the Master Sword, are apparently -never canonically collected- in BotW, as shown by a cutscene while collecting Memories Dragon Tears. The world has changed only slightly, but it seems to have already forgotten Link and the Calamity he put an end to only a FEW YEARS prior.
Okay, so. I'll be honest, all of that isn't even my biggest problem with the game. It's left me scratching my head, as I can think of one of a half-dozen of ways the Divine Beasts and previous Shieka Tech could be worked into the story, and then written out, without much of an issue to provide closure. But it's still a Zelda game, at it's core, and no two Zelda games are ever going to be the exact same world and exact same characters, even Majora's Mask proves that to us. The gameplay comes first and foremost, and giving the player characters that they can interact with without having done every faucet of the previous game should take priority over making everyone know Link on a first-name basis, I just wish they'd put more thought into who he does and doesn't know. Minor issues.
You know what aren't minor issues? That god-awful main story and its design. References to MM end here, for the most part.
MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW.
So let's ignore, for a moment, that the Memories Dragon Tears are massively relevant to the main plot, and figuring out what happened to Princess Zelda, which is a change that itself spoils massive chunks of the game if you happen to stumble across the wrong Geoglyph at the wrong time. The game tells you, explicitly, FOUR TIMES, with the SAME CUTSCENE about the evils of Ganondorf and how the Sages need to help Link defeat him. The only thing that changes are the character models and voices.
Moving back to Dragon Tears, I believe three or four of them all reference the same snippet of dialogue from one of the Zonai about swallowing Sacred Stones turning you into a dragon, and how that's bad, because you lose yourself, and it's forbidden. If you do them in order, then you'll get that repeat cutscene snippet back to back to back.
I understand that they need to account for the player possibly finding these things out of order. You can, from the start of the game, go do Zora, or Goron, or Gerudo, or the Rito quests just like in BotW. But you know what BotW did differently? Each of the four races had the same cutscene in spirit, the Champion from 100 years ago reuniting with Link and sharing their powers with him. But the actual cutscenes were different, they all said different things to him, they all had different interactions. In TotK, each cutscene is "My descendant, take my power, and help Link fight the big bad."
EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. They all have snippets of what I'm dubbing Bizzaro Zelda (Again, getting to it.), three of them have almost the exact same concept of "puzzle" (Oh my GOD the Temples make me want Divine Beasts back, I'll GET TO IT.) where you spend five minutes looking for the door, then tell your Power Friend to power you up, then you do the thing, and then push ONE button instead of five.
The game reuses assets and concepts harder than an indie dev in the early 2010s trying to get on the Steam marketplace. Which finally brings us on to...
Princess Zelda. Every time I stumble into a new place "Oh but I saw Princess Zelda, but she did something mysterious and/or evil!" This is only half-explained in ONE of the Dragon Tears, where Ganondorf creates a clone of Zelda to do nefarious things. It isn't explained, they just cold open to a clone of Zelda who acts and talks a little strange compared to what we've seen of her, then "Zelda" does her evil deed, and surprise, it's an evil clone of Zelda! But it comes out of the goddamn blue.
It makes sense that if Ganondorf can do this in the past, he can do it in the present. But the question is... Why? He doesn't know Zelda comes from whatever the current year is, in TotK. Why create phantoms of this one specific girl you met possibly millennia ago, and do vaguely evil stuff with said clone?
TLoZ writing has never been particularly amazing. It doesn't have to be, because the story itself is timeless and classic. The brave knight goes on an adventure to rescue the princess. But for whatever reason in TotK, they start going on this weird tangent about being super narrative-driven, the player HAS to always know what's happening at all times. Every new location a reminder that Princess Zelda is missing, that she's doing evil things, that Ganondorf is evil... It holds your hand, constantly, while beating you over the head with the same concepts you heard *twenty hours ago* when you first discovered Ganondorf beneath Hyrule Castle.
And then there's the twist. Oh my god, the twist. Keep in mind, that I haven't fully beaten the game yet, so maybe they do -something- to make this a little less painful and irritating, but in order to save the Master Sword after magically taking it from Link in the tutorial island, Zelda swallows her Sacred Stone and transforms into the Dragon of Light, taking the Master Sword with her that it may bask in her radiant powers of evil-banishing Light until Link finds her and takes it back.
I would think this is an absolutely amazing piece of plot development, if they didn't KEEP BASHING YOUR SKULL IN over it. Zelda, the princess who RARELY has any agency over her own story, who so often is just the princess with magical powers, sacrifices herself to ensure that Link can banish the evil once and for all. But it feels wrong. I know it feels wrong, because you remember how I mentioned that the game loves to spoil itself if you do the wrong thing at the wrong time?
I now know what happened to Princess Zelda. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that these Bizzaro Zelda appearances aren't our Zelda, they're Ganondorf's puppet clones. And yet, the game still insists that I find out "what happened to Zelda". I know the truth, but rather than acknowledge that, it treats me as if I've learned nothing. My quest still says "Find out what happened to Zelda" even though I -know- what happened. Which makes me think... Well, maybe I spoiled myself with spoilers, because they're probably going to undo the grand sacrifice of Zelda's transformation at the end of the game, right? That's when that quest goes away, Zelda comes back after Rauru de-dragonifies her with his magical hand, and everyone lives happily ever after, or something. I can't be awestruck at the sacrifice, because I'm already numb to the idea that in another hour or two, I'll just be told to go investigate another false Zelda appearance from some random schmuck that doesn't have a damn clue who I am, even though he should.
Like I said at the beginning of this. I love the gameplay of TotK. It feels so freeing to make a gizmo to help me in battle, or to remember that I can just attach a rocket to my shield if I need to get somewhere fast. I love playing around with weapon fusions, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the Depths, crawling through the darkness while throwing lightseeds every few feet like I'm 5, and scared to go in the basement.
But the gameplay is where it stops being good, for me. Nintendo has access to amazing story writers, and plot threads from previous Zelda games have been amazing, even though they don't break the mold. Why does Tears of the Kingdom feel like it's so... Hollow? The voice acting is rarely amazing, the direction is questionable... And the worst part is, none of this is even the fault of the people who made the game world, itself.
Hyrule still looks amazing. The way fusions work is astonishingly good, everything is crafted with such love, and detail, and care. They really did put in their best work. But atmosphere, and visual design, only carry me so far in games like this. Zelda didn't NEED some grand, epic story, but they felt like they had to give it one, anyway. And they failed, in my opinion. Massively. I don't want to do the Gerudo or Goron temples because I know I'm going to get the same drivel I've had shoveled in my face for hours and hours of gameplay, there's nothing *new* there except a new ability to use in the open world. I don't even really feel like hunting down shrines, because it's more of the same from the last game.
TotK had the potential to be amazing. It really could have been everything Breath of the Wild wasn't, but at the end of the day, I'm left wanting to put the game down and pick up its predecessor more and more. And the worst part? I wouldn't have had a problem paying $70 for this game, if they had just stayed in their lane, and not somehow managed to tarnish something that should have been stainless.
I don't regret buying the game. But I can't believe no one else has talked about its flaws, the muddled and confused story, or how terrible the new dungeons are. Tears of the Kingdom is the game I'll boot up when I feel like soaring through the sky to try and land on new islands, or delving through the gloomy depths searching for lost souls...
But Breath of the Wild will always be the game I go back to when I want to save the princess from evil.

Willing to bundle for the items I want.
GT: MADDL007
——Weapons for trade——
AA/50crit/25 Plasma Rifle
B/50crit/15crit Thirst Zapper
B/E/Break The Dragon 3% Explosive 419 Range (Legacy) {mule} [high end apparel bundle or armor from my want list only please]
B/50crit/15crit The Fixer
B/50crit/15crit Handmade {mule}
B/50crit/15crit Handmade {mule}
B/50crit/25 Handmade [high end apparel bundle or armor from my want list only please]
B/E/1A Handmade {mule}
B/50crit/25 Radium Rifle
B/50crit/25 Railway Rifle {mule}
B/50crit/FR Railway Rifle
B/E 50 Cal Machine Gun (2 Star) {mule}
B/50crit/Break Gatling Plasma {mule}
B/50crit/25 Harpoon Gun
B/E Light Machine Gun (2 star) {mule}
B/FSS/Break Chainsaw
B/FSS/1S Death Tambo {mule}
MUT/E/25 Handmade
Q/E/DRWA The Fixer
Q/AP/25 Handmade
Q/E Handmade (2 star)
Q/E/Stealth Handmade
Q/50crit/FMSWA Railway Rifle {mule}
Q/E Railway Rifle (2 Star)
Q/FFR Tesla Rifle (2 Star)
Q/50crit/25 Flamer {mule}
Q/E/1P Gatling Gun {mule}
TS/50vhc Alien Blaster (2 Star)
TS/AP/Stealth Alien Blaster {mule}
TS/LD/Break Alien Blaster
TS/E Handmade (2 star)
V/FFFR Alien Blaster
V/FF25 Gatling Laser
V/E Light Machine Gun (2 star)
V/BASH/FMSWA Minigun {mule}
V/25DAM/1S Chainsaw {mule}
V/40PA/Block Chainsaw
V/AP/RW Chainsaw
Enclave Plasma Rifle #1 w/ Automatic Barrel, Stabilized Stock, Reflex Sight
Enclave Plasma Rifle #2 w/ Stabilized Splitter, Stabilized Stock, Reflex Sight
Enclave Plasma Rifle #3 w/ Aligned Automatic Barrel, Stabilized Stock, Standard Sights
Enclave Plasma Rifle #4 w/ True Flamer Barrel, Stabilized Stock, Reflex Sight x2
Enclave Plasma Rifle #5 w/ Stabilized Flamer Barrel, Stabilized Stock, Reflex Sight
Enclave Plasma Rifle #6 w/ True Automatic Barrel, Stabilized Stock, Reflex Sight {mule}
Fancy Pump Shotgun AA/LD/DRWA
Fancy Revolvers: Assassin, Berserker, Executioner, Mutant x2, Troubleshooter x3
Tesla (no scope) Level 50 {mule}
Dross, Pearly Peepers, Red Fireworks Mine, Troglocide
——Plans & Recipes for trade——
Plan: Assault Rifle {mule}
Plan: Backpack Armor Plated Mod {mule}
Plan: Backpack High Capacity Mod {mule}
Plan: Backpack Insulated Mod
Plan: Backpack Refrigerated Mod
Plan: Barbed Walking Cane {mule}
Plan: Bear Arm
Plan: Bear Arm Heavy Mod
Plan: Camo Backpack
Plan: Deathclaw Gauntlet {mule}
Plan: Hatchet Electro Fusion {mule}
Plan: Large Ultracite Shard {mule}
Plan: Nuka-World Cowboy Duster {mule}
Plan: Pitchfork Flamer {mule}
Plan: Poker Set {mule}
Plan: Protective Lining Raider Underarmor
Plan: Radioactive Barrel
Plan: Sheriff’s Hat
Plan: Shielded Lining Marine Underarmor {mule}
Plan: Spiked Walking Cane {mule}
Plan: Tomb Stones
Plan: TV Aquarium {mule}
Plan: Vintage Water Cooler
Plan: Wild West Show Entrance Sign
Recipe: Cutting Fluid {mule}
Recipe: Formula P {mule}
Recipe: Fried Scorpion On A Stick {mule}
Recipe: Healing Salve (Mire) {mule}
Recipe: Nuka Cola Dark {mule}
Recipe: Stimpak Diffuser {mule}
——Armor & Other items for trade——
UNY/1L/WWR Metal Chest Piece 51DR 11ER {mule}
UNY/1L/WWR Urban Scout Armor Chest Piece {mule} [armor from my want list only please]
UNY/1P/WWR Urban Scout Armor Right Arm {mule} [armor from my want list only please]
UNY/1S/WWR Leather Left Leg 21DR 51ER {mule} [armor from my want list only please]
UNY/AP/WWR Combat Armor Right Leg 27DR 37ER {mule} [armor from my want list only please]
UNY/AP/WWR Forest Scout Armor Right Leg [high end apparel bundle or armor from my want list only please]
UNY/AP/WWR Urban Scout Armor Right Leg [high end apparel bundle or armor from my want list only please]
UNY/HungeWWR Urban Scour Armor Left Arm {mule} [armor from my want list only please]
W/AP/WWR Raider Left Leg 17DR 8ER
Ultracite Jet Pack Helmet Level 50 {mule}
50K+ Ultracite 5.56 Ammo
All 8 Holotape Mini Games
All Non-Rare apparel available - just ask
Misc Items: ask me for my list
———
———
——Items I want——
B/50crit/25 Fixer or Handmade
Q/E/25 Fixer or Handmade or Railway
TS/50crit/15crit Alien Blaster
TS/50crit/25 Alien Blaster
V/40PA/40PA Chainsaw (Will consider other third star: prefer Break, 90rw, or any of the +1)
Baseball bats level 45 - indigo, pink, yellow
Enclave Plasma Gun Aligned Flamer Barrel Mod (one or multiple)
UNY/AP/WWR Forest Scout Armor Chest Piece, Left Arm
UNY/AP/WWR Urban Scout Armor Left Leg and Right Arm
Plan: Meat Tenderizer
Plan: Ultracite Calibrated Shocks
Asylum Worker Uniform Forest
Asylum Worker Uniform Red
Asylum Worker Uniform Yellow
Blue Ridge Caravan Gas Mask (will pay caps)
Blue Ridge Caravan Uniform (will pay caps)
BOS Jumpsuit
Fasnacht Brahmin Mask
Fasnacht Buffoon Mask
Fasnacht Crazy Guy Mask
Fasnacht Deathclaw Mask
Fasnacht Demon Mask
Fasnacht Fiend Mask
Fasnacht Hag Mask
Fasnacht Loon Mask
Fasnacht Raven Mask
Fasnacht Winter Man Mask
Forest Camo Jumpsuit
Forest Scout Armor Mask
Leather Coat
Prototype Hazmat Suit Level 50
Radicals Face Mask
Responder Fireman Helmet
Responder Fireman Uniform
Tattered Field Jacket
Traveling Leather Coat
Urban Scout Armor Mask
White Powder Jumpsuit
I’m really only after the items listed above, make me an offer. No caps, flux, or junk offers please.

So a few kind plex redditors helped me understand the best way to configure my plex server with my particular network and consumption needs. Now I need opinions on the best way to manage my storage. I will be using my gaming/work Pc as the server base(ryzen 7900x/rx5700xt/64gb ddr5/2.5gb lan) as the server is just for the home and potentially 1 or two mobile streams while traveling. After looking into storage solutions for my media, I’m running into a convoluted mess of information on how to manage my storage. Here’s the options I think I’ve narrowed it down to and could use opinions on which is the most logical and economical while having redundancy(raid 1/5/10(will be using 14TB exos drives):
1)Dedicated 4-6 bay NAS 2)DAS 4-6 bay with a built in raid controller(usb 3.1) 3)DAS with software raid via windows(usb 3.1) 4) Drives connected straight to MOBO(+m.2 Sata expansion in future) using motherboard raid 5) Drives connected to MOBO or dumb external DAS and create a “manual raid 1” by manually copying data to two separate drives(or pairs of drives configured as 1 volume) and then un-mounting/disconnecting the second drive and keeping it as a cold backup.
My use case is very light. Blue Ray rips/remuxes and TV shows streamed to TVs in my house running plex on nvidia shield. Very occasional remote streams to phones or laptops while traveling.
I’m seeing a million different conflicting ideologies on which way to go while searching online. I do not care about file transfer speeds as once it’s on the drive, it will never leave. I do have some concern over array rebuild times should a drive fails. I understand that raid is not a back up and parity/redundancy is not a substitution for cold offsite storage, but this is not “mission critical” data.
I’m simply looking for the most cost effective way to attach mass storage to my PC for a plex server that will eventually reach over 100TB over the years. The plan would be 2-20TB drives in raid 1(I currently have about 10TB of data), moving to 3-20TB drives in raid 5, and eventually 4+ 20TB drives in raid 10 when I reach those data storage needs.
An expensive NAS that can run plex on its own is nice, but seems like overkill considering I have a PC that will crush/overkill any hardware bottlenecks that most cheaper Nas run into with thier quad core 1-1.5ghz celeron+1-2gb ram with no cache. And then there’s the never ending argument about hardware and software raid being trash. I feel like that conversation takes place amongst true datahoarders that have mass storage needs of more critical data than I.
Opinions/advice very much appreciated. Thanks.

Okay okay I know the sub is gonna crucify me with “check out other threads detailing the Hyatt NYC properties,” WHICH IS TOTALLY WARRANTED bc I would be thinking the same thing.
BUT — I’m super curious about the Dream properties post acquisition. FT only has a master thread for the Dream Midtown. I looked online at other review sites and it’s not sounding great for some (ie Dream Downtown looked like the ideal location in Chelsea, but upon reading reviews, it gets insanely loud and tough to sleep at night because of the nightclubs).
Not only that, I’m curious to know what Globalist benefits would look like since I haven’t found info online. If anyone would be so kind as to share their experiences, I’d greatly appreciate it as I may need to find a new spot after the Andaz increased in category.
On that note, just wrapped up my another great stay at the Andaz, where I booked asap to secure category 6 pricing. Breakfast now includes an amazing steak and eggs option, alongside a blue crab Benedict. Both were FIRE.

I’ve collected some seeds from my Pozo Blue sage and am wondering if I can plant them and get another Pozo Blue, or if it’ll be something else? From what I’ve read, Pozo Blue is a natural hybrid that was found by Bert Wilson and is a cross between Salvia clevelandii and Salvia leucophylla

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- The Immortal Legends: The Van Helsing ---- Previous

Chapter 18: The Journey Home

I left a few nights after my conversation with Captain Lance. I was taken by jeep to the nearest safe town and caught a train. A few of the men saw me off, some wished me a swift recovery and others asked me to mail letters for them when I got back. I agreed and said my goodbyes. In the end I was dropped of back at London because that was where I joined the army from. I did as I told my comrades I would and mailed the letters for their families that they gave me, then tried to stop at my old apartment, but it was reduced to rubble in the air raids. I was still wearing my uniform, and now that my apartment was destroyed that meant all of my things were gone too. I was irritated, but only mildly; there wasn’t much in the apartment anyway. I had enough money to afford new clothes and tickets for passage to get me as close to Russia as I could. After that I would figure it out as I went.
I walked down London’s streets, currently filled with debris from destroyed buildings, and looked in what remained of the clothing shops. I found one shop, which was in complete ruin, glass from the broken windows were on the floor and a wall was caved inward splaying bricks and mortar everywhere. But still the shop was open; I knew this from a little hand made sign outside that read, “We are still open, just a bit more open than usual.” I actually laughed when I read that. The British were famous for being able to keep a stiff upper lip, but this was remarkable.
“Ah hello, welcome sir. How can I help you today?” An elderly man behind a counter asked.
“I am in need of new clothes. Something less… militaristic, and it needs to cover much of my body. I’m afraid the sun is rather unkind to my skin.” I told the man.
“Fresh home from the front, are you? I’m glad you were able to make it home safe and thank you for your brave service.” He shook my hand and led me to a more intact part of the shop. Along the walls and on shelves were many fine clothes, hats, and shoes. “As I always say sir: a fine suit makes a fine gentleman. May I ask, how much are you willing to spend today?”
I pulled out a few pounds and handed it to him, “this much.” He looked as if I had just given him a gold bar and a stiff drink.
“I… I think we have just the thing for you sir.” He quickly walked over to a large door and pulled out a key, unlocking it and motioning me to join him. Beyond the door was a room filled with mannequin wearing exquisite suits and fine dresses. “This is a room reserved for our more… lavish cliental. I think it will fit you much better.”
“How many can I afford with what I gave you?”
“Three or four full outfits, I should think sir, and I would be happy to throw in a rather dapper hat on the house for such a lofty purchase.” He began measuring me from head to toe, then he brought out several different trousers and shirts for me to try on. After we had decided on three shirts, jackets, and pants to match, we moved on to shoes and socks.
In total I spent nearly two hours in his shop, but I must admit to looking quite debonair when I left. And true to his word he gave me a bowler’s hat to match the suit that I wore out of the store. I had bought, and was currently wearing, black trousers, a fitted long sleeved white shirt, a black vest, and my bowler’s hat. In my bag, I had similar outfits, some with coats of varying colors, but mostly darker shades such as deep blues and greys. Now that I looked like any other well-dressed man, I would be able to blend in without drawing suspicion. If I had tried to cross borders dressed like a soldier I most likely would have been shot, captured, tortured, or generally mistreated. As much as the men and women of Russia may dislike the wealthy, they might dislike foreign soldiers even more.
I picked up my bag, that held what amounted to all of my worldly possessions, left the shopping district, and headed to the docks to get passage on a ship heading to the main European continent. Travel was dangerous due to the war, but a few trains still ran, so after a two-day boat ride, I hopped on a train for as far as it would take me. I got a few hundred miles from the Russian border, but no one would take me any further. My only options seemed to be either walking, finding an automobile, or ride a horse, which was a fairly common method of transportation in this area.
I looked around as I stepped of the train. I was used to major cities, large crowds, and tall buildings… not this. I felt as if I had stepped back in time by a century. The tallest thing in the whole town was the train, and it was leaving in fifteen minutes. I had arrived at night, so the town was quiet, and very dark. Not a single streetlamp as far as the eye could see. I was very thankful for my superior eyesight, or I would have been in a very bad way. The air smelt of cattle and grass, aside from the train station there was no one around. I felt my hunger rise in my throat and quelled it; I knew places like this had no criminals to satiate my thirst with. I doubted they had doctors… let alone drug dealers. There were open fields as far as I could make out in the moonlit distance. The only sounds came from the station and the animals. Some crickets chirped, a few bats flittered about, and a howl of some kind echoed, but nothing man-made even let out a peep.
I had spent centuries navigating by the stars, so I was able to get my baring without delay and headed for the border, which was to my North-East. I walked all night, and when the sun rose, I simply covered up and kept on. I walked for days, only stopping to feed or take a break from the Sun in the blessed shade, but these breaks never lasted long. I only allowed myself time enough to shake off the effects of the sunlight then I continued my march. My territory… my hometown… was hundreds, if not thousands, of kilometers away. Between us was the German army, and the poor unfortunate souls that made up their ranks… and my next meals for a while.

Here's what I'm doing in my own world. Getting near the end game so just having fun using the taunter's tongue in dungeons to see if I can stretch the game out a little more. I'm saving the top 3 bosses for last. Not all of what I'm doing is coopable unless you use a red sign, but some of it definitely is. Also, willing to be summoned after I am done getting ashes/talismans/spells.
Bosses:
- Maleania
- Godfrey
- Radagon
- Tree Avatar DeepRoot Depths
- Demi-Human Queen Gilika
- Dungeons:
- Yelough Anix tunnel
- Consecrated Snowfield Catacombs
- Cave of the Forlorn
- Stillwater Cave
Spells:
- Poison Armament
Ashes of War:
- Stamp (sweep)
- EarthShaker
- Shield Crash
- Sky Shot
-
-
Talismans:
- Moon of Nokstella
- Blue-Feathered Branchsword
- Graven-Mass Talisman
- Prince of Death's Cyst

This is sort of a half-cross-post from my post here that just didn't get much response and 5% of me is stressing about the situation while the other 95% is just plain confused. I'm expecting my first baby mid-June and don't really have many friends who've had kids yet that I can talk to and also just don't think I know the right words for researching my concerns (also I'm in the U.S. if that matters). In my efforts to keep baby furniture to a minimum/efficient amount, my original plan was to use a pack n play for the baby to sleep in (as a crib, which I believe is considered a 'safe' sleeping space as long as nothing else is used other than a very snug sheet(?)) but I intentionaly registered for the pack n play that had a bassinet part that sits on top (I believe it's the version right before this one) so that we could use that and it would be a little easier than doing a lot of bending over immediately postpartum. Additionally, a friend gave me their old version of this sleeper (I am fairly certain this is differnt than the Fisher Price item that was recalled, but they do look a little bit similar). And despite my efforts to be minimalist here, I was just gifted a newer (maybe safer?) bedside bassinet/sleeper (here). What I'm confused about is all 3 of these bassinets have a soft 'mattress' that velcros to the bassinet itself. I initially ordered sheets for the pack n play bassinet and while they do fit, they are NOT snug, so I'm obviously not going to use that.
My point of confusion is... how are these bassinets supposed to be used for safe sleep? Or can they be used at all with that soft mattress that can't hold a sheet snugly? Are you not supposed to use sheets at all and just wash the insert in the middle of the night if it gets dirty? I searched through some past posts here about pack n play sleep and saw that if nothing smaller works for me, I can use the pack n play normal hard backed mattress as a safe sleep space until baby outgrows it, but since I have now accumulated these other options (I care more about the bedside bassinet, the Fisher Price sleeper I was suspicious of from the start and happy to just get rid of it or use it only when baby is awake).
Apologies if this isn't the right place for these questions, I'm just at a loss and do want science-based reasoning for helping me understand what is best for my baby. Thanks in advance!

--- Table of Contents ---
Spring 4984, 9 Kuromoth, Spring Equinox
“Archmage, I thought you had already gone…” Brom’s voice, beyond Her door. She didn’t move, didn’t bother to look towards the closed portal. Had it been months or years since he'd last come to sit with Her?
“I will be leaving presently…” Archmage Morndancer’s cold voice answered. She squeezed tighter into Her little ball in the dark corner. It didn’t matter that he would be gone. He left the tower often, but it didn’t stop Her punishment. Even as the season turned from winter to spring, She'd stayed locked in Her room. With no books and no company. Occasionally being taken out to give samples in a lab completely separate from that of Her treasures. Only their yowls and barks from down the hall offering any comfort.
“It’s an important day, isn’t it, Archmage? Perhaps Sellon will pass the test.” Ran’s voice. Did he sound nervous? Her head tilted, just a little, towards the door. The half-circle of light from Her window did very little to banish the darkness of the room. She hadn’t bothered to light the candles. What was the point?
Morndancer scoffed, “Doubtful. Ronni didn’t manage it. And just as his sister before him, Sellon will join the Mages Guild whether he passes or not.” Sellon and Ronni, Archmage Morndancer’s children. She'd heard of them from Brom and Ran. So they were Mages as well. Perhaps they would be the ones to come take Her blood and cut Her hair in future. It didn’t matter. Nothing had ever mattered.
“But a Wizard-Cleric of Saint Bede might…”
“Enough.” Morndancer interrupted Brom, “Bede is no god, he wasn't even a decent Mage, he was and is a villain. We would not have this responsibility to save the world if he and his lot hadn’t doomed it.”
“Of course, Archmage, yes.” nervous feet shuffled outside Her door.
“Even now, Shaloon is trying to locate the next storm.” Morndancer continued his chastisement, “They come more frequently and destroy greater swaths of land. If we continue to be as useless as the other Talons, there will be no world left to save. So rather than waste your time on prayers to usurper gods, you had best refocus and redouble your efforts while we are away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Archmage,” Brom and Ran said in unison.
“Good. And be sure to return those to the library when you have finished with them.” the hiss of fabric on stone accompanied the Archmage's exit.
Her door handle jingled, and Her head came up a fraction, but, “Wait…” Brom’s whisper. Silence followed, and She dropped Her head again, pressing her closed eyes into Her knees. Minutes passed, or was it hours? Did it matter? Maybe She would crawl into Her bed and try to sleep. Time passed faster that way. Or maybe She would just stay here in Her little ball in the corner.
“He should be gone by now…” Her lock clicked, and the door creaked open, but She didn’t bother to look up, “Goldy? Maybe She’s sleeping…” Brom whispered.
“Damn, it’s dark in here. Red, can we get a light?” She didn’t answer Ran’s request. What was the point? They would find Her and they would take Her for samples. She didn’t have to help them do it. “Grab the candle from the table, Brom. My hands are full.”
She could feel the life of a tiny flame beyond Her door. Felt it draw closer and enter Her room before it flickered and died. “Oh, Goldy… please don’t…” the shuffling of feet moving carefully in the darkness came closer. She tried to pull in tighter, tucking Her head against Her chest and letting Her now shoulder-length hair fall forward to further hide Her face.
They crouched at either side of Her, Brom setting the useless candle down to Her left with a soft ‘tink’ of brass on stone. Something much heavier was placed on Her right, the familiar scents of hardbound leather, paper, and ink… “We brought you some books, Red…”
She lifted Her head, looking through the tangled strands of golden hair and seeing a pair of worried faces looming in the dark. “If you light up the room a bit, we can read,” Brom slowly pushed Her hair back, careful not to touch Her skin. As though She would burn him. She might have. If She could find the energy.
“You’re not supposed to...” Her voice crackled from lack of use, making Her whisper even more inaudible.
“What?” Ran leaned closer, but She didn’t repeat Herself, “It’s been months, Red. You’re not in trouble anymore.”
She blinked silently at him.
“Look, Goldy,” Brom shuffled forward, still in his crouch, “things can go back to normal now. The Archmage will be out for a few days. We can take you to play with the animals tomorrow.” She shifted Her blank stare to him. Brom waited for a moment, searching Her face for a familiar flicker of excitement. She didn’t give it to him. He sighed, “We’ll leave these with you then. You can read them when you’re ready.”
Brom made to stand, but She grabbed the hem of his sleeve, “Stay with me…” On the candle, the smallest of lights began to flicker to life. Brom sat down with a groan, and on Her other side, Ran plopped down even less gracefully.
He leaned his back against Her bed and picked the top book off the small pile they'd brought Her, “We can stay until lunch, Goldy.”
“But we still have a lot of work to do…”
It was enough. The candle burned brighter, and She shifted Her legs down, taking the book Ran passed to Her. Things would finally be returning to normal. As they always had been, and as they always would be.
***
Shon woke long before the kitchen servant would come to fetch him. Everything was the same, and yet nothing would ever be as it was before. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to realize that everything wasn't the same. The other two boys who'd reached maturity were also awake. It looked like Gaven hadn’t slept at all, his sandy hair tousled and his dark eyes bloodshot.
“This is it then… the last morning in the dorms?” Gaven whispered the useless question. Nan, the oldest by a month, nodded in silence. Shon didn’t bother with even that much, swinging his legs off the bed and kicking something. Another difference. A final gift from the Church. A leather pack for him to carry everything he owned.
Shon dressed in silence only broken by the shuffle of the other two joining him. After tying his boots, he started packing the bag. It was large enough to fit all of his clothes and even his seven journals, though the eighth made it a very tight fit.
“Should we make the beds?” Nan whispered. Again, Shon didn’t answer. Instead, he stripped the blanket and sheets from the mattress, folding them neatly and placing them with the pillow at the foot of the bed.
“Yeah… they'll have to strip them to wash anyway…” Gaven said, following Shon’s example.
They'd just finished when the door creaked open. Normally woken by the morning bells, Gaven and Nan both jumped, looking from the dark window to the door then at each other.
The servant girl who usually woke Shon looked in on them with some confusion, then hummed in understanding before holding the door open for them, “Come on then. There may be some leftover dessert you can have while we make breakfast…”
Shon doubted he could eat anything at the moment. His stomach worked itself in knots that put an uncomfortable pressure on his heart that in turn seemed as though it wanted to beat its way into his throat. The entire sensation made him feel a strange sort of nauseous. Nan and Gaven looked no better than he felt, and they both swallowed before exiting the room. Gaven took a moment to look back over his shoulder before shaking himself and setting his eyes forward. Nan seemed to rush from the room, too afraid to look back. Shon took one last look around before following, the door clicking closed behind them.
He let the other boys walk ahead of him and wondered what they were thinking. Gaven would be taking the test with him today, but Nan had been selected to join the Masons Guild and had opted to accept the offer right away rather than try for one of the divine orders first. Perhaps Nan was the smartest of them.
“We'll miss you…” the servant girl whispered so only Shon could hear, “It isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work... if you want to join the Servants Guild…” the Servants Guild was a loose association of otherwise privately employed cleaners and cooks. It was the last choice for orphans, but also their most common destination. She'd meant the offer as a kindness, so Shon nodded in thanks, though nothing but the most desperate situation would ever see him join.
The head cook looked up as they entered the kitchen, nodding in understanding, “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked Nan and Gaven, who mumbled incoherently in response. To Shon, the cook smiled, offering only a silent nod.
The girl who'd reached maturity with them was already in the dining room, staring mournfully at a plate of hastily scrambled eggs and a few cookies from the night before.
“Hey Lara, couldn’t sleep anymore either?” Gaven asked with a strained smile. Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and tried to force down some of the breakfast. She'd been accepted into the Tailors Guild, but unlike Nan, had chosen to take the test with Shon and Gavin. Just in case.
The cook himself brought the boys their plates of eggs and cookies, and they ate in silence until the morning bells sounded. The three unused to being up early jumped at the sound, exchanging nervous looks. Their juniors and the priests would come flooding in soon, laughing and talking and enjoying another breakfast with friends and the closest thing they had to family. It would be the last time the four of them ate with the others in this room.
Shon didn’t know if he could take the bustle today, even if it was the last. Or maybe because it was. He stood, taking his mostly full plate and returning it to the kitchen. The cook looked from the untouched food to Shon and back again, then picked up a pair of cookies and held them out to him, “You might not be able to eat now, but you can save these for after.”
Shon took the gift, meeting the cook's eyes and nodding in silent thanks. The cook returned the nod and Shon left the kitchen without looking back. He slipped the cookies into one of the side pockets of his new pack as he made his way to the courtyard. He passed the bathroom, its wall lined with low-hanging sinks and a single long mirror. He'd practiced arching his eyebrows in that mirror...
Entering the courtyard, Shon hesitated, remembering his first early morning. When he couldn’t sleep for excitement at the mere possibility of training with a real adventurer. He'd wanted to learn to fight, but more than that, he'd wanted to learn how to train. After all, he would be doing a lot of that once he joined the Temple. It would be helpful to have a head start… Or, that's what he'd told himself back then.
Shon shut the door with a click of finality that rang in the still morning air. To his left were the classrooms where the city's children took lessons. Just thinking about his last lesson, with only those coming of age, still made him blush. To his right was the door to the chapel, where he'd sat with the other orphans through the weekly sermons. Shon respected the god of life and healing, but Soleil had never been his patron. Across from him was the clinic, where the Clerics of Soleil saw to the needs of the sick and injured. He'd only been sent there once, after breaking his arm trying to climb the tree in the courtyard.
Shon would have no need to pray to Soleil specifically, and the Temple kept their own clinic... if he passed. If he didn't... There was a chance he would see the clinic again, perhaps the chapel...
Shon stepped off the walkway surrounding the central tree, and a familiar voice sounded from its roots, “Feeling up to a few exercises?” Master Veon-Zih asked, rising from his cross-legged seat in one fluid motion. Shon stopped in their little clearing and nodded, letting his pack slide off his shoulder and flop heavily to the ground. “I take it there's nothing fragile in there then?” Veon-Zih asked with a chuckle.
The idea that a thirteen-year-old would have something valuable or fragile enough to break just by dropping the bag finally pulled Shon all the way out of his contemplations. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his master.
“There, that’s more like it. You looked like a rather well-preserved zombie.” Veon-Zih took Shon by the shoulder, shaking him, “Not a thought in your head, or skip in your step.”
Shon shook his head, sinking into his horse stance to start his drills. He punched with his left fist first, and Veon-Zih took position just out of reach, so Shon’s knuckles barely brushed the fabric of his tunic. Shon held the position until Veon-Zih also threw his first punch. He aimed for Shon’s face, sending a wave of air and ki over his skin and nearly touching his nose. Shon didn’t flinch.
They worked through their punches in unison, nearly touching but never quite connecting. Shon worked in silence for a while then said, “Too many thoughts…”
“And none of them new, I’m sure,” Veon-Zih commented.
Shon nodded, “The same ones circle again and again. Even though I can’t do anything about them... yet.”
“Not until after the test.”
Shon had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat and nodded again, unable to speak even if he'd wanted to.
Veon-Zih moved on to the next strike, and Shon copied him. He'd lost count of the punches but followed his Master's lead. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Master Veon-Zih asked.
Shon shook his head but then sighed. Most people seemed to like thinking out loud, especially when troubled. He didn’t understand why, but his usual quiet contemplation wasn’t working, so maybe… “If I don’t pass…”
“I would think of all days, today would be the one to take a break!” Father Branston called from the chapel door. He began strolling towards them with a broad smile, “Do you think you’ll be done in time to join me?”
Was it time already? Shon glanced around, noticing Nan, Gaven, and Lara approaching from the living quarter, all looking pale, their lips drawn in tight unsmiling lines.
Veon-Zih hadn’t come up from his stance, so neither did Shon, but the Monk did laugh, “Keeping a routine can be soothing in times of great change.” he winked at Shon, “Even if it’s a positive change.”
Shon tried to smile at Veon-Zih’s apparent show of faith but wasn’t sure if he'd managed it. What if…?
“Well, I don’t want to rush you. Can I trust you to get Shon to the Chapel on time if I take the others now?” Father Branston laughed as though he'd said something particularly humourous, his great belly bouncing with mirth.
“We'll be there.” Master Veon-Zih assured Father Branston, and Shon nodded mutely, resuming his drills and trying not to watch the others leave. “We have plenty of time,” Veon-Zih whispered, “Take a few deep breaths. It's the end of your childhood, not your life.”
They moved from drills to kata. Master Veon-Zih stayed in front of Shon, moving with him and matching his routine strikes with the appropriate counters. “You were saying?” it had been awhile since Shon had tried to speak, though his head continued to spin with the half-formed thoughts.
“I don’t want to think about not passing,” Shon said, kicking high and hitting Veon-Zih’s waiting arm.
“Do you believe such thoughts will jinx you?”
Shon dropped his kick and punched as the kata dictated. Veon-Zih was right; working through their regular routines did seem to help calm his pounding heart. “I don’t know… Maybe? It’s stupid, though. Whether I pass or not was decided when I was born. It won’t change just because I think about it.”
“Emotions are rarely logical.” Veon-Zih smacked Shon’s punch aside at the last moment, and Shon moved smoothly from that strike to the next, “It’s normal to be nervous. One of your peers is just as nervous, and he already knows where he’s going.”
“They all do…” Shon mumbled, snap kicking straight in front of him, confident in his Master’s speed to dodge and counter.
Veon-Zih did indeed dodge, but instead of the usual counter he hooked Shon’s foot with his own and tried to pull him off balance. Shon only stumbled for a moment, shifting his form to a different kata and counter, his body moving before his mind could catch up. Veon-Zih spoke as they continued the different form without finishing the first, prompting, “Even those taking the test have other plans, just in case?”
“Lara was accepted by the Tailors, and Gaven is going to enlist in the guard…” They had sped up the pace, and Shon needed to concentrate, now on edge in case Master Veon-Zih decided to shift the practice again. A few more strikes in, the Monk dropped below Shon’s punch and swung at his ribs, forcing Shon to block. Shon switched the kata to his most recent on instinct, using the block to redirect the punch rather than stop it as the original kata would have dictated.
Veon-Zih smiled, his eyes twinkling at the move as he picked up the pace even further, “Both of those are honest jobs and noble callings.” Shon could only grunt in response, now moving too fast for him to think of anything but the exercise. Veon-Zih continued, “The enlisted make up the bulk of Hengist’s armies, and their loyalty is admirable. The Tailors Guild not only clothes the populace but often creates beautiful works of art that serve to enhance the natural beauty of the human form.”
The Master hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Shon had to gasp out, “But I don’t-” before he was interrupted by another unexpected punch. He countered but then disengaged, breathing deep and slow, “What will I do? If I don’t pass? I thought about joining the enlisted too but…” but the idea of being so close, and yet so impossibly far from his failed dream, pained him in a way he couldn’t put into words.
When Shon didn’t continue, Veon-Zih asked, “Will you reconsider joining me then?”
Shon blinked at the Monk, his eyes going wide. He'd thought he'd lost his chance with the Monastery when he'd denied Veon-Zih for the Temple three years ago, “You mean you'll still take me?” he stammered out.
Veon-Zih closed the distance between them and placed a firm hand on Shon’s shoulder, “So long as you are an obedient and willing student, remember?”
Shon’s eyes burned and another lump rose in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He nodded, and Veon-Zih smiled, turning away from him so Shon could rub his eyes without the Monk seeing. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of failing, but he felt a little more at ease, knowing he wouldn’t be alone even if he did.
“Shall we go then?” Veon-Zih scooped up Shon’s pack and held it out to him, “Destiny awaits no man.”
***
The Grand Chapel was dedicated to all the gods of the kingdom, and though today it was closed to the public, the doors were still crowded with families from every walk of life. Merchants and craftsmen mingled excitedly with one another while their children nervously awaited the start of the test that would determine the trajectory of the rest of their lives. A smaller group of only two families stood apart from the throng. Dressed in fine clothes and protected by private guards, the nobles surveyed the commoners with a detached air as though above the gods themselves. The boy Shon often saw at the Temple was among them.
Shon stopped just outside the crowd, arching his neck to try and see the doors. His quiet dread had turned to jitters of nervousness as he and Master Veon-Zih walked through the city. He wasn’t sure if he'd wanted to run or stop moving altogether. Now that they were here, he tried to distract himself by studying the faces and movements of those gathered. Though if he tried to draw them now, the shaking of his hands would probably make the pictures impossible to decipher.
The differences between the nobles and commoners, in particular, caught his eye. One of the nobles, a man of middling years, wore long robes with a high collar buttoned tight to his neck and looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Shon had just finished scanning up the man’s robes when their eyes met. A shiver, entirely unrelated to the general anxiety of the test, ran down his spine.
The noble’s eyes went wide, and he started for Shon, the edge of the crowd giving way for him like the sea before a ship. “You…” his voice was breathy, and he reached out. Shon stepped back and ran into Master Veon-Zih, “They are back, truly?” the strange man asked, his eyes fixed on Shon who could only stare in bewilderment.
“My good lord Morndancer!” Father Branston’s joy-filled greeting sounded from the side, “So your youngest has come of age has he?” the Abbot seemed to snap the noble from his focus, and he turned away from Shon as Branston made his way through the crowd, Lara and Gaven close behind.
“Yes, Abbot.” Morndancer surveyed the Cleric with what Shon could only describe as contempt, though the look hardly wiped the wide smile from Branston’s face, “Will we be starting soon? Sellon and I have business with the Mages Guild.”
“Though if young Sellon should find himself capable…” Branston started, but the noble snorted. “Ah well, to each their own.” Branston finished, turning away from Morndancer to address his young charges.
From a pouch on his belt, Father Branston pulled forth three small books that shouldn’t have been able to fit in the little bag, “I present to you, your papers.” He fanned the books out before him, and each of them took the one closest to them. They were bound in leather with the seal of the Kingdom of Daanlin embossed on the cover. The knight on the kingdom seal rode a horse and held a shield with the seal of Clearhelm on it, three tall pine trees in front of a snow-capped mountain.
Their papers were proof of their citizenship and would serve as a record of their lives and accomplishments. Master Veon-Zih had shown Shon his own papers months before. It held a record of every border he had ever crossed and every teleport he had ever taken, as well as proof of all of his adventures and every job performed for any of the kingdom’s organizations. Veon-Zih’s papers were a veritable tome compared to Shon’s meager notebook. Opening it to the first page, Shon saw his name followed by his presumed place and date of birth. It detailed that he had been raised in the Church in Smildna and when he had come of age. At the bottom was a place labeled but left blank for the date and results of today’s test…
Branston was still speaking to them, but Shon only partly registered the words, “You should keep your papers on you whenever possible. You will need them to reenter the city any time you leave…”
Veon-Zih placed a hand on Shon’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise. Leaning down, the Monk whispered in his ear, “Soon this book will be full of your adventures and accomplishments. Regardless of what happens today.”
“Abbot,” Morndancer interjected as Father Branston finished his explanation, “the test? Some of us have places to be.”
“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, my dear Lord Morndancer. The sun will rise no faster with you tapping your foot at its pace.” he lowered his voice and continued to address the anxious children, “I am so very proud of all of you. Know that no matter what is discovered today, the light of Soleil will always shine with joy at what you have and will accomplish in your lives.” Shon wondered if any of the adults realized that their constant efforts to comfort their nerves seemed to be having the opposite effect. Shon’s palms were sweating as he closed his papers, and he had to wipe them on his pants to try and distract himself from his pounding heart.
“Follow me,” Branston turned away, walking through the middle of the crowd that had suddenly grown hush at his movement towards the door. Veon-Zih gave Shon one last pat, then slipped Shon’s pack from his back and tossed it over his own shoulder. Letting his student know without words that he would be waiting for Shon to return, one way or another.
Shon could feel the eyes of the noble Morndancer boring into him as he followed Father Branston through the throng towards the Grand Chapel. What was that man's problem? Who was back? Shon was too distracted by the test to dwell on it, but the man had made his skin crawl, and having him at his back wasn’t helping his nerves.
Father Branston turned to address the crowd as the doors began to swing open, “The testers will enter alone and present their papers to the clerks by the door. Families and friends may wait outside until the test is complete.” Nervous adolescents made their way forward, careful not to jostle one another, many accepting last-minute hugs and well wishes from their families.
Shon thought he remembered the Grand Chapel well from his visit almost six years ago, but was struck again by the beauty of its art. The masterwork statues and carvings were outshone only by the stained glass dome that painted the round floor in bright light of every color he could imagine.
Of the ten gods, eight representatives stood opposite the doors, waiting quietly while the testers handed their papers to the clerks and shuffled nervously in the middle of the majestic holy site. Neither the Temples of Horsa nor Saint Giorgos were present. Their absence wasn’t surprising. The Temple of Saint Giorgos only took those of noble birth and would give their tests separately, and the Temple of Horsa was openly shunned in Clearhelm, its only branch located in the capital city of Tarorn.
Shon handed one of three clerks his papers. She took them with only a glance, hastily scribbling Shon’s name on a long list before handing the book to one of the others who wrote the date in the spot allocated. By the time all the testers had filtered in, there were about twenty young boys and girls huddled in the center of the room.
The Cleric of Hengist, in robes of white and blue, stepped forward to address them. “You are gathered here today in the hopes of being chosen to serve. To serve the province, the kingdom, and most importantly, the gods. But before the gods can choose you to act as their divine hands and voice, you must train and study hard their tenants and virtues. And before even that, your body must be able to hold and direct their power. For a feather that cannot hold ink will never be a quill. This is not a test of your worth but of your natural, innate ability.”
As he spoke, two other Clerics, Father Branston of Soleil and a female in the colors of Lune, stepped forward, each holding something round covered with a dark cloth. The Cleric of Hengist continued, “Very few are born with the capacity to touch the divine, there is no shame in failing.” the Clerics of Soleil and Lune removed the protective coverings and everyone had to shield their eyes from the brilliant light that flared in Father Branston’s hand.
Squinting as his eyes adjusted, Shon could just make out an orb glowing in a bowl in the Abbot’s hands. The Cleric of Lune held a similar sphere, though it appeared dead beside the brilliance of the other. “When we call your name, you will touch the empty vessel,” the Cleric of Hengist gestured towards the unlit stone, “and then you will touch the vessel filled with divine magic,” with his other hand, he gestured towards the light. “Do not hold the stone for longer than a moment. If your body is unable to channel the magic it could do serious harm,” he warned.
“Trase,” one of the clerks called from the door, reading off the list they'd compiled. A tall boy stepped forward on shaking feet. He approached the Clerics, who nodded solemnly, all encouraging smiles gone. Reaching out, he touched the unlit orb, then with a deep breath, reached for the glowing vessel.
Nothing happened. Trase pulled his hands back, and Branston whispered -though all could hear in the stillness of the room- “It’s alright lad, you may go…”
“Anhala,” the clerk called, and a girl jumped before rushing forward to try.
The first six failed before a girl named Gena reached shaking hands to the orbs. As her fingers brushed the light vessel, the dead sphere in her other hand began to glow. She gasped, holding tight to both globes, now both shining brightly.
“Congratulations, my dear, you may choose an order…” the Cleric of Hengist gestured to the altars around the Chapel. Gena pulled her hands back slowly, and the unlit stone died once again. Shon watched as she walked to the altar of Soleil to await the end of the test before beginning her life as an adept in training at the Church.
“Shaclin Ebonheart,” the noble boy Shon often saw at the Temple stepped forward, rubbing his hands on his pants before reaching for the orbs. Nothing. He held on, and Father Branston gently removed the boy’s fingers from the light orb. Shaclin pulled away sharply, clutching his hand to his chest and whimpering. His skin had grown red and blistered.
“I’m sorry…” the Cleric of Hengist whispered.
Shaclin turned away without a word and strode for the door, still clutching his burned hand, silent tears staining his cheeks.
I won’t cry… I won’t… “Shon,” Shon closed his eyes, imagining himself in the Temple chapel with its calm silence and soothing scent of incense. He could almost smell it when he opened his eyes and moved forward.
Time slowed down… it took hours to reach the Clerics. Days to raise his hand to touch the dark orb. Now that he was closer he saw that they were actually crystals, tumbled into perfectly smooth spheres. His palm covered the dead stone, and it felt cool, as though it had just been dug from the ground by adventurous children. He reached for the stone bathed in light, feeling the warmth radiate off it before he even made contact. It wasn’t nearly hot enough to burn, and yet Shaclin’s hand had shown blisters.
Shon touched the stone. The warmth filled his fingers and crawled up his arm. It flooded his body like a vessel being filled with water before flowing out his other arm and down his hand. The dead stone came to life, its coolness replaced by the warmth of the divine magic, using him as its conduit connecting the two.
“Congratulations, son, you may choose an order…”
Time sped back up, and Shon let his hands slide off the stones. “Congratulations,” Father Branston echoed, nodding towards the altar of Hengist, “The rest is up to you.”
Only two others passed the test. A girl with long auburn hair and green eyes had joined the Temple with Shon, and a boy had gone to the Church of Saint Bjarki. They stood by their respective altars as the last of the failed testers left the Chapel. Gaven and Lara managed strained smiles at Shon as they left. He attempted to return them but wasn't sure if he'd managed it. The eight Clerics all breathed sighs of relief as the last left, and Branston and the Cleric of Lune returned the covers over the stones. Though still lit by the light through the colored dome, the Chapel seemed so much darker without the divine light to fill it.
“Four this year! An entire fifth!” the Druid of Cathbad exclaimed, her brown and green robes rustling as she danced in place.
“Yes, quite remarkable. Twice the average.” the Cleric of Saint Bede agreed. Though he resisted dancing for joy.
The Cleric of Hengist was also smiling broadly, though when he spoke, it was to the kids, “You may spend the afternoon with your families. Report to your chosen order before sixth bell.”
The girl who also joined the Temple of Hengist, Daisy, gave Shon a warm smile and hurried with the others to retrieve her papers. Now marked with their status as divine conduits. Shon walked behind them, his nervousness replaced with excited anticipation. He felt somehow full and empty all at once. With one door open, another had closed...
Shon stepped into the morning light to find the crowd had cleared. Only the three families of his fellows remained, hugging and kissing their children in joy. “We shall have a feast fit for the King!” Daisy’s father exclaimed, lifting her into the air as if she were no more than five. Shon’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?” Veon-Zih asked, stepping out from beside the door and presenting Shon with his pack. Shon felt his cheeks go red, and Veon-Zih laughed, rubbing his own belly, “I could use some lunch myself.”
Hastily Shon dropped his pack and rifled through the outside pockets, finding the cookies in the last one left to check. They were cracked and crumbled in some places, but he held one out to Veon-Zih regardless.
The Monk took it with a bow, “I am trying to resist being disappointed.” he confessed as Shon eagerly shoved his own broken cookie in his mouth.
He nearly choked, and Veon-Zih patted his back hard, not helping. Shon managed to swallow, then stammered, “Master, I…”
Veon-Zih interrupted with a laugh loud enough to fill the empty entryway, “Just promise me you won’t let your new studies dull your old. I plan on testing you with each visit.”
"Visit?" Something Shon couldn’t name filled his chest with warmth reminiscent of the divine light, "Test? You..." He thought he might burst with barely contained hope. No one could be so blessed... "You'll still train me?" Shon asked.
“I happen to be good friends with one of your future teachers at Hamerfoss.” Veon-Zih stated for the first time, “I’m sure he'll welcome my visits. If you'll have me…”
Shon didn’t have words for an answer. Instead, he lunged forward, wrapping Veon-Zih in the first and only hug he could remember giving anyone.
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