Origin Pt IV

Some things are better left undiscovered!

Part IV

She shined her flashlight down the hole and was disappointed when the beam failed to reveal anything. She activated a chemical light stick and dropped it down the opening. The glowing stick dwindled as it fell through the shadowy eons of the past. Becoming but a small pin-prick of light, an exclamation point in the crowding darkness.

Turning her attention back to the table, she inspected it as the first glimmer of an idea began to form in the back of her mind. The outer edge of the table was raised, creating a concave depression in the center that fluids could be contained within. Glancing at the bottom of the table, she noted that the raised lip was broken at that point, a means to drain the fluids she imagined as the image of a modern embalming table filled her mind. Inspecting the surface of the table, she discovered several long scars in the stone. As if a sharp object had been drawn across it surface with enough force to create a line. She thought of her uncle’s butcher shop, the massive wooden butcher’s block that dominated the center of the room. Every few years it had to be sanded down and refinished to remove the nicks and gashes from its daily use. That feeling of despair deepened as she realized that what she was looking at could very well have been an ancient meat packing operation similar to the modern meat packaging plants of today.

As she moved through the rows of tables, she came to a wall with another archway leading to a different room. What she saw inside made her heart skip several beats. Lying in stacks along the back wall were the mummified remains of an ape-like creature. Approaching the stack, she knelt down to examine the remains.

The cold and the salt they had been packed in perfectly preserved the bodies. They were no more than five feet tall with sloping shoulders and arms that seemed much too long for their height. Bipedal, they reminded her of large chimpanzees, but the face carried a more human look. A sloping forehead with a small face on the front of a tiny skull. From the size of the cranial cavity there appeared to be little room for more than a brain stem to control basic functions.

Gazing into the sunken eye sockets, she imagined the eyes that once inhabited the skull as being over large and dull, with the same expression one would find on a cow in the field. Troubled not by the future, the past, or the impending doom that was swiftly approaching. Concerned only with the basic needs of food, water, and propagation.

Nothing more than cattle in the field. The thought repeated itself and she shuddered. She saw that each one of them had been eviscerated, sliced open from throat to groin. That was when it all dropped neatly into place and her stomach performed several lazy somersaults as she struggled to come to terms with her discovery.

That was the reason for the tables in the next room. She had convinced herself when she first discovered them that they were nothing more sinister than a means to prepare the dead for their final journey. But after her most recent revelation their true purpose solidified in her mind as the realization dawned.

They were nothing more than meat.

They were not the builders of this structure. A creature far more advanced had built these rooms. Her earlier romantic notion of man’s ancestors being descendants of an alien race sickened her enough that she had to leave the room.

Charlie had kept out of her way as she explored the room. When she abruptly stepped back into the corridor he followed.

“Are you all right?”

Sandra shook her head silently as she struggled with her emotions.

“What’s wrong? What did you see?”

Sandra turned to face him and when she did he saw how drawn her face had become. Her eyes carried a haunted expression that chilled him to the bone.

“What is it?”

“This is not a good place,” she whispered, her words carried on the vaporous clouds of her breath.

“But you said this was...”

“I know what I said,” she cut him off in mid sentence, “but I was wrong.”

“What did you see in there?”

“The truth. When I first got into archeology I had all these romantic notions of discovering man’s true origins. I believed then, and I still believe it to this day, that man’s true past lies beyond the stars. That we are not of this planet.”

“What did you see?” Charlie said as he approached the opening.

“Please,” Sandra said, holding out her hand to stop him, “please, don’t go in there.”

Charlie pushed past her and vanished into that claustrophobic room. She waited for him, keeping the beam of her flashlight pointed at her feet. Her desire to explore the structure had been squashed by her discovery.

Charlie stepped out of the room. “What does it mean?” he said.

“It means we came from the stars, but not as masters of our own destiny. Our ancestors did not build this place. Something far more savage than man could ever hope to be built this structure.” She lifted her flashlight and gazed into the crowding darkness that swallowed the beam less than a hundred feet away. “What if they’re still waiting for us? What if they’re not dead like I thought.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No. I can’t. I have to see this through.”

“Will you be all right?”

“I have to be,” she said, trying hard to convince herself that it was the right choice. She had to know for sure, she had to find absolute truth to back up the theory that was formulating in her mind.

With that she plunged into the unknown, the beam of her flashlight pushing back the emptiness as Charlie followed. In time they came to another doorway, this one much wider than the first. Sandra approached the threshold and stopped.

This room was different, much larger than the last one, and she sensed its immensity on an instinctive, primitive level. From somewhere a soft breeze stirred, ruffling the fur-lined collar of her hood, whisking away the vaporous clouds of exhaled breath that issued from her mouth. There was a faint ozone-like scent that tickled her nose with its familiarity. Though she was shielded from the restless winds, the cold still penetrated to her flesh deep beneath multiple layers. Her fingertips were becoming numb and she knew she would have to return to the group soon. But first she wanted to check out this new room. 

To be continued!

Check out Adversary, book one of the Shadows of the Past series.

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Origin Part III

Some things are better left undiscovered.

Jerry gazed at the shattered section of the wall, noting the jagged end of the stone hanging down over the opening, much like the teeth of a massive mouth that was closing. “As long as there is no more seismic activity we’ll be okay, but I believe another tremor may cause more of the passageway to collapse. If we’re inside when that happens…” Jerry finished his sentence with a shrug.

Albert turned to each member and asked, “Should we push on, or turn back?”

Everyone agreed that pushing on was the preferable choice. They were scientists devoted to the discovery of new information. The appearance of the obviously man-made passageway was one of the greatest discoveries of all time. To have their names attached to such an expedition would secure their careers for the rest of their lives.

So it was with high expectations they pushed on. Into the unknown to shed the light of the present into the shadows of the past. Once inside the structure, away from the constant wind, their exploration began in earnest. ?They found themselves in a narrow hallway that vanished into an impenetrable night

The first thing they noticed was the relative warmth of the interior. It was warm enough for them to discard the bulky parkas and insulated coveralls they had worn for the trek from the aircraft.

Establishing a base camp within the mouth of the opening, Albert radioed for more supplies to be brought up. He remained at the radio while the others spread out  to probe the shadowy corners. Always in pairs, they had been reminded, and Sandra made it a point to make herself available to Charlie. What he had told her about that story written so long again intrigued her. Not to mention he was pretty pleasing to the eye.

Together they approached the opposite wall of the narrow hallway and as they got closer the intricate writing that covered every available surface became clear. Strange swirls and vortexes formed lines of type that could only have been created by an intelligent mind. The floor, she noted, while covered by a fine layer of dust, was devoid of any skeletal remains that might have provided a clue as to the age of the structure. Using a sheet of paper, she transferred a line of the type by taking a rub using the side of a pencil.

“What do you think it means?” Charlie said.

“I don’t know, I’m not a linguist.  We’ll have to wait until we can get some photos back to civilization before they can even attempt to decipher what it says.”

The writing disturbed her on a level she’d never experienced before. She’d been present at the opening of tombs in the past, and each time she had been filled with a sense of great expectation. Imagining that she was on the verge of an enormous discovery. She felt that way now, that she was standing upon the threshold of an immense breakthrough, but the feeling was tinged with the fear that what she was about to discover held no joy for the human race in general. There was an alien feel to the writing that awakened primitive sensations of dread that made her hesitate as she explored the cavernous space.

Following the wall, Charlie silently snapped photographs behind her as she explored with her flashlight. The corner the wall on her right turned away from her to vanish into a vast emptiness. She stopped for a moment, shining her light into the shadows, trying to locate anything she could use as a landmark. She felt like she was poised on the lip of an immense chamber containing secrets that were better left undiscovered.

To her left, several of the other members of the group were following the outer wall of the chamber. From her vantage point it was obvious the wall curved in to create a domed ceiling. Keeping her hand in contact with the wall, she crossed the threshold from the passageway into the domed room proper. Glancing back at the others, she saw the narrow beams of their flashlight ineffectually piercing the darkness.

“What do you think this room is?” Charlie said.

“I have no idea. Could be a gathering place. We’ll need to set up some work lights so we can get an ideal what the room looks like,” she said as she took several more steps into the shadows. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they did not belong here. That she should turn back before it was too late. But her curiosity drove her forward. She didn’t know how far she had gone before she reached another corner. This one framed an opening to another passageway, carved into the solid stone, that measured approximately twelve feet across and vanished into the mountain itself. From the opening she detected a slight breeze that brushed against the exposed flesh of her face.

She glanced back at the others. Several work lights had been set up, but their comforting glow did little to push back the heavy darkness that shrouded the room.

She turned back to the opening and shined the beam of her flashlight into the corridor. “What do you think?” she said.

Charlie shrugged as he gazed down that narrow corridor. “After you.”

With Charlie close on her heels, she stepped into the corridor. Here the curious writing was replaced by bas-reliefs of strange creatures in a narrow band about eighteen inches high, running the length of the corridor, two feet above eye level. The rest of the stone was as smooth as glass; its black surface weakly reflecting the beam of her flashlight.

Charlie snapped several photos, the flashes momentarily blinding her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to get her eyes readjusted to the dark. When she did, the images on the wall came to life in her mind. Moving in a hideous manner that deepened her feelings of unease. Opening her eyes with a shudder, she moved down the corridor, ignoring the images chiseled into the walls around her, drawn by curiosity as she followed the beam of her flashlight into the unexplored depths.

Charlie had grown silent as he kept pace with her, and she sensed that he too was disturbed by the images. Coming to a junction, she stopped. Looking first one way, then the next, she peered into the black depths, at the dust covered floor that vanished into the shadows.

Which way? she wondered.

Straight was the most logical course. She crossed the corridor and continued her trek into the never-ending night that swirled before her. On her left a curved archway materialized out of the shadows. It led to another room and the beam of her flashlight picked out a rectangular stone table, its surface tilted towards one narrow end. Several feet to the left stood another, its surface tilted as well, and beyond it there were more. 

She was struck by an odd sensation of despair as she crossed the threshold into the room. The beam of her flashlight picked out rows of stone tables vanishing into the emptiness beyond the shadowy edge of her flashlight beam. At the foot of the table to her left was a circular hole in the floor. It was a good two feet across, the floor around it sloping down as if it were a drain.

To be continued! 


Check out Adversary, book one of the Shadows of the Past series.

Click on cover for more info or to order!

Also available from these fine online retailers.

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Also available in print from Createspace

Receive a personally autographed copy of Adversary for only $11.99 with free shipping to the continental United States. Drop me a line at rschiver@gmail.com for details on how to order your copy today.

Origin Part II

Some things are better left undiscovered.

The door to the cockpit in the wall opposite from where Charlie stood opened, and the pilot stepped into their cabin.

“Any word on when we can move to the camp?” Albert said.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a few hours yet before they have the central section ready for habitation,” the pilot said. “We have coffee if you’d like some.”

“Brandy would be better,” Robert said. He was an archeologist from Berkley and had spent the entire trip wholly engrossed in a study of a recent fossil bed somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. He had the look of one who had spent much of his time outdoors beneath a blazing sun. A deeply tanned face lined and wrinkled with age. Even though he was only forty, the years of exposure to the sun’s rays had left their mark on his leathery flesh.

“I’m sorry sir,” the pilot said, “but alcoholic beverages are not permitted on a military transport.”

Robert gave him a wink and a thumbs up. “Got ya, skipper.”

“Coffee sounds good, I’ll have mine with cream and sugar. Anyone else?” Albert said as he looked around at the others.

“Sounds good to me,” Sandra said.

“I’ll send a steward,” the pilot said before stepping back into the cockpit.

“They have stewards on this flight?” Jenny asked.

“Probably just an airman who never expected one of his duties would be playing nurse maid to a group of geeks,” Charlie said as he settled into his seat, where he turned his attention to what was happening outside.

The wind, which had been mild when they landed, was starting to pick up and the aircraft rocked under its pressure. It howled as it swirled under the wings, driving a line of ice crystals before it, battering at everything that refused to yield to its relentless assault. The steward stepped out of the cockpit with several steaming mugs of coffee, drawing the attention of the group. Steve, Charlie’s partner in keeping the base running smoothly, plopped down into the seat next to him.

“Have you looked at what we came to explore?” Steve said.

“Not yet, why?”

“You need to take a look,” Steve said as he handed him a pair of binoculars.

Charlie held the binoculars to his eyes and focused on the exposed rock beyond the group of penguins. As he adjusted  the dial, the exposed stone leapt into focus and he concentrated on the details as he slowly panned the area.

“What am I looking for?”

“Next to the hill that comes out like a shoulder, on the right side, there is an exposed section of what looks like a tunnel.”

“I see it,” he said, and then became quiet as the realization of what he was looking at slowly dawned on him. There was a band of writing on the wall running the visible length of the tunnel that terminated in what looked like a vast circular room carved out of the solid stone. Several jagged teeth of solid stone hung over the opening, giving it the appearance of a monstrous mouth.

At this distance it was hard to discern its origin, much less what was written, but just the realization that something intelligent had been involved in the construction of this tunnel set off warnings in his mind. They were looking at something man had never seen before, nor would likely ever see again. It reminded him again of the story he’d read by a writer long dead, and the carvings those fictional characters discovered. It was said that life imitated art. Here they stood upon the threshold of a discovery that had been foretold by a writer almost a hundred years earlier. He just hoped the outcome would follow a different course.

Three seats behind Charlie, Albert and Jerry, one of the scientists who’d volunteered for this expedition, were viewing the structure through their own pair of binoculars.

“How large do you make that to be?” Albert asked Jerry, a geologist whose hobby was ancient construction methods.

“I’d say at least a hundred feet from floor to ceiling, almost twice that across at the widest point,” Jerry said.

“I see a trail we can follow to the top,” Jenny said.

“What about the penguins?” Jerry said.

Sandra Falcon shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I can tell you for a fact that they’ve abandoned their normal migratory routes to gather here. Why, is anybody’s guess.”

“They seem drawn to the structure,” Albert said.

“It could be an instinctive memory,” Sandra said.

“Will they bother us if we go near them?”

“The only time one really needs to be careful is when they’re roosting. They shouldn’t bother us, but I wouldn’t take any chances. Give them a wide berth.”

***

After a few hours of climbing, they reached a small plateau above a field of shattered stone that was quickly being buried beneath a steady snowfall. They were accompanied by a platoon of soldiers who had been tasked with protecting the seven members of the scientific team. Albert was the leader of the group, but when it came to matters of security second lieutenant Stokes could overrule Albert’s decisions. On the plain below them, another C-130 came in for a landing as a ground crew worked against the elements and time to complete the structure the scientists would live and work in for the next few weeks.

As a group, they stopped when the exposed void came into view. The smooth sides of the passageway vanished into the mountain. It looked like it had been carved from solid stone. The narrow passage led into a vast domed chamber

“You’re the geologist,” Albert said, nodding at Jerry, “do you feel the structure is safe to enter?” 

To be continued!

Check out Adversary, book one of the Shadows of the Past series.

Click on cover for more info or to order!

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Also available in print from Createspace

Receive a personally autographed copy of Adversary for only $11.99 with free shipping to the continental United States. Drop me a line at rschiver@gmail.com for details on how to order your copy today. 

 

All Roads Lead to Terror: Chapter Three

The horrors of the past meet the brutality of the present.

Chapter 3 

In a world without electricity night descended rather quickly. After burying the old man’s wife and daughter they returned to the front porch and made preparations to move on a bit before setting up camp. The old man, who had exhausted most of his sorrow before they arrived, would hear none of this, and after introducing himself properly he insisted that they stay for the night.

His name was Gregory and before the awakening he’d been the manager of a home improvement store just outside of Richmond. When the shit his the fan he had taken his wife and young daughter to his cabin in the mountains West of Richmond to ride everything out. Unfortunately the Zombies turned out to be the least of his troubles. They’d been found and driven from their home by a group of men and women who were better armed, and far more savage than he.

Sitting around the kitchen table, with several candles providing their light, Gregory finished his story and looked at each of them expectedly, his hands folded on the table before him.

“You lived in the world before all this happened?” Einstein said.

“We were in our thirties when it happened, our daughter was five.”

“So you know about fast food and grocery stores, what were they like? Could you really get a whole meal in less than a minute?” Billie Bob said.

Gregory shrugged, “absolutely, in the city there was a fast food joint on practically every corner.”

“That’s amazing, man I wish I could have seen that,” Billie-Bob said.

“Where are you four from?”

Window and Meat exchanged glances, Window tilted his head slightly and Meat agreed. “We’re from a place upriver called Bremo Bluff.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Gregory said, “isn’t there a co-generation plant there?”

“What’s a co-generation plant?” Window said.

“A place that makes electricity.”

“Yeah, we have electricity, we use it to make fresh water too,” Billie Bob said and Window scowled as Meat shrugged. They’d learned long ago to be cautious about what information they shared with strangers.

“What about libraries?” Meat said.

“What about them?”

“Do you know where one might be, one that hasn’t been torched or destroyed?”

Gregory shook his head, “I’m sorry, libraries weren’t exactly at the top of my list of priorities when I was trying to protect my family. How do you know about libraries?”

“An old lady where I live, she has a room filled with books, but they’re story books, not real books you can learn anything from. She does have a set of encyclopedias but they’re from the fifties. She told me about libraries.”

“You can read?”

“Of course, to live where we live it’s required, everyone has a job to do to ensure the survival of the group, and you have to be able to read to follow instructions.”

“Don’t they have any other books?”

“Only technical manuals for running the plant, how to books about making things, those sort of books. I’d like to read about our history, what the world was like before all this happened,” Meat said with a shrug.

“Do the children work?”

“Everyone has to work.”

“Then why are you outside?”

“The parents of the children who had been kidnapped hired us to find them. They agreed to take on our jobs until we return.”

“And if you don’t.”

Meat smiled at this, “we’ve been going outside the fence for over two years now, staying close, but scavenging what we could find. We know the risks we’re taking, but I know the other three with me, I know what we’re capable of, and I’m pretty confident we will return to Bremo Bluff with the children.”

“What about the kids who took them, what do you plan to do to them?”

“Nothing if they stay out of our way.”

“Why are you doing this? Are they paying you?”

Meat shook his head, “we’re doing it because we want to help, and if we’re successful we may be able to convince the council to award us a scavenging slot.”

“A scavenging slot?”

“There are scavenging teams that search for necessities beyond the fence, each one is assigned a particular item to look for and bring back.”

“So you’re doing this more for yourself?”

“Not really, I mean getting a slot would be nice, but even if it wasn’t available, we’d probably still be doing it.

“That’s pretty altruistic of you.”

“What does that mean?” Window said.

“It means we’re generous,” Meat said.

Window shrugged, “speak for yourself, I’m in it to find bullets and guns, you can never have too many guns.”

“Don’t mind Window, he hates Zombies and practically everybody else.”

“Why do they call him Window?”

“It’s a name we came up with for him, since he’s so open about his past, he’s as clear as a window.”

“I take it you’re being sarcastic.”

“Absolutely.” Meat smiled. “By the way, my name’s Meat, that’s Einstein on Window’s left and at the end of the table is Billie Bob.” Each of them in turn nodded their head as Meat pointed at them.

“Whatever happened to regular names, you know like Don and Mark, and Fred and Pete?” Gregory said with a bewildered expression,

“According to my Dad I was born during the awakening, my mom said I was nothing more than meat so that’s what they started calling me. I don’t think I was ever given a real name. Besides it fits, aren’t we all just walking bags of meat?”

“That’s a pretty dismal view of the world.”

“It’s a pretty dismal world in which we live.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Gregory said, “I can understand Einstein, he’s the smartest, right?”

Meat nodded in agreement.

“But why Billie Bob?”

Meat smiled, “he’s one half of a set of twins, his name is Billie, and his brother’s name is Bobbie. When they were younger they would trade places with each other so everyone started calling them Billie Bob as they were never sure which of the twins they were really talking to.”

“How did it happen?” Billie Bob said.

“How did what happen?”

“The awakening? They told us in class it was because of a virus, that a company was trying to make a biological weapon that mutated into the virus. But they never really gave us any more details.”

“I don’t think anyone is really sure what happened. I know it started in a small town outside Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, some said a train had derailed and one of the tankers carrying government cargo was ruptured. Others claimed a military transport plane had crashed into the woods outside the town. There were some who believed it was tied to Ebola that had been out of control in South Africa.

“Most of the people fled from the area, carrying the virus that quickly spread around the world. The next thing we knew anyone who had recently died woke up. Hospital morgues, funeral homes, places where those who had recently died were stored, saw the dead attacking the living.

“Panic set in as people fled from the cities. The normal restraints of civilization crumbled and it became a dog eat dog world. The undead were only half the problem, survivalists and militia groups who had been waiting for something like this to happen went on killing sprees. It was crazy, if you weren’t dead, or didn’t belong to one of the groups that sprung up in the aftermath, you were a target.”

“Just like now,” Meat said, “most of our problems come from survivors instead of the walking dead.”

“Man’s inhumanity to man, throughout history man has been his own worst enemy.”

“It’s getting late, if we want to get started by first light we need to get some sleep.”

“There’s plenty of floor space,” Gregory said, “just grab a spot.”

“Do you have any objections to us sleeping in your barn?” Meat said.

“No, but I don’t understand why.”

“Call it a precaution, I’ll take the first watch, Einstein you’ll be second, Billie Bob third, and Window you can wake me for the last two hours.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, I’ll sit with you, keep you company.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Meat nodded as he pushed himself away from the table. He stuck his hand out for Gregory, “it’s been a pleasure, and thank you for your hospitality.”

“The pleasure was all mine, when do you plan to set out in the morning?”

“Early, I’d like to be gone before the sun comes up.”

The others pushed away from the table and crossed to the front door where they waited for Meat who led them to the barn.

End

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All Roads Lead to Terror: Chapter Two

The horrors of the past meet the brutality of the present.

Chapter 2 

With a practiced ease earned over years of exploring the wilds around the compound where he now lived, Meat moved silently through the trees, following a straight line with Einstein and Window fanning out to his flanks. He wasn’t sure what to expect. It could be a few of the raiding party hanging back, waiting for them to pass through before following them in the hopes of catching then in a cross fire. Or it could be another survivor out traveling the empty roads in search of kindred spirits.

Nearing a clearing he stopped and dropped to a kneeling position. Ahead of him a lone house stood surrounded by empty fields, a ramshackle old structure with paint peeling from its outer walls, exposing the weathered wood beneath. Several of the windows had been covered with boards and the roof of the front porch was sagging in the middle.

A small trickle of smoke rose from the lone chimney.

Motioning for the others to stay back and indicating to Billie-Bob that he should get ready, he quietly approached the house. Reaching the tree line he stopped when he spotted a barn with a corral along one side. Two people stood in the corral, side by side at the fence, the top part of their bodies rocking back and forth in tine with one another.

They were dressed like women but he couldn’t get a clear look at their faces to be sure as they were facing away from him. They each wore a dress, the hem covered in mud that was slowly drying. They were barefoot, their hands resting on the top rail of the fence as they watched the house with unwavering gazes.

Cautiously Meat moved along the side of the corral. The women remained unaware as he slowly approached, his eyes never leaving their backs, and the house beyond them, watching for any sign of movement at any of the windows.

He noticed that they both had stopped rocking back and forth, their backs becoming ramrod straight, yet their hands remained in place on the top rail of the corral. As he got closer one of the women turned with a growl deep in her throat. The flesh of her face was gray, her eyes white with cataracts, filthy teeth half hidden behind snarling lips.

They had been turned, Meat realized as he faded back from the corral, the other woman followed the first, staggering towards Meat, their hands outstretched as they sought the comfort his body would provide.

“Stop it, both of you.” A shout came from the porch of the dilapidated structure and Meat spotted a large man standing in the open doorway, a rifle resting in the crook of his elbow. The women turned back towards the sound of the man’s voice, staggering to the fence of the corral where they watched him with rapt attention. He stepped out of the shadows, a long salt and pepper beard resting against his chest.

“I see you out there,” the man said, “hiding in the bushes. Come out with your hands up.” He settled the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and took aim through the telescopic sight.

Meat stood up, his hands held comfortably at shoulder height, with his fingers spread wide. It would serve as a signal for Billie Bob to hold fire. Meat was confident he was even now sighting through the scope of his M24, a present from his surrogate parents, the man on the porch squarely in his sights. As long as Meat’s hands remained open, the man on the porch would live. The moment he closed either hand into a fist, Billie Bob would take his shot.

It was a signal they had worked before they started venturing beyond the fence at Bremo Bluff. In this old new world it was not only Zombies one needed to worry about. Other survivors, struggling to live themselves, were a greater risk, as the only law one had to fall back upon was whatever weapons they carried.

“Drop your gun,” the man on the porch said, the muzzle of his rifle unwavering as Meat gazed down its length.

“I can’t do that,” Meat said.

“What do you want?”

“I’m looking for someone, a group of kids.”

“A group of kids?” The muzzle wavered unsteadily.

“They kidnapped several children from the compound where I live, we want them back.”

“What place are you talking about? Where do you live?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Meat was about to close his hand into a fist, worried that the large man on the porch was getting tired and might accidentally squeeze off a shot. The man lowered his rifle and sat down heavily on the top step.

“I tried to stop them,” the man said.

“Who?” Meat said as he approached the man.

“Those kids you’re looking for, they’re not children, oh they’re small all right, and they look just like kids, but they’re not. They’re savages. That’s what threw Maggie off. One of them came out of the forest several days ago, he was pretending like he was hurt, Maggie went to help him, and the others, they just came out of the forest. She tried to run.” Several tears traced wet paths down his cheeks as he relived that moment in his mind. “She ran, but they were too fast. Shelly tried to help her but there were too many of them.”

“Who are Maggie and Shelly?”

The man looked at him, the sorrow of the world resting upon his slumped shoulders. “They were my wife and daughter,” he said as his gaze drifted to the two women in the corral, “I knew I needed to take care of them, do the right thing, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not to the woman I spent my life with, or the child I swore to protect.”

It all made sense now and Meat signaled for the others to come up. As they emerged from the forest the old man spotted them and suddenly became alarmed. “What do you want?”

“We’re not here to hurt you, I promise, we smelled the wood smoke and came to see what was going on.”

He reached for his rifle and Meat put his hand on the barrel.

“I don’t have anything you want.”

“We’re not after anything old man, we just want to find those kids, get our own kids back. Which way did they go?” He asked, trying to get the man’s mind off of his current line of thought.

“East,” the old man said as he warily watched the other three approach.

“We can help you,” Meat said, “if you need us to.”

“How? You’re nothing more than a child yourself?”

Meat shrugged, some people still held onto their old beliefs, unwilling to accept the reality in which they lived. Judging by the man’s age he had lived before the awakening so he still clung to the old viewpoint that children should not concern themselves with adult matters. “Your wife and daughter, they should have peace.”

The man’s eyes widened in shock as he leaned back in an attempt to escape Meat’s observation. “What do you know about anything? You’re just a damned kid.”

“I know they need to be put to rest. Everyone of us learned at a very young age that the only cure for what they have is a bullet to the brain.”

“That’s my wife and daughter you’re speaking about boy.” His hand strayed to his rifle and Meat rested his foot on the barrel, keeping it in place as the old man looked up at him with water-rimmed eyes.

“Window, you know what needs to be done,” Meat said, never taking his eyes off of the old man, “you should have done this sooner,” he said to the old man. “It’s not your wife and daughter anymore, you know that, why else would you be keeping them locked up in the corral?”

“Shut up, dammit.”

“Does she sleep with you at night? Do you tuck in your daughter with a kiss?”

“Shut the fuck up, you bastard. What do you know about anything?”

“I know I can’t leave them as they are. I know that somewhere deep down they’re begging to be released.”

The old man jumped when a shot shattered the stillness of the day. Several birds took to flight, startled from their roost, flapping away with angry cries as a second shot quickly followed the first. The sound of the shots faded into the distance like thunder. From the North Meat detected the faint sound of an engine growling in the distance, its tone rising and then falling before fading away to silence.

What was that? He wondered briefly before the man shoved him aside and raced down the steps, his boots throwing up little clouds of dust from the bare ground.

“Maggie, Shelly,” the old man said, his voice cracking with emotion. Einstein stood in his way but Meat motioned for him to let the old man go. Sitting down on the top step he waited as the old man’s cries came from the direction of the corral. The others came and joined him.

“Are we gonna bury them?” Window said.

“When he’s ready,” Meat answered as the afternoon slowly marched towards evening. If need be they’d spend the night here before continuing their journey. He knew Window was anxious to get going, not being one who liked to wait on anyone or anything, but Meat understood that it would be best to help the old man once he came to the realization that what they’d done was the best for his wife and daughter.

After waiting an hour they heard the unmistakable sound of a shovel biting into the earth. Led by Meat they crossed the small yard to help the old man lay his family to rest.

End

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All Roads Lead to Terror: Chapter One

The horrors of the past meet the brutality of the present.

Chapter 1 

He felt their fear with an intimacy that was all too common in this new age. Stirring memories of his own early childhood, of panicked flight through dark passages that led to a lone house decaying at the edge of an overgrown field that had overwhelmed a once manicured lawn. He moaned as the image of that house flashed through his thoughts and he knelt down to disguise the sudden weakness in his knees. He couldn’t let the others see his fear. He slipped off his battered felt hat and wiped his brow, the sun warm against his closely cropped scalp.

On the ground all around him were the signs of their passage. An overturned rock here, the shaft of a weed bent at an unnatural angle there, a pile of decaying leaves disturbed by hurried steps. Small signs that taken alone meant very little, but when added to the others scattered about wrote a tale of hurried desperation.

The children had been taken in the night, whisked away from the only safety they had ever known, four of them led away by others who had sought refuge in the compound where they lived. Using their young age to gain entry where they would have otherwise been denied. Their story was written in the sign he had been following. Beyond the fence they had been joined by a larger group and together they set out to the East.

Why?

What purpose would they serve?

Parasite (Shadows of the Past Book II) Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Frankie sat at the dining room table coloring, the tip of his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on staying inside the lines. A shadow fell across the table and he looked up at Michelle, who stood over him, watching as he worked.

“We’re gonna need the table soon,” she said with a nod.

Frankie smiled as he nodded at her, then returned his attention to the coloring book. He was focused on the sky now, using the wide side of the crayon to create swaths of blue as he moved it back and forth.

As he worked, his mind wandered. Memories whispered from the past and he followed one back to that night in the garage. He saw Jack on a purely instinctive level, a powerful predatory force that was searching for him as he hid within the cocoon of white noise that was his world. While his father tried to start the car, Jack had thrown himself at the vehicle with an insane fury that flashed white-hot around Frankie’s sanctuary. Neither his father nor Michelle would have lasted very long against Jack, who had become so much more than just an ordinary man. The thin glass of the car windows would have easily failed against his onslaught.

It was then that he’d reached out for the first time with his mind. Venturing beyond the safety his confusion afforded him, he discovered he had a little trick of his own up his sleeve. He had touched Jack’s mind that night.

What he had seen as he gazed into Jack’s subconscious had terrified him. The thing that had taken control of Jack had no feelings whatsoever for man. It viewed him as nothing more than cattle in the field, which in essence they were, for their genes had been brought from the far reaches of space to this warm little planet circling the sun. They had been brought to feed these early explorers.

But as the continents broke apart, and that section they had inhabited drifted to the south, the food source found itself more adaptable than its masters. The tables had been turned as the hunter became the hunted, and this alien race had had to take drastic measures to adapt to the changes that were taking place around it. They were forced to evolve into a creature more suited to a snow-covered world, and in so doing they had surrendered their reign over their former slaves.

Frankie saw all of this in a flash of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had touched Jack’s mind, transferring a small part of the confusion that was his own world, and in so doing had opened himself up to this creature’s influence. Accomplishing what he had set out to do, he had retreated, followed by this predatory thing that stalked him through the chambers of his own mind. It was only when the fever gripped him that he was able to exorcise this demon from the past.

From his left came a faint sound that he realized, upon becoming aware of it, had always been there. A soft whispering, like that of a multitude of voices in worshipful prayer. The sound stopped his hand and his coloring book lay forgotten as he turned to peer into the deeper shadows that were crowded in the corners of the room.

He sensed his mother’s presence nearby and was comforted by her warmth, which stood in sharp contrast to the chilly waves of cold air that whispered from the deeper shadows.

“They’ve awakened,” his mother whispered in his mind and he sighed with resignation. He’d known this day would come and was saddened by the fact that it had arrived so soon. He’d hoped he would have had more time to get to know his family, to make up for everything he had missed while growing up, but that was not to be.

With wisdom beyond his years, he understood the uncanny persistence of life. Where there was the slightest sliver of hope that it could emerge, it would, and alien life was no different.

His father had suspected that he’d been unsuccessful in his attempt to destroy the thing that once lived as Jack Griffith. At the time, Frankie had known for a fact that he had failed, for the whispering that he recognized as coming from the collective consciousness of this creature had never fully ceased. It had grown quieter, true, but it had never stopped completely. And now it was growing stronger.

He glanced at the window, and the ridge beyond, aware that the fight would be joined once again. He felt their presence lurking at the edge of his consciousness, a faint whispering like the soft static of a radio tuned to a dead station. With his mind, he pushed them from his thoughts, driving them away from him, sending them reeling into the ether as they fled the confusion that threatened to consume them.

Michelle entered the room and found Frankie staring out the window. The coloring book on the table before him was covered by blood that was dripping from Frankie’s nose. 

He was unaware of this fact, his entire being focused on locating the source of the whispering, and as he sought them out he felt the months of confusion he’d held successfully at bay washing back through him.

He heard Michelle scream and was about to tell her that everything was all right when he looked down and saw that the blue sky he’d worked so hard on was now a bright red due to the blood flowing from his nose.

Chapter 9

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Parasite (Shadows of the Past Book II) Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The despair of the past few days was washed away by the exhilaration of racing headlong through the woods with no restrictions. This was his second pass on the circuit he and his father had cut from the forest behind their house. Reacquainted with the features of the path after his first go round, this time he decided to see just how fast he could run the route.

He was ripping around the second curve, dirt spewing from beneath all four tires as he leaned into the turn and cranked the throttle wide open. The four-wheeler leapt forward as the first long straightaway came into view. Suddenly a figure stepped out of the dense forest, right into the middle of the path, and Anthony’s mouth went dry with fear when he recognized Randy’s bulk blocking his way.

He whipped the handlebars to the right, cutting through the dense weeds, bouncing crazily over downed tree limbs as he skirted around Randy. He nearly lost control but he managed to get himself back onto the path and straightened out beyond Randy. He stopped, his hands shaking, his knees weak, as he looked back over his shoulder to find Randy casually sauntering towards him.

Anthony popped the clutch and twisted the throttle wide open just as Dave jumped out of the weeds and tried to grab the handlebars. Dave was sent sprawling into the weeds as Anthony sped away. He bounced over the path, the engine revving, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was chasing him. He failed to set himself for the next turn and instead of remaining on the path the four-wheeler spun out into the dense forest.

He pushed himself away from the four-wheeler as it rolled into the brush, tumbling through the trees, slamming into a bramble of fallen tree limbs. He lay there for a moment, pain coming from his left knee and lower back as the four-wheeler sputtered and died somewhere to his right.

Where did they come from? he wondered as he lay there listening to the voice of the forest around him. Like a curtain descending, all noise ceased as the sound of approaching footsteps filled the void.

They were coming for him.

Pushing himself back to his feet, he searched the forest for any sign of their approach. To his left he spotted movement and saw Randy calmly walking towards him with a strange animal at his heels. Dave joined him and together they approached him with a leisurely stride; it was as if they knew they had all the time in the world to do as they pleased, which frightened him more than anything else. Anthony turned and ran into the forest, following the trail he knew would lead back to his house.

Reaching his house, he raced through the kitchen door and crossed to the basement door, tracking mud across his mother’s clean floor, taking the steps two at a time, risking a headlong fall to the concrete floor below. He made his way to his father’s small workshop tucked away in the far corner. Above the workbench an assortment of tools hung from a pegboard; along the right side of the workbench was a row of drawers. Anthony opened the second one down and reached into the shadowy recesses at the back of the drawer. He pulled out a tin box and pried off the lid to reveal an object wrapped in an oily rag.

Hidden inside the rag lay a well-maintained Colt model 1911 45-caliber pistol. Unwrapping the weapon, he laid the rag on the surface of the workbench and pulled back the slide as his father had shown him just that spring. Locking the slide back, he slapped a full clip into the handle and released the lever holding the slide. It slid forward, ramming the blunt nose of a bullet into the chamber. Pushing the pass through safety button on the trigger guard from safe to fire, he crossed back to the steps and paused for a moment as he struggled to catch his breath.

He had a moment to consider what he was doing, to take stock of the situation, as it were. He only had two options open to him. Let Randy and Dave take him and do as they pleased, possibly resulting in his death. Or kill them both.

It wasn’t possible for Randy to still be alive. He’d seen him fall, had heard the sickening crunch of his body slamming into the stones at the bottom of the cliff. But here he was, coming after him again, and this time he knew there would be no turning back. Something had brought Randy back, be it for revenge, or worse. Anthony hadn’t matured to the point that such a notion would be considered impossible. His young mind was still wide open to any number of explanations for Randy’s return, most of them with sinister origins.

He had come back from the dead to get him, and that animal he’d seen with him, that strange creature that looked like a cross between a fox and a turtle was somehow involved.

His decision made, he pulled himself up the steps with the pistol heavy in his hand. His father had taught him earlier that year to shoot, while his mom had been away at her sister’s. She never would have agreed to such a thing had it been proposed so he and his father had kept it as a secret between them. Another of the many secrets fathers and sons normally kept from mothers and wives.

Stepping into the back yard, Anthony scanned the forest for any sign of Randy’s approach. He heard footsteps in the leaves covering the forest floor and he waited, watching that section of trees the sound seemed to be originating from.

Randy came into view, followed by Dave, and Anthony had a moment to take a closer look at the bully who’d made his life a living hell. On one side of his head, a bulge protruded from beneath his long hair, giving him a lopsided appearance. His clothes were covered with a black substance that took Anthony several moments to identify as dried blood. Dark trails traced lines from each of his ears, across his top lip, under his nose, and from each corner of his mouth.

That crunch he’d heard had to have been Randy’s skull shattering. That realization awakened a cold ball of fear in the pit of his stomach. If he could come back from such a fall what chance did bullets have against him?

“Don’t come any closer,” Anthony shouted as he took a shooter’s stance. His feet shoulder-width apart, toes aimed at the target with his knees slightly bent, leaning forward at the waist to ride out the recoil and keep his balance while firing. He held the pistol in both hands, his right wrapped around the handle with his trigger finger pointing straight out along the barrel.

Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire, his father’s voice whispered in his mind. His left hand cupped his right hand, adding stability, as the loaded gun weighed nearly eight pounds.

Randy stopped for a moment and looked at him. As their eyes locked, Anthony realized it was no longer Randy. He was there, yes, but something else inhabited his body as well, something associated with the strange animal that sat along the tree line watching the events unfold.

Randy shrugged and took another step forward.

Anthony wrapped his finger around the trigger and gently squeezed. The gun bucked in his hand as the sound of the shot shattered the stillness of the forest with a sharp report that rolled away like thunder.

He missed.

He fired again, riding the recoil like his father had shown him, letting the muzzle of the pistol rise up before bringing it back down on his target.

His third shot sent a plume of dirt into the air directly in front of Randy, who hesitated for a moment before taking another step.

The fourth shot found its mark.

At distances over fifty yards, the effectiveness of a forty-five slug is greatly diminished. Within that range, its stopping power is legendary. Randy was only thirty yards away.

The blunt-nosed slug slammed into Randy’s left knee, shattering it on impact with the bone, the resulting shrapnel slicing through tendon and muscle and flesh. The force of the impact nearly bent his leg backwards at an impossible angle, and Randy dropped to the ground as the animal that had been watching from the edge of the forest started running around in frenzied circles, acting as if it too had been hit.

Strangely, though, Randy never made a sound as he hit the ground. The only sound was that of the report vanishing into the distance like thunder rolling across the silent forest.

Under Anthony’s watchful eye, Dave pulled Randy back into the forest, followed by the animal that stopped for a moment and looked back at him with two mismatched eyes. He felt its presence, a tickle of primitive recognition at the base of his neck, a whisper at the edge of his consciousness, a cold, emotionless sound that filled him with growing terror.

After they were gone, he fled back into the house and raced to the bathroom, where he promptly threw up. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot, and he’d have to keep a close watch on things. They would be back and the thought brought to mind the image of his mother in the kitchen alone, facing what lay in the forest just beyond the back door.

He had to tell someone.

But who?

Who would listen to a twelve-year-old kid with a crazy story of a bully coming back to life after he’d killed him? 

They’d lock him up for sure.

Chapter 8                       Chapter 10

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