Manifest

by Golden Czermak

  “Hey!” Evan called, scurrying out of his car to follow. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Julie?”

  Chance stopped outside the door and slid the key into the lock.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  With a swift turn the door to Julie’s apartment opened and the two men stepped inside.

  Evan McCann, an Irishman from Dublin, had met Julie downtown a couple of weeks after Chance last deployed. They dated for a few months but soon stopped, mainly due to “incompatible personalities” as Julie once put it.

  That and several other mentions in emails and in social media posts led Chance to try and get in touch with Evan, suspecting he might still have a way of getting into her apartment. Luckily, he did, but sadly what they found inside didn’t make either of them feel good at all.

  ***

  A putrid odor assaulted their nostrils and their eyes, clawing its way deep into the pit of both men’s stomachs. It was the smell of rotting death and it nearly drove Chance to tears.

  Surely, she isn’t… Chance thought as he tried to hone in on the source of the smell. It had permeated everything. She can’t be… gone.

  “Evan, did Julie indicate she was having any kind of health issues?”

  Chance cautiously stepped forward. The apartment seemed in good order. Stench aside, the place was normal.

  “No,” Evan responded, eyes skirting the room for anything out of the ordinary. He half expected to find a body at every turn. “She had been a little distracted when I last spoke to her, but that was probably a fortnight ago. She actually talked about getting the locks changed but clearly never got around to it.”

  “Lucky for us,” Chance replied, entering the small dining area next to the kitchen. “Although that would not have stopped me getting in here. What was the cause of her distraction?”

  “I don’t know,” Evan said almost sadly. “I didn’t think much of it then – she had been stressed about some audit about to happen at work.”

  “Work stress was definitely normal for her,” Chance confirmed. The smell was slightly stronger now.

  “She did mention visiting the Smoky Mountains after it was done.” Evan continued talking as he joined Chance in the kitchen. He noticed the smell was stronger too but that there was no body on the floor. He didn’t know if that should make him happy or not. “Not a normal tourist trip to Gatlinburg though. More a camping trip.”

  “By herself?” Chance asked, reaching for the refrigerator.

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Evan replied, “but I suppose, maybe?”

  “That part doesn’t sound like her at all.”

  Chance opened the fridge. Both men lurched, stopping just short of vomiting. Inside were the bloated remains of Julie’s cat Sprinkles, her innards spilled out across all three shelves despite the cold temperatures.

  “Ugh,” Evan said, dry heaving.

  “She must’ve been hungry and the door closed on her. Apparently, Julie has been gone for a while.”

  “I feel better about that,” Evan said. Chance looked at him with wide eyes. “At least she may still be alive.”

  Chance nodded briefly, shifting his way past Evan back into the living room. He went from there into Julie’s bedroom, searching for more clues. Evan shut the door to the fridge and joined him.

  ***

  The duo spent the next hour scouring Julie’s apartment, their noses adjusting to the reek. Chance had gone through the entire living room and was looking through boxes inside Julie’s closet. He stumbled upon a box of old Christmas decorations and toys, among them Julie’s favorite doll – received in December 2003. Chance remembered that night quite clearly…

  “Chance! Max keeps shoving his wet finger in my ear! Make him stop!”

  “Why didn’t we chuck out the cat?” Evan asked, his voice snapping Chance out of his nostalgic memory. Pulling out a laptop that had somehow wedged itself behind one of the nightstands, Evan said, “Huh, how’d you get back here?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Chance answered, snatching the computer from him. “Julie would murder me if she found out we tossed Sprinkles in the trash instead of burying her.”

  Evan rolled his eyes as he watched Chance turn on the device. They waited a few minutes for it to boot up and after logging in (Julie had a system her brother knew about for all her passwords), Chance started clicking around.

  Initially turning up nothing special on her hard drive folders, Chance looked into her search history. There were strange articles on the occult high on the list of recent searches, especially binding spells and curses, along with a couple of map routes to a place called Wear Cove.

  “You know anything about this ‘Wear Cove’ area, Evan?”

  “No,” came the reply, and Chance nearly jumped out of his skin. Evan had taken up a watchful post right next to his ear.

  “Were you looking over my shoulder?”

  “No, I planned to kiss you, eejit. Duh!”

  “Well, this store is closed for you so back up a little bit,” Chance said, pushing him away. He returned his attention to the screen. “I hate that we don’t have more to go on, but it seems to me if Julie was talking about going camping and this is the place coming up on her searches that it’s as good a place to start as any.”

  Evan nodded, surprised at the swiftness Chance took in standing.

  “Thanks for your help Evan,” Chance said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Um, and where is it you think you’re going now?” Evan asked tersely.

  “To find my sister… idiot.”

  “Well shame, you better prepare for some company,” said Evan assuredly, “because I’m going with you.”

  ***

  Later that night, after snaking through the darkness for what seemed like forever down a long and wooded road, Chance and Evan arrived at Wear Cove. It didn’t look like much, at least much that was appealing.

  “Well this place looks like the land that time and tidiness forgot,” Evan said as a light rain began to fall. The distant sound of thunder also started to get too close for comfort.

  “Looks like we aren’t going to have much time to search tonight with this weather; we better start moving and find a place to set up camp.”

  “Are you crazy, Chance? Why don’t we just stay the night in the truck, or at least until the weather passes? Better yet we could head back in town and start tomorrow…”

  “You invited yourself on this little trip my friend,” Chance said. “Blame it on a family bond or whatever else you want to, but I am not going to sit idly in my truck or get cozy in a nice bed while my sister is out there.”

  “She could also be living it up out there,” Evan retorted, his eyes following Chance’s finger to the tree line.

  “I doubt she’d be ‘living it up’ while her cat was left home starving to death. Does that sound like Julie to you?”

  Evan didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so. Now come on leprechaun, let’s go.”

  Chance led the way, hoisting a large backpack up and over his shoulders.

  Evans followed with another pack of supplies and before long the two of them disappeared into the forest, the treetops swaying like cult dancers around a bonfire.

  ***

  Chance and Evan found a spot to set up a makeshift camp about thirty minutes after leaving the truck. They’d been making their way in a generally southerly direction, as much as the hilly landscape would let them. They had finished just as the storm, so distant earlier, started to unleash its fury on them.

  Along the way there had been no signs of Julie, but Chance held out hope they would be able to find something given some daylight. The rain was supposed to stop before dawn as well, which would make things that much easier.

  Evan was less optimistic about it all, taking up near the entrance of the tent. From there he peered out into the wet night from a position of relative (albeit flimsy) safety.

  He couldn’t take his e
yes off the rain; it was mesmerizing. Claps of thunder roared like great beasts whose hidden, yet monstrous forms were locked up behind a cage of bright, forked lightning.

  “Is it just me, or does it sound like something is out there?”

  “If it’s anything, it’s probably some kind of forest animal but honestly, I think it’s just the rain playing tricks on you, Evan. It is coming down pretty hard and – ”

  Chance stopped mid-sentence. A sudden howl that didn’t sound at all like wind though the trees stole his attention.

  “That on the other hand…”

  But Evan wasn’t listening to him, his own attention transfixed on the walls of the tent. Shapes were moving there, sharp spears and knives moving – no, crawling – just on the other side of the very thin material.

  Both men fell silent as they watched, the tapping of rain on plastic louder than a jet engine. Their heartbeats joined the noise and their eyes grew wide to take in as much as the lightning would yield.

  Chance didn’t want to breathe. Military training swirled through his mind to keep him focused, though it was having a tough time comprehending what he was seeing. On the other hand, Evan didn’t have that luxury and found himself on the verge of panic. Dread overcame him, sinking in like the unwanted cold he was sure to get, should he manage to survive.

  The shape was gone, the wind dying down.

  They were safe again, and –

  Evan screamed, a spear-like branch tearing through the tent like a greedy child on Christmas morning. It entered his shoulder, just to the side of his chest. He cried, it hurt, the splinters gnawing against his raw and stinging flesh as blood spewed. The branch shifted, the sound of bones snapping melding with cracking wood.

  “Chance! Help!”

  Chance reached for Evan, grabbing him by the coat. Another spear soared into the tent, followed by an otherworldly cry. Was it a child?

  Chance dodged the attack, rolling to the back of the tent. It stabbed his leg and he winced. Saving the energy he would have used on a scream he broke the spear, then yanked it out, screaming.

  The creature roared, withdrawing both weapons and Evan along with it.

  “Chance!” Evan screamed, then was gone.

  Chance wasted no time gathering as much stuff as he could before heading out into the cold and dark by himself.

  He ran, while overhead the intense thunder sent waves of fear through Chance’s body. He looked around his woodland surroundings through haggard eyes, unable to see anything through the downpour. The darkness felt eternal. Chance felt far from safe. He could almost see monsters moving within the storm clouds and the forest itself. It had to be his imagination – shadows don’t watch people as they slosh their way aimlessly in the dark.

  But Evan. Evan was gone… taken by something.

  Chance’s feet were cold, so incredibly cold as water soaked through the many tears in his old shoes. The squelching of his footsteps in the muddy soil bordered on grotesque, while the once soft rain had hardened into wet shrapnel that stung the naked skin on his arms and face.

  The thunder rolled as lightning cascaded from cloud to cloud, revealing the edges of a rustic cabin that was tucked away in the woody overgrowth.

  Chance didn’t recognize it from any of the maps and while it should have been comforting to see, the place was extremely uninviting. Less a shelter and more a predator. Regardless of his feelings, he had to get out of the rain before he caught his death of cold.

  The stairs creaked as Chance climbed them, one by one until he was standing on the uneven porch. The walls ahead of him were worn and gray, and they swayed as if alive. Were they breathing? His own breaths had faded, now distant and labored.

  With sweat mixing with the rain collected on his forehead, Chance took a step forward. His left leg shook at the knee before righting itself, the pain of his recent attack coming back to haunt him. The other leg followed, shuffling his bent body toward the door.

  A hand reached out, trembling as it grabbed hold of a rusty handle and pushed, opening the way into another level of utter darkness.

  ***

  Though black, Chance knew he was not alone. He could sense someone in the room ahead. They were looking at him. When the next flash of lightning came he was proven correct.

  A woman was standing by one of the windows, the rest of the cabin devoid of furniture. From what Chance could see in the flashing light, she was wizened and old, her eye sockets near empty except for the faintest, familiar glimmer of –

  “No…” Chance whispered in horror. “Julie?”

  There in the very center of the room, laid upon a blood-drawn symbol from an age long gone, was Julie’s body. She was mutilated, arms and legs alabaster in the storm light. The rest of her had been flayed open like a fish, red tendons and white bone stark against the darkness. The old woman beyond was still chewing on something. Chance hadn’t noticed it before as he tried to take in the surrounds. With each crunch and slurp she appears to get younger, her eyes brightening with the aura that his sister used to send his way through every selfie, every video, every…

  “Chance…” the mass of meat on the floor gurgled. “Run…”

  With those words Chance’s sorrow became compassion, which promptly shifted to rage.

  Lunging at the woman, he flew across the cabin with great speed, stabbing her with his hunting knife while letting out a relieved scream. Its edge glinted as it passed in front of several strands of the woman’s long hair which seemed to bob and churn as if underwater with each strike.

  “Die!” Chance shouted, his voice cracking and merging with his victim’s own guttural moans.

  He struck repeatedly, calling out for his sister with now empty hope. The tip of the blade continued to plunge into soft flesh, the shrill screams cutting through the damp air before ultimately yielding to silence.

  The old woman’s body fell with a limp thud, Chance collapsing to his knees there in the center of the room before falling back onto his ass. Breathing heavily above the body, there was a stickiness in his hands that could only be one thing given its warmth.

  Blood. Fresh blood from the dead bitch that killed his sister.

  That’s when he looked across the room, spying a book lying open on the messy floor. Its pages like brittle slivers of skin were without words, calling on him to read, or better yet write with the red ink now pooling in his upturned palms.

  Chance stood feebly, hobbling toward the book. Standing right above it, he looked down to its empty pages, which still urged him to write something of his victory inside.

  “No,” he stated defiantly, turning away.

  That’s when a chirp came from behind, something sharp striking his right shoulder. Then his left leg. The pain seared through his entire body like he’d been tossed onto a large open flame. The only thing missing was the sizzle and smell of burning skin and hair.

  Twisting his head as far around his neck as possible, Chance was stunned by what he saw.

  Evan was standing there, but he was not his normal, thin self. Instead, he had been transformed into a dreadful, spider-like horror. Two of eight woody limbs were embedded in Chance – firm in his flesh – as the Evan-thing started to pull him apart.

  Chance’s body shuddered, threatening to tear itself down the middle and spill his guts all over the floor.

  “Stop!” came a low and raspy voice, speaking some accursed language. Chance could understand it for some reason, though the effect was delayed like an echo.

  The Evan-thing complied, holding Chance right at the ripping point. That’s when the old woman began to rise like a perverse relative of Lazarus. Her sheared body continued to ooze bubbling fluid from her wounds until she finally stood upright.

  Dipping down to take one of Julie’s hands off the floor, she smiled at Chance. He looked at her with contempt as she continued to eat his sister, her stab wounds starting to heal much to Chance’s amazement. Scars were left behind, and her lip teemed with maggots from deep sor
es, falling out as she continued speaking.

  “Now,” she commanded, and the Evan-thing pushed Chance closer to the book.

  His blood flowed from the wound on his shoulder, splashing onto the pages. He felt a rush of musty air hit his face.

  “You really should have listened to those whispers while you could,” the woman reprimanded. “Now, I’m afraid you’re simply too late.”

  Chance’s face was pressed into the book. It started stinging as he began to be engulfed, sucked into some otherworldly place screaming. The physical world started to fade away.

  “Ah, yes! Yes! Feel free to take up residence in the prison your whore sister built for me… boy!”

  It was then that Chance realized the voices calling to him earlier were conveyed by Julie, part of whatever occult magic she used to make the book. The last thing he recalled was the old woman’s malevolent laughter, mixed in with the dim memory of someone trying to help him escape.

  “Superstar?” Chance cried out as tears rushed down his face into the nothingness behind the pages. “Superstar! Why… why did you abandon me…”

  My dearest reader,

  Chance’s consciousness no longer resides here, whisked away into some other copy of this very book, to be read on another day by some new person. Perhaps one day my brother will indeed get the second chance he deserves, but sadly that day is not today.

  With what little magic that remains in this copy, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. This was not your burden to bear nor my intent to encumber you with memories of your encounter. You tried to save him from this prison I created, a place intended for far more evil things to suffer. I’m certain that if he could remember what happened, he would wish you well for the rest of your life.

  Just like I do for you right now.

  Farewell, reader, and God bless you,

  Julie.

  Table of Contents

  about the author

  books by the author

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4