by Wilson, Jay
10:07
“I guess the cops said we could go home.” Alex said. “Give me a ride? I don’t feel like walking.”
“How are we supposed to just go home after all this?”
“What else are we gonna do?”
“I dunno, man.” Byron sighed. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Yeah, neither do I. Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to be here anymore, and I don’t know about you, but I gotta take a shower.”
Byron pulled his keys from his pocket. They hung from a lanyard he won for being second place in the last competition. Alex beat him then, but he knew Byron would’ve won this time around. Not because he’d studied, though. Byron was actually pretty shitty with spelling, and Alex knew Byron needed to cheat to win, which he couldn’t let happen. Not now or ever.
When they neared the car, the lights flashed and the horn chirped. When they stepped in, Alex turned engine over and the car exploded. It killed them instantly, Byron a loser and Alex forever a champion.
System Shock
A feathery fog drifted languidly through the quiet neighborhood, turning the lamps into soft blue haloed beacons. Dew collected upon the windows of the silent homes as well as the vehicles on either side of Valentine Street. All of those portals into the homes and cars of suburban families had doused for the night, except for one.
Eddie Salado sat in his room in front of dual monitors. Their glow seemed to stamp out the rest of his room, leaving everything to suffer a preternatural darkness. As he clicked through several browser tabs to discover anything to keep boredom from finding him, a silent worry culminated into a fear that something would emerge from that inky blackness and kill him.
The soft ticking of the ceiling fan drew his attention, and he looked over his shoulder. The bright light of the computer screen had temporarily blinded him enough to make it difficult for him to see in the darkness, and the relentless shock to his sight refused to subside. So, he closed his eyes and listened to the room, but he couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. He returned his gaze to the computer, his curiosity unsatisfied.
He couldn't remember when he became so skittish. As a young boy, he indulged in horror movies whenever he could. He liked the classics, but he loved the newer more violent ones. Sometimes, he would even dream of days when he was the protagonist—and sometimes the antagonist—of his own bloody monster movie, even enjoyed his own nightmares as if they were his own private movie reels.
Now, however, something was different. He didn't know what, but he felt an unsettling presence in the room with him. There was a soft ache in his chest and his heart beat a little harder. His palms grew slick.
Just ignore it, he thought, it's probably just your anxiety again.
He used the second monitor to turn on a cartoon, one that would make him feel safe. He'd learned a long time ago that they could make him feel young again, bring him back to a time when everything was wonderfully amazing. Not that being an adult was a bore or all that bad, but feeling innocently young seemed to quash his anxiety attacks because there was less worry and responsibility back then. Truthfully, he really didn’t know exactly how it worked, but that was his best guess. As long as it worked, he didn’t really care.
Eddie took a deep comforting breath, and continued to navigate the internet. He left his initial endeavor, which was nothing more than a simple search for information regarding an unreleased video game, and instead began to search for information concerning anxiety. He wanted to know more about how it might affect his life in the long term after years of mental abuse.
The results were vast in numbers, but he only clicked on the first link, which brought him to a forum. The thread of comments started with one person asking about whether or not he should take medication for his anxiety, and if he didn't, would it eventually lead to a mental breakdown. Some of the comments were genuinely helpful while others poked fun at his curiosity.
About halfway down the long page of responses, he saw an ad on the left side of the screen. It had a picture of a turkey, and big bold letters that quickly flickered between red and yellow. It read:
You've won! Click now to claim your $3,000,000 prize!
Just below that was a timer that started at 30, and began to count down by the second. It had its own quick rotation of colors, which was black, blue, crimson, and a dark green.
It felt like hours, but the counter eventually reached single digits. Something inside him, some uncontrollable urge, forced him to move the mouse pointer over the advertisement, and he clicked.
~
On the first floor, Maggie finished drying the last plate she’d washed after they finished dinner. She placed the white porcelain dish in the cupboard, and closed the cabinet door. As she tossed the blue towel next to the sink, she heard a thump come from Eddie's bedroom.
She looked up at the ceiling as if that might give her some added purview as to what strange thing caused the noise, but she knew her boyfriend was up there, so it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility that he might've dropped something. Still, it didn't abate the odd feeling something wasn't right.
She passed through the kitchen and entered the foyer. The icy tiles transferred their coldness to her feet as she approached the stairs leading to the second floor. She stopped at the first step, looked up, and listened.
For a while, there was only the distant hum of the refrigerator. The shadows leading up that flight seemed a bit thicker than usual, unmolested by the glow of his computer screens, which meant he’d probably closed the door. She placed her foot on the first step.
"Eddie?" She said, "You all right?"
There was a long silence followed by several deep thuds. Then a single one, but much louder than the first. It sounded as if someone stomped across the room and then knocked over a dresser. Maggie shied her foot off the step.
"Eddie?"
"Maggie." She finally heard, but did not like the sound of it. The voice that called her name was Eddie's all right, but there was a desperation to it. The kind you might hear just after an accident and someone needs immediate help. It was weak, but there was definitely pain.
"I'm comin', babe!" She called, and charged up the stairs two steps at a time.
When she reached the top, she rushed down the hallway and threw the bedroom door open. She quickly surveyed the room, first looking at the computer on the right and moving left.
The monitors presented an error screen, which cast a hazy blue glow upon the room. Eddie's chair sat on its side, which accounted for the noise she'd heard but where was Eddie? She didn't see him standing in any of the light or hunched in the soft shadows. She was certain she heard him up here, though.
"Eddie, are you okay?" She said, "Where are you?"
She stepped into the room, and the soft carpet slithered between her toes. The room was hotter than usual, and a bit humid, too. A soft sweat made her skin slimy, but she felt a cold chill ride an icy bullet into her spine.
"Eddie?" She said.
From the left side of the room, there was an audible garble of sound much like the growl of a vicious dog. She didn't remember Eddie owning any animals. In fact, he once told her that he had a black thumb when it came to keeping them alive. So, what was that noise, she wondered.
She took another step into the room, reached right, and flicked on the light. The cool white LED instantly brightened the room, which revealed the thing she'd heard. Hunched in the back left corner was a massive beast. It appeared to be some kind of canine creature, except with strong human muscular features. It had a short snout, covered in some kind of clear slime, and its skin was dark grey and leathery. A long lizard-like tail swayed behind it as the creature looked at her. Its eyes reflected the light with silver irises, and it growled again, bearing sharp jagged teeth, the kind fit for one purpose only. To tear and consume flesh.
Maggie felt faint, but fought the urge to lose consciousness. She grabbed the door and slammed it shut as the creature moved around th
e bed. She rushed back down the hallway, the balls of her feet stamping hard against the wood floor. When she reached the stairs, she heard the creature claw at the door.
She made her way down the stairs, nearly falling several times. When she reached the bottom, she heard the sound of splintering and cracking wood followed by the heavy scamper of the creature as it tromped down the corridor.
She headed straight through the kitchen, first thinking she should grab a knife but then decided to pass it altogether to get the hell out of the house. She reached for the door leading to the backyard, and pushed her way into the cold foggy night.
As Maggie crossed through the cool wet grass, she looked back at the house. The kitchen door swung wide, but the creature didn't seem to follow her. Perhaps, she thought, it lost interest in her. Knowing of the many horror movies Eddie made her watch, she knew it would be foolish to assume that it'd gone.
She was right. A soft growl startled her, and she looked into the fog. Just ahead, two silver orbs seemed to float disembodied along the ground. As they neared, however, the fog parted and revealed the creature. She turned to run, but it swiped her legs. Her feet tangled together, and she fell to the ground.
She tried to scramble up, but the creature leapt onto her back. It held her down as it leaned close to sniff her neck. It chuffed contentedly as fear pushed tears from her eyes. She tried to cry for help but it only escaped as hoarse wheezes. The creature growled again, and finally sunk its teeth into her soft neck.
The Eyes of Death
The clouds turned the day dark, but it was already much darker. The breeze swept in from the west, caressed my arms, and kissed my lips. A cold rain drizzled from the sky as if the heavens wept for the man in the window. I, too, felt the urge to shed my own tears, but I couldn't. I knew the day would only come to be much worse, and I couldn't relent to my emotions just yet.
He and I watched each other for a while. His thin eyebrows turned up and faced the sky, his sadness overcast with fear of the unknown. I knew the fate of that innocent man, and maybe the look on my face revealed to him the reason he should be scared. Perhaps, though, it was the fact that I bound his hands and ankles together and hung him from a meat hook. Maybe it was the tape across his lips and the sigil I painted in blood across his chest. I wondered if it was all of that, or none of it. I suppose it was possible that he knew his fate, and as I thought about that, the pain of my actions suddenly became even more intense.
"Do you really think this will change things?" Someone said with a rich, thick voice.
I looked over my left shoulder, and there he stood. He was not a man nor a demon. He was old as time and yet as young as a newborn. His soft eyes spoke of wisdom and power, and his black irises drank in the filtered blood of the kidnapped sun. His salt and pepper hair stayed, though the wind tried its damndest to abuse it.
I spoke with a wavering voice, "I don't know."
"The fate of many cannot be averted by this simple offering." He said.
It terrified me that he looked at no particular thing, yet he seemed to see everything. I looked away from him and said, "It's the only thing I know."
"You humans hold no bargaining power. I will take all in time, and in truth, you shall see my face one day as I reach in and take your soul." He said, “What you hope to gain here—”
"I will do whatever it takes to save this city." I interrupted, which was true. In no other circumstance would I ever sacrifice an innocent man, but with the fate of many dependent, or so I believed, on one soul, I thought it to be a good decision.
"You're too bold; impetuous, even." He said, and faced his head toward the ground. His black overcoat danced in the wind and his shoes reflected the subtle light of the grey sky. He wasn't wet, despite the rain, but what I saw before me was nothing more than what he wanted me to see. For something with an existence in all places but with no particular existence of self, I wasn't surprised.
"Tell me, what I can do? This apocalypse or whatever you call it, needs to stop."
"I cannot stop what will come to pass, only take what results from it." He said, and turned toward me. His eyes seemed to look through me as if he could see my soul. "Look at what you've done here, using that sigil to force me to feed upon his soul. This is the reason your creator has forsaken you. Every soul is as precious on its own as a million compared to it."
"I don’t understand... that doesn't make sense."
"Of course it doesn't." He said, and looked back at the man in the room above. "If you understood, everything happening now would have never come to pass."
"So, this is my fault?"
"No. It’s the fault of every last one of you." He said, and nodded.
I looked up at the man I doomed to death, and his eyes went wide. Behind him, in the darkness gloom and slightly faded by the reflection of the sky upon the glass, a visage appeared. It looked to be a man, but I'm sure that's what I wanted to see. In reality, it was a creature, some kind of partition of the thing next to me.
The man's face went dark red as he tried to scream. The tape and window muffled his painful pleas, and I watched inky black claws push through his chest from the rear. Blood trickled down, and the razor-sharp hand seemed to slice through his body with ease. The skin, bone, heart, and all other things human squished and sliced, but what remained in the claw was a soft light. It had the brilliance of the sun but with all the subtlety of a light bulb holding onto its last bit of life. The creature absorbed the man's soul, and faded away from physical existence.
"This storm will never end will it?"
There was no response, and when I looked over my shoulder, he'd gone. Several dazzling flashes of light brightened the sky, and loud crashes more thunderous than the natural sound of lightning rolled through the sky. Something was knocking, and it would come for us whether we were ready or not.
Mister Misery
Do I dare to dream of the days before the outbreak? Can my reminiscence help me find peace even though my actions caused the deaths of millions of people? Will I ever find redemption?
I stood in that cold bathroom and repeatedly wiped the sweat from my brow. I looked into the mirror, and the person staring back was not the one I'd watched grow into a man. The arctic sapphire accusatory eyes gazed upon me as an unknown guilt crawled up my spine and tickled the nape of my neck with its steely claws.
I shivered, and quickly looked away as the clock struck noon on the last day of college—and as a matter of fact, the last day for humanity. I wondered how much longer it would be before those who wronged me paid for their poor choices.
Chad, my good friend and the man I fell in love with freshman year, plowed through the bathroom door. It clattered against the wall, and he stopped short of a foot from me. His exertion painted his cheeks rosy and white, and he breathed heavily as though the world was going to end.
He said through heaves of what sounded like thick viscous air, "You gotta hurry... the cafeteria... people are... dying."
I put my hand on his shoulder, and smiled thinly. I had expected more of a grin because I knew why they were dying, knew the reasons they perished that day, but the realization that I had murdered people had an unequivocally sobering effect.
“What are you talking about?” I said as I turned back to the sink. Although I had just washed my hands, I felt like I needed to wash them again. I’d played violent video games, enjoyed violent horror movies, and killed people in the visceral images painted by well-written horror novels. However, nothing prepared me for the real thing, the real emotions tied to ending someone’s life.
“People are dying, babe, do you get what I’m saying?”
I turned the water on, pumped three small piles of foamy soap into my palm, and as I washed my hands, I looked at the small box sitting on the counter next to me. Inside were the remnants of my dorm room. There were a few pencils, a lot of pens, a valentine’s card from Chad, and a comb. The comb wasn’t mine. My hair was as wild as crabgrass on a hillside. Chad, o
n the other hand, always had fantastic hair. Hell, he had many amazing features. Gorgeous brown eyes, thin powerful lips that stretched into a big beautiful smile, and the way his eyebrows lit up when he looked at me. I took a deep loving breath, and then shut off the water.
As I reached for a towel, Chad grabbed my arm, and he did it hard. I turned to him with surprise because he'd never been aggressive with me before.
He said, "Seriously, you need to listen to me. Everyone’s dyin', man... everyone. We gotta do something."
I honestly don’t know what happened, but suddenly things became real. My skin tensed with gooseflesh, and my face felt numb. Deep inside there was a feeling of guilt, the same feeling you get when you do something that you can’t take back. For some, it’s taking the extra change the cashier gave them or the feeling after being conned by a sleazeball. For me, it was the realization that what I had done began to kill more than just the people that hurt me.
“Come on, we gotta help them!” Chad said and grabbed my hand. He pulled me through the door and down the hall toward the campus cafeteria. At first, I resisted him. I didn’t want to see what I’d done. I couldn’t face the reality of my actions, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide what I’d done from Chad. He would know I was hiding something. He always did, just as he always managed to get me to do the things I didn’t want to do. Before I realized it, I was standing at the cafeteria doors. Ground zero.
I looked through the small crosshatched glass window of the door. Inside the large room were hundreds of my classmates. They shuffled and crawled over each other as vacant in mind as the whisper of wind through a leafless tree. They had a dead stare in their eyes that was haunting, too. They had wounds on various parts of their bodies, and most had blood spilling from their lips.