I'm a security guard hired to protect an estate, the Forest Has Eyes [Entries 7 to 9]

[Entry 7]

Oh. boy.

You know, I don’t know why I thought things were gonna somehow get more “normal”, after I recruited Rosanne. Maybe, I believed with her insight, we would gain some... Clarity, on the ongoing crisis plaguing this strange ass town, in these strange ass woods, that so happened to contain a strange ass estate that I for some reason, let my ass get contracted to protect.

And yet, I somehow slipped from my mind that I had basically recruited, a witch.

Though this didn’t pierce my mind at all. After I signed off last, I sat in the driver's seat of my warmed, heated, seventy thousand dollar up-armored SUV, I ran over the pressing matters in my head. Get Rosanne’s tasks done, link up with John, exorcise the house, exorcise the whole fucking forest, then, hopefully celebrate by getting drunk. That was if we didn’t meet some untimely demise, whether by falling down a hole, getting ripped up- or by ending up like Margaret Thompson.

She was a town native who went on a morning stroll through the woods. They recovered her body two weeks later. She was found 40 miles from her house, her body still warm in an otherwise freezing forest, most of her vital organs missing, although no surgical marks were found, and a shoe was found in her left lung.

Shit like that. I read every single missing person’s sheet on that board. Margaret was just one of many, who don’t get brutally murdered, just… disappear. Caught up in unexplained occurrences… Wonder if that will happen to me.

Sure, I had recruited Rosanne, and I had Isaac at my back, although I did watch him take a leak on her lawn flamingo, and proceed to strike up a conversation with the garden gnome…-Even with people at my back. Am I gonna just become another statistic. Is John? Will the cazamoth estate disappear one day, leaving nothing but gravel and dust.

No. not on my watch.

Isaac zipped himself back up, waved to the fucking garden gnome, and then climbed back into the passenger seat. He laughed as he shut the door.

“Funny guy- Hey, so, where are we headin’ first?” He asked, popping open the glove compartment and- another fucking bottle of booze pops out. Seriously?

I shrugged, leaning against the window as I watched the driveway. “She says she needs to make two urgent stops, then we’re good. Hopefully, this will go by fast”.

“Yah think she can stop whatever's happening back at the house?” Isaac’s question bounced around in my head. I even had to stop and ask myself that. “I don’t expect her to stop whatever it is. Our- superior American firepower, will take care of that”. It was at this point, Rose exited her house, walking towards the car with a large bag slung around her shoulder. “I expect her to figure out what the fucks going on…”.

Rosanne opened the door and tossed her back to the opposite side, she then slid right in and sat in the middle of the back seat, eyeing both Isaac and I. “Well now- what a change! Finally got me some minions to do my bidding!” She said, sarcasm oozing. She buckled her seat belt. It’s at this point I finally picked out her accent. British, a hint of Westminster. I know a guy from back when in Kuwait, had the same tone.

I put the car in reverse and slid out into the street. I opened up the touch pad GPS and let her plug the place in. It was on the north roadway out of the town. As she put it- “It’s this plantation house lookin’ place, strange for Missouri but it’s been here for a fat minute. It’s got a large stone bridge and if I’m correct it’ll be important….” Rosanne trailed off, she started reading a notebook she pulled from her bag.Isaac later told me that whatever was written in there looked straight out of the rosetta stone. Hieroglyphics, runes, something he said looked like a messed up fairy. But whatever she was reading, she understood enough to zone out.

On the way there we got caught up at another intersection, right behind the salt mill. Even with the windows closed you could hear the sound of the machinery. Pouring salt onto the piles, smokestacks spewing smoke. On all sides, parking lots with construction equipment and vehicles, devoid of life surrounded us.

“Hey Rosanne…” I asked, she pried her eyes to look at me through the rear view mirror. “What’s up?”. I looked around, sidewalks, roads, paved lots, so much equipment, infrastructure, and yet…. No one; “Why’s this place always a god damn ghost town?”.

Rosanne slid from the middle over to Isaac’s side, the right side. She gazed out and around the vehicle. “That’s…. Odd. Well, not really odd- I mean when I first came here, no one and their mother wanted to talk to me, but once I got settled after a few months, I started seein’ a few”.

“So, what? They’re shy?” Isaac asked.

“Well… It’s noon, don’t know why they’re not out. 'gotta say Dwight… I don’t know” She said, sliding back to her book and continuing her read. Great. Even our resident occultess doesn’t know what’s going on around this place.

Our drive was relatively uneventful. Isaac and Rosanne got to small talking. Mostly about where they’ve traveled. Rosanne apparently has been going across the Americas, Venezuela, Brazil, Chili, Panama, Guatemala, Mexico, and so far has been around the southern half of the US. Isaac, as you all know, casually went camping in the woods for a few months and somehow found himself in Missouri, two whole states away.

As she put it: “You somehow traveled seven hundred miles, and didn’t stop to think that maybe you should go back?” She said astounded as she… took notes.

“Nope” Isaac said proudly, taking a swig from his bottle; “Oh and, it’s seven hundred and twenty five, thank you”. This just fueled Rosanne’s curiosity: “Did you see any paranormal sights on your journey? The Louisiana swamps- , the Missouri goat den? ". Isaac shrugged, he scratched his hairy chin and pondered, eyebrow raised above his eyepatch. “Not…. really, Did hear a lot of shit outside my tent. God damn, I’m pretty sure there were like ten whole silhouettes standing around me back in north Texas. T'was this weird place, a gas station. Couldn’t tell yah what state. Weird fellow that guy”.

This went on for what I thought was god damn hours- and the drive was only twenty minutes. The road let through a small patch of trees, up to a large t intersection. Dead ahead, was the stone bridge. Probably a near hundred meter stretch across a river. To the left, was a road that followed the river, and to the right- Alright, how do I explain this. The river curves, forming a large swaft of land to the right of the bridge. On that piece of land, lies a cultivated mass of cherry trees, hedges, groomed grass, and a stone and metal fence, all leading to a large iron gate.

We pulled up to the gate, Rosanne waved to a camera mounted on one of the sides, and they slowly opened. A small driveway lead to a circle drive- and a large, white painted… plantation house. Just as she explained: Stone Columns, old, but well maintained furnishings on every inch, from the ground, to the tiled roofs.

As I pulled up in front of the house, Isaac let out a long whistle “Someone is rolling’ in green out here. Look at those columns”. He was right, whoever lived here, they were wealthy. And as I’ve learned from Cazamoth, sometimes the wealthy need help dealing with demons underneath their tiled roofs.

“Welp… Let’s go lads” Rosanne quipped as she stepped out of the car. Isaac and I looked at each other, and we followed. He shoved the bottle of Jameson into his cargo pants and straightened his cap. The beeping sound of me locking the car, was one of the only audible noises around us.

Silence and the cold autumn wind, blanketed the property. Rosanne knocked on the door, Standing tall and professional as she waited. I leaned on one of the columns, arms crossed, trying to look like a background character while she worked. Although, not observant. Whatever went on, I wanted to keep a keen eye on. Might come in handy later.

Isaac sat on the edge of a flower pot near the opposite column.

Then, fell in- and then tipped the pot over, causing it to spill out onto the steps below.

I was caught somewhere between laughing, and sighing, and Rosanne said something to the effect of “What did- Why did you?!-” before she heard the audible sound of footsteps heading her way. Isaac was quick on the mark as he swept the dirty behind the column, then tossing the cracked pot off the porch, into a hedge, as the door opened. The man was tall, and this is coming from me. Like I said before, I’m 6’2”, maybe 6’3” on a good day. This guy towered over all of us. He wore slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled, a vest on over it, navy blue and black. Nice taste.

He pushed his circle framed glasses to the bridge of his nose, a receeding hairline caused a slight shimmer off his head. He gazed around at Me, at Isaac, then squinted at a large patch of dirty underneath Isaac’s feet, which he side stepped infront of. Then to Rosanne.“You must be Doctor Rosanne….” The man asked, his voice wasn't too deep, however sound sophisticated with a southern twang. Rosanne nodded, and he lead the way inside, Rosanne following close behind. Isaac and I followed suit.

“ ‘Doctor’ Rosanne?” Isaac said cackling, although to her ire; “What’s your PHD in? Possessed ass trees? ”. The man lead up to a very decorated living room. Dark oak wood furnished the entire inside, a fire place near the back corner, family pictures, autumn decorations, and a reoccurring dark red on all the fabrics created contrast.

Not hard to look at, just strange.

On a large lounge chair, sat an older woman; She was maybe in her mid fifties, (Is that bad? Should I not guess a woman’s age?), and wore mostly hand knitted items, such as a scarf, sweater, pants, shoes- (would those have been slippers then?). One of those hairless cat sat on her lap. The cat also had a hand knitted sweater.

“Misses Marx, this is the… professional you requested a few days ago. Doctor Rosanne..” The man said, the woman nodded, and he strolled off into another room. Rosanne took the lead, Isaac and I hung back near the other side of the room. “Misses Marx it is really an pleasu-” Rosanne was cut off as the woman stood up, waving her hand.

"Rose darlin’... please…” She had a thick New Orleans accent…. For someone who lived in Missouri, “Call me Candace…”. Rosanne nodded and continued: “I’m here for the uh, problem…. You called me about”.

The woman nodded, a small smile that had been at the corners of her mouth faded, as she stopped petting her cat. It then stretched, leaping from her lap to Rosanne’s. “Yes…. Honey I’m not gonna sugar coat it. I called you because I got a problem not even the town priests can handle ….”- Did she actually call the local church? I still don’t know. But the way she said it with such confidence, hell even when I first talked to Theodore about the things up at the estate, there was a slight sense of denial.

Candace spoke like I now spoke.

That meant she was sure of what she was dealing with.

“-It started a few weeks ago…. When the trees started to turn orange and red…. My little grand daughtah’, Claire, loves to play down by the riverside… with her little boat and toys:. Candace laughed, it almost faded when she said, “That’s when she started bringing those…. Things, back to the house every evenin’ “.

“... Things?” Rosanne asked. The man from before brought a dark wooden box, a small latch where lock would go. Rosanne took it, setting it on her lap, the cat, disgruntled, leapt off and walked over to Isaac. Isaac became slightly horrified by the sweater wearing flesh feline. It was around this time Rosanne opened the box- She pulled out a golden locket, although, you wouldn’t know that unless you got as close as I did. Rust and decay set in, the previous clam shaped piece was now a dark brown.

Inside, more items… all with deep personal connections. Bracelets with names, necklaces with inscriptions…. The list went on.

“She said she was given them, gifts for ‘playing with the lady’. I didn’t know what that meant, I thought some creep was stalking her, so I sent Arnold out to keep a look out…” Candice gestured to her tall friend. He cleared his throat, Rosanne still looking through the box. “Four hours, nothing happened. Claire continued to play, and then… a hand reached out of the water, giving her…. The knife”.

Rosanne held up the knife. It wasn’t as rusted as the others, now that I look back, it wasn’t rusted at all. A silver finish to the entire outside made it look like a cake knife, until you saw it’s blade… sharpened, intentionally so, to the point the silver was scrapped off. On the left side of the blade read in cursive: “To my dear, and darling, Candace…”.

Rosanne looked shocked, Candace wiped tears from her eyes as Arnold continued: “We forbid her from ever going to the riverside again. Things calmed down for a week, then yesterday…. I went to her room to get her ready for school, and she was gone…. Her window open, and her entire room soaked in water”.

Rosanne dropped the knife back in the box, closing it and pushing it back in Arnold’s arms. She stood up, “Tell me you’ve called the cops..” Rosanne asked. “They have filed a missing persons case and searched the river front…. Nothing so far….”.

Rosanne nodded and at this point, Isaac and I stepped out into the hall, giving her a chance to talk with them alone. Isaac now held the cat in his arms, the feline rubbed it’s hairless head against Isaac’s beard happily. I ran my hand down my face, sitting against a wall-side table: “What… in the fuck…”.

Isaac let the cat climb onto his shoulders, he reached into his pants and pulled the Jameson bottle from before out, uncapping it; “It’s gotta be a freshwater mermaid…” He said confidently and taking a swig.

“A…” I lost my train of thought, shaking my head, “A what?”.

He shrugged, bottle in one hand, cat now clinging to the other: “Dunno but that’s the first thing that came to my mind. Though how it’d get on land, I dunno”, He took another swig, offering some to the cat, as it began to lick from the lips of the bottle.

“Isaac I really doubt it’s a mermaid”. He smiled, taking another sip and offering some more to the cat. “Dunno….. That or a shark with arms…. What do you think Maurice” Isaac asked the last portion to the cat. I looked, and saw the Cat had the name “Maurice” imprinted on it’s tag.

Seriously... southern house, new orleans accent.

Maurice is the name they pick for their Siamese cat... or was it a Sphynx? Anyways.

Rosanne then stepped into the hall, pulling me by the collar as Isaac followed, Maurice and alcohol, still in his arms. We stepped outside and Rosanne made a B line around the house through the hedges not saying a word. I followed, trying to step through the thick brush that she, seemingly, just cut right through.

“Well?”. Rosanne didn’t respond; “Rosanne?”. She continued to remain silent, walking through the still bright green grass, past white patio furniture, a fire pit, and the entire backyard, towards the river. “Rosanne did you check the kid’s room-” Right when I asked that, she dead stopped, causing me to nearly crash into her as she stared at me with cold, dead eyes.

“Yes” she simply said, continuing her power walk towards the river.

“Well?”.

“Nothing” she said, again, simply. “What do you mean nothing? What about the water?”.

“I went in there with her overgrown butler and nothing was amiss. Everything was dry, nothing was tampered or broken. She vanished, and all traces in her room…. Are gone” She finished off sounding kinda exhausted, and stopped 20 meters from the river, near the bridge. “Well, what did you expect….” Isaac said, walking up to us, still feeding alcohol to Maurice who was, still, in his arms; “Mermaid’s not gonna leave a calling card after kidnapping a kid…”.

“It’s not a-” I stopped, noticing something; “You hear that?” Rosanne asked.

“Nope….” Isaac said, before taking his forty seventh swig of the hour. 

“Exactly”, she said, turning to us, “This river is one of the main water ways in the area…. And it’s standing still….”. She was right, I looked over the water. Nothing. Not a wave, or a ripple, or a cut in the liquid…..

Nothing….

“Welp…. River’s haunted. Case closed- can we go deal with the fucking ghoul ghosts in our basement now?” Isaac asked, and Rosanne looked like she was about to turn and give him the be all end all of ass chewings, until I stopped her. “Alright…. This is your turf…. What do we do?….” The simple question stopped her, and she paused, placing her bag on the ground, and kneeling down for something inside. “We’re gonna have to go into the water…”.

“Ha!!” Isaac said, letting Maurice polish off this bottle; “Okay, take a swim in the kidnapping river. Gosh Dwight you really like to recruit the best of humanity!”.

“If there is any sign of her…. Or remains, it’s gonna be in the water. We can look all we want, but we won’t get any answers, unless someone grows a pair, besides me, and goes in…”.

She was right. Reached down and tucked my jeans into my boots. If I was going in, I wasn’t gonna get my ass bitten off by some weird ass eel.I approached the river, eyeing it, shore to shore. It stood, dead still. The kind of stillness a glass of water has when it’s left in a lifeless house. The kind of stillness a pond has, when no life exists within it.I took a step in, braving the waters, and creating a ripple. Something in my stomach told me, I might’ve just pissed something off- But my hand reaching into my jacket, and pulling out my glock, told me I was all but done with caring if a demon was pissed at me or not.

“So…. what am I looking for, exactly?” I said, trudging through the water. The cold water felt like it was freezing my legs, gazed around. Dunno if it was the dirtiness of the water, or some pollution from the salt mill, but I could barely see through the 2 foot deep river.Wait, it’s two feet deep. How the fuck was anything gonna even fit in here, let alone avoid being spotted for weeks. “I….” Rosanne stopped, gazing through her book as she held her hand to her chin, contemplating. “The bridge….”. I turned back to her, Isaac, and I think even Maurice did, or maybe it was just mimicking Isaac.

“That place has a whole lot of bad mojo surrounding it…. Runes, tales of sacrifices during it’s construction…. It has to be some kind of catalyst…”.

And she just told me this now….

After I stepped into the possessed ass lake.

So I began trudging to the bridge….. Slowly…. Agonizingly slow. Each step, I expected to step on a skull, or a bone, or something. Every other step, I expected to get pulled under, and drowned. But it never happened. I reached the arch, closest to our side of the river, my trucker and witch compatriot following close from the river’s edge. Every step I took was a feeler. Rosanne pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight as she walked underneath, shining it around, and inspecting every aged, deteriorated inch of the bridge’s stone blocks.

“You can feel it….” She said, turning back to Isaac and I. “In the air… the…. Aura of this place…”. She wasn’t wrong.The second I trudged through the water under the bridge, the feeling in the air shifted. Something wasn’t right. I’ve never been a religious person, although now I guess I’m a superstitious one… but this feeling struck a cord with me. From what I had seen down range in my army days, the raw, bitter feeling. This was evil. This place, felt evil. Rosanne flipped open her book, and began inspecting some insignias carved into the rock. I shined my Glock's tac light, a small LED mounted on the bottom, into the water. It was murky, whether due to the dirt I’d kicked up, or pollution from the mill. I could barely see my own feet.

Then, I stepped on… something. It didn’t crack, slither, or attack. I felt a corner of something poke into the rubber bottom of my boot. I gave the heads up to Rosanne and Isaac, I slipped off my jacket and tossed it to him. I then made a bold choice of reaching down into the water… to retrieve the item. The smartest choice? No, but we needed to get a move on and figure out what we could do for Candice and her missing granddaughter. I felt around, the icey cool water numbing my hand as I dug through the muddy dirt.

Searching for… something. Anything. Then, I felt it.

The texture felt, grainy?- Is that a term? straight lines ran across it, with sharp, although worn corners, forming a strange square...no, a box. I pulled it from the depths of the river. Holding it up as water splashed around me, and shined my glock’s light on it. A well carved box, with edgings at the top, and bottom, with four little “legs”, and an little rusted brass latch. At first glance… it resembled a music box.

“What…. Is that?” Rosanne asked, shining her much brighter light on it. It was then, I could see through the damp brown wood, there were faint lines of paint. Although when I say paint, I mean I was lucky to see them even with this right up to my face. Pink, sky blue, purple. I tossed the box ashore to Rosanne, who immediately opened her up.

“It’s a music box” She said, pulling out a small ballerina figurine.

Well, guess I was right.

“What’s that sucker doin’ at the bottom of a river?” Isaac asked, by now, he had wrapped Maurice up in my coat. That and the small sweater and the cat was the most well dressed person out here. I shined my light back to the river below, and stuck my hand back in. I then felt a smooth surface…. Like one of those brand new faucets just after it’s been polished…. And then another…. Like wet fabric…. And then…. A spikey one, and a rough one….“Rosanne….” I said, cautiously grabbing a handful of… whatever the fuck, from the bottom of the river. She shined her light on my hand as I fished it up… Jesus, even now.

They were a collection of toys, items that would belong to children. I tossed them onto the grass just outside of the bridge’s arch. The smooth surface was an old rusted race car, one of those older one passenger ones from the twenties, a ballet slipper, an old beat up baseball…

“What in the fuck….” Isaac said, he and even Maurice gazing down at the pile. Rosanne walked over, getting a close inspection of the items. I went back to digging… I felt more than just that down there, and despite my hopes, I was right…. More toys, Dinosaurs, blocks, swords, all age ranges, for boys, girls…. No discrimination…

I pulled maybe twenty of the damn things down there before I stopped. Rosanne sat on the grass, arms around her legs, shaking her head. “It’s targeting kids….”. Isaac remained silent throughout all this, then, he glanced over at me. “Weren’t those clothes you found infront of the driveway this mornin’, didn’t they all belong to kids…”.

Fuck this town.

Then, a moment of panic struck. As the water calmed down, the waves slowly stopped their sloshing and splashing, returning to the silent, dead still state it had been in. Nothing had touched me, in fact through the numbing cold of the water, it was a pain in the ass for me to even feel if I was on solid ground. Then as clear as day, I felt something grab hold of my left leg, and drag me towards the center of the river.

Hell no.

I was not gonna become another statistic.

I aimed my glock to the water just a couple feet from where it was pulling me. I squeezed the trigger faster than a machine gun, the 9mm rounds fired off one after another into the murky depths, water splashing violently in my face as I backed up, fighting towards the shore. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Rosanne and Isaac yelling, and whatever had grabbed me, slowly let go. I planted a firm foot on the ground ad charged out, now soaked from head to toe in the cold river water. I dropped my pistol’s magazine, slapping another and turning. My ears ringing, I barely heard Rosanne as she ran up, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

“Wha- did you…” Rosanne’s voice sounded distant, distorted…. Between this and Isaac deafening me in the basement, I was gonna need hearing aids. “WHAT DID YOU SEE?!” Rosanne screamed, finally breaking through my numbed ear drums. “Something…. Grabbed my god damn leg….” I said, sticking a finger in my ear, trying to…. Clear it out?

Rosanne turned and looked back at the water. The river stood dead still, Isaac looked at us, holding Maurice. Nothing. I had fired off a full magazine, 17 god damn rounds went into the river, all before charging out like a bat out of hell, and now it was just…. Still.

“Well…-” Isaac said, pivoting towards the river, then back to us "-I guess… riverside skinny dipping is out of the question?”. I pulled back the slide, checking to see if my new rounds chambered in the hand cannon. They did. I walked up to Doctor Paranormal MD, my muzzle suppressed as I scanned that cursed ass stream.

“So…. we know it’s definitely possessed now….”, Rosanne simply stared, unaffected by my prodding. “It’s kidnapped so many….. And that was just what you pulled from under the bridge….” She said, her voice distant, and in thought. I scanned the water, waiting, and partially hoping for something to jump out just so I could get some payback for whatever grabbed me. “Well…. This is your turf now. What do we do?”; My question must’ve triggered something, because she sprung back to life. She ran over to that book of hers, opening the worn, outer cardboard cover, and flipped to a page near the middle back.

“I don’t know the full nature… and it’s too dangerous to keep going back in, but I have a theory…”; Rosanne pulled some black chalk and a brown bag from her bigger handbag, and walked to the underside of the bridge. Isaac and I followed, keeping watch.

By the time we got down there, Rosanne was already drawing something on the wall. And I tell you, I couldn’t even begin to describe it…. It had a large outer circle, that interlinked with lines, and shapes…. A triangle? A morphed hexagon? Some demonic ass cursive writing? It looked like what you’d see on the padded walls of some schitzo’s cell…Then, she opened the bag, and grabbed out a handful of salt. She smeared one handful into the cracks of the old bridge, then poured some on the walkway beneath her, before taking a chunk, and tossing it into the water. This caused the water to literally bubble, only slightly, and I think it might’ve even hissed.

“It’s a bit of a hypothesis…. But I think it might work…” She said as she walked back to her bag. Packing up her supplies.

“So….” Isaac looked back to the symbol on the wall as he spoke; “What’s up with your possessed stencil artwork?”. “It’s a exorcization rune. Gaelic, well, at least my sources think it’s gaelic, it was found in an old tomb on an island in the north sea. Could also be scandinavian-”.

From how the shit looked, it could’ve been Martian.

“Is that it?” I asked, Rosanne slung her bag over her shoulder. She dipped her head, looking towards us; “Sometimes….. There’s, not a lot you can do…. We can only hope it does something. If not for Claire… for whoever might be in it’s sights next. Head back to your car, I’ll… speak to Candice” and with that, she walked up the grass slope towards the house.

Isaac and I made the quiet journey back to the SUV, with a simply click of the key the vic unlocked. I slid in and blasted the heater, hoping to dry off my soaked ass clothes. Isaac slid in… Maurice still wrapped in my jacke- Wait Isaac that’s not ours.

“Isaac…” I said, drawing out his voice. He turned, confused as to what was the matter; “You’ve got to give the nice lady back her skinless demon”.

Isaac then, literally scoffed, pulling Maurice close: “First, he is not a skinless demon. He’s a Siamese angel. Second…. Oh, come ON Dwight….” He said, trying to pull some puppy dog eyes- I mean, *eye, on me.

Maurice rubbed his skinless head on Isaac’s beard. I sighed “Isaac…. Stealing things from creepy southern people in the woods has never gone well. Like, ever. God knows if she has seventeen more wandering truckers just like you in her basement”.

“But-”.

“Isaac just take Maurice back to the damn house”.

-And with a groan, and a long “FIIIIIIINE”, Isaac hopped out the car, and slowly shuffled back up to the the Manor.

I reclined my seat, letting the heaters slowly dry off my damp long sleeve. I tried to blast some music on the radio while typing some of this up, but I noticed after five minutes, nothing appeared on the radio. Nothing. Not 93.9, 101.1, 34.7 (Yes that is apparently a possible channel). Nothing. There wasn’t even radio static, it was just… the sound of the cool breeze coming through the radio. This thing operated off of satellites, so it couldn’t be a broken antenna.This place was just…. Cut off from the normal world.

I paused my haunted blogging session because I noticed Isaac and Rosanne heading back to the car. Slipping my phone away, they slipped back into their seats; “I’m sure you’ll see him again Isaac, Maurice sure seemed to like yah…” Rosanne said, patting our resident one eyed wonder on the shoulder.

“Yeah….. Still sucks though” Isaac said defeated as he tossed me my leather jacket. I slipped it on, hoping it would help warm me up- and then realized my guns blazing response to the river, earlier, must have scared Maurice… because it now smelled like cat piss.

God dammit.

I pulled out of the circle drive of the house, the gates slowly opened as we approached, and turned back onto the deserted roads of this godforsaken town. Rosanne reached over and plugged in another location. A small house near the eastern end of town, just off the main road.

“Well….. That was entertaining” Rosanne said, surprisingly chipper for today’s current events. I raised an eyebrow as I looked over the seat, “You’re taking things surprisingly well….”. Rosanne laughed; “Well yeah, do this for a few years and you tend to learn to laugh at things, soldier boy” She shook her head, sitting back.

“A few years- Wait, Soldier boy?”.

Rosanne pointed at Isaac, who scratched his beard. “Might’ve let a few things slip when we were walkin’ back to the car. Sorry Dwight….”. Rosanne leaned forward, eyeing me up and down as I drove. “Like what?” I asked. Isaac chuckled; “Oh you know… ghosts in the basement-” again, still don’t know if its a ghost, “-that night in the storm, your army days…”.

“You guys have seen Tim?! ” She said, enthusiastically.

I took my eyes off the road, pulling up to a stop sign “YOU have seen Tim?!” I asked, and in hindsight…. I’m not really surprised.

Rosanne rested her chin on the seat as I pulled away “So, tell me….. Are there really giants in Kandahar? ”. I sighed “No”. Rosanne continued to press: “Is it true you guys hunted big foots back in the eighties?”. 

I shook my head in disbelief, “That was- I’m like thirty four, how old do you think I am?”. Rosanne shrugged, “Just saying… for a door kicker, you’ve adapted pretty well to combating the cryptids living in your backyard”.

Guess I have.

“Aight miss, here’s a counter question” Isaac asked; “What’s going on with these woods?”.

Rosanne sat back and just shrugged. “Where do we start? Disappearances ranging all the way back to the seventies… You’ve got people turning up dead in ways thought imaginable, stories of shapeshifters and attacks on campsites… Have you seen the stairs?”.

I raised an eyebrow, ”Yep” Isaac said nodding his head. I looked at him, then at her, “Stairs?”.

Rosanne shivered, “Just…. Don’t go near them…. But back to what we were sayin’, The woods are bloody fucked. And the type of things you seem to have been encountering, well don’t call me captain obvious. But it’s organized. Your boss really must’ve pissed off something ...”.

If only Theodore answered any of his god damn calls, or any of the questions on his voice mails…The GPS dinged as we reached our next stop.

This street was well maintained, modern houses made of red brick and concrete lining the streets. Pulling up in front of the house, I could see a TV and lights on inside.

“So…. what’s the deal with this place?” I asked, checking my weapon before stepping out. “Guess we’ll see…” she said, cryptically. It's then, the car's screen buzzed, and a very long awaited name popped up on the screen.

[Incoming Call - Theodore Cazamoth].

"Well Ho-ly shit...." I heard Isaac slap the dashboard, " 'bout fuckin time!!".

I gazed back at Rosanne "You and Isaac take this one.... I've got some things I need to hash out with my boss". Rosanne and Isaac cleared out of the car and began walking up to the house.I pressed 'ACCEPT' on the screen.

"Hello?" the pompous voice of my boss, Theodore J. Cazamoth, entrepreneur, shareholder in several companies, and officially the worst real estate investor this side of the free world..., came through the speaker: "Dwight? Are you there?".

"Theodore.... About fucking time you call" He was a millionaire, my boss, but after the past few months, I could not contain whatever anger was boiling in my at that point. "OH Dwight, now watch that mouth young man, extremely uncalled for, I assure you!!".

"Uncalled for?! Are you serious?!" I said, this man is either delusional, in denial, or the most straight forward liar I had ever encounter, and I traded with words with Lieutenants a lot. IN retrospect, he was probably all of the above.

"Now Dwight, I did make the unorthodox request to lend lease you several thousand dollars out of my pocket. I would appreciate some gratitude, considering you, yourself, could not make do with the equipment I had given you..." Arrogance soaked his voice.

"You slap a private estate down in the forest that's more haunted than the somme battlefield, and you expect me to drive off he demons with a .308 bolt action, and a positive attitude?!" I exclaimed.

"Well I mean, coming from the gun-ho former Staff Sergeant, now monster hunter, dragging my son into town on your private escapades..." Theodor snarked back, I raised an eyebrow "How did you...".

Theodore laughed through the phone: "You can't expect to post everything on the internet, and not see my companies private forums blown up with requests about your little blog series, now can you?". Shit. Well, expected.

He continued "-ontop of the bad reputation, and the constant pandering I need to make to my investors.... You my friend, are becoming a thorn in my side. I dislike thorns, Dwight...".

"You really expected me to stay with what we had? Wait for the enemy to break on through the gates and kill us all... including, your fucking son you left here?".

Theodore's line grew quiet.

I pressed on: "I'm not gonna act like you don't know what's going on Theo- I know you do, but don't try to take some high ground when you neglected your only child..."

And then. Theodore, laughed.

Like, really laughed.

Like, the kind of laugh that had the weight to send a shiver down my spine, kind of laugh.

"Dwight you really should have just kept your mouth shut, and done your job. Sure, sometimes, it might get scary, sometimes, it might get... 'froggy' as you dumb grunts say. But that's just the way men like you are paid. Instead, you had to try and be a hero, do what you think is right, and meddled in business that's certainly not yours...".

I rolled my eyes "It became my business the moment you dragged me out to this place".

Theodor collected himself from laughing: "Well I guess you won't have to worry about that for long. Dwight, I'm coming back in the next few weeks, with some.... company back up. So unless you want to be one of those people who goes missing, on that cork board in the pub down the road..... Get your ass back up to the manor, lock and load your tricked out AR - 15, and stay put".

If we had been face to face, Theodore and I would be burning holes into each other's heads. The tense silence was only permeated by the sound of him clearing his throat. Whatever devilish tone he had, dropped, left, and the only, naïve sounding Theodore I remember, returned: "Make sure John isn't gone for too long Dwight!! I'd hate to have to send a search party out in the winter. God, the ones around here never get the job done! Bad joke, I'm sorry. Stay safe Dwight!!".

Then, the call interface vanished.... I sat back in the driver's seat thinking.

Company back up.

What? Did he think some armed goons are gonna be enough to stomp out whatever's happening here? He might kill me, dump me in a ditch somewhere in the pine groves... but whoever else he hires, will be too dumb, too ignorant, or too unprepared to avoid the shots they're now throwing at the estate.

I opened my phone once again, updating you all. I dunno what Isaac and Rosanne are doing, but they seem to be having fun. Isaac was yelling something, but it's too muffled by the car's heater and- Did a firework just go off?

Well, Rosanne just texted me that they’re almost done… Isaac is apparently, trying to draw out the conversation with "Daisy", the owner of the house who, apparently, is also a raging alcoholic. Great.. Like we don’t have bigger priorities- Hold on, John’s calling.

Alright, change of plans people. I’ve got to go, now. 

I just screamed at Rosanne and Isaac to get to the fucking car, now. John called and from all the loud fucking noises in the background, he pleaded, no, screamed for me to get to his friend’s house.

Something’s attacking them, and he doesn’t know what.

I’ve got to go, no time to put a wrap on things, I'll be back.

[Entry 8]

Adrenaline.

It's the fuel that your blood and nervous system receives when your body realizes,"The chips are down, it's now or never". It's Funny what some chemicals being put into the right part of your brain can do. I've experienced this rush many times over my life, and truth be told, I thought my body has become immune to it. My veins and arteries becoming worn down from constant usage, I thought I they had become desensitized to the mule kick like punch it gives you...Guess I was wrong.

When John has screamed over that phone, something in me switched on. A part of me that had laid dormant for many years, that didn't do things just for self preservation, or money...

Like I said; I screamed over the phone at Isaac and Rosanne, truth be told by how they reacted, I think I scared the shit out of them, because they came out of the house in a dead sprint. Even then, they barely slid into the car as I slammed the gas peddle, making the SUV with near 5,000lbs of uparmoring hit the high eighties in less than a few seconds.

I gave up on trying to stop for stop signs and lights, there was no need to be cautious about police or other cars, because there fucking were none in this god damn town. We came to a particularly high bump just before an intersection, and now that I think about it, I think it might've been a speedbump-cause when we landed down, hard.

I remember finally hearing Rosanne's voice as she watched a stop sign zoom right past us: "You mind telling us what the hell's going on?! Hello?! Nolan?!". I gazed at the GPS, and I realized we'd probably gone a good mile before I even thought about briefing them. The wonders of fight or flight mode, I guess.

"John called..." Is all I muttered out, as I snapped hard on a left turn, driving over the curb to take a right down another street. I saw Isaac grabbed the "OH SHIT" Handle above his seat. "What?! What's up with the kid?!" Part of me gained some respect for Isaac, as soon as I mentioned John, he leaned right in. Guy might be a bit off sometimes, but his heart is in a good place,

"Kid was screaming, something's attacking his friend's house...." Isaac's eye widened as he sat back in his seat, I saw he pried his hand off the handle, and reached into the glove compartment for his 5 shot. Rosanne poked her head between the seats "Wait Kid?!".

I looked at the GPS, and we were now soaring down the main avenue of the town. The same one Isaac and I had driven down when we initially arrived. We sailed past the bar, that gun shop owned by the two europeans, the Salt Mill, and yet, even as I drove this hunk of metal at 80 miles per the hour.... not a single police officer could be seen...

"Cazamoth's kid-" I finally answered Rosanne, I then hit the brake, and drifted the SUV on a right turn. The offroad treaded tires screeched, as Isaac leaned, loading rounds into his revolver, shoving more into the pockets of his pants. "Wait.... where is this house at..." she said, and I remember the ending of that sentence trailed off as she just stared ahead at the GPS."The Northwestern edge of town.."

Rosanne grew quiet from my answer "By the woods? ".

I nodded in response "Oh god....".

Before I could even address that ominous remark, I slammed on my breaks. We were on the final left turn of the drive. As I sped up down the road, my right hand dug around inside my jacket, pulling out my glock and resting it on my thigh. Isaac slapped his cylinder into the weapon, spinning it: "What's the play, Sarge?".

I ran through scenarios in my head.All the variables started to click into place like a calculus. Small house,30 meters long.

15 across, entrance up the stairs on the right side,

Occupants are two teenagers, one adult, and-

Flashing Red and Blue lights caused me to break hard, the tires of the SUV screeched to a halt on the deserted road. 'Shit' I thought, we had finally got the cops on us. I started to prepare a brief for the cops on the situation, when I realized the lights weren't coming from my mirrors.... they were coming from my windshield, down the road in front of us. Isaac wiped condensation from his portion of the window, and squinted with his eye. I flicked on the wipers, and through the cold mist and fog, I could see... a patrol car, lights on and flashing, parked diagonally across the road, rear bumper facing us.

My eyes shot to the GPS:

[Destination: 55 meters ahead].

We were here.

I gave Isaac a nod as I slid my glock's slide back, checking to see if a round chambered. I flicked the safety off as I slowly drove ahead. Rosanne stayed more or less in the front with us, the top half of her body between our seats. Good to know the witchdoctress showed no fear.As we pulled up to the house, I tried to call John again on the car's touch screen. The slow hum of the engine, along with the ringing, gave us the only noise around as we inched closer and closer to the site. The cop car's driver side door was wide open. one of the windows rolled down. From my spot in the car, I could see the small radio, the one they use for the speaker mounted on top, dangling out over the driver's seat.

I cracked open my door, as Isaac did the same, my pistol's barrel leading the way as I peaked my head out. It was dark, hella dark. Through the fog I could see the house just twenty meters from us. The front door was wide opened.... ripped off the hinges, the Bannister of the porch and the railings of the stairs were broken, bent, one part thrown off and stabbed into the lawn...I slid back into the driver's seat and looked at the screen.

[Call Failed - John Cazamoth (Johnny) ].

I cursed under my breath, Isaac hiccuped as he aimed his revolver towards the house, taking cover behind the door while sitting inside the vehicle. Rosanne leaned over my seat "Well.... Dwight. I guess now the table's have turned. This is your turf, what do we do".

My eyes snapped to the cop car, and through my headlights I saw a discarded pistol magazine, with spent casings everywhere. 'My Turf' it bounced around in my head. A forced entry, plenty of innocents with god knows how many enemies lurking inside. The police vehicle and casings meant one thing, law enforcement arrived, and failed.

What to do. Fuck, What to do.

I grew frustrated with myself, the hour glass was ticking. I remember what Theodore said, about me meddling in things that weren't my business, trying to be a "hero". The way it damaged the house, took out to armed patrol men.... My nerves were battling themselves, and I guess my instincts won when I thought back to that frantic phone call John made, screaming "Help!!" at the top of his lungs.

I punched the trunk's release button as I stepped out, "Isaac, to the back".He cackled under his breath as he beat me to the punch, flinging the heaving door upwards, and pulling out one of the two black crates. They were those heavy duty "tough boxes", reinforced equipment cases you would use to store a number of things, but for us.... we only had some specifics in mind. Isaac giddily flipped open the latches on one, and pulled out one hell of a shotgun. In the dark of the night, I only remember seeing "BENELLI M4" etched in the side, just under the ejection port. It was the mother of all boomsticks, and apparently, Merkel's favorite.

I opened one of the cases, and pulled out two carrier kits. They were simple plate carriers, pouches for magazines, items, and two radio systems attached. True, whatever had attacked the house could have easily tore through these. But it was better than nothing. Rosanne snuck up to my left, using the car as cover as I slapped magazines, stuffed with rounds into my kit: "I took a peek at the house.... the entire entrance way looks fucked...".

You don't say. Her words echoed in the distance as I grabbed my rifle, I slapped a full magazine in, the punched the bolt release as it made that oh so satisfying "CLINK". As I slung it over my shoulder, I eyed the house through the windows from the trunk.

"Any sign of John?" I checked my 15's holographic sight, then the taclight on the side, before pulling it close. "I don't know, but-" The sound of a crash from deep inside the house caused us to snap to attention, Isaac aimed his big mankiller towards the house. "Something's definitely still in there" she muttered.

"Now's your chance Rose'. You can take off to your house, no one will judge you..." I rounded the SUV back to the door by the driver's seat, aiming my rifle at the house. Rosanne followed close behind, and I saw out of the mirror, she shook her head. "No... If there's a kid here, I'm staying. I've had to tell too many parents they may never see there's again. Not- again". Her words made a small chuckle break through my whatever I was going through right then. Fuck yeah.

I pulled back from my door, handle gripping my vertical attached to the rifle as I moved towards the patrol car, sight glued to the house's front points of entry the entire time. I took a knee as took cover behind the trunk. Isaac moved up alongside the parked cars, he bounded up, taking cover behind a van parked alongside the cop car.Honestly, for a trucker who even said most of his tactical skills came from war movies- He did pretty alright.

I released my front grip as I crouched down, and searched the front of the cop car. What a mess. Casings blanketed the entire front seats, the radio system was half ripped out of it's mount in the car, and the windshield. There were barely any spider webbing cracks, but two large gashes cut into the glass, the odd thing was, no micro-cracks formed along the sides of them. It was like a hot knife just, cut right into it. Rosanne stopped to take more notes than I did- Not literally, she didn't have her whole book out, anyways. I just moved along the left side of the engine block, and finally, got a good front view of the house.

So from what I saw, the door was barely hanging on by a hinge, and this was a solid metal looking door from the grey interior side. Lights flickered from the inside, as I saw what looked like the end of a couch, upside down, leaning diagonally against the wall. And yet, even as I waited there for a few seconds. No more sounds came from within. Fuck it, night's not getting any younger. I pushed forward towards the house, saying screw it to the normal rules of cover and concealment.

From the shit I saw out in the woods, whatever was here could probably see in the dark, detect my body heat, and was probably planning the best way to try and bite my right calf off. Speaking of right calf, I nearly tore it off tripping which is odd- odd because as I looked down, a freshly made gash in the earth was dug through the entire front lawn towards the house.

Then it clicked. The woods were in the backyard, why would any assailant come through the front. I scanned the area around me. The cop car's front bumper was dented and bashed to hell. The dirt coming towards the house was dug up. My eyes followed a trail leading from across the road.... it wasn't just this block, it lead to-that fucking neighbor's god damn house....

My eye twitched. Through the moment of blinding rage, I was piecing it together. It wasn't the woods this time, it wasn't a demon from the god damn trees, it was that slimey, unnatural fuck. And we just let slide this entire time- I ripped my mind from the momentary rage and came up alongside Isaac. He had taken cover behind a large end table just to the front right of the steps. It was after the fact I had inspected, the table was thrown from the front windows, as one of them was completely smashed out. Whatever stormed in there, did so with a vengeance.

"This is a mess Dwight...." He said, peeking just over the front sights of his shotgun.

"It was the neighbor..." I muttered.

"What?".

"The trail of death leads from his house...".

Isaac cursed under his breath, "That sumabitch.... We're gonna shoot him, right?'.

I aimed my rifle to a good position to the right of the front door: "We're gonna do a whole lot more that that". I remember my mind thinking something like, a combination of Kerosene and salt.

Isaac and I rushed to the front door, stacking up on the right side. Rosanne moved up and hid behind the table we just came from. My old muscle memory came back into play, I pulled Isaac to the front of the stack by his carrier's carry handle. If we were going in, and we were, the 12 gauge doomstick was gonna lead the way. Taking a break, I reached up with my free hand, and squeezed his shoulder. The carpet on the wooden plank floor was torn up, pieces tossed everywhere, a lounge chair was flipped on it's side, and a ceiling fan mounted above was missing a blade, swinging around, half ripped from the roof. I squeezed his shoulder, and we rushed in.

Isaac charged in, almost stopping in the doorway, if it weren't for me charging in right behind him. He held his barrel at his chest's level, at this distance, it didn't need to be accurate. I cleared the corners of the room, almost tripping over a gutted TV as we stepped in. He was right, what a mess.The front room, or at least that's what it was, lead 6 meters deep into the house, some side rooms branching off , with a doorway leading to what I saw was the kitchen. How did I know it was a kitchen? Because the fridge was thrown down on it's side, half blocking the hallway.Silence was all that greeted us, through the small buzzing and zapping of the fan's now dying light. A small crunch of glass came from the door way behind us, I snapped back, but lowered my weapon. Rosanne slowly entered the room with us.

"Jesus...." I heard her say as she looked around.

"See anything like this before?" I asked, covering Isaac as he kicked in some of the side rooms and closets one by one, aiming his shotgun, mouthing 'WHACHAH!!'. "No..." Rosanne whispered, she knelt down, picking up a small picture frame from the floor, "I've never seen these things in person, right when it was happening".

If it was still happening. For John's sake, I made a small plea to whatever high power existed, that he was still here. As I marched forward, my foot catching onto a broken chair, which I just kicked off, smashing it off the backwall, I threw caution to the wind.

"JOHN?!" I called out, Isaac came out of one of the side rooms, pointing his shotgun up in the air with one hand, shaking his head. "JOHN?! YOU HERE?!" I said, storming into the hallway. A Halloween style wreath hung surprisingly intact on the wall, with pictures and kid's drawings thrown off in all directions. The crunching off glass beneath one of my boots caused me to step back. It was off the father of whatever friend john had, he knelt down next to his daughter, smiling as he held her in one arm.

Motherfucker.

Isaac stormed out of the room, searching the next.

"Nothing!" I heard him yell.

The pit in my stomach grew. The smashing of wooden boards, caused my weapon to shoot right up, aiming at the entryway into the kitchen. More crashing, and what sounded like a tin trash can being knocked over followed. Something was here, if not John, god have fucking mercy on whatever remained. We pushed into the kitchen, no one in sight, but Rosanne made an interesting observation, in retrospect. None of the cabinets and drawers that were damaged, were ripped open. They were all smashed or dented in, as in something was shoved against them. Whatever entered, she said, had a rough fight with whatever lurked inside the house.Behind me, Isaac kicked in a side room next to the kitchen, which turned out to be the pantry. He then retreated as boxes and cans nearly crushed him as they spilled onto the floor; "Damn...sad we ain't looters, caaause we'd make a killing".

I turned to Isaac "You see a second floor to this place?". He shook his head "Nah.... No Basement either, weird too, It's cause where the fuck is everyone if they're not in here-".

Another loud crash and metal clanging called out through the windows peering over the backyard. The backyard, bordering the cursed woods of this motherfucking town. Isaac lowered his barrel "That's gotta be it....".

I took the lead, Isaac followed behind me, covering our ass as we took a right down some stairs. Another heavy metal door, this time, ripped clean off it's hinges, told the story. The fight went to the backyard. The screen door laid on it's face, on the concrete outside. I knelt on the stairs, knowing whatever we were seeking, was just feet in front of us. "Let's shoot the suckers, Dwight". The sound of my jacket's sleeve sliding against the wall followed, as I button hooked around the corner, my taclight turned on as I scanned the area around is, Isaac charged out, taking the right side. We both aimed our weapons around, searching for something.... anything....

"Well?!" Isaac shouted. "We're right here, woods, come fucking get some!!". Nothing. I stood there, squaring up with my weapon, and nothing.... happened. We went balls to the walls, and charged into whatever belly of the beast that attacked us.... and nothing followed.

And I remember, even the crickets chirped.

It was.... gone.

"No..." I shook my head in disbelief, dropping my barrel, but only to try and contain the rising anger inside. I looked around a large chunk of the boards of the back fence were missing.No John, no fucking boogeyman, not a god damn- "FUCK!!!" I yelled, taking my boot and soccer kicking a metal chair nearby so hard, it flew in the air, and landed in the grass.

Rosanne crept out. Her flashlight illuminated the dark lawn around us as she came up alongside Isaac and I.

"That can't be it man, Dwight, look..... there's gotta be something..." Isaac jogged over to the back fence, slinging his shotgun as he glanced around for something, anything. I remember Rosanne asking "What's wrong?", but I just ignored her. My hands shot to my face as I dug in on my own skin. We had one chance, one fucking chance. If I had been smarter, faster, if I just blitzed into the house instead of being methodical- if I hadn't been so stupid, as to drop the kid off at the house in the first pla-"Dwight!!" Rosanne shook my shoulder, as my eyes burned holes into her.

"WHAT-" before I could unleash the Tirade I wanted to, I noticed she wasn't even looking at me, she pointed towards the left side fence. My eyes drifted over, to a large dent in the fence.... and the figure that was laying defeated, in whatever vegetable plant the homeowner had planted.Through my marching that would give even the angriest wife beaters a run for their money, I eyed it up.

I say it because it was exactly the person I was looking for. A torn flannel shirt lay pressed against it's body, blood soaked. Old Khaki shorts were now shreds, barely hanging on, with numerous, cuts, gashes, and marks lining it's limbs. I kicked it over with my right boot, receiving a gurgling, inhuman grown from the thing. Rosanne shined her light on it. The neighbor. Or, at least I could just barely make him out as... his lips were split and torn, a large gash was cut into it's neck, no hair, and his eyes.... one looked like the normal human eye, blue but it's pupil horrible dilated. The other.... well, no color remained at all, no iris, just a small, pin sized pupil. Like those eyes you drew as a kid on stick figures.

"WHERE'S THE KID?!" I shouted, earning only silence and ignorance from it. I could see it was favoring it's left arm, which had been mangled to the point, it looked.... morphed.... I took my foot, and pressed down, no, stomped down, earning a rise from it as it groaned. I aimed my weapon at it, red dot resting between the two terrible eyes on it's face, as it burned a look a pure hatred into my face.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" I screamed, and again, it refused to answer, simply slamming it's fist down weekly on my boot. Rosanne came up, shining her light fully on it. "No way...." she said, drawing attention to it's eyes and arm. "It's.... a-".

"WITCH!!" the thing's voice was.... warped. A main voice that sounded far too deep, with others, of differing pitch, tone, and type, subtley repeating it's words. It reached out towards Rosanne with it's free arm, causing her to retreat behind me. I took the steel toe pressing it's arm down, and drove it up into it's jaw.A satisfying crack gained a yelp from it, as it's arms shot to it's face, holding it's jaw.

Isaac now joined us as he trotted over "Hey I found.... what the fuck-".

I turned and could see Isaac holding something, but before I even got a chance to ask, the thing lunged at my legs, trying to get a hold of one. A bash of my rifle's stock defeated it quickly "WHERE!! IS!! THE!! KID!!" A voice of now unbridled rage consumed me, as I kicked it again, and again, repeating the words.

"WHERE!! IS!! JOHN!! WHERE!! IS!! JOHN!! WHERE!! IS!! JOHN!! WHERE!! IS!! JOHN!! WHERE!! IS!! J-" something pulled me from my onslaught, and I looked back to see it was Rosanne. "Dwight please, just- let me try..." I looked her deep in her eyes, violet, dark purple. She pried hers from mine as she dug around in her bag. I gazed at the thing, the spot I had continuously kicked, it's breastbone, was now a dark purple and red. I could feel the steam radiating off my skin, I had broken a sweat from all that literal  boot to neck action.

They say outbursts of rage like that would leave you tried, drained, a headache from the energy spent being your only reward. I have to say, in hindsight.... there is none. It felt, great.Rosanne pulled out that notebook of hers again. A light green hardcover with runes drawn on the outside in black ink. She knelt down, though, taking cover behind my left leg as she did, and began to speak to the creature.She did so in small whispers, at first, to draw it's attention through it's current, physically traumatized state. As she did, it's malformed eyes locked onto hers... and it began to mutter back. Whatever pig latin type of language they were speaking, sounded like to rearranged the letters in normal words, and then read them backwards.Isaac and I watched the interaction, our hands ready on our superior american made firepower.

The thing, spoke now, calm, collected... Rosanne sighed, shaking her head, catching my attention when "Dammit..." escaped her lips. Not taking my eyes off it, I asked the million dollar question.

"What?".

"It sa-" She stopped, sitting back, crossing her legs and sighing "It wasn't the one who attacked the house...". Isaac shook his head wildly in surprise "Oh, sure, yeah, I sure believe that? Don't you Dwight?". I didn't answer, because I didn't. "It was eyeing up this place, it's inhabitants, as it's.... next visit. But was beaten to the punch. Something came from the woods, it said. attacked the house. He tried to take advantage of the storm, but failed...".

I saw it was now looked up at me, with a bruised jaw and chest, staring daggers into my eyes.The Woods. Those fucking woods. "Ask what took the kids...." I told Rosanne, she looked at the thing, hesitant. I snapped my head back, "Rosanne!!". She recollected herself, shaking her head. In her weird backwards ass speech, I heard the thing laugh, deep and guttural, and say a short collection of words to her.

She paused for a moment, not speaking.

"Well?".

"The woods took them" I sighed, and this caused the thing to only laugh at my frustration. It was then, in Rosanne's light, I noticed the creature's legs. One of them, it's right thigh, had been burrowed into by branches, and deep vines that dug right into the freshly disturbed dirt, pinning it there. "That can't be it.... we can go into the woods, maybe It didn't run off to far-". Rosanne shook her head, grabbing the side of my plate carrier to hoist herself to her feet "You go running off into those woods this late at night, you're finished...". They continued to bicker, Isaac channeling his frustration for John, while Rosanne cautioned him. I remained silent, gazing down at the thing at my feet.

"What did it fight?" I asked, drawing Rosanne's attention from Isaac. "What?". I looked at her, "The kind of damage done in there, that was a brawl.... Ask him what exactly did he square up with". Rosanne was hesitant at first, but shook it off as she looked into her book, and asked it. The thing spat on the ground, muttering a few phrases in response. "He says.... the Lycan, or the terror?" The caused me to pause. Just, what?."What?" I said, confused. Isaac leaned around me, "Terror?".

"Terror...." Rosanne repeated "From the green....". The thing spat again, this time, more violently, and I looked down. I saw in the light, it had spit up vegetation, a thorny rose stem. "Listen...." Rosanne placed her hand on the front of my plate carrier, pushing me back a ways from the thing. "I can try to ask it as many broken phrases as I can, but it is only giving me so much. John is...." she paused, I can tell she was being very careful of what she was gonna say next, especially to Isaac and I.

"It's too soon after the kidnapping. This was an intentional attack on him, so I say we head up to your place, and we start digging there....".

"WHAT?!" Isaac screamed, his voice bouncing off the house, fence, and trees around us, echoing "THAT KID IS IN THERE!! IN THE FUCKING WOODS!!! AND YOU WANT US TO LEAVE HIM!!! No, we have to go in there, and get him!!".

Rosanne balled up her hands and groaned. She and Isaac spat venom at each other, but to me, it was white noise. I was more fixated on the thing, still tied in the vines, as it now cut and wrangled them out of it's leg to get free.

"You said it's not human...." I said to Rosanne, pulling her from her shouting match. She gave a face, she clearly didn't expect the question.

"No.... wh-", "You said it was going after John too, correct?" I interrupted. Rosanne was quiet, she looked at me, wide eyes, "Dwight-".

I answered with the sound of my molars grinding together, watching it wrangle it self free."Dwiiiight-" She said, uncomfortably. "Rosanne, answer the question" I said, muttering from clenched teeth. She was hesitant, I could see her eyes snap down, probably looking at how I was white knuckling my weapons system: "Yes, but why-".

It made it's choice, and at that moment, so did I.

Rosanne stood to my front left, pushing forward, I shoved her to the side, left hand coming back and gripping my rifle, and I aimed at the thing. Twelve shots. One after another. I didn't switch it to auto, that would be too quick. I've been waiting for a crack at whatever was hunting us. Sure, it might've not be what kidnapped John, but it still targeted him. It saw him, us, Isaac and I.... Though all of this is more justification for you, the guys who have been following my blogging misadventures, Because as I pulled that trigger twelve separate times, I had made up my mind, and my moral compass had cleared itself. I stopped my assault, rifle still aimed, eye still looking at it through the holographic sight. It was strange, because on it's nearly porcelain white skin, I could see my grouping... why could I see my grouping?. It was because it's blood poured out, slowly, black and inky in nature.

It stumbled back as it had just gotten free of the vines, sliding down, sitting back against the fence. It looked at me, eyes no longer of hatred, just.... acceptance. After staring at this thing for weeks, and now knowing it's true intentions. One phrase rung throughout my mind, as the ringing in my ears subsided: "Gotchyah".

"DWIGhT!!" Rosanne shouted, angrily as she shoved my right shoulder. My rifle dropped as she then tried to slap me across the face, I simply leaned back. Her frustration welled as she jabbed my plate carrier with her fist.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!".

"What do you think?" I said, cold, and calculated, just like the shots I took. The anger flooded from her face as she held her head, walking away from me towards the backside wall of the house: "You just.... YOU JUST KILLED A PERSON!!".

"It wasn't a person-" She then spun around, and pointed at it. "DO YOU THINK ANYONE WILL BELIEVE YOU- IN COURT, THAT THAT THING WAS A FUCKING SHAPESHIFTER?!". Wait, Shapeshifter?

"From what this shows, you just shot-".

"A fucking burglar, who broke and entered a house, right before attempting to kidnap someone...." I said, she frowned, walking up to me. Even as she was almost a foot shorter, she still squared right up to me. "You can't just solve this by shooting your way out, that's not how you do things, that's not-".

Isaac spit into the lawn "I dunno.... problem looks pretty solved to me". She pushed past me, getting up in Isaac's face. "Oh, really?! Then where's john? Where's the kids?!". Rosanne looked at Isaac and I "You wanted my help, because your way wasn't working. So unless I say so, no more gun ho shit like that, you will get us fucking killed!!".

"John's in there... We need to go after him!!" Isaac shouted, more at her than me. I remember what Rose said "you go in there, you're finished". I remembered that night in the storm, being lured in by a trap, barbed wire, blurry vision- dozens of those things lying in wait.

I switched my magazine out for a fresh one, a full one, and slapped it into the weapon's mag well. "well then... if your way says we should go investigate the estate....", I eyed the broken spot in the fence, to the back of the fence: "Then let's go save John....".

Rosanne looked like she wanted to say something, but swallowed it. She had won, and nodded. We marched out of there, Rosanne gazed at the house as we went through a side gangway, leading to the street. Isaac looked back, towards the thing. I didn't.

I didn't care if it was still there or if it vanished when our heads were turned. Despite my momentary rage, it was time to move on. John was now missing, and our time was running out. Our enemies are bearing teeth and coming closer, and now my boss is threatening to dump us all in a ditch and cover us up....

Also, because you'll probably ask. We checked the house once more. We didn't find the dad, nor John's friend, eerily enough, we also didn't find the police officers. I tried calling the local station, but no one was picking up. Isaac as you might imagine debated with me the entire drive back. Guess I found a middle ground, cause Isaac's inside of the bar right now, "Picking up supplies" as I requested.

In actuality, he's talking to the two Germans, Merkel and Gareth. The end of the line is approaching, and despite what Rosanne says, I think we're gonna need more boom for whats coming next. Speaking of whom.... She didn't say anything to us on the way back. Just stared out the window.... until she passed out, beanie pulled over her eyes.

God, I could really use some sleep. Can't though... John's out there, we've got to find him, we've got to stop all of this. We're nearing the end. This isn't probably the way you wanted this little entry to end, but between the dark, the fog, the dark void of my sleep exhaustion pulling me more and more into the abyss, we need to get a move on.T

his is Dwight Nolan, signing out, I guess. Stay safe guys.

[Entry 9]

Just like the old days.

I remember drowsily pulling the SUV back onto the main road, the morning sun was just barely coming over the trees. My head ached, feeling as heavy as a rock, and I was slamming a red bull original to wake up whatever brain cells I had left. The metal can dropped back into the cup holder.

Yep. the good old days.

We decided to crash in the car after I pulled into the parking lot the previous night, cause I think if I did decide to haul ass down the interstate at 60mph, I was gonna pass out and then this whole little misadventure would end when I anticlimactically crashed into a rock. Regardless, I didn’t need much sleep, the electronic clock on the car’s screen red 05:51am. Rosanne was laid out across the back sleep, still passed out. Isaac however was wide awake, and judging by the four empty coffee cups at his feet- I had a pretty sound hypothesis as to why he was so wide awake.

“You know we could probably just burn the forest down…” Isaac broke the silence, his voice sped up, probably from the amount of pure, unadulterated caffeine he’d been drinking. I broke from my tired, angry haze “what?”. Isaac nodded,

“Yeah, you know- all we need is several thousand gallons of gasoline, spread over an area of dry terrain, then statistically it should spread to the nearest fauna at a rate of one square kilometer per half hour-”. I’m not gonna lie, that was what I’ve been able to ad lib, and I’m pretty sure whatever rocket science he spoke, I didn’t hear and I didn’t care enough to listen.

My eyes burned into the road, it only took five minutes for me to get back into the head space of the previous night. Cold air, anger and anxiety shocking my nervous system, my muscles clenching as I unloaded twelve rounds into- Yep. Just like the good old days.

My rifle said muzzle down between my legs, maybe it was back to being my good old self, or that I had just about ran out of singular fucks after last night. But I turned hard into the road leading to the estate, and stepped on the gas. The road was gravely, causing the car to bounce, and a poorly timed pothole caused Rosanne to almost bounce off the seat.

“W-what?” I saw her drowsily sit up in the rear view mirror, looking about as half dead as I felt. She let out a long yawn “Nolan?”. Isaac turned in his seat “Mornin’ sunshine!”. I heard her sigh and slump back on the seat “Oh god, it wasn’t a nightmare…. Dammit”. The morning light allowed me to easily see what was around the path, and boy, something was off. I guess the autumn was rolling in hard, much of the green fauna and vines that created an emerald haze, blocking my view into the forest, was now dying off. I could see the trees, the spaces between them, the orange and yellow leaves on the ground…. And all the dead space in between them. All of it.

I don’t know what was worse, not being able to see past nature’s homemade garden wall, or seeing the amount of emptiness that currently surrounded us. The Shadows dancing at the edges of my mind, knowing that despite all that clear space and visibility- they were sitting there, just out of sight. Watching, waiting. We approached the final hundred meter stretch to the front gate of the house- what was in front magnetically pulled my foot to the brake with the force of a running bull.

Rosanne nearly rolled off the seat, and Isaac braced himself on the front dashboard, thankfully, stopping his mathematical rant on how to burn the forest down. “Jesus cowboy…” Rosanne squeezed in between the front seats “still feeling jumpy from last night?”. She squinted as she looked through the front windshield, through the compensation from the fog, she saw it. The large, red painted metal sliding gate of the compound, was surrounded by a sea of autumn leaves. I remember it had a pretty consistent color, reds, oranges, yellows, the light brown bark of the now leafless trees. In any other circumstances, it created a very picture perfect scene…. Guess that’s why all the shit strewn out in front of it stood out so much. I flicked the wipers, sadly the car’s defrosters weren’t working, but after a single swipe, I saw all I needed to:

A bright blue pull bag, torn wide open, and hanging from the line of C wire on top of the gate. Another swipe, various articles of clothing, a pair of shoes, a laptop- an I pad with a set of white earbuds. A jacket, a hoodie, black, with some blue stripes. The same jacket John walked up those steps a few days ago with.

With the click of a button, the gate slowly opened, one hand on the steering wheel, the other held the pistol grip of my rifle close. Isaac was leaning in close to the windshield, wiping away some fog from the glass. “Fuck man…. Those motherfuckers…” His voice sounded like it was sobering up from the caffeine, this place always had that kind of effect. “Is that….” Rosanne went silent “We should check it out, maybe there’s some clues…”. Just as she opened her door, I slammed the pedal, both of them flew back into their seats as I drove the vic straight over whatever the fuck kind of bait they had set.

It was getting old, it was all getting- real fuckin' old. I pulled right up to the front of the house, turning left just before driving the vehicle onto the front steps. Parked, pulled the keys out, grabbed my rifle, the autumn air hitting my face as I stepped out. The gate was still open, I held my 15 at the high ready, scanning the entrance way. They never did act on it, it was all mental, it was all mind fuck - fuck games. God, dammit.

“Dwight, we should still look at it, what if there’s some DNA, or some evidence, or-” she protested. I remember unclipping that gate remote from my belt tossing it over my shoulder to her “You want to go indulge those bastards, fine. Isaac keep watch just incase they try to kidnap her”. I walked up to the front doors, and before I even knew it, the key was out of my pocket, and the door unlocked; “Aight… but where’ll you be?”.

I don’t think I gave him a verbal answer, I just shoved my way through the door. The house was quiet, dark…. There was a chilly room temp breeze in the air coming from one of the vents. Here I was, back on home turf. What was my first place? Then it hit me.

Time to search for some fuckin’ clues.

Theodore’s office was locked, damn bastard was always paranoid, I should have expected that switch up months ago. I was just too god damn dumb- no, complacent. Complacent, complacent, complacent, complacent. I could hear my old team leader mocking me as I threw my shoulder into the wooden double doors. I backed off, putting a hard foot to the crack in the middle. Guess I wasn’t losing my touch, as they flew right open. Cheap home depot locks.

I’m sure many of you can probably give me a thousand ways to sterilize and strip that office for information. A methodical, white gloved examination, starting from his numerous filing cabinets, the his desk, then searching for compartments everywhere and-

I’ll cut to the chase, I just started ripping open drawers.

And god fucking dammit. It was already sterilized.

His varnished oak wooden desk had a computer desk top system on top, on each side, it had six locked wooden drawers. After aggressively pulling them from their roller catches, nothing. Empty drawers. I broke open the sides, looking for files he might have hidden. Nothing. Then, the filing cabinets. Not a god damn thing. Every letter, from A to N, M to Z, all letters, all numbers, cryptic categories…. Empty folders, and dust.

The computer system had been bricked, I unplugged it, re plugged, restarted…. blue screen. Then, it was actually bricked when I tossed one of the filing cabinets at it.

The office was a mess of toppled metal cabinets, broken drawers, smashed wood, and now circuit boards…. The bastard really did cut and run. The tower’s fans were still running, even when it was literally broken in half, the wizz of the small fans, the hum of the house’s heating vents…. It was white noise.

I could hear him, laughing, cackling with his sick, twisted grin and pointing a finger at me. I was a scapegoat, the security guard who abandoned his post, lost the kid, shot a man in a backyard. And nothing, not a god, damn thing to show for it. God I was really fucked….I looked over the room again. Grey metal filing cabinets, smashed drawers, the desk which had every single compartment stripped and searched, the broken tower computer, the paperless drawers, the white dress at the doorway, the CPU blinking on the ground- My mind caught it, my hands snapped to my side, raising my rifle to the doorway. Nothing. I gazed just over my optic, at this range, you don’t really have to worry about accuracy when across a 6 meter long room. Still…. Nothing. Just the dark halls of the house.

I lowered my rifle, letting a blast of hot, tense air release from my lungs….I was fucking losing it. Between my rage running rampant, and my mind playing tricks, it was around this time Isaac had walked into the room: “Yo so apparently Rosie found some shit on the…..comput….er…”. He looked around and shoved his hands into his pockets, whistling, his Italian made death cannon slung to his back: “Well…. Hell yeah…. I mean, hell no cause I’mma guess we didn’t get anything, but this is a helluva step of from that night we tried to chew his ass out after that storm….”.

It had only been a few months. Cryptically, I was standing in front of the desk, right where I had been, drenched in rain water and sweat, coughing up pieces of my lung after a multi-mile hell run. Isaac was just in front of the door.

"Hey….. What did your boss say?”.

Crap, I never did tell them, either of them.

It had been a busy 20 hours since Rosanne first piled into our SUV. “I’ll explain downstairs…. “ as I walked out, I remember the CPU of the computer popping underneath my boot. Take that, Theo. We were downstairs, my rifle, his shotgun, our plate carriers, Rosanne’s bag, all piled messily onto a lounge chair in the far side of the living room, as Isaac put it a “gigantic pile of monster killing supplies”.

Our banter aside, I told them everything. The phone call, Theodore’s tone, how he knew what we’d been doing even halfway across the country, and of course-...“Company backup…” Isaac said slowly, the meaning of it sank in.

“Oh boy…. Lemme guess, a van full of armed goons that are gonna drag us off, never to be seen again”. I slammed my third redbull of the morning, the caffeine hit me hard: “Ah….. yeah”. Right around this point, I stopped to update my draft of this entry. Then I proceeded to get right into weapon's cleaning. Don't know what it was about high caffeinated energy drinks heightening my OCD, but I had my rifle disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled in about 3 minutes flat. I started to CLP my glock, Isaac was pacing back and forth, in and out of my peripheral vision.

He was taking this news worse than I was “So…. what, is he gonna come here and kill us?”. I shook my head, I could feel the grim reality of the situation slowly leaking out through my attempted drowsy stoicism. I’ll admit, there are a lot of cards stacked against my favor, then, and now. I reassembled my weapon, letting the handgun’s slide slam forward “Just me…”.

“What do you mean, just you?” There was an offended tone, no, not really offended, more so shocked tone in Isaac’s voice.“Isaac, look…. Theodore never mentioned you, or Rose. This is my mess, I dragged you’se into this, I created the mess. If things do go south, you two will cut and run, and I’ll face Theodore and his corporate goons….” even as I crossed my arms, leaning up against the counter like some Billy badass, I could tell Isaac didn’t buy it.

I’ll admit, a few months ago I didn’t trust Isaac, but his actions thus far earned it from me, and his response really sold me on his character.

“No- No, no, listen…. Dwight… I agreed to pitch a tent literally office and stay here to help, and now that we’ve got ghouls at the gate, ghosts in the cellar, and a kid is missing….. Dude listen… kid’s and people go missing all the time, but I know this one…. And I can’t just, run away knowing I coulda helped save him….” Isaac stuck out his hand: “If you get kidnapped, I get kidnapped…. Simple as that…”.

We are nearing the ending stretch of this road. I wanna say in my tired stupor, I said the “hour glass is ticking”- a bit over dramatic, but I meant it. I shook Isaac's and, a silent nod between the two of us. If I was going in, at least I wasn't going in alone.

“Hey, Dwight…” the accent of a brit echoed from the living room, Rosanne. She sat cross legged on the couch, facing the table. She had gutted the laptop John had in his computer, and as I walked out, I saw an all to familiar black gunk on the motherboards and circuits. “What’s up?”. She held an emerald green computer chip, thankfully, using gloves to touch whatever black satanic afterbirth was marinating on the edge of those things. “You still got that bag of black stuff?”.

I felt around, I remembered it was in my jacket, that was in the good old control room. “Be right back…”. I popped my key into the lock on the door. Don't know if I mentioned this, I may have, but the walls of the room were made from raw pine, so when I walked it in smelt like a box of damn car air fresheners. In one corner of the room, was the tent Isaac had set up.

Gotta admit it had some charm but I would still prefer he move into one of the seven bedrooms of this place. In the far corner of the room, the wall of monitors connected to a computer table was positioned against the wall to the outside. I walked over to the chair, digging through my pockets, and that bag felt strange.

You know one of those things you made in middle school science class? the Non-Newtonian compound or whatever it's called. The goo that constantly shifts from liquid, to solid, back to liquid. It felt like that. It felt wet, but also dry and solid. Strangely I let it rest in my hand, and I felt it didn't need any interaction from me to do so. Like it was moving on it's own. Thank god I double bagged it.

I handed off the bag to Rosanne, and pulled all my gear back into my security room. And like that, here I am, a few days later, back in the same exact place. Isaac's milling about in his tent, I think he's playing some game on his phone.... and I started my next update on this. Strangely.... the light's aren't flickering. I mean, I dunno if it's because there's a high amount of people, but then again, the power turned off when there were four of us here; Me, Isaac, Theodore- john.

I haven't forgotten about him, but Rosanne was right, we're out of leads, though she says she's gonna see if working with the goo can yield any results. Where ever he is, he probably can't read this. But if he somehow does, I want him to know. We're coming to get you kid, I promise

.....

Shit.

Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit.

Alright, Shit hit the fan.

God fucking dammit. I passed out for a nap in my chair. Yeah, I know, "But Dwight you were supposed to be the guardian of the estate and you fell asleep" well the state is currently under martial law and it was broad daylight, so I didn't think It needed a constant security element right now. Anyways, I woke up when the microphone that hooked up to the front gate "Hot Mic'ed". It means a huge amount of feedback comes through- though it only happens when someone on the other end is trying to talk. It awoke me from my slumber, I scrambled in my seat, nearly sliding out of the rolling chair.I looked around. Isaac was still in his tent, I could tell by his muttering through the tent.

I checked the monitors, [CAM_5-Living Room] showed Rosanne, still sitting on the couch, tinkering with the different items she found in front of the gate. My mind raced, heart beating off a back drop of silence, the small hum of the heater in the room lulling me back down.-

That's when another burst of feedback through the microphone caught my attention. I looked over at the microphone, a small stand up unit, with a simple on and off switch, and key in button hooked up to the system. I keyed in a few times, cutting off the static. I gaze at the monitor. Nothing.

The eerily empty, brown horizon of the forest showed, trees waving in the wind orange leaves covered the ground, and yet, no one was in front of it. Maybe, someone was hiding underneath? It wasn't unheard of, had a few incidents with a house back in Kansas City where known burglars got in with that method. No, why would the demonic shit around here even need to hide? Regardless, I keyed in and spoke, ["Hello? Who's out there?"].

I hung the earpiece of the headset around my neck- smart choice because another hot mic came in.

["Listen, this is private property..."] my usual response got caught up in my throat. I know how this would go; you know what? screw that.

They wanna get all fuck-fuck, fine, I was getting bored anyways.

I keyed back in.["Okay- I get it. You're fucking with me...-"].

A loud burst of static cut me off, and proceeded to piss me off.

["Fuck it, you know what? I'll just unplug the damn headset, shut off the receiver because no one is ever visiting this godless house"].

Another burst of static; ["Then I'm gonna find where you are, I'm gonna torch your forest, shove dragons breath so far up your ghoul asses you won't be able to feel cold again, and I'm gonna get that damn kid back...."].

I let go of the button, expecting another blast of static. except, nothing.

I actually raised my eyebrow in surprise. Though I leaned back in, when a much lower, subdued hum of static came through the headset.

["Where is John?"] I growled, so much so I don't know if anyone would even be able to make out what I was saying through the scratchy, outdated radio system.

I was wrong.

"With us now...." the voice mad my hairs stand on edge.

It was melodic, gentle, a lot more peaceful than what I was expecting. I stood there, eyes dancing to every single monitor, making sure there wasn't some smiling mongoloid staring back inches from the camera.

I looked back to the front gate, empty: ["Who is this?"].

For a few moments, nothing.

Then "You should have left my house".

["Wha-"].

The monitor projecting the front gate nearly sparked as it snapped off, this thing was probably a 200 dollar flat screen, and it just buzzed and sparked off like it was a box TV. Isaac even jolted in his tent, the sound bounced around the tiny security room.

"The hell was that?!" I sat back in my chair, and one by one, the security cameras started to spark, before all that I could see was a wall of dark, yet still glowing monitors, staring back at me. I swallowed hard, my eyes shot over to Isaac's tent flap, as it slowly unzipped. He poked his head out, turning towards me "Everything alright captain?-".

That's when he saw it, "Uh..... what the hell". A large crash coming from just beyond the door to the hallway caught out attention. It was an empty hallway, too thin to have any furniture, and yet it sounded like a damn wardrobe came rolling down. I spun around in my chair, my hand pulled my glock from my holster.

"ROSANNE?!" I shouted, the sound dulled by the thick wooden walls of the security room. A set of foosteps came from beyond the metal door, and a few knocks. "

Dwight?" She struggled with the door, odd, because it was supposed to be unlocked. Isaac got up and opened it- or at least, tried to. "Jesus... Dwight how' I open this thing?", just then, a flicker of white caught my attention on the screens. Isaac looked back, yanking on the door, one foot pressing against the wall.

"Hey- Dwight?!" she yelled.

"It's supposed to be...." my voice trailed off as it started to type on the screen.

A single sentence, in white, pixilated text, on the center monitor that read:

[CAM_09- Generator].

>You should have just left.

The text then backspaced itself, and began to type out more words.

>You had to be a hero and drag others into this. It didn't need to be anything.

The next sentence began to type out...

I reached down, and yanked the keyboard's cord from the USB port. >You have a choice to ju- the line flickered on and off the black screen.

Then, it backspaced.

>Fine. When they're all gone, this is all on you.

Another loud crash came from far down the hall, to the right of our side of the door. Rosanne began frantically knocking; "DWIGHT?!?! DWIGHT!!!!!". I bolted over kicking the lock beneath the doorknob and pulling with my free hand. Isaac had grabbed a shovel, and began to try and pry it open. A series of loud crashes worked their way down the hall, towards the door. I slammed my fist on the cold metal: "ROSANNE?! ROSANNE!!! GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!!!".

She just kept beating on the door.

"ROSANNE!!! THERE'S A GUN UNDER THE TV!!!! GO GET IT!!!".

The lights began to flicker, the shitty, long ass LEDs hanging in the security room began to swing and flicker. Isaac gave up prying it open, and just resorted to try and spear it through the door. And then- the lights went out when the crashing reached the door.

All light, all sound, vanished. For a moment, I thought the world had ended. All ambient light was gone, and I was left standing there. Hot breath leaving my lips, looking around, hand on the cold door.... wait, cold door. The damn heater has been on the entire time we've been here. Isaac turned on his phone light, and I did the same: "Dwight, what the hell's going on?!". I just shook my head, trying to go over what had happened. My choice, My fault- It's house. I tossed Isaac the keys to the tough box in the corner of the security room.

I'm going back to basics on this one: ALAMO plan is in effect, the building has been breached by a hostile force. I've got two bars, it's been a pain to load anything, never the less call anyone. Writing this down, because If we have been invaded... well, Let the record show Isaac and I are gearing up to face them head on.

Not exactly the way I expected this to go, maybe I expected hostility to arrive a few hours sooner.

FUBAR. It’s a term my old bitter squad leader told me when we were pinned down on a thin road back in Kandahar. This was when I was just a private, barely my first chevron, crouched behind an armored vehicle as my team leader laid between us with a Tourniquet strapped to his arm: “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition, Nolan...”.

You know, I’ve hit a lot of situations so far that can be classified like that. Here, mostly, in this, semi southern woodland town, having taken a contract in the hopes of seeing some work. Guess I never expected my blood to be pumping it’s highest in my mid thirties- and at a time when the bullets stopped flying past my head. I remember nearly falling back over my computer chair when the lights went out, bathing us in darkness.

Now, normally, your eyes have a natural ‘cat eye’ ability to them, where they’ll adjust to darkness, usually helped by ambient light. It’s how after a black out, you’re able to quickly get a sense of where you are. But considering I stood there, gazing around, not even able to find my own damn hand.

There was no light, not anymore.

FUBAR.

This wasn’t the time to panic, not now, we were in an ALAMO situation; The compound has been severely breached, and whatever the hell could be classified as an enemy combatant, was now probably within the walls… lurking. Hunting. I opened the middle drawer, right side, it had matches, lithium batteries, double As, triple As,- and a headlamp. Can't see, can't fight. I flicked it onto the white light setting and glanced around, the pit in my stomach started to decrease a bit, at least now we had light-“OH SHIT!!!-”, Isaac’s words bounced off the walls of the small room, as he stumbled and fell onto his tent inside of the office quickly reminded me that we still weren't, a fully professional fighting force.

Isaac threw the plastic lining off him as I scanned behind me, and I breathed a sign of relief; my plate carrier and ‘15 were still here, propped up against the wall. I slipped the lamp onto my head, pulling the vest over my head and strapping it onto myself. Isaac grumbled as he stood up “This is bad man-”. Yeah, it was. I felt around the backside of my jeans, feeling a small ring of keyes I’d kept S clipped onto a belt loop, pulling off a small master lock key.

“Isaac… pop open that crate….” I tossed him the key, I was referring to one of the tough boxes propped up just beside where his tent once stood. I saw him hold it in his hand, feeling it with his finger tips, “busting out the big guns, sarge?”.

“Something like that”.

It’s a good thing that Isaac spent all seventeen thousand dollars on pure, unadulterated american firepower that day, oh so many weeks ago. Right now we were trapped in a small security room, while god knows what could have already secured most of the compound, let alone the dark, close quarters building we were in. We had a term back on small J - Camps, I already mentioned it: ‘ALAMO’.

In the event of a breach of compound, we retreat back to the deepest, most secure part of our fortifications, load up, and hold out. That’s probably what they wanted, us to stay here, wait out the storm, while they gathered strength outside, waiting to drown Isaac and I in whatever darkness they currently had Rosanne in…No, not today. We had come too far, fought too hard, for it to end like that...I filled whatever magazines we hadn’t with all of the surplus 5.56, shoving them into pouches on my kit, in my pockets, hell, I even went old school and clipped on a condor gun belt.Isaac’s carrier was outside on the couch in the living room, along with his Benelli deathcannon…. In another time, I probably would’ve given him all kinds of hell for leaving his weapon, but that’s when I was a pitbull, about ten years younger, and hadn't worn down my temper like I had my knees.

This also wasn’t a trained American soldier we were talking about. Although, that just sounds rude. Isaac might not be trained, he might not even know how to fight well- but god damn if he hasn’t stood by my side and fought with me so far…“Whatchyah got for me?” Isaac asked giddly as he pulled on a gunbelt of his own, it was lined with pouches upon pouches of 12 gauge. Buckshot, Slugs, with an additional pouch strapped to the very back, marked in red and black.I tossed him a short barrelled member of the shotgun family, the Mossberg 590. It was stocky, to the point, might not’ve had range… but I kept it here with the express purpose of being able to fight in the tight corridors of the house. And by god, if it wasn’t needed now more than ever.

He slung to his front, as Isaac loaded a handful of slugs into the mossberg, and tried for the door. Locked. I tried it from our side, but it wasn’t budging. No good. I backed up, taking aim at the door. “You ready?” I asked Isaac, he nodded.

I tapped the upside of my fist against my head, to Isaac’s confusion: “Uh, you got a headache?”. I sighed, though I really shouldn’t have, should of known better.

“Breach-”.

“What?”.

“It means, breach”.

“With what?”.

“The 12 gauge boomstick in your hand, now put it against the lock and blow it”.

All of the action movies he must’ve seen probably came flooding back, because Isaac ran forward, shoving the muzzle of the gun against the door. With an explosion of sparks, and wooden fragments, I saw the brass cover of the door’s knob and lock fall off. Thankfully this time, I put on a pair of electronic ear protectors. Three times the charm.Isaac pulled the door open, and I went charging forwards. The hallway opened into a T, so I’d go and cover the living room while Isaac….

Wait.This wasn’t the hallway.

My headlamp saw that the area really opened up into…. Something that made me groan with pure dread. It was a library, the library Isaac and I had stumbled into on our last adventure into this haunted fucking house. Same rectangular design, same old, dim orange candelabras lining each of the corners…. Same dusty filled air that hung, like a light snowfall.

As I dropped my muzzle, Isaac came rushing in behind me, shaking the carpet so wildly It telegraphed every single one of his steps: “ALRIGHT LETS-..... Oh now, THIS AGAIN?!”.

Took the words right out of my mouth.

I reached up and pulled my left muff off my ear ever slightly, allowing me to hear the natural sounds around us. Isaac and I were staring down either end of one of the isles alongside the library’s longer side… and I don’t know whether it was the walls, or the dust, but all sound seemed… muffled. Like, there was no ambient noise, just a pure void, where either Isaac’s or my own shuffling and breathing broke it.

“I don’t think we solved our basement problem Dwight…”. 

“You think?! Now the whole damn house is gone…”.

My left hand shot back to the fore grip on my rifle, as I scanned in front of me. Normally, with a proper team, I’d have this entire room cleared by now. But we weren’t a proper team, it was just us, and we stood there. Complacent, waiting, stood still like two fucking goats waiting to get cut down.

“What’s the play?” Isaac asked, he now backed up, pressing up to the back of my kit. what was the play? I thought about it, my cheek welded to the butt stock. No sounds, meaning we were alone, but were we? Did the ghouls and creatures hunting us create sound here? Was the sound just high blood pressure fucking with our eardrums? Was it at all detrimental that in a combat situation, my mind rushed to menial fucking questions? No, yes. I mean, Yes, but no, not unnatural…

Then, that’s when we heard it. From the isle to my right, just behind the bookcase, I could hear a set of heavy, and fast footsteps, cutting the trail from Isaac’s end to mine. I didn’t know what it was, who it was, it could have been Rosanne, but all I know is, it was coming towards the opening near me. Fast-

One flick downwards, Semi.

With quick and calculated precision I took aim for a spot on the bookcase I knew it was at- and I slammed down on the trigger. All of the training I had acquired suddenly flooded back as I fired into the bookcase in large, fast groups, tearing up the novels and dictionaries and whatever else on the shelf.Isaac joined in, spinning around he fired off a slug that cut right through a wooden divider, causing the entire shelf to sag in the middle.

Then, silence. I peered over my holographic sight, peering into the now settling fall of torn up paper and wooden shards. Through my right ear, I could hear Isaac breathing heavily, a metallic klink told me he’d slam fired all his ammo- and the clicking afterwards told me he was reloading…My left ear…. Was ringing.

I guess I had forgotten to put that muff back over my ear before I decided to light up the shelf like it was a Tango at 3’oclock. I mean, in this circumstance, I guess it was, regardless. Isaac slammed his shotgun's fore-end home, scanning the shelf up and down.

"Think we got it?".

"If we didn't Isaac, we've got bigger fucking problems. Cover me".

I “pied” the corner of the shelf as I approached, using whatever was left of the end of it to provide a slow, but steady cover point that I was able to clear it from. My mind raced as to what might greet me? The creature from the backyard, back to seek it’s revenge? John? Rosanne?....As I rounded the corner, quickly clearing all openings, the ball in my throat cleared.

“Dwight?! What is it? See anything?” my throat cleared with a frustrated sigh, “No, nothing…-”.Another set of footsteps, this time, on Isaac’s side, running along the short side of the rectangle. Isaac was the first to fire, through the dim light of the library I could see an explosion, and a slug rip through two shelves as it hit the far wall. As paper and leatherback covers of books flew across the room, I squinted to see what it was…I saw…. Something? Someone? A humanoid, small, running…. It was too dark, the air was too polluted, I couldn’t see who…. But I saw something that gave me enough reason to pick up and run to the far end to beat it.I remember trying to yell at it, as if whatever was in the woods gave a rats ass about my word or wants, “Stop!!”.

As I hit the far isle, I pivoted on my right foot and raised my rifle…. Only to be staring down at Isaac, who held the mossberg at his hips….Isaac dipped his gun back, holding the barrel in the air. What the hell was going on?I scanned both sides of the isle, and that’s when I saw it. Embedded in a spot where another bookcase should be, was a wooden door. Plywood, with old yellow paint peeling off at it’s edges. I pied the three inch indent it made, as if something were to be hiding there waiting to kill me- probably just nerves.Isaac shook his head; “I guess there’s no hope of seeing any of the regular house now?”.

I shook my head, reaching in with my off hand, “Not unless we keep going, I guess that’s the play”. Was what I was saying even making sense? Did any of this make sense? Shit was spiraling out of control, was what we were seeing, shooting, running through- even real? I tried to believe it was, if anything, just to keep myself grounded. Next door was locked.

I backed off, shouldering my rifle. I tapped the front side of my head, and Isaac came in close with his shotgun. Another explosion of wood and metal shards, and the door shook wildly. This time, I didn’t wait for him to pull it open, I charged forward, raising my boot, and kicking the door in. Isaac followed close behind-and both him and I nearly tripped over a small, long, pink piece of furniture that laid across just before the door. A bed, a child’s bed. Age, like the chipped walls where it seemed like blue and white wallpaper once was plastered across, had sunk in. A white and pink quilt was now old, torn up, and rotted.

The room was almost as small as the security room, maybe a couple of meters long, a few across. I pulled my rifle up against me, backing up to gain space, that’s when my back hit a wall, the wall. The door we came into was no longer there, just more peeling wallpaper with chipped wood furnishings…No going back.

I instead brought my left foot to the edge of the bed, feeling the frame, and kicked it against the wall to my left, out of the way. The bed must've collided with some sort of dresser, because I noticed a wave of papers flew off into the center of the room. Out of my peripherals, I noticed they were drawings, colorful ones.I walked up to the far side of the room, a window. Turning off my headlamp to avoid any glare or reflection, I gazed out. It was, darkness, the void. Maybe one or two inches of space, and then it seemed like it hid a sea of literal, physical darkness.

No trees, lights, ghouls, monsters, people…. Just, darkness. The sounds of objects falling onto the wooden floor caused me to spin around, and I saw it was just Isaac… but, something was off.

“Isaac…. You alright?”.

He stood there, shaking his head, and had this glassy filter over his eye; “Yeah…. Yeah man just….” His right hand holding his gun, dropped, as his left hand pinched his temple. “It’s gotta be all this stuff in the air…. I just…. I think it’s giving me a headache….”.

He took a few steps forward, nearly slipping on one of the papers on the floor, causing him to brace against the wall. “Jesus! What the hell’s with all this stuff anyways….”. Something also clicked in my head, a few seconds ago one of the drawings fell right across the light of my headlamp, it was colorful, fresh, new, like someone had just went to down on a stack of sheets. unlike all of the walls and furniture where the colors were faded and old, and looked like they'd been put through the dark age. I pulled my rifle into it’s “work space”, close to my shoulder with the muzzle in the air, and grabbed one of the drawings…. It was off, strange, surreal, I guess. A small girl in a white and pink dress was in a field, surrounded by trees. A blue sky messily colored in above, with flowers on the ground. Although, it seemed intentional, the edge of the trees were curved- a clearing? And a house stood tall in the background. Several pointed edges of it’s rooftops….I tossed it aside, and picked up another, This time, a much darker version of the forest.

Bodies of trees, devoid of leaves with gray bark filled the area. In the distance, bathed in light, was the Cazamoth estate. I knew it was because, it was a splitting image of it. A grey concrete wall with curled barbed wire, and a large brown wooden building in the middle. Though, at the edges of the trees, in the dark patches…. Eyes watched. Not cartoonishly red or evil eyes. Plain white eyes, with no irises, surrounded by dark patches of dead skin, staring down from all angles… the eyes I knew, I had seen in the storm.

Whatever drew these knew what was going on and wanted me to see them… I felt a drop of sweat run down the side of my head as a chill shot up my spine. Was it probably from all the running and gunning? Probably, yes, but…. I have to admit, this was all getting under my skin…The sweat on my hand sunk into the paper as I turned over another…It was…. Us, the gang, the small trio I had assembled, in the parking lot just before we pulled out this morning. Last morning- was it even the same day? Forget about it.

Rosanne sat inside, while I leaned on the front bumper, smoking a cigarette…. And Isaac sat up against the rear bumper, head down. They were exact portraits of us, albeit, drawn in crayon.

Me, beard, black hair, leather jacket, jeans.

Rosanne, purple beanie, white coat, green hardback journal.

Isaac, truckers flex cap, hawaiian shirt, cargo pants, and….No.

Some sort of dark strand coming out of his back, the black Crayola line edged deep into the paper, intently, as it lead back to the woods. I dropped the paper and stood up, flipping on my headlamp, as I gazed at Isaac. His head was hung low, his breathing, heavy. Slight shivers in his shoulders as he leaned up against a shelf, his right hand barely hanging onto the pistol grip of the mossberg.

“Isaac….” No response.

“Isaac!!”, My voice shook a bit, my thumb plastered against the selector switch, as I waited, praying what my gut told me was going on, wasn’t going on. “Isaac you better come clean right now, if that ain’t just a headache or flu….”.

A series of heavy pants and coughs came from him, his head still hung low, obscuring his eyes. I took a step forward, KRACK-A large impact into the window behind me caused me to spin around, Something had hit the window, from within that dark void, and had caused a large break in the glass to form. I aimed my rifle at the window, now there was two threats; One external, one internal. God don’t let the internal be true. Another thud from an unseeable force caused the glass to crack, the spiderwebbing break widened even more.

“ISAAC WE NEED TO GO!!”.

He instead just stood there, now shivering. Great, just fucking great Dwight.I gazed around, the door we had entered from was gone, the window was now becoming a breach point for something else…. The back left corner. A door, that, for some reason, I didn’t see in my initial sweep of the room, had appeared. A large toy box lid infront, with a chair propped up beside it, in an attempt to hide it.I let my rifle drop, slung to my front, as I grabbed the box, and heaved it to the other side of the room.

KRACK- I tried the handle, locked, god damn it. I raced over to Isaac, reaching for his shotgun. Except, his previously limp, sweaty fingers now clung onto the trigger well like it was a pot of fucking gold. He stood there still, head down, sickly, but wouldn’t let go.I cursed under my breath, and reached for a drop holster on my right leg. My Glock 19 wasn’t a preferable breaching tool-

KRACK- But under current circumstances, it would have to do. I shoved the barrel nearly down the damn keyhole before yanking on that trigger more times than I can count. The door shuddered and shook, but after enough shots and yanking on the handle…. The bolt inside broke, and I pushed it open.

KRACK- Another impact, followed by the sound of glass falling onto the wooden floor caused my hairs to stand up at fucking attention. I grabbed Isaac by his shoulder and pulled him after me.

“Isaac! We- Are- LEAVING!!!” I yelled as I shoved him into the hall, and reached the door. The sound of the glass shattering, following by a horrifying growl and roar, caused me to kick the damn door back into place. Isaac began to mutter at this point, hysterically, as I nearly pulled a muscle shoving a gigantic cabinet in front of the door. Just as it eclipsed the door to the bedroom- it shook violently. More growls and roars like before emanated from within. This wasn’t the Cazamoth estate, we weren’t the protectors, this wasn’t our home, we were being hunted.

I pulled Isaac along with my free arm, as he now began to sound like a fucking asylum patient. The hallway was old, weathered, like a victorian style house had been put through seventy years and two hurricanes. Rugs and floor boards torn up, plaster littering the floor… and all of the fucking doors locked. Except for one: “INFIRMARY”.

I shoved Isaac inside as I swung the door closed. It had six damn locks, why do you even need to many? For an aid room? Well, not any infirmary I’d ever seen. I turned back to the room in front of me, it was probably seven meters across, foot long. Just big enough for some cabinets, a sink, counters… and a metal operating table along the far wall.Important to note was the room was split, the bottom half, along with the entirety of the floor, was littered with old, cracked tiles you’d find in a shower. The top was white paint that had seen better days.I looked around for Isaac, who now sat in one of the back corners, hands grabbing his face, sobbing hysterically.

Something, deep down inside, sunk seeing this. For a person who had been so chipper, so positive throughout all of this, especially after that pep talk we had in the kitchen…. Crumbling to this….I smothered it, He’d be fine, if- he was even fine with to begin with. I went through my basic checks. All my mags and gear was still on me, the door was secure…. The loud, drumming sounds of the bedroom door down the hallway told me something was still trying to get in. isaac was possible a threat, and I don’t know how much ammo I had wasted.I quickly loaded a fresh mag into my glock, shoving it back into it’s holster. The one I had loaded into my rifle was windowed and showed 11 rounds left.

Yeah, I guess we were taking the suppressive part of suppressive fire very literally. I slapped a fresh mag into the rifle, and thought to myself: ‘Alright, green on ammo, next-’.

“D-d-D-Dwiht…” Isaac mumbled, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he spoke. I gazed up, my right hand tight on the rifle’s grip as I looked him over. He sat knees in arms, eyes buried into his kneecaps, with his left arm extended, pointing at the operating table.

“Isaac what’s wrong?” He said nothing, just his shaky finger pointing at the operating table.

The booming sounds of whatever was trying to enter the hall continued as I glanced across it. It’s chrome finish was still surprisingly intact and reflective, albeit with several spots showing age and rust. A black cushion on top, with straps for…. I don’t want to think about it.

And on top laid, another paper, drawing side up. I walked over, my boots squeaking and crunching off the tile floor as I approached the table.It was a picture of this room, at a different time, in a different place, facing from the back wall outwards, towards the door. The girl was strapped into the operating table, crying, with cuts and stitches all over her face. In the back corner of the room, there was a figure…. The way it was drawn… it looked like TV static, but, not, at the same time. Blurry, but I could make out it was a man, and it just stood there, in the far corner, facing her.

I ran my thumb along the corner of the paper, and I realized, through my light bleeding through it, there was another drawing on the other side. Me. I stood there, facing the now empty, torn up operating table, my rifle crudely drawn across my chest, headlamp illuminating the area around me in a triangle. I could see Isaac in the fetal position, like he was, in one of the corners…. And that static-y, smeared, blurry man peering just over my shoulder.

I then realized….The banging on the door in the hallway had stopped.

Before my synapses could even comprehend, the drawing was dropped, my selector switch was on semi, and I had spun around to see….. Her.

Although this time, it wasn’t out of the corner of my eye in the basement, she stood there. Dress now a dirty white and torn, staring me down. A smile was pulled across her dread, cracked lips, as she raised her head to look at me, with white, beady eyes surrounded by black sunken rings. The last words I remember as my headlamp flickered off:

“Gotchyah…”

.….

I awoke to a cool breeze across my face, my head was pounding as I pulled a black fleece beanie from in front of my eyes. 

“Hey, Sarn’t Noles…. Sarn’t…”.

I rubbed my eyes, black, oil and dirty coated mechanix gloves that I’d worn for probably my entire tenure gripped the steering wheel of the truck I was in. I looked out the windshield, we were inside the wire of a large camp, and around the truck. Why we were here, started to leak back in from a long forgotten memory.

A near 500 mile patrol, that had taken almost two days across the province. We were low on everything, from rounds, to fuel, to water, to MRES… so we were bedded down in the motorpool of our “halfway point” compound for the night. But ... that was almost a decade ago, why was I here?

“Sarn’t?” My eyes shot to just outside of the door, a kid in grey digital camo gear, with a worn shemagh scarf wrapped around his neck, stood there. I remember this kid, five foot five, stocky, my bravo team leader had a sick sense of humor and made him a SAW gunner.

“What is it Daveys?”.

“Sarn’t Walker wanted to speak with you, he’s by the tower”.

Sergeant First Class Nicholas Walker… my old Platoon Sergeant.

“Alright…. Go get some sleep”.

He shuffled back to his ruck and woobie, and was passed out before I had grabbed my M16 and dropped out of the truck. Around us, beige armored vehicles laid silent, and still, and the entire area was coated in a thick layer of frost, not unusual to afghanistan, if I was right, it was the middle of winter.

Sergeant Walker was up on a catwalk, positioned by a cylinder guard tower on the northern side of the compound. The entire area was maybe 100 x 100 meters, tucked on the edge of a mountain, made a great target for snipers and RPGs….Which showed the size of Walker’s brass balls, I guess. When he was just standing there, M16 slung to his front, staring off into the distant mountains with a pair of Binoculars. He barely gave me any word as I stomped up the metal stairs, and stood alongside him.

“Sergeant….”.

“Nolan…. Mornin’ “ He had a thick ‘Geojan’ accent, from the deep south. Man was taller than men, built like a brick shit house. The kind of man you needed to lead a group of soldiers in a warzone.A puff of hot air escaped my lips as I exhaled, gazing out at the dark horizon.

“Playing chicken with the snipers again, Sergeant?”.

A small huff, a chuckle, very rare from him “We been’ doin’ that for months now Nolan…. It catches us all”.

I looked at my watch, 0135 | 22DEC10 | Seven Months into my fourth deployment, Three months after… “You wanted to see me?”.

I watched as hot air seemed to spew from beneath Sergeant Walker’s kevlar like smoke coming from a dragon’s nostrils. “We nearly got hit on that bend coming in…. Second Squad alright?”.

I scratched the back of my neck, between my helmet straps “Yeah… I sent the guys to bed early, did all the SI and vehicle checks myself…”. We stood in silence for minutes, but it felt like hours, just staring out, watching the mountains. Walker sighed, shaking his head, and looked back into the Binos.

“I’m sorry about Clancy….”.

I raised an eyebrow, this wasn’t something he usually talked about. Straight to the point, no dillydallying about past losses or events… “No rest for the wicked” as he said, but-

“We’ve been losing guys, and it’s not our fault. Just a bad hand, Nolan…. First they won’t give us the Rhino to protect against forward IEDS…. Then it's bad intel leading us into fucking contact after contact….”. Walker shook his head “But Clancy was on me…. I should’ve done better scanning after we got hit…. I know I don’t usually talk like this but, that’s been burning in my mind for months now….”.

I buried my hands in my pockets, an act, vilified in garrison, but out here, not so much.

“Like you said Sergeant… Bad Hand…”.

A bad hand. A platoon fed into a meat grinder for months on end, with the seeming intent to get us all killed.

“Bad Hand, yeah. Gotta make do with what you got. Maybe when this is all over, we can move on, hopefully. But right now…. You need play your hand and wake up Dwight”.

Dwight. He’s never called me by my first name before.

“What did you say, Sergeant?”.

Walker dropped his binoculars, his hazel eyes staring me down as he let them hang around his neck.

“Dwight, Wake up…”

.…..

The past faded away, as I woke up face first on a metal floor, my head pounding. The area around me had a sort of orange glow, as I opened my eyes, I noticed strange, ornate candelabras standing in rows against the far metal walls. The ground tasted like dirt and iron, from the red rust covering it…. At least, I hope to got it was red rust.

“Dwight!!-” Rosanne’s voice, distance, and wavey, shouted from behind me.

“DWIGHT!!!-".

I drove my right hand into the ground, pushing myself onto a knee. My rifle laid on the ground in front of me, and my kid hung, ragged and disheveled, as if something tried to pull it off.Rosanne stood there, with her. The girl with sunken eyes, held an iron grip, so tight, that Rosanne, a fully grown woman, much taller than her, struggled to get out of her grip.

“DWIGHT!!!-” Rosanne shouted, waving at me with her free hand. I gritted my teeth, raising my right hand, as my left hand grasped my temple, trying to ease the pain. Rosanne waved her hand, and pointed behind her.

"THE EFFIGEY!!!- SHOOT IT!- ”.I blinked my eyes, trying to focus on what laid behind her. The operating table from before, but now, at the back of a wide room, the size of a small gymnasium. Where we were? I don’t know, but I could see it had some sort of object, on it. Made of twigs, twine, and her own ripped up, and bloodied pink and white dress wrapped around it. I haven't asked Rosanne, but I wondered, still wonder, what kind of voodoo shit is this? Paganism, something from the middle east? Witchcraft? My soldier calculus didn't ask this though, it just knew what it had to do...

"SHOOT IT DWIGHT!!!!--”.Shoot. Somewhere deep down, I laughed, hearing how she needed my way of doing things. But laughing would have to wait, My right hand shot to my thigh, pulling out my glock, and I took aim.

Three shots, aimed with precision at the operating table that was maybe twenty meters away- barely got ten meters as they hit some sort of invisible field, crushing as if they’d hit an Abrams head on, and fell straight down against the floor. The barrier now rippled like the surface of a lake, but even through the murky, wavy field, I could see her.

Smiling, laughing.

Gripping Rosanne’s hand tight, knowing we’ve been duped.

I fired again, the slide shot back, a 9mm round shot out- and was crushed against the barrier. Rounds couldn’t get through, so, what could? I gazed around, looking for something, anything- That’s when a set of footsteps running at me, caused me to turn. It was Isaac,up until now, I hadn’t thought about where he’d been, but there he was. Running full force at me, armed outstretched…. Eyes sunken, white, and beady. His growl was inhuman and rabid as he rammed into me, still on a knee, and feeling, I barely knew what was happening. But he still managed to force me, a man who had not only size, but probably weight, and fighting skill on him, into the barrier, And god, did it sting.

It felt like touching the surface of a grill, but instead of only just the metal bars, it was an entire flat surface, burning through my skin, my clothes, my hair. I yelled out, for the first time in a long time, out of instinct, “Isaac”, or whatever had taken hold, now digging his heels to shove me into it.My mind raced, under siege by pain, by anxiety, by fear, by anger, by adrenaline, searching for an order, for a goal.

My mind raced. 16 years of fighting, of combat, of being a soldier, then a soldier for hire, then a civil servant. All coming to an end…. Here? Overwhelmed by darkness, failing to protect those I signed and swore to, allowing the darkness to overtake an entire family, dragging friends down with me…I searched for my name.

Dwight Nolan, former US Army Staff Sergeant, Four tours in the middle east, having seen more of Afghanistan than my own home….

No, No, No. I was not going down like this.

Too many battles, too much fighting, to succumb to this.

“Dwight!! FIGHT BACK!!! ” Rosanne’s voice bellowed from beyond the barrier.

All the training, all the animalistic instinct to fight the evils of my country, now to fight the evils of fucking existence itself, came rushing to the surface. I roared, meeting Isaac’s own rabid state of mind with that of my own will to not fucking die. I grappled, scrambled, shoving his arms from my shoulders, and slamming my goddamn head into his, forcing him back. My hand reached for my glock- it wasn’t there. It was on the floor, a quick dive, two shots right to his- No, I stopped myself...Isaac is my goddamn friend, He's been with me for this entire ordeal... I'm not gonna stab him in the back, leave him to this, no matter how fucked up this was getting.

No time for sentiment as Isaac came lunging in again, if he was gonna go high, fine. I ducked down and grabbed Isaac around his waist, picking him up, and Matt Hughes style running, and slamming him into the ground. Forcing him on his back, I gazed into his eyes. Wide, full of rage, of a rabid frenzy, his mouth foamed, and black ooze leaked from beneath his makeshift eyepatch.

“KHhh- KILL YOU!!!!” Isaac roared as he clawed at my face, his fingers digging into the scar on my right cheek. Anger rose to the surface as my fist balled up, and slammed right into his nose. His head bounced off the floor, but whatever possessed him obviously gave two single fucks about concussions, as he just sat up again. Our scrap continued as Isaac forced us both back to his feet, now trying to bite down onto my shoulder, I shoved him off, kicking out one of his legs, and seeing we were now nearing one of the walls, I ran in, and this time, tackled Isaac into the steel surface.

Our probably collective 350+lbs caused the metal in whatever labyrinth we were in to groan as we connected. I kicked out one of Isaac’s legs, and shoved him into a row of the Candelabras. Oil and wax splashed out as they dominoed down with him, towards the barrier, I backed off, shielding my face.Then, I saw it. As the fiery oil splashed out, it passed right through the barrier, seemingly untouched. Rounds couldn’t go through, but, fire did? Was that it? Fucking fire? I stood there, baffled, not even caring about Isaac as he riffed.But how was I gonna use fire… I looked down at Isaac, and then, it hit me. On his gunbelt, aside from all the pouches of slugs and buckshot… the one on the back, marked in red and black.

“KKKh-KILL YOU!!!!” Isaac scrambled to his feet, stumbling over candelabra stands as he lunged at me. I underhooker him, an inhuman level of strength allowed Isaac to battle me, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve that his feral mind didn’t.Slipping around to his back, I kicked out one of his knees, and wrapped my left arm around his neck, allowing me to control him- for now. We were now both on our knees.

I quickly looked him up and down, thank god, his mossberg was on it’s sling- The size of the horseshoe up my ass I must’ve had, to not have it go off in the scuffle. I pulled it off, and slipped it between the bent part of my right leg, a tactic used to reload rifles, but I think I could be forgiven for this makeshift use of the tactic given the circumstances.

My right hand fumbled with the clip on the molle pouch, Isaac’s hand dug into my arm, with just a T shirt on, he scratched at the skin. I bit down the pain, anxiety and the will to push on. I opened the pouch, and dug out a very specific shotgun slug.

A golden brass top with a bright orange body: DANG-INC 12 GAUGE

“Dragon’s Breath”.

Isaac growls and screamed through his foamed over mouth, as I fumbled with the mossberg. With all of Isaac’s thrashing, simply shoving it into the weapon was a thousand times harder.

Once it clicked in, In pulled the gun up by it’s fore-end, and shook it up and down, racking the slug. Holding Isaac close in that hold, I raised the shotgun up with my right hand, feeling like a bad action hero, but hell, given the circumstances, the laws of conventional tactics are now out the window.

I took aim. I guesstimated 20 meters, Dragon’s Breath should have a minimum range of thirty. Let’s hope I was right.I pulled the trigger, even if it has no real recoil, a pillar of fire and sparks spewed from the muzzle of the shotgun. The entire center of the back wall, where the operating table was, became engulfed in hellfire unlike anything these demons had probably ever seen.

The Mossberg dropped from my right hand as I underhooked Isaac’s right arm, and gazed over at Rosanne at the girl. Rosanne had successfully escaped her grasp, mostly because, she had let go. She stared at the operating table, and then back at me in horror. Her sunken, lifeless, evil eyes now showing a very lively, very fearful stare.Fear, on the face of those that are supposed to go bump in the night. The creatures that have plagued this place for a while. This was more definitive than the backyard, it felt right, pure, like an actual victory. The Effigy began to hiss and spark, and as I held onto Isaac, all I could mouth to the entity, the girl, was one word.

“Gotchyah”.….As quick as I blinked my eyes, I found myself seated in the rolling chair in my security room. Immediately, I jumped up, and looked around. Everything was just as it had been. My leather jacket over the back of the chair, rifle and plate carrier against the wall. All the monitors showing their proper views. I swung open the door, this time, no power outages or mysterious fucking libraries barring me.

“ISAAC!! ROSANNE!!! JOHN?!”.

I looked around, Isaac was passed out on the couch, hat over his face. Rosanne turned in her chair towards me, a confused expression on her face: “Dwight?.... Are you alright?”.

I was speechless, I looked up, the afternoon sunlight was pouring through the windows, heavy snow built up at the edges. Something in me finally clicked I stormed over to the couch, Knocking Isaac’s cap off with my left hand, it then slapped him across the face as my right hand gripped my glock.

“W-Wha- Dwight?!” Isaac asked confused, rubbing his face. He let out a dry burp as he stood up, and I backed off.

“You possessed?” I asked, though my words seem to not click with him: “What?”. I stared down at him with a vengeance: “Are. You. Possessed?”.

Isaac noticed my hand on my gun, and held his hands up in surrender “Jesus man I know I might have demons, you know, alcoholism and shit, but they ain’t gonna kill you? Although some liquid courage might ease your nerves….”.

A hand on my left shoulder caused me to jump, backing up against the stairwell bannister. Rosanne, held her hands up, “Dwight. It’s over, alright…”.

However, I'm sad to say, it’s not.

We regrouped, reassessed, went over what the hell happened. About 23 hours have passed, and while Rosanne and I know what happened, Isaac barely does. No burn marks on my back, none on Isaac....John, however, is still gone.

I searched every god damn nook and cranny, but the kid is gone. However, Rosanne says she might have a solution, after spending time with, that thing, wherever we were for those short 23 hours.

She’s gone outside, says she needs to be in tune with the earth.

I guess that explains her fucking conservatory level of plants in her house. We’ve been gone for a few days so, I hope she fed and watered them in advance. Isaac says he doesn’t know what happened, but I’m not gonna be so quick to let him off the hook. Whether intentional or not, I don’t know the full extent of what happened.

I’ve barely had an hour or so to process everything. From those weird ass rooms, to the things to…. The dream. Barely enough time to really get a grasp-It doesn’t look like it will be getting it anytime soon either, a van just pulled up to the gate. And a very familiar, stocky european man waddled out of the snow up to the intercom: “Uh- Helo? Is ‘vis Cazamoth Estate? We got order for you, you order small armory!! Come!! Let us in!!”.

I’ve got to go…. Sort out however much gulf war lend lease Isaac purchased from these guys. Afterwards, we need to regroup with Rosanne and decide what to do next. John is still missing, and he’s out there, with whatever the source.

It’s time to end this.

This is Dwight Nolan, signing off. We'll be back