[Entry 12]
There’s a weird finality to this.
Not knowing what’s ahead, not knowing if anyone will ever see the words I’m typing into the now way over bloated notes doc on my phone-
Not knowing if John and Isaac made it out… Guess as cheesy as it sounds, this is where “Faith” comes in.
To me it’s not really faith in god, it’s more… Faith in… self?
I’m scattered brained, sorry.
What I’m trying to say is, this elevator has been going down for awhile. Dropped my kit to the side of me, along with my rifle, and I’ve kind of just been sitting back against the wall of the elevator.I don’t know how long it’s been, the clock on my phone’s been stuck at midnight. On the dot, never changing, midnight.
I’ve taken to consolidating what’s left, after that bum rush through the woods, the house, the chop shop-I’ve got 3 magazines of 5.56 (90 Rounds) inside some good old STANAG magazines, the metal ones you see mercenaries using in C list action movies. A single road flare, and one single incendiary grenade. I am officially up shit's creek with a fucking spork.
A bit of irony I realized is that regardless of all the 16 dollar a piece windowed mags I bought, I ended up just hammering the trigger, and full auto blasting my way into the depths of the house. You can try and make what you think is the most foolproof plan, but in the end, once adrenaline kicks you in the teeth you’re going for a ride….Adrenaline, yeah I’m starting to feel it wear off now.Blood in my hands is starting to slow down so they’re getting a bad case of the pins and needles, exhaustion is setting in…. Strangely though, I’m getting warmer. I thought it was just all the running but I realized that, before when I was running through the house above, I could see my breath in the cold air.
Now, not so much. Whether this means that either, this endless fucking elevator is about to drop right into the magma layer of the earth, or if we’re entering some area several thousand feet under the surface with air conditioned heating….. I don’t know….
She’s also been here the entire time, sitting against the left side wall just out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know if she’ll disappear if I try to talk to her, so I’ve just let her be. As much as she’s helped me, I still don’t know where she sits in all of this. This is her house, she told me that, but what’s it mean?
Was she kidnapped? Is she one of these things, just in disguise? Is she tricking me? I mean, no, probably not, she could have easily lead me to a room full of those fucking ghouls when we were back topside- semi topside….She’s led me the right way so far, guess I’ve got to have faith in my new found ally…..
Exhaustion was setting in again, I rubbed my eyes, my corneas feeling like they just went 10 rounds with a golden glove, the headache stopped but I still felt completely fried. It a haze, an infinitely traveling industrial elevator, the groaning of the gears, the cries as the probably decades old cable struggled to lower it without dropping and killing me… I needed to stay awake throughout it all, I couldn’t stop yet, I wasn’t done. Not yet, but almost.Then, through all the theorization, thoughts of finality, prepping my gear. I heard the winch get….. Slower. It started to groan as the decades old brake pads screeched in an attempt to slow the elevator so it’s poor, stupid, former-yet-still-somehow-just-as-jarhead inhabitant didn’t meet an anticlimactic end VIA dead drop.
“We’re heeeeere….” She sung in a low, melodic voice.
Correction, new found still just as creepy ally.
I pulled my kit over my t shirt, leaving my softshell jacket, slipping my head through and strapping it tight around my waist. I locked my weapon’s bolt to the rear, slapping one of my final three magazines in and slapping the release home. As I squared up with the mouth of the elevator, watching the rocky yet strangely metallic surface outside pass by slower and slower, I watched her come up to my left side out of the corner of my eye.
And to think not long ago she was trying to get my redneck friend to kill me. Guess the saying is true: "the enemy of my enemy will help me salt and fucking burn them".
The elevator shook as we reached our final destination, with an electronic buzz the cage doors of the elevator were pulled open to reveal… it.
The yellow, dying overhead lights of the elevator did little to help illuminate the area. I was able to see about 10 meters out into the area, and I could make out a few details. Firstly, the floor was made of a dark metal square tile pattern, that seemed to stretch off well past the black void that bathed the area.
Secondly, the black void itself. That’s exactly what it was. An Impermeable, impenetrable wall of fucking absolute black that shrouded the area as far as I could see, as far as however big this fucking chasm stretched, and no matter how many minutes I stood there for, remember the natural cateye I mentioned earlier? Yeah, well, my eyes never seemed to adjust to it….
And lastly… I think it was a chasm at least, the echo of our elevator dead stopping and shaking seemed to echo out for….. Awhile. Hell even as I finished pondering this shit, I could still here the metal shake of it continuing to bounce off however far the walls went.
I’ll bet you five bucks if this isn’t hell, it sure as shit looks reeeal fucking similar….I was gonna need some light, I tried to turn on the surefire light I had attached to my rifle’s rail- nothing.
Guess all the getting thrown into a wall, through the wall, and off a fucking balcony by a god damn ogre must’ve shortened the warranted lifetime on it. Regardless I still had one more source of light.
I slung my rifle to my front as I reached to my back pocket, and pulled out the road flare twisting the cap off, it hissed as a burst of bright red light came from the top. Voices in the darkness hissed and roared out, sounding like they were at first just at the edge of the fucking black veil, immediately starting to back up with slapping, bare feet. Holding the grip of my rifle in my right hand, I held the road flare high with my left hand, and proceeded forwards.
The room was as I described, gigantic, truth be told I still don’t know how high it was.I got about twenty meters into the area before I was greeted with several large, cage like walls. Locked and bolted into the floor, they shot upwards to a ceiling that was too far for even the flare to illuminate. They were metal, with small slits, big enough to fit some fingers or part of a hand through, the kind of caging you’d use on cattle cars.
One segment shot leftwards, another, rightwards, both met in the middle where they created about a ten meter wide path, leading forwards. I gazed at the floor, in worn yellow lettering it read;
“ADMINISTRATION”, a yellow line at the mouth of the path was drawn just above it.
I stepped past the line, and immediately I heard the voices, not laughing or mocking this time, but roaring in anger and spite. A set of footsteps to might right came barreling towards me, and Immediately I pivoted.
The cage wall shook as, in between the narrow slits, I could see a large figure, slimey, silver body, shoving it’s bloated hand through in a vain attempt to get to me. It didn’t work. It just grabbed onto the cage, and shook it, roaring into the air.
My instincts caused me to pivot towards the thing, aiming my rifle, yet the voice in the back of my mind reminded me that I only had 90 rounds.
So I’ll admit, I stood there, flare in one hand, rifle aimed, and- I laughed.
“Well….. Sucks to fuckin’ suck….” ala’ ol' Sergeant Walker.
This must have angered the creature, because all it did was shake the cage violently. Then, another one from the left side crashed into it’s cage wall, and began shaking it, then, another one on the right side. The shaking of metal was so loud, I started to become unable to hear myself think, as a chorus of malicious voices and steel came raining down-“Dwight…” the girl’s mind reached through that sea of laughs and cackles and pulled me back to the surface. I gazed down the walkway where she stood. She turned to her right and pointed down the path into the darkness.
“Keep going…” She was right, at least for now, they weren’t gonna be hurting anybody. For now.I continued down the path, and more and more of then continued to jump on the cage walls. The darkness became thinner and thinner as I walked down it, and all the while, they yelled their evil fucking threats at me.
“WE WILL WEAR YOUR SKIN!!!”.
The further I went, the more I could see the end of the path. The red flickering light of the road flare revealed a set of metal double doors built into a metal wall looking just like the floor. Albeit, looking much more aged with the reflective surface worn and aged.
“DO NOT HURT US!!!”.
No windows on the doors, a simple knob on each of them, “ADMINISTRATION” written across both in faded yellow paint.
“DD-WIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!”.
“NOLANNOLANNOLAOLANOLAN!!!!!” .
I was getting really fucking tired of them saying my name.
“WE WILL MAKE IT LONG AND AGONIZING!!!”.
And then, when I was barely feet from the door.
They stopped.
I honestly paused because I believed all of the years of combat had finally caught up to me and made me go death. It was at this point I realized I was still wearing my walker headphones. I pulled one muff off and gazed around.
They were still there, their beady eyes staring daggers into me, but they stopped attacking the cage wall. They instead back off slowly, and quietly. I looked back to the door. Months of fighting, searching, investigating, hundreds of rounds expended…. And, here it was.
“ADMINISTRATION”.
I placed my bets now on whether or not Isaac was right on it being an eldritch horror.
I did NOT want to have to pay him 25 bucks if I somehow made it out of this.
Keeping the flare still held tight, I broke off a few fingers to reach for the nob-“STOP!!!!” her voice echoed as she jumped in front of the door, causing me to back off a few paces as she stood there. I was more surprised by how fast she moved, or more likely, appeared, her voice was still echoing-Wait.
She only talks to me directly to my head. She never says anything out loud.
“Do not look upon it…” she said, pressing her back to the door.
Now I’m fairly confident she’s some sort of paranormal being, whether it be a ghost, demon, or…. Something else. So, it made me pause for a second and realize she was saying this with very real fear in her voice.We stared at each other, she continued to block the way defiantly, as my mouth paused, waiting for my mind to come up with a response.
“Why?”.
She withdrew one of her arms to point at me- no, behind me. I slowly turned around, fully expecting this to be the moment where she double crossed me, and a demon from the depths of whatever magma layer hell we were in would jump out and end me.
Instead, I saw them again.
The eyes. The sea of eyes all staring through the gaps in the cage wall, white with beady pupils. The eyes that had been watching me for a while now, all the way up to this. I looked back to her, she continued to point, refusing to tell me what the hell she was trying to say, and I looked back, the eyes continued to stare.
“What?-” I yelled, looking back to her “They’re staring, so what?”.
Again, she refused to answer me, instead pulling her arm back to block the door. I continued to stand there, dumbfounded. So what? They were staring, with those beady eyes, unnatural…. Twisted, deformed, changed.... eyes.....
They stared upon it.
They all did.
The cogs finally started to work in my head again as I put the pieces together. The house, the lab, the fucking chop shop. The thing that changed them, cut them up, forced them to be these disgusting, evil things, and locked them down here to throw them at whoever it wanted next. They knew they weren’t going to get out of the cage, they didn't want to. They were trying to scare me away.
What’s that saying? Gaze long enough into the abyss, and the abyss gaze back.
Stare at the dense of the forest long enough, and it will fucking take you.
I tossed the flare behind me, bouncing and sputtering as it hit the floor. I turned back to the door, and like always, she was gone. I gripped the doorknob, my heart rate skyrocketed as my left hand shook.
“Don’t look upon it” I thought...... so.. what? Close my eyes? Fuckin’ yeah sure, great idea, charge into the belly of the beast with my eyes closed and three mags. She was probably leading me into a trap, but she did warn me, but, maybe it was just all bullshit to get me to go running at it with my eyes actually fucking closed like a god damn mongoloid.
Or maybe it wasn’t. She’s led me right this far.....I gotta have faith in her, I guess.....I slowed my breathing, shaking my head as I turned the knob, and kicked open the door with my eyes closed. My hand shot to the angled grip on my rifle, clenching it through the gloves and pulling it tight into the pocket on my shoulder.
It was dark, I could see the red light of the flare illuminating the back edges of my eyelids for a few seconds. Then getting dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer- then, disappearing as I heard the double doors close.It was quiet. Not silent, but quiet.
With my vision now more or less gone, my other senses started to come into play.
First, hearing. I could hear the ambient noises of what I think were, hospital monitors. A low, but steady beep of a heart monitor and others were several meters in front of me, the small echoing of it bounced off the walls, kind of giving me an idea of how big the room was.
It wasn’t as big as the outside, but it wasn’t a fucking closet either. Maybe 30 meters by 30, give or take.
Next, smell.
I’ve had the privilege of being able to bitch about smelling a lot of shit in my life.
Literal shit.
Metaphorical shit.
Ethical shit....
Burning rubber, burning human waste, burning flesh, the kind of stuff to cut up the inside of your nostrils and send your mind reeling from the stench.
This was worse. Way fucking worse. I physically cringed as I breathed a bit in, like an ancient fucking corpse was dug out of a mass grave, shit on, and set on fire with no kerosene. I felt like I was inhaling several tons of fiber glass, and the iron-y taste that followed told me it had made my nose bleed.
And yet, despite whatever my other senses told me about this place. Nothing responded to my loud entrance into the room. I stood there, holding my current position as I wasn’t being physically attacked. Yet. And too afraid to move forward for fear of whatever it was that was just paces ahead of me, would chew me up, spit me out, and possess my corpse.Like it had done to all the others, everyone who looked at it, met its eyes in the forest, in this house, in this metal tomb. Everyone it had taken from their families, killed, kidnapped- worse. "Don't open your fucking eyes Dwight" I repeated in my head.
And it just stood there, eyeing me. I could tell it was watching me. I knew it was. It had to be.My face was twitching with anger, with anticipation, I pulled the stock of my rifle so tight into my shoulder I think I could have popped it out of its socket. This was a standstill, a stand off, both sides waiting for one to make the move. All the emotion, all the anger finally boiled over as I opened my mouth, trying to get the words out-“COME ON OUT!!!!”. A rushed, aggressive response, but under the circumstances I think I could be excused for not being my usual cruse-word-smithy self. It bounced off the walls as my mind quickly rushed to see what It could make of the echolocation.
Nothing.
No words, no response, no army of demons rushing out to tear me apart. Just the long, drawn out beeping. I just my rifle at the darkness in front of me, unable to see if there was a smiling cheshire creature in front of me, or absolutely nothing, and again, I spoke; “I’m RIGHT HERE!!!! ”.
Nothing.
As a gesture to show I was serious, I flicked my selector switch to semi. The click, to me, was instinctually burned into my mind to tell me “It’s about to go down”. The small click, the mechanical safeguard taken off the weapon meant that 3lbs of force was all it needed to go off.
What I’m getting at is- it’s the international sign for “I’m about to shoot your fucking head off”.
And, still, nothing. I stood there, finger hovering over the trigger well, knowing I had 90 rounds. 90 shots to make count, no resupply, no armored car to go grab a can of loose rounds from. Nothing. Three mags, one rifle, and a historically aggressive trigger fingerer behind it all.
“I’M RIGHT HERE!!!!! STOP HIDING!!!!!.....”
Nothing.
“I’m gonna burn your god damn haunted forest and haunted fucking house to ASH!!!”.
Nothing.
“Come the FUCK!! OU-”.
“Dwight Anthony Nolan”.
The voice was off, like most shit here, but it was a different kind of off. It sounded male, and female, and young, and old at the same time. Like, multiple people were speaking in unison, but not as a group, just- merged together….Then, it spoke again. It broke up its sentences as different voices spoke different parts. An Old man would say one portion, a young female would say another. All of which sounded all too calm, angelically so.
“Former United States-
ᴀʀᴍʏ ꜱᴛᴀꜰꜰ ꜱᴇʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ.
𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝖎𝖓,
ChiCaGo-
served ten years before-
ＣａｌＬｉｎＧ Ｉｔ ＱｕＩｔＳ.
𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕖𝕕 a several ThoUsAnd DoLlaR-
fixed rate contract to Cazamoth Industries in an attempt to-
ᴊᴜᴍᴘ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ᴅʏɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴍᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴀʀʏ”.
it sounded like different opinions of me all mashed together, some praising me, others mocking me, but everything they said....was true.
How the fuck did they know my middle name?
My fucking payrate?
“Awarded the 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽 𝟤𝟢𝟣1-".
How the fuck?
"-for ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ K̸̟̺̹̥̖̟̭̋̔̌̽͜a̴̛͍̗̦̠̯̼̘̤͒̏̉̃̐̀͛̉̂ͅn̴̢̦̺̽̎͌͠ͅd̶̲̻̣̣͙͙́͂̽̃́̐̕͝ͅą̵̡̡̤̮̖̟̓̐́̈́̈́̓̈́͒͐h̵̯́͝a̸̗͖͎̱͇̤̋̀̔̑̇r̷̬̭͓͓͇̟̺̱̿ͅͅ ̴̗̦̣̜͔̝̎͘͠Ḅ̷̧̳̺̞̤̳̠̲͇̓͐́͠o̴͈̹͉̙͍̣͐͛͆͆́̚͝Ŕ̷̡̨̟̘͚̻̲̥̹͆͘͘͝d̴̨̜̭̭͇̜̭͍͙̓̾̃͌͋̑ͅĖ̶̢̝̬̤̄r̷͙̻̫̐͌͜͝, and ʎɔuɐlƆ ʇuɐǝɓɹǝS ǝʌɐs oʇ ɓuılıɐℲ.Offered a spot at the United States Army Ranger-...-”.
"-Alright I fucking get it”.
The sudden interruption silenced them, and we stood there. They were coming from my immediate front, maybe 10 meters away, maybe twenty, with the amount of echo in the air, it was hard to tell. My eyes were closed, but I could feel whatever it was staring back.
“Ｄｏｅｓ ｉｔ- 𝐵𝑜𝒯𝒽𝐸𝓇 𝒴𝑜𝒰, Dwight, knowing you could not- S̷a̷v̷e̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷m̷, a̴n̴y̴ ̴o̴f̴ ̴t̴h̴e̴m̴-”.
The question was piercing, meant to rile me up, but I could feel it wasn’t about the people in my unit that were killed, but- the people in the forest.
Fine, you want to throw shots, ‘two to tango: “Does it excite you every time you take one of them from their families? Every single time someone gets ripped out of their homes and turned into whatever the fuck is in that formerly human cattle pen outside, does it get you off?.....”.
Silence.
“Well?....”.
More fucking silence,“Say something, God DAMMIT!!!”.
“....No”.
I still don't know if it was answering my question, or being snide.It spoke in the voice of Merkel, from the gun store in town; “‘zhe fores’ iz a dangerous place, ‘Dwight”.
Then, the voice of the old woman from the manor, Candice, “Hundreds of Thousands of people go missing every year, sweetie. Many of these are taken by the old and hungry forces that lay within-”.
Then, in John’s voice, “Call me calculating, call me-”,then in Theodore’s voice, “Eccentric. But I knew that when my wife went missing, I needed to do something…”.“..... Theodore?”.
Then, in the voice of one of the southern sheriffs from the town, “Not quite. Your boss, Theodore, he knows, exactly, what to expect when he arrived here. He has known for awhile. He knew about all the workers he was sending to their deaths trying to build that-”.
Then in Isaac’s voice, “Overblown log cabin right in the middle of witches alley. He also knew exactly what he was doing throwing you into the woods with a-”.
Then, Gareth’s voice, “.308 bolt action and a shitty four wheeler”.
Then, in Rosanne’s voice, “We feel bad for you Dwight, hun. we really do. However, I know you’ve saw the missin' on that board. You know full bloody well that many more people are lost to this-”.
Then, in the voice of the mother from the bar, Danny’s Mother, Misses Hothfield, “I tried to scare you off, show you that what’s happening here is bigger than you, but you wouldn’t listen. The forest is a sea of forces, you can’t stop, you can’t battle, you can only hope to control..”.
Then, back to Theodore’s voice, “Theodore said I was crazy. I told him I could do it, but he said I was on a fools errand. It cost me everything, my mind, my spirit, my body- my Daughter…”. The last comment confused me, up until I felt the girl wrap her arm around my left leg. It was starting to make sense. Her House.
This was getting long winded, it was getting clearer, yet confusing at the same time. Some things made sense, some didn’t, some still don’t. “A sea of forces”, yeah there’s a lot of weird shit in the woods, but to do this, do what it had done to those people in that cage back there.... What did it mean by, “Control” ?.
“Just- Stop. Fucking rambling, stop trying to spout some exposition or spin a narrative. You lost someone, I’ve lost someone, everyone has here. Yes people go missing every god damn day, but to do….-” I knifehanded back towards the doors “THAT- to people? To do ALL OF THIS?!”.
“It’s a…. necessity-”.
“It’s fucking inexcusable, you son of a bitch!!”.
The voices began to change to those I didn’t know, every other word now.
“𝚆𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎,
𝔀𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮,
ｂａｄ ｈａｎｄ,
Bad Luck, 𝕯𝖜𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙…..
It’s an evil that ｍｕｓｔ be done,
that 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 be kept beneath the surface,
lest hungry men like 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕠𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥….”.
“Well I guess you've fucking failed, haven't you? All it took was a washed up staff sergeant, a redneck, and a british paranormalist a couple of months to figure you out”.
“You’re- 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓭,
Motivated-
ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ.
You- ᵖᵉʳˢᵉᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ.
Yₒᵤ'ᵣₑ DᵢFfₑᵣₑₙₜ.
You act like a ΉΣЯӨ.
the type of man to, 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂, of all of, 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼….."
A loud buzz rang out ass it said:
"It’s the same reason, ¥ðµ mµ§† rêålïzê, I-𝓒𝓐𝓝'𝓣, let. ʏᴏᴜ. l̸̛̝̝̖̹̲͎͐̉̆̽͌͠e̴̬͆́̒͛̀͐͘̚͝a̵͚̪̠̬̪̘̞͑̉v̶̛̺̈́̿̔͗̄̓̆ͅȇ̸̢͕̤̼͈̻̰̖ ”.
My throat ran dry making it hard to swallow after it said that. My hands started to sweat inside the mechanix gloves as I continued to try to zero in with closed eyes on it.
“You said it yourself-"...
It then changed to my god damn voice: “This is it. This is the end. I hope I’ll be back”.
How did it know? Did it surf the fucking web? Had it heard everything I said? how….
“𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾,
no one will- 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎,
what’s out really here.
Theodore will never, find the 𝒯𝑅𝒰𝒯𝐻!!!
𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢- he will- 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 it.
The Cabin, will- B̷̛͖̮̀͌̐̌̇͝͠͠É̵̜̕ ̴̡̧̝̲̦̼͇͎͒͌̀̀̋B̷͔̖͕̖̒̅̄̀̇͂͋͗͝U̵̢͉̰̱͔͎̒̆Ŗ̵̧̛͓̱͍͖͕̟̘̬̋̍̂͊̍́̄̕͝Ṅ̴̪̗͉͚́̕͘͠Ê̸̻͉͎̜̱̒̆Ḍ̴̜͆̎͗̒̑͋͠!!!
Your, 𝐹𝓇𝐼𝑒𝒩𝒟𝓈, will be, ᗡɘVɒꙄ,
and- nobody will ᵉᵛᵉʳ find out what happened to-
ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ʜɪʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ”.
Then, a sound that felt a lot more nerve wracking this time sent a chill up my spin, as from beyond the double doors, the things began to attack the cage wall again. Except this time, not in a smothered, reeled in attempt to scare me away.
-But in an intentional way, jumping at it, pulling and shaking at it, throwing their heavy bodies against the cage walls in an attempt to break them down…. And get to me.The chorus of screams and noises were muffled behind the door, but they wouldn’t be for much longer. I didn’t know where the fuck it was, how far it was, but I knew that if it was infront of me. The echoing, the sounds, all came, as directly in front as I could make out.
A while ago I said, while waiting for Rosanne and Isaac in that up armored battle wagon, that I feared of becoming another casualty. Another name on the memorial wall, another missing sign up on that cork board. Taken, killed, gone missing, turned inside out, cut up, thrown into the high branches of a tree, into a canyon, found in pieces, not found at all. Disposed, forgotten, erased.All of the work we had done to get here, all of the fighting to get to the bottom of this, a pointless waste as an army of demons now fought to get out of their cage to tear me limb from limb, and a horror at the center of it all, that I couldn’t even gaze eyes upon it.
This entire thing was just a bad hand, but I’ve been playing it ever since the start.I wasn’t gonna let the story end like this, this wasn’t gonna be where the road ends. 65 names alone on that missing persons board, some dating back years, others just days ago, let alone the thousands that go missing every fucking day, all because of some…. Fight, struggle, some sad little game we’re stuck in the middle of..…. Fuck. That.
For what I hoped wasn’t the last time,
Auto.
A burst of 5.56 shot out from my barrel, the muzzle flash could be seen even with my eyes closed, giving me some sense of positioning. The horde behind me continued to try and break through, as the voices in front simply continued to scold me.
“It’s ᵘˢᵉˡᵉˢˢ- ѕтσρ ƒιgнтιηg!!!! I know you, 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙖- ᖇEᔕT".
I adjusted my stance, trying to make sure I wasted as little rounds as possible. I raised my weapon again. This time, I held down on the trigger, and rode the fucking lightning. My poor fucking ‘15, god knows how much carbon and gunk had built up inside of it firing mag after mag, but it pulled through.
KLINK- My bolt locked to the rear after the last round, I dropped the mag hearing the empty piece of metal bounce off the floor, and slapped a now one in and sent the bolt home.
“Şt໐p!!!! You- C̳a̳N̳'̳T̳ ̳W̳i̳N̳!̳!̳!̳!̳”.The voices continued to yell as defiantly as ever, but a little birdie reassured me….“They’re scared- Keep going, Hurry!!!!”.
Another burst of automatic fire as my rifle spewed 30 all american demon killing tungsten 5.56 rounds into whatever laid beyond. The mashing and groaning of metal from beyond the doors had increased, and gotten louder, as dozens, hundreds, thousands of them now tried to escape….The bolt locked to the back, again- but, there was still light coming from beyond my eyelid. My muzzle wasn’t firing…. It was coming from beyond.
“ꜱᴛᴏᴘ!!!!! DWIGHT!!!!- ʂTOP!!!!!”.
Whatever I was firing at, I was hurting it, burning whatever was around it. I hoped to whatever god existed as I slapped my last mag in, and hit the bolt release.By now, the things outside of the room had gotten louder, more violent, enraged. I could hear the cage walls groaning and bending even inside of the thick double doors.
The voices cried out, “YoU Don’t- ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ- D̶O̶I̶N̶G̶!!!”.The girl cheered me on, “We’re almost there, Hurry!!!”.Last magazine, Last burst of full auto, last try. I shouldered my rifle, and held my breath. My rifle’s muzzle was now smoking as I could smell the scent of gunpowder and smoke coming off my weapon. I pulled the trigger and began to dump my last 30 rounds into the demon that laid beyond my eyelids- As whatever I had done to it caused the fire infront to get louder, and louder, as the breaking off glass, crashing of equipment could be heard-KLINK
Empty. I stood there, breathing heavily as I continued to be squared up with my empty, now useless, rifle.
Then, the voices.....began to laugh, I- I fucked up? I failed? 90 rounds at 900 shots per minute to make count, full auto into whatever was ahead of me, and I.... didn’t have enough to put it away. One rifle, one shot at stopping this, gone. Zip, done.As the dread of it all set in, the voices outside grew louder as the breaking of bolts, and the crashing of metal could be heard. They were nearly there…… This was it, I had failed. So much preparation, so much attempts, all boiled down to nothing. No more rounds, no more guns, no more….Wait, I had one last thing.
One last ace up my sleeve.I dropped my rifle hearing the 6ishlbs of weaponry hit the floor, I slid my right hand to my back right side of my kit, and pulled out a container. A cylinder. Running my hands over the orange diamond on the front of it, I knew what it was.
AN - M14. An incendiary grenade. Filled with phosphorus, benzene, and a whole lot of hate…. We used to torch equipment, down vehicles, not meant to explode, just heat up and cause enough fire to burn through fucking anything, even able to burn under-fucking-water.It was my last shot…. I don’t know what laid ahead, but from the burning I saw underneath my lids, I knew this would do something. Put it away, even if it meant the ghouls behind me would lay waste to my ass afterwards. John would be safe, Isaac would keep him safe, Rosanne would tell the world of the fucking truth.
The sounds of the cage wall segments falling to the floor, followed by the manic screams of it, awoke me from my pondering. With one last determined exhale, I gripped the spoon tight, and pulled the pin.
“DWᵢGₕₜ!!!!!-ᵈʷⁱᵍʰᵗ, Dwight- STOP!!!!!!”.
I don’t know how high the room was, but I could tell from it hitting whatever ceiling was above, I had thrown it far enough, hopefully The sound of the cylinder bouncing off the metal roof, then the floor, and then floor again, until-The hissing. The phosphorus, whether white or red, I didn’t check, I didn’t care- both would work. I could see the flare from the top of the grenade, it made contact with whatever laid beyond, and I heard their screams.Young, old, adult, child, male, female- it cycled through all the people it had taken, some I knew, many I didn’t. Growing louder than the screams behind me, as they began to pound on the door.
The fire ahead grew larger, and larger, the orange hue beyond my eyelids flashed purple, then orange, then fucking green.
“You- 𝐹𝒰𝒞𝒦𝐸𝒟 ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ UP!!!!”.
“They’ll- 𝒯𝐻𝐸𝒴'𝐿𝐿... y̾o̾u̾ ̾k̾i̾l̾l̾e̾d̾ ̾t̾h̾e̾m̾ ̾a̾l̾l̾”.
The voices began to melt into the sea of screams, as the sounds of the crackling got louder. The footsteps behind me grew louder, and and for a moment. The sound seemed to pause. Before an explosion, a climax, the pressure of the moment implodes and builds up.
Oxygen is sucked in and, for a moment, there’s a pause.Right before the grenade goes off.... the trigger is pulled before a shot.... before the fighting truly begins or ends, there’s a moment of clarity.
It reached out to me, trying in one last vain attempt, in the voice of Sergeant Clancy:"D҉W҉I҉G҉H҉T҉!҉!҉!҉!҉!҉!҉"
In that moment, that at the time seemed like forever. Letting myself be taken, preparing for the end, looking into the void that had taken control of my life for so many months, caused so much death, so much pain..... I answered back to it’s pleas with one, single, phrase: “Gotchyah”.
And then, I was blown back. Whether all of the equipment I had heard from the beeping had erupted, whether or not it was the smell in the air mixing with the phosphorus, I- a 200lb man, felt myself thrown back by the sheer force of it all.
On a convoy through the box, one of our vics was hit, and the gunner was thrown out after his harness link had broken. He survived, a bit banged up, but he described the descent as a rollercoaster without the safety.
My back slammed into the double doors, my back plate slammed into me, and the bolt and knobs were probably blasted off as I found myself flying backwards. I landed square on my shoulders, flipping over and rolling- I don’t know, it could have been a few feet, it could have been a mile....My eyes remained shut, whether or not I wanted them open.
And then.
Silence.
No beeping, no laughing, no voices, no giggling, no haunted reminders of my past, no demonic shape shifting vocal cords from the darkness beyond.
Just, silence.
My body ached as consciousness returned to me. I cringed, the headache from earlier returned, this time it had gotten promoted to a fucking migraine. My back screamed, my legs felt heavy, and it took all of the force I had to try and push myself to my feet- but my body gave out.I collapsed right back down onto my god damn face, got a healthy serving of whatever fucking disease infected shit was on that floor too.....There was a small orange hue beyond my closed eyes at the edges, and I could hear the growing sound of crackling flames. The smell had gone, the things had gone. It was just me, laying face down, front plate now digging into my ribcage and throat, blowing out spit and blood from my mouth as I laid face down…..“Thank you….”.
There she was. Whether a figment of my concussed imagination, or here in the ethereal flesh…. I wasn’t alone, not yet.
“They’re gone…. My house is empty. Thank you….”.
Her slow, melodic voice helped to ease the battle of adrenaline and pain currently slugging it out in a painful bare knuckle match inside my body.
Using my right hand I forced myself to flip over, coughing up various substances as I breathed easier with my lungs no longer being crushed. My eyes were still closed, my hand rubbed the crusted blood and spittle off them, as I remained hesitant to open them. Was this a trick? Had it survived and used her voice to lure me. Had I really won?
“You can rest now…. It’s okay…..”.
I gritted my teeth as I attempted to sit up. Instead my abs just screamed out in pain as I fought to get up.I had to get up, I had to get out.... I had to…..
Ah screw it.
The KLANG of my backplate hitting the floor with all of me behind it echoed throughout the area. I lifted my head up slightly to spit a hard looge, clearing my mouth, as I finally laid right back down, my right hand now holding my chest as I stayed there….All of the fighting, all of the pain, all of the runs to town, all of the gunshots, all of the scares, sightings in the woods, hours of lost sleep, redbulls, weeks spent on investigation….. Done.
Gone. Finished. All of the fighting to stay awake ended as, it was done. 34 years of age was finally catching up to me.... Exhaustion, weariness... My mind panicked at first... Was this it? Was I going to die? Go into a coma and then die? What was going to happen?
I couldn't move, I couldn't get up, I.... I finally just, let myself go. Guess I could rest now.Isaac was safe, John was safe, All of them….And then, as the crackling of fire began to sound out in the distance, I let the darkness take me.....
“Nolan-”.
I jolted awake in my plane seat, knocking off my old grey digi-camo(UCP/ACU) patrol cap onto the floor in front of me. I rubbed my eyes with the meat of my palm as I looked around.
What....had happened?
Just a few minutes ago I was on death’s door, sucking up and blowing out blood, with most of my body so shot to hell I could barely breathe without feeling like one of my own ribs was prison shanking me…And now, here I was. Isle side seat of the middle section of a large delta airliner, near the very back of the plane. Wearing now out of service ACUs, a light buzz, and…. An M16 in between my legs. Hold on….I surveyed the plane around me, it was nearly empty, most of the personnel who’d been riding had taken their things and left. Flight Attendants were now cleaning up between the isles as the last few officers made their way out of the side exit at the far end of the plane...
Leaving just me, and the one and only.
Sergeant Walker.
“Started tah’ think you were a corpse, heh….. Jeysus’, box really did a number on you didn’t it? Well? Get yer’ shit we’ve got to get off…” Walker heaved a large assault packed stuff with different equipment, snacks, and things he’d taken on with him, a spare barrel bag and M4 strapped to the side MOLLE.
He didn’t look older than when I last saw him, well over 10 years ago. His deep, gravely “geojan” accented still sounded in it’s prime too….I quickly scrambled for my PC, slapping it on my head as I pulled my carry on from the top compartment and pulled it on, “Yeah gotcha, Roger Sergeant”.
Walker scoffed.
“What you actin’ all weird on me now? Heh, you wanna be all robot how about you shave your fuckin face!!” Walker crudely quipped as I slung my M16. I fired back, “Technically we aren’t back in the states yet Sergeant-”.
“The Fuck, How so?!”.
“Technically this airliner counts as international airspace, so until we’re boots down outside of the plane….”.
“Technically I should smack your smart ass mouth, Heh. Come on, lets get the fuck outta this hotbox…”.
We squeezed past stragglers and flight staff as we made our way down the plane, and god, it was like 2011 was just yesterday. The plane was stuffy after transporting well over 200 disgruntled, frustrated, burnt out american warriors back across the atlantic, it smelled of sweat, pain, and nicotine that technically wasn’t allowed on the flight…. What was this?Whether I refused to think about it, or couldn’t…. I kept playing along: “God I am fuckin’ hungry”.
Walker cackled: “Tellin’ me? God I want a fuckin’ steak right now…. Medium Rare- nah yah know what? Rare, so bloody it’s still fuckin’ live ”.
I raised an eyebrow, “Trying to get food poisoning Sarn’t? ”.
The old E7 went off: “Listen after all of the bullets whizzing, motar ducking, ten minutes of sleep, eating 5 year old skittles because the army couldn’t send us better supplies, digging ranger graves only to move 20 meters to the left anyways- fuckery….. If a steak kills me Nolan, feel free to write ‘Fuckhead’ on my gravestone. Nah better yet, just dump me in a Koi pond…”.
“-Don’t forget almost overturning a Maxxpro because we let a technically legally blind person drive it?-” I quipped.
Walker stopped dead in his tracks and jutted a finger at me: “That was the fuckin’ PL’s idea, not mine. ‘S What happens when you give fuckin’ military command to a drop out with an associates….”.
As much as he reamed and shit talked our valiant 1st Lieutenant, he still showed the sir nothing but respect, and both of them worked cohesively.... when they were'nt bickering like a married couple.
We dodged an attendant beginning to vacuum the floor as one of the pilots tipped his hat, shaking hands with us before we proceeded to the door.
“You gonna quit drinkin’ yet, Dwight?” I couldn’t smother the wheeze that came afterwards, “Sergeant I said I was sorry for your truck…”. Turns out he didn’t forget about our last platoon barbecue.
“Sorry doesn’t clean the inside of a door, Staff Sergeant… Come on, let’s get this welcome home shit done and eat”.
I pulled my assault pack up a bit as we rounded the corner, the bright sunlight blinding me so much I had to shield my eyes. “So, no Battalion ball then?”.
“Fuck no, we’re takin’ the kids ta’ ‘steakhouse ”.
Didn’t have a comeback because the light from the outside was brighter than I originally thought, way brighter. So much so I had to start blinking to adjust my eyes, and yet, my memory didn’t proceed how I remembered.
Instead of a crowd of families greeting their soldiers, husbands and wives, fathers, mothers, and their kids, or even the humming of the plane’s engines as they cooled down…. I heard birds…. and the wind?
This was odd because I remember the Family Readiness Group was playing some stock patriotic music on a loud speaker, so loud I could barely hear Walker…. And why would there be birds in the middle of a busy airport?
My eyes finally obeyed me as I commanded them to open, yet, instead of a new york airport, surrounded by our fellow americans welcoming us home…. I was in a shack. At least, I thought it was a shack. The sunlight was coming from several broken and cracked windows to my right, the walls and ceiling were made of chipped planks that had hints of old blue and pink paint on them… hold up…This wasn’t the shack, it was a house.
The house.
My body was suddenly flushed with adrenaline as I shot up, albeit at the speed of a Parkinson's patient, and still sore. I was back in the small kids room of the very upstairs opening of the sunken house, everything is as I last seen it. Items knocked to the side as I rushed into the house, the bed I was laying on was aimed crooked because of so….The pack of cigarettes I left on the window sill was still there, albeit frosted over from spending the night out there... was it even only a night?
I scanned the room, and saw a few things; The doorway I used to get into the deeper reaches of the house had now completely collapsed in on itself.
Guess the house’s structural integrity started to come apart with all the door kicking, floor breaking running and gunning from last night. Regardless, I wasn’t in the mood to go back down there.
Not anymore…Don’t know how long I was out for, still don’t. My phone read 11:37am, but I felt way too fresh and healed to have been just ten hours after. My face still bore some scars of the previous night, blood all across my face, with my shoulders aching from that fall in the library and shouldering my ‘15, but apart from that…. I was able to walk.
My rifle, kit, assault pack, hell even my fucking jacket and now broken oakleys were laying neatly placed on the bed. Pulling myself to my feet, and slipping my gear on, I scanned the room again, failing to see her if she even was here. Before I left I kicked the bed back to how it was originally placed, and took one last, longing stare into the house before I made my way out….The deep snow of the outside had begun to thaw and melt as I breathed in the cold, yet crisp and clean air of the forest. It still felt ominous, even with the midday sun beating down, I still as if behind every tree, every rock, and every seemingly empty part of it laid an assailant ready to pounce on me.
Not like I could do anything though…. No more magazines, no more rounds…. Just an empty rifle and a broken ass body that should have stopped doing this shit years ago…Surprisingly my azimuth watch still worked, though it took a bit of caveman slapping and swearing to get it to turn back on. I flipped through the one preset cords I had, pointing back south in the direction of the Cazamoth Estate.
And, after one last stare into the silent, ominous clearing….. I limped back home.
The walk was slow, agonizing, yet at the same time calming, and fulfilling. My mind went over the past few months. All the firefights, all the mock exorcisms…. Then, last night. What it had said.
Can’t beat the woods, only control it. You can mag dump into the darkness as much as you want but you’ll never kill it. You can’t kill what can’t be touched, but it sure as shit can touch and kill you. Kidnap you, drag you away to an underground lair for the sake of the greater good and saving people…..And Theodore knew it. All of it. Theodore called it crazy…. Guess we can agree on something there, but he knew something. He knew, he fucking knew, he avoided saying it in the house, he basically admitted it in the car…. but, it also said he didn't know 'The truth'?
I must’ve looked like a crackhead walking through those woods. Spitting, muttering, shaking my head and talking to myself as I walked and looked around out of sheer paranoia....I was so concerned with Theodore, I barely noticed my old pathfinder friend as I rounded a tree corner…..The same man who had given me needed guidance when the chips were down, now squared up to me, meeting my tired, beaten up gaze with his own.
The Native.
It was around this time, I realized we were about the same size, albeit he looked much more in shape than I did. I didn’t take the time to ask him his exact height measurements though as we engaged in what was the most tense ten minutes of my life. He held something between a scowl and a grimace, the war paint reflecting the sun off his skin.
Had he come to finish me off? Was he expecting something from me? I wouldn’t be able to defend myself, I was at maybe 5% and had an unloaded rifle…..He simply looked me in my eyes, saying so much without ever moving his mouth.... and after what felt like hours, he nodded. Without ever having spoken to him, knowing jack shit about him, I knew what it meant.I nodded back, a mutual “Thank you”.
And like that, for the first time, he turned and walked off. Not vanishing into midair or melting into the wind, but, melting into the forest. The dark, cracked wood of the trees and old leaves hanging desperately onto their branches, covered by frost and snow, seemed to merge with his back as he faded into the horizon…..The sound of footsteps crunching towards me broke me from my trance, and I found myself looking into the barrel of a gun. Specifically, the Glock 17 I had loaned Rosanne the night before.
Now staring back at me….Does this fall under the Irony category or?....
“Don’t you fucking move…” She muttered, standing on top of a small mound of dirt, she had the high ground and the superior firepower advantage. How the tables have turned, Dwight. I exhaled a puff of hot air as my left hand rubbed my temples with my hand, dropping it to my side.
“So….. you gonna shoot me for being a chronic asshole, or?-” Rosanne cut me off.
“You were down there, for twelve hours. Twelve, Dwight…. So give me a sign that it’s you before I use your way of dealing what could be another shapeshifter, or a fucking- demon, or a fucking possession of your corpse or- ANYTHING!!".
I’m not gonna lie, I was internally torn between wanting to slap the shit out of Rosanne, and sighing because she had a point. I mean, a fucking cockamania one since, if I was a creep from the woods I would have probably pounced her... but, a point.
“Do fleshgaits retain memories?”.
Rosanne shook her head...Alright, here it goes…..“My name’s Dwight Anthony Nolan, I’m a former 11bravo Direct Fire Infantryman, formerly stationed at the ice cold field problem death pit that was Fort Drum, I’m a self diagnosed alcoholic, certified range supervisor, I’ve spent the last several months under contract with Cazamoth Industries, I’ve enlisted your help under what I’m gonna guesstimate was a week and a half ago because time here is as convoluted as my last few remaining brain cells… Isaac is missing an eye, you’re a British commonwealth immigrant judging by your dialect, you helped me exorcise, among other things, a fucking river, werewolves are real, the Giant of Kandahar was a Nephilim, and I also know that despite all those runic drawings in your journal you keep a way too detailed graphic image of a-”.
“Okay!! Okay!!.....” Rosanne backed off a few steps, holding up her hand as she lowered the pistol. Rosanne chuckled, “You sly son of a gun, I knew you looked in my journal!! I Knew it!!”.
I shrugged “You take a lot of naps…”.
“Only cause I work hard, Dwight…. You look worse for wear, what happened?”. My stare was deadpan and involved one long blink: "Did you hit your fucking head?".
"I mean down there, jackass".
I gazed back to where the native had walked, he was long gone, and then, back down the slope towards the sunken house, before pivoting back to my locally hired witch. “Long story, I’ll tell you back at the estate, just know…. It’s over…”.
“Over?”, I nodded. Rosanne breathed a sigh of relief as she looked around, “Come on, home’s this way…”. I waited a few seconds before following.“How the fuck do you know?-”,We were walking for about an hour before we had reached the perimeter path of the Cazamoth Estate, much to my hysterical joy freaking out Rosanne. Following it back around the eastern side, we reached the front gate of the Cazamoth estate. I noticed along the way, while we were gone they really did a number on the place.
Trees were gutted and torn down, C-wire was ripped off the top of the concrete wall and strung around like, as Rosanne put it; “Iraq War Christmas Trees-”.
However, regardless of how the mice had played while the cats were away. In this case, the mice being demonic ghouls that could chuck grown men several feet, and the mice being a group of misfits armed with the finest in operator gear they could buy from a small town gun store.
Albeit, a very well armed gun store armed by two Belorussians- Armenians?- Germans- Europeans. Great, thanks Isaac now I've got them fucking mixed up.Rambling, sorry- I'm fucking drunk, It'll become clear later.... regardless of the show of force, the gate still held, surprisingly well. Rosanne scanned her eyes across the large metal gate as I approached keypad.
“Hello?! Anyone there?!” I pressed the button and shouted. Yes I shouted into the intercom, I know full well how fucky those headphones are because Theodore either bought the equipment especially high end or at fucking walmart.
And for a moment, nothing came through, causing Rosanne to shrug as me and her locked eyes.
That was, until-
“Well HO-LY-SHIT!! Frank Castle returns from the grave, Marco owes me 20 bucks…”.
I stared at the camera slightly stunned, “You placed bets on whether or not I was gonna make it out alive?”.
“Hey! HEY!!.... Mackerel was the one who said you probably wouldn’t, and I challenged him”.
“You mean, Merkel”.
“Same shit…. Good to see you’re alright Dwight, I knew you’d make it. You see Tim out there by chance? John and I saw him on the way back and from the looks of it he stole my trucker hat and was wearing it so I wanted to get it bac-”.
I rolled my eyes: “Isaac open the fucking door”.
“Alright!! Jesus!!! ‘Gotta be so mean…”
.Rosanne and I had made our way back into the house, John was fast asleep on the couch, passed out with a blanket covering him, who Rosanne immediately checked on. Gareth and Merkel were busy cooking something in the kitchen, Isaac immediately came into the living room and said-
“So, what was down there?” his question bounced around my head like a fucking pinball, and I still don’t know the answer. I pulled my kit off me, dropping it onto one of the lounge chairs where Isaac and the others had put theirs.Once again it had become a “Giant pile of monster killing supplies”.
“I….. I’m not sure….”, Isaac raised an eyebrow, “It said several things…. That the woods can’t be stopped, that it tried to paint itself as a lesser evil compared to it…. That Theodore knew-”.
Isaac jumped back and pointed at me “HAH!!! I FUCKIN KNEW IT!!! THAT GOD DAMN SNAK-”. Rosanne quickly snapped at him, “Isaac!!!”.
He looked confused as she gave a “Shush” gesture to him. Rosanne said he’ll be fine, as long as he gets plenty of sleep, and we don’t let him get kidnapped again.
It would be easy since compared to the last few months, the proceeding week or so was a fucking pallet cleanser.
Gareth and Merkel took off the next day after we arrived. Both the europeans loaded up their mass amounts of weapons and ordnance into the back of their van. Gareth himself said something to the effect of, “These woods will still be dangerous, but we did good work… you did good work. You and Isaac are friends, come anytime, oh and tell Isaac if he wants’ job besides being your cyclops….. He is welcome at Gareth’s arms…. Stay well, Sergeant Nolan”. I still remember the spartanesc grip he gave me even after him and Gareth drove off.
Next was Rosanne, I asked her if she wanted to go back into town, what with the woods attacking John’s Friend’s house that one night. But being Rosanne, she protested…“Just because we solved one problem, doesn’t mean their ain’t a thousand bloody more takin’ it’s place!! Everyone in town needs somethin’, and this world’s only gonna get stranger after the power vacuuming’ of whatever you riddled down there….”. I nodded, sitting back on the hood of the old SUV driving my hands in my pockets.
“You sure you don’t want a ride back to town?…. Like you said, woods are still haunted-”.
Rosanne looked out towards the open gate, then brushing her hair before stuffing it under her beanie. She shook her head, “Nah…… I’ll be okay…. Oh and….” She dug into her bag, pulling out the glock and hanging it to me- I waved it off, much to her confusion.“I think we can both agree that the town witch who just helped take out an eldritch demon is gonna have a target on her back. Take it, consider it a form of payment since I’m no longer funded by my boss…”.
Rosanne shoved it back into her bag as she slapped my shoulder, “Psh…. you think I get paid? Hah! Funny….. No I do it as a service….. Someone’s gotta…..”. She rested her hand back on my shoulder, staring into my eyes.“Remember….. That rich asshole’ gives you trouble, or you need my help….. Just call”.
Despite my warning to Isaac that Theodore was gonna be back in less than a week, he vowed to stay as long as he could.
“Not gonna just leave you high and dry, Cap’n!!! Let’s get this place locked down…”. I spun back around in the office chair of the security room, scanning all of the camera monitors as Isaac nervously scratched the back of his neck: “So…… Can I drive the ATV?”.
I use this saying a lot- "Had it been X months ago", I would have kindly declined a one eyed, always buzzed redneck the opportunity to drive the ATV.
However, considering the circumstances, and the fact that I was likely not gonna be employed next week….. I pulled open the key drawer and beckoned him.
Like I said, the estate was a mess after the war of the fucking wendigos that took us near 15 klicks into the woods. Not much Isaac and I could do to remove the fallen trees, especially since both of us were less motivated to conduct high octane ATV landscaping for a man who literally chose to live in demon alley than we were our first few months here….Rosanne was right however, the woods still are off. Though, the last few days I went on patrol on the ATV, scanning the perimeter path during both the day, and, finally, feeling safe enough to venture out at night.
Anomalies still occur: An broken stone archway that appeared on the path caused me to detour around it, after I tossed a branch through and it came out not diced, but minced on the other side. I made the executive decision to not fuck with it after I tossed a rock through with the same result….Other things still occur. Isaac said he saw things like the crabwalking man, who I’ve now ruled is more or less harmless, a fucking baby carriage, and a staircase. The third one was no longer there when I checked the area.
I also get slight glimpses of the static looking, green figure from the chop shop of the house… out of the corner of my eye, each time seemingly closer and closer, but never too close….. And never in direct eyesight.It was a weird, nostalgic feeling? If you can call this fuckbin of a gig nostalgic in any sense. Just the good old Cazamoth Security Duo doing routine checks, John getting better and better with the help of chicken noodle soup and Tylenol, and patrolling the estate.
I finally indulged in Isaac’s cultural past time a few days ago…. We were on the porch, the sun was setting providing a warm orange hue that bathed the two of us as we sat back in a couple of wicker chairs. Isaac had a glass of jack, I had corona, also known colloquially by me as hot urine.We must’ve sat there for hours, sitting back, legs crossed, my rifle resting across my lap just in case the woods wanted to go one last round that would never come, and despite our banterish history, it was silent. A feeling of calm acceptance and finality to this, a friendship that was literally built on two chatter mouths meeting on a forest path.
That was- until Isaac started yapping: "You owe me 25 bucks.
I turned to him, confused: "How fucking so?".
Isaac swallowed a big swig of Jack D before continuing "Remember, we placed bets?". I scoffed, then laughed "Listen... I don't really know what was down there, I never got a good look".
"So?".
"It's a draw Isaac".
"There's no fucking draws in bets!!" he said throwing his hands up. The both of us share a fake!tense stare, before falling back into buzzed chuckles. I took one last sip of my beer, emptying it before tossing it into a bucket across the porch.
"Gonna miss you brotha..." Isaac said, his one good eye was slightly glossed over, sitting back, his hands holding the bottle in his lap. I exhaled, sighing as I sat back. This really was, probably, our last time together: "Yeah...".
"So what're you gonna do after this?" I shrugged in response: "Go home...".
"Home?".
"Chicago... probably buy some booze, write an autobiography like every G-WOT vet, and live off the royalties..." I muttered turning to Isaac: "You?".
"Stock market, I hear Dow Jones is doing good this time of year-".
I shook my head in disbelief: "Bullfuckingshit", Isaac cackled and nodded: "Yeah, you're right.... probably just gonna take the latvian's offer and go work for them".
The little camaraderie I had with my friend would soon come to an end, however. The very last day, the day before Theodore came back, Isaac finally left. He sported one of the assault packs I had given him, packing up his tent and strapping it to the top. Despite my offers to drive him back into town, Isaac argued- “If I can walk 700 miles across two damn states, I can make it to town….. Besides, you and the kid need to prepare yourselves for....him tomorrow….”. I nodded, kicking up a bit of the gravel as we both stared off into the evening sky, Isaac turned back “You sure you don’t want me here in the trenches with you when he comes?”.
“No…. I’ve got a feeling Theodore’s gonna pull something tomorrow…. And I don’t want anyone caught up in it that doesn’t need to be… Besides, you paid enough on this little adventure…”. I tapped the bottom of my eye, referencing Isaac’s wound. Albeit, with some help from Rosanne, it looked a lot cleaner, with a proper eyepatch over the new bandages.
“Hey…. I gave it back to the suckers…. Good Luck, Sergeant ....”.
And like that, the Cazamoth Extermination Squad, the finest members of the paranormal hunting group I had assembled, fought with, and worked with for the last few months….. Was back down to me. The evening drive was probably one of the most isolating damn trips I ever took. The sky was a bluish purple as I drove the ATV down the trail, soaring over potholes and past fallen trees.
I stopped at the northern bend, the halfway point- the spot where motion detector 6 was. I parked the ATV, leaving it running as I scanned the now low lit area. I saw the deep holes which the now destroyed ATV made trying to rev it’s wheels to get out, the tree I shot meters ahead attempting to shoot the creatures, gazing into the now clear path ahead…. My mind goes back to that night.
Surrounded by dozens of them, all of them laughing, stalking me, that creature with it’s white and yellow eyes staring back into me in the rain. Now…. gone. I looked out to the north, over the slope that lead downwards to the woods. The ocean of trees that laid beyond.
“Man…..” I sighed, “I need a vacation….”.
“HEEEY!!!!!!”. Even after nearly half a year of this fuckery, my skeleton, ironically enough, nearly jumped out of my skin from the sudden greeting.
I turned back to my left, to see none other than Tim. Turns out Isaac was indeed right, even if he was half blind. Tim, among other things, bore Isaac’s Texarkana trucker hat. I stared at Tim for a few minutes, had anyone seen me, not knowing about my time here, they would’ve thought I was fucking insane. To be fair, I still think I am. Lost in the insanity of this place, suffocated by trees, talking to fucking skeletons…. If this is insanity, I gotta say….. It’s at least entertaining.
I turned on my engine to leave, but I stopped. Laughing as I shook my head from the idea. I reached into the back of the ATV’s container, and pulled out my electronic headphones. Walking over and placing them on Tim’s head over the Trucker hat, I stepped back.“A real fuckin’ operator….. Goodbye Tim”.Even with the loud roar of my ATV’s engine, and the sounds of the fleeting winter winds, I still hear one solitary word; “NAAARK!!!!”.
The day had arrived, I woke up at 4am, got cleaned up and my gear consolidated at 5, and was at the monitor desk of the security room waiting with a fresh red bull in hand by 6. Theodore had arrived, in a black SUV nearly identical to the one parked just outside, along with several vans and a fucking truck of, judging by the Cazamoth Industries logo, the corporate back up old Theo talked about.
So it was true, huh? I chuckled, sighing as I slid back out of the chair, clipping on my 5.7’s holster to my belt, I chugged my red bull as I headed outside. Even if it was his estate, his home, with his son in it…. I still felt like the old town sheriff walking out to meet the bandits that had just ridden into down, big iron literally on my hip.
I lightly kicked open the front door as I called back into the house: “John!!! Your dad’s home”. It still took John nearly 20 minutes to join us outside, whether it was from still being ill, or not wanting to see his flee-the-coup-papa…. I still don’t know.
The empty can flattened out underneath my boot as I stepped off the porch, meeting a group of uninformed individuals, joined by none other than the long haired, sweater vest wearing millionaire- possibly billionaire….. Theodore Cazamoth.
A long staredown ensued as he was backed by several guards, all in black crye tops and bottoms, belts, caps, and most importantly, armed. Their eyes shot to Theodore, then to me. My eyes stayed on Theodore, and my hands were shoved in my pocket- mostly because I really wish I brought 2 redbulls, heart attacks be damned.
The silent staredown was broken up as Theodore’s son walked up alongside me, and the previously malice filled, stern look on his face was melted- more so forced back, as he walked over to hug his son.
“Dwiiiiight- it’s so good to see you!!!” Theodore crossed his legs at his desk, mind you, the one that still had all of the broken pieces and holes in it from my little raid. I stood infront, arms crossed, as several C-Industries staff members worked to force the heavy filing cabinets back upright.
Theodore maintained his grin however, and honestly, after all the other shit here, I wasn’t phased. “I see you’ve keep things under control….” I honestly had to work really fucking hard to not laugh at that. “Yeah, holdin’ the fort down without you here was an experience boss…. Was it productive?”.
“Very….” the tone and smile that came after, however, did make me shiver a bit. “My shareholders and I have big plans for not just the estate Dwight, but the company, these woods, the town….. And more….. Big changes are coming, all for the better, I assure you….”.
I gave a fake smirk and nodded, just as the employees were finished and walked out, Theodore’s smile disappeared along with mine. He slid his feet down, brushing against the broken section of the desk, which caused one of the upper corners to literally fall off. Theodore snapped to his feet, kicking it away, as brushed his forehead.
“Oh Dwight, what am I gonna do with you?” he chuckled, the evil motherfucker from that talk in the car was back. “Zip tie me, bag me, drag me, shoot me and leave me in a shallow grave?” I taunted.
Theodore shook his head, “No, no…. Contrary to what you might think….. I can’t just do that….”.
Theodore held his hands behind him as he walked over to the large set of windows behind his desk, staring off into the woods, outside, dozens of workers began to install new security wire, along with lights, cameras, and set up new huts around the perimeter wall.“Your little blog series really saved you…. Had it not been for half of the fucking internet knowing about you, I really could have just zipped, bagged, and shot you….”.
I chuckled out loud, earning a scowl that was so fucking satisfying from him. My mind thought back to that thing in the metal lair, how I knew too much, how I needed to be smothered…. I really wanted to ream him, to rip him apart, press his scrawny neck against the damn wall, and start interrogating him….. But then I did remember what that void also said.
Theodore would “exploit” whatever was down there if he caught wind of what it really was, where it was, whatever Theodore already knew, and-..... What I’m saying is, better to not say anything, than allow the evil fucking corporate douchebag money man to catch whiff.
“Well you’ll be happy to know that you’ll know longer have to bear the title of: Security officer hired to protect the forest estate, Dwight…” My arms dropped to my sides, as I pondered that that could mean. Theodore opened one of his drawers, pulling out a tablet with a very, very long form written on it.
Without going into too many of the confidential financial details, Cazamoth Industries had decided that “Due to my dedicated service to the company and the estate, as well as the Cazamoth family, and after considering the consequences and benefits of my long term health….-” my contract was being bought out.
Basically, I was fired with the next what would have been five years worth of pay being wired to me, along with a bonus.
It was money, a lot of money, deep six figures “I can finally fucking retire” kind of money.
The kind of money they give you to shut the fuck up and go back to Chicago. It was the kind of situation where, I should fight it because they’re trying to cut me out. But, they did, and what was I gonna do?
I was no longer legally allowed on the property, I was no longer a member of the company. You don't say no to a contract buy out, you can only nod your head and accept, it's out of your hands. I was no longer “Security Guard Dwight Nolan”, I was just…. Dwight Nolan.
What I’m getting at is. Despite all the internal arguments I had, all the reservations I had for just leaving thing the way they were and allowing Theodore to do whatever the fuck he wanted….begrudgingly, whether I wanted it or not, Cazamoth industries sent me 401k++++, emphasis on multiple pluses, and I took my ball and went home.
Not much I could do now….. I said goodbye to John, the kid gave me a final hug, I, in return, gave him my still intact pair of oakleys and parted ways- not before being escorted out by several cazamoth security officers as Theodore watched from the porch. By 10am, I was shoved out of the opening in the perimeter wall, onto the gravel path I had seen so many times....And then, with a slow crawl, and a finally heavy metal thud....The gate closed.And I was free. Unemployed, but free.
I beat my self right the fuck up about it, I still am. I was a fucking coward, whether or not I braved the things under the house, I allowed Theodore to get exactly what he wanted, I just let them kick me out of the land I was warden of, and I went home. But, I had no choice.... did I? Yes- No.
Sorry, Like I said earlier, drunk....I took another hard shot of vodka in the pub on the edge of town, the same one I visited several months ago. The alcohol hit straight away, and as my head buzzed, I turned my head to the cork board.
What was a board filled with 48 missing cases a few months ago, was now at 65. What was just locals now included hikers, tourists, truckers, cops, and more. I gritted my teeth and bit down the guilt, turning over my glass and overpaying the bartender.I was cut out, I couldn’t do anything, I repeated these words as I wandered out of the bar, and down the road. The town still seemed ominous, much like the woods, even after the ghouls were dealt with, there was still plenty of mysteries, and plenty of problems.
However, I wouldn’t be around to deal with them, I couldn’t. But I wasn’t gonna let Theodore and whoever else just run wild on this place while I was gone.
I opened the worn brass mail slot of Rosanne’s house, and slipped an overstuffed envelope through. It was late at night, the moon was up in force, and I wasn’t gonna wake her up to hand her what would be just as useful in the morning.
What was in the envelope you may ask? Oh, you know, printed transcripts of the entire series, detailed logs from the estate house, scavenged files from the security room, and- despite how Theodore may have tried, an intact hard drive from that computer tower….I don’t have all the answers, fuck, I have very few.
I don’t know what was in that darkness of the house, I don’t know who the girl exactly was, I don’t know what Theodore’s gonna do, and I don’t know what the fuck was in that cellar door…. And if I’m not gonna be around to find out, then those who will, will, hopefully.
Rosanne’s young, motivated, she’s hellbent on helping this town, and if Isaac and the soviet bloc lads are still around, and they will be, bet on it… they’ll be here to help her….This is where I would say my goodbye. I walked back to the parking lot of the pub, gazing at the night sky as I called a taxi cab company. I was way too drunk to try and drive anything back to the nearest airport, and like hell I’m getting a hitchhike from a stranger….
“-It’ll be 37 minutes sir….”.
Great, leave my drunk ass here for that fucking long? Good thing I don’t have any of my weapons. I started to type everything on this entry- from the elevator, to now, eating away at the minutes as I hoped each passing car was the cab to finally take me home, bobbing and weaving on my feet….And yet, despite it being a clear parking lot, maybe it was my mild deafness, my buzz…..
"Mr. Nolan….” The voice was cool, calm, smooth, calculated, with an accent I still can't really put my finger on.And yet, like I said maybe it was my mildly drunk state or my heightened sense of paranoia, but I hopped off the small concrete jersey barrier I was, turning to the man.
He was older, possibly late 40s, mid 50s. He wore a dark blue pinstripe suit, with black detailing over it. I eyed him up and down as I ran my hands over my knuckles. "Alright, listen, who the fuck are you?!".
“Easy now soldier... easy! I only want to talk!” He said laughing, my hands twitched as I eyed him up and down, then scanned the parking lot for what I was sure was an ambush.
“Yeahyeahyeah-yeah, everyone wants to talk nowadays, who the fuck are you?”.
The man gave a small smile as he faked offense, giving a fake scoff as he put his hand over his heart. "No need for such hostility Dwight, I come not as an enemy, but a friend...".
My head cocked out of confusion, "Friend- what? How the fuck do you know my name? And also, yeah, I ask again, who the fuck are you?".
Stay safe guys, and see you around holding out his hand, “My name’s Xavier, Mr. Nolan…. Your actions in this town have not gone unnoticed...".
I raised an eyebrow, “You’ve…. Been watching me?”.
The man laughed, retracting his hand, "Many parties Mr. Dwight, many... I simply represent one that wants to extend a helping and cooperative hand to someone with your resume...".
Oh boy.
“So….. what do you want?”. The man straightened out his suit, cracking his neck. He stood just short of my height, maybe 5’11, 6’0. “You’ve built up quite the rap sheet; Four combat deployments, 10 years in the military, and now, first hand encounter with the unnatural….. I’m interested in your skills….”.
This caused me to burst out laughing, oh I should have fucking known this was coming. “Yeah, look…. Xavier, I appreciate Blackwater having the courtesy to come knocking on my door but it’s 5 years too late, and I’ve finally got enough money to retire…”.
This confused him, “Blackwater? Oh, you mistake me Dwight, I’m not with any private military companies, not at all. I represent an group backed by many world agencies with the trust and goal of aimed not at monetary gain, but of humanity's safety..".
"So, what? Area 51 Kill Squad?" Xavier chuckled, resting one of his hands on a pocket inside of his jacket. "No, not exactly..... Like I said, we're not of any one government". I crossed my arms, "yeah well, look, Xavier?". The man nodded, "You know full well what's been going on, so I appreciate the offer, but I'm in no mood to just jump right back into chasing demons into dark forests...".
Xavier held his nodded, showing he understood. "Understandable, really, I agree. Take all the R&R you need Mr Dwight, but, know this.... Dark times are coming Mr. Nolan, there are things like this happening all over the world, and whether you like it or not, your tenure at the Cazamoth estate has dragged you into something you might not so easily get out of..... When you make up your mind.... give me a call".
That last part blanked my mind, and I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. I pulled it out to see [New Contact Added: "Xavier" ].This earn a look of shock from me, as I was at a loss for words. “How’d you….. Who the fuck are-”. As I turned to ask him the question, he was gone. Mind the fact that I looked away for only a few seconds and would have heard him run off- and the fact that he was in the middle of an open parking lot….I wanted to pursue him, I wanted to ask him what the he meant. What was coming? What was happening? But before I could…. The horn of the taxi cab honked loudly as it pulled up to my side of the street.
This probably isn’t the ending you wanted, and I’m sorry. I didn’t get all the answers, I got cut out of the mystery, and, honestly, even with Xavier’s offer, I still don’t know where I’m gonna go from here.
All I have to say is..... 250,000 a year go missing, some with cases going cold, others, without a trace, sometimes turning up in unexplained ways, conditions, and others, not at all. There are powers that be that would like to see them forgotten, brushed under the rug, and never thought of again. It's our duty to remember who they are, and never stop looking for them.If you hadn't realized this already.... This is probably my last entry. I don't know if I'll be back, I don't know if I'll ever press "CALL" on xavier's contact. What I do know is, you've been with me for the long haul, and for that, I thank you.
This has been Dwight Nolan,
Former US Army Staff Sergeant,
Formerly, the security hired to protect that damn forest estate
Stay safe guys, and see you around.
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