《The Beasts That Dwell》


 Chapter 1

    ¡°You know, the more we speak. I¡¯d almost guess that¡¯s not what you look like." The man says while staring at what seems to be his reflection. While admiring a nice coat, he tries not to look so lost.


    ¡°And you¡¯d be right. See that¡¯s what I like about you so damn close and yet so far off.`` The reflection speaks.


    ¡°Are you ever gonna show me what you look like? You know, instead of always talking behind my face.¡±


    ¡°By now I thought you would agree that a little mystery never hurts.¡± The reflection mutters.


    A mother brings her small child close. They pass by the man in the ragged coat full of holes. He wore a mud-soaked beanie and he was talking to himself.


    ¡°I hear your voice every day, and yet I truly don''t know what you sound like. I try to picture you and I see myself with something else. An aura or something. Flashes of your real face haunting me.¡±


    ¡°Ah well eventually you''ll understand or ya won¡¯t I don¡¯t care. It¡¯s not up to me to make it make sense, that''s the writer¡¯s job.¡± the voice says.


    ¡°You mean god?¡±


    ¡°God? That''s rich, your god is a child who got a "C" on their humanitarian project. Guess what? His parents gave him a bunch of gold fucking stars. Now look at him. Fucking up, and for what? His great design? Keep believing in that.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever noticed how every time I ask you a question, you deflect and rant about some unrelated bullshit?¡±


    ¡°If you wanted straight answers, go talk to a fucking therapist. What I got for you is confusion and bullshit hymns, to get you through the day.¡±


    ¡°You don''t know any hymns.¡±


    ¡°Got me again.¡± the demon chuckles.


    As he walked down the street, trying to ignore the visions of hell placed before him. Knowing it was all a part of his disorder. Whatever that is. He didn''t have a name for it. Just a list of symptoms. Any help he pursued was met with medication and white rooms. An unwillingness to agree on a final diagnosis¡­ With no real help, just a few psychiatrists, one doctor (and several orderlies) who went mad. And this was before he was possessed. He ultimately realized if he could just deal with the symptoms, his visions of hell and anguish wouldn''t be so bad, and he could keep out of the demons'' reach. This was when it was just simple symptoms. So he lied, anything to make himself seem normal. Every face has bugs and skin falling off. Wounds gushing puss and blood. Even looking just plain sickly. Men, women, and children cause constant horror. Unknowingly and unwillingly, to someone who has no control over their delusions. They display their skeletons laughing and smiling at him.


    Almost as if they can''t see the skin falling onto their plate. The stirring of bugs and insects falling off their faces and utensils. Shoveling rotten food into their mouth. Food encrusted with blood and mold, yet a second plate is no problem. Watching the insects pop as they reach the jaws. Leaving behind exoskeletons and appendages. Centipedes of unnatural size. Making their new home inside the face of the thing that tried to eat it.


    "Everyone hears voices." They would tell him.


    "Not like mine." He says.


    No matter how in-depth he explained his "delusions¡±. No matter the doctor, it all turned out the same. Anyone who tried to ¡°help him" died or disappeared or was simply forgotten about altogether. As if they never had been born. If anyone died in his presence the world would forget about them. A glimpse of the deceased is left in the memory of their loved ones; but they would never be able to place the name to their face. That is its own hell, grieving someone you can''t remember¡­


    There is some truth to the illness within his brain, or maybe it is a demon hellbent on destroying him. The world he sees before him is unnerving and unforgiving. People disappear around the man with the beast inside. And everyone forgets about him the moment they turn away. If they do remember him. The demon has plans for them.


    He remembers the screams of the hospital staff as they passed by the window falling to their deaths one by one. Their shifts ended when they realized what the man''s dark passenger had done to them, the moment their feet left the roof. They remember everything that led them up there in the first place. The first and second are a coincidence but three or possibly seven doctors and orderlies that systematically walked off the roof¡­doesn''t sound like a coincidence. This was dubbed a group suicide and the hospital moved on. Like it never happened.


    As his avatar, the man is to bear witness to all of the entity''s misdeeds in the mortal world. His hallucinations, I am convinced, are of what''s to come if the demon succeeds. Whatever its goal may be. The man sees most people with the flesh burnt from their bones or as if they are rotting above ground.


    What made the illness particularly hard to deal with, are the visual and auditory hallucinations. The senses of touch, taste and smell however aren''t necessarily bothered unless under great stress. He understands they are delusions but they cause him a great deal of pain nonetheless.


    When he grazes his fingers across the world he feels it as it is and not how he sees it. He no longer remembers what the real world looks like. The gruesome world before him has become natural and undaunting. Things that look dirty and decayed feel untouched by the standards of horrible visions before him. Hollowed skulls are just people he recognizes by their voices. How they walk, what clothes or shoes they wear. Anything to give him a clue. When someone addresses him and they wear something similar or if the evil visions repeat themselves. That could remind him of you. In a way it''s like colorblindness mixed with full blown schizophrenia. As you can''t turn it off, there are no breaks. The world is a certain gray and you just see it in a different shade. It''s like walking around in virtual reality. No one can see what you''re seeing and no one believes you because they aren''t wearing the goggles.


    The fear he feels is real. The man believes the "delusion" itself is compiled from how someone dies. The appearance changes due to stress or mood, or maybe beliefs. He truly doesn''t have a solid fact. Just experiences with no real tests to figure out what compiles his waking nightmares. He barely can remember what day it is.


    If the world saw what he saw, humans would be minimized by mass suicide. We would be closer to the hellscape than ever before. Blood would paint the buildings and streets as people would tumble down the sides.


    As he is focusing on a woman''s hair being on fire. Half her face was burnt, her teeth were gone. Completely mesmerized by her scalp smoking in the hot sun. The man is pushed and falls off the curb, hitting his head on the sidewalk. Waking up in another state and another town. This happens quite often. After he passes a certain threshold of pain, he blacks out. He comes too somewhere else. Not knowing what he did. Never being able to hold onto a phone or wallet. Nothing new, can''t keep a job or a house. Sometimes blackouts happen at the first sight of blood. He could disappear for 3 months or he could disappear for 3 days, there is no guarantee of how long he will be unconscious. The entity has a way of putting the man to sleep. Leaving him locked away somewhere beneath his subconscious. What the demon does with the man''s body is unbeknownst to him. He knows it falls in the spectrum of total manipulation and extreme blood shed. All with his face.


    "How long?" The man climbs off the ground still disoriented. The obvious question didn''t bother the man anymore because he knew the entity would refuse to answer.


    "I''m a being that amasses time. Your short lifespan is nothing to me!"


    "HOW LONG!!" the man wails.


    "Shouting gets you nowhere. Hurt yourself and you black out again. I think you need a refresher of what I''m capable of." He can feel the voice turn his face to a grin. Driving him mad.


    "No! No! Nooooo!" He screams as he sees fire and brimstone, it burns his skin, and melts it right off the bone. Drifting in and out of control. Visions of the past searing his eyes shut with fear, as he is to witness the next atrocity. By the time he opens them he is no longer in control.


    Now he is nothing but a passenger. As the entity approaches a nearby grocery store. The fluorescent lighting hurts the phantom''s eyes as he notices the various vegetables. A woman shopping late at night with her child. When, what appears to be a man approaches her.


    "I''m sorry, do you need some help?" The woman shutters at the man who stares.


    The entity smiles devilishly. And the lights flicker and everything goes dark. The doors and windows lock. Screams and loud cries can be heard throughout the grocery store as panic sets in. The entity''s true form can only be seen as a silhouette as it grows and morphs. Extending its hand grabbing her with translucent limbs, it lifts her into the air, it twists her left ankle in circles. Making her scream. Now you can''t hear anything but the blood-curdling screams from her and her child. This woman is hung in the air and people scatter to hide.


    "Now the right one." The demon snarls.


    Moving up the legs, dislocating and breaking the joints, twisting her lower half. It wrings her like a towel until she breaks. Then it drops her on the linoleum floor. Leaving her there to die, he turns her head like a cork. Until it separates from her body. Holding the head in his hands, the creature heard breathing. A woman in a green collared shirt can be heard panicking under a desk. She''s scrambling for the phone. The doors to the grocery store open and close rapidly slamming as they shut.


    "Someone please help us." The beast hears in a frightened whisper.


    "Do they have a gun?" Is heard over the phone.


    "I think so¡­just hurry!" said with rapid breaths.


    "We have a possible 10-66 at Motif Dr¡­" static thickens over the phone till it shrieks. The phone goes dead. It is unclear if the person on the other line is dead.


    The man inside the demon is unable to help, only able to watch as his hands wrap around a young man''s throat. Thumbs pressed to the jugular so hard he punctures the throat and peels it back. Then it slowly moves down to the chest cavity and begins to rip the young man in half and feed on his innards. The man wanted to puke. But the demon gorged on the guts of another human. Like a feral dog. And all the young man could see was a stranger''s face. All up until the light began to fade in his eyes when the true monster smiled at him. The man is unsure of the demon''s real purpose other than to cause havoc. When the victims die, apparitions of their suffering plague his mind. Their screams are branded onto his soul. The ghosts of the damned haunt him while trapped in his own body. They share the void behind his eyes. As do all of the victims.


    As the demon makes his way around the aisles, hunting, tipping shelves, and destroying products. Banging and screams for help nearby the fire exit can be heard. They get louder as the crashing and screams surround them. Coming from different corners of the grocery store. The demon prowled to the sound to see a family. Looking as normal as possible, with John''s face covered in blood. With a big grin, The demon''s profile loomed over them as he turned the corner and closed in. They looked back.


    "Hey, fella. Names Jim and that''s my wife Beth ya think you could ...." Jim starts gurgling and bleeding from the nose. He collapses to the ground.


    The wife runs over and drops to the floor. Hoping to diagnose what''s wrong.


    "HE HAS HAD SEIZURES BEFORE BUT NOTHING LIKE THIS! WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?!" She panicked.


    The demon inhabiting the man slowly walks forward, hissing like an insect. Beth is so distraught she doesn''t see him approach her. The beast decapitates her in front of her children. The children scream louder and open the fire door. Only because the demon allows it. Then continued to slaughter everyone else it could find.


    The demon buries the man in his subconscious, unable to intervene, and held down by those the demon had killed. With what feels like a singular wired light from above the man''s head, he can always hear the dead, the victim''s screams. Seeing their rotted hands in his mind grabbing at him to keep him still as they cause their deaths onto him. Over and over. So the demon is free to complete its carnage. It''s like experiencing being in a thousand places at once. Or falling through multiple dreams.


    Sitting just behind his face he claws to get out. His consciousness is being murdered. While simultaneously watching the monster commit countless atrocities. Being buried in his mind and memories. Getting flashes of the real world only when blood is being spilled and lives are being ruined. Remembering them as dreams, but feeling the pain as if it were real.


    When he is finally released from his trance the harder he tries to remember the hellspawn transgressions, the quicker the memories fade, like a war survivor with untreated PTSD. He constantly is being thrown into survival mode. He has the fates of the damned glued into his mind forever. Unsure if they are actual spirits or another trick to drive him mad. Any person that the demon kills. They join him in his subconscious void. Another voice in the dark.


    "Why did you kill me?"


    "How could you do this?"


    "Why didn''t you stop?"


    "Why are you just standing there?" He hears Beth cry, somewhere in the void.


    When he sleeps the victims'' trapped souls get to inflict pain and make him experience his own all over again. And when he "wakes up" he returns to the hellscape. He never truly experiences rest or peace. Just fear. He''s always had hallucinations. This is why the demon and his current visions were so dismissible. He only thought his mental state was getting worse. Until his visions didn''t stop. Until his hallucinations were indistinguishable from life. He always grounded himself in the real world before but it has gotten worse. He used to see the world for what it was. Now it''s a literal hell.


    Every attempt to guard his subconscious was met with hellish nightmares and visions of death. Happy memories are turned to rot. Evil duplications of what be thought was his happy childhood. Every escape to the past is null. The demon follows and twists the memory till his past becomes a mystery. Or a gruesome event unbearable to return to.


    Ever since the demon entered his subconscious the hellscape has been there, as if the veil between our world and theirs is slipping. Or maybe the outcome is sooner than the man thinks. The man had many, many questions. The demon''s answers were always riddles or diversions. Nothing of substance and it never answered truthfully and if it did the man assumed it was a lie.


    He remembers a dream. He was in a desert of ash, during a blinding wind storm, somewhere in the hellscape. Trudging through miles of ash, with only a cloth to keep it out of his mouth and eyes. He heard a deep voice, sounding only with nefarious intent, calling to him over the storm. He was searching for any lifeline, even an evil sounding one such as that. He saw torches through the dust and found a downward staircase that seemed unphased by the storm. The further he went down the stairs the more torches that lit up


    As the final torch lit, it revealed an ouroboros symbol surrounding a pentagram. The symbol hung over a doorway that could only be a crypt. With a sarcophagus at the center of a circular room. Faded runes are etched into the coffin. A statue of a large figure, with horns and a single eye, and skeletal wings, with a centipede-like body with many arms, stood over the coffin in an almost guarded stance. Marked head to toe with runes that were similar to those on the coffin. An inhuman skeleton that matched the statue was inside the coffin. As he got closer, the tomb doors shut behind him, sealing him inside and extinguishing the torches. In the dark, the man hears chanting in Latin.


    "Umbra Dei ad Sanguinem!"


    "Umbra Dei ad Sanguinem!"


    "Umbra Dei ad Sanguinem!"


    As a cult of people in robes and hoods with the sigil tattooed on their wrists. They surrounded him under a medieval Chandler that lit a blue flame. A flame that grew brighter as they chanted louder. Before the man can even assess his situation he is stabbed in the back. He is met with thirty more just like it. The occultists surrounded him taking turns. Driving their knives into him. His blood began to rise in the air as it spread around. It began to funnel into the coffin and very slowly dripped from the ruins as it filled. The statue''s eye grew red as did the chandelier. The more blood he lost the brighter shade of red the room was.


    Sobbing in pain on the ground. He can no longer hear himself scream and he can no longer hear them chant. Just a ringing in his ear. He watches as the chandelier swings. It reminds him of the light. The light that swings in his mind, revealing the darkest corners. As he is tormented by the ghosts of those he has unwillingly murdered.


    One by one the cultists sacrificed themselves. Gouging their dead eyes, with almost surgical precision and leaving them at the statue''s feet. Then repeatedly stabbing their faces till they were unrecognizable under their hoods. With their blood copying the same pattern as the man''s blood. First rising into an orb then filling the coffin. They writhed and choked on their gore. Screaming and gurgling in pain as the dark forces made them continue. The body''s falling at five points in the room. Leaving what could only be the ringleader, lifting his arms like a puppet master, still chanting.


    "Umbra Dei ad Sanguinem!"


    The man is picked up and placed in the coffin which was now filled with blood and placed next to the skeletal beast and sealed inside. And then he wakes up. Quite surprised he hadn''t pissed himself and had no stab wounds to speak of. No blood. Still hearing the chant. And now a new friend''s voice.


    Much like a demon would, it never addressed the man by name unless he was mocking him. As names are used as a pull for power. And it never revealed its name for fear of being exorcized and sent back to its domain. It gained its power over time only ever showing a fraction. It started as a whisper in the back of the man''s mind, slowly lifting the veil. With a whirlwind of stress and misplaced anger and fear, the man lashed out. After being locked away for a crime he committed out of duress. He was dropped off at a mental institution where he was forgotten about. He stayed strapped to a bed for so long, the padded cell was renamed John''s Room. As in John Doe¡­


    Before his apprehension, the demon took the man''s name and locked it away in his memories. Although we do not know his real name, we will refer to him as John, patient number 01929.


    Eventually, John was brought to an asylum after being seen screaming at people, frantically apologizing with his hands covered in blood as he had just stabbed an innocent man thirty-two times. That''s the story the news would report. This innocent man turned out to be John''s brother. But only John knows that. Everyone else forgot John''s brother ever existed. John''s brother was his only living relative and his only real friend in adulthood. John can still hear his voice. He can''t trust his memory, his thoughts, or the very world before him. Strapped to a table and drugged to stop him from gouging out his eyes from fear and suicide attempts. Doing things like keeping his fingernails clipped and always bound, shackled, and muzzled. With no family or friends to claim him, he rotted away in his padded cell. As if he was Hannibal Lecter himself. John never got a trial. Every time anyone looked at him; they''d forget about him as soon as they looked away. It was surprising enough he was transferred to a psych ward. It was strange enough he got his own room


    A man in doctor garb with blood pouring down his face with a big hole where his nose should have been, rushed to his assistance. The doctor told him it was gonna be alright. At first, John believed him. Even during his drug-induced haze, he started to realize things that made the hellscape more bearable. Things like when people bleed, the real blood pools on the ground. In his hallucinations, the blood flows and looks as if the cuts were just made but it will never hit the floor.


    No matter what rationalizations he made. John still screamed and shuttered in fear whenever someone approached him.


    There was a reason John was purposely trapped in the hospital by the demon. With all of the negative energy swirling around the asylum. It fed and grew and became more coherent. It planned everything. The demon had no problem manipulating people, acting like a tormented child. Bringing out the worst in all of the hospital''s inhabitants, doctors, and patients alike. Everything from doctors stealing drugs to experimenting on their patients. One by one the hospital''s aura took once good doctors and turned them into animals and butchers. The patients'' symptoms worsen with each shift rotation. An uproar in nightmares. Mishandling of drugs led to multiple overdoses. Patient abuse cases were rampant. The longer John spent locked in that room the worse the hospital''s reputation got. Memories of the abuse were replaced with a regular day at work. The doctors'' underlying guilt began to build, because every day when they returned those memories flooded back, along with the rationalizations of their barbaric practices. Under the influence of the demon, they met on the roof of the hospital at the end of a shift one day. And the ones that didn''t face prosecution, walked to their death.


    The demon in all its power has no real concept of human society and its structures. It feeds on desire and creates a need to serve in those it manipulates. It had more than enough power to control people. Making them succumb to a dream-like state. They carry out whatever task is expected of them and then forget the whole encounter. If they somehow wander before the task is over. They forget the task as well.


    When the demon causes tragedy it imprints an aura on the location. This hospital (same now with the grocery store) became one of these locations. Electronics malfunctioned, notes whether handwritten or not were erased, memories were lost. It couldn''t predict what you would do after you went under its spell. While under the spell, they''re stuck in a trance. A dreamlike state, where in the back of your mind. You are told to "Clean up" and all you can do is listen.


    Still trapped in the hospital bed, still muzzled. John heard their screams as they passed by the window. And the demon reminded him it was all his fault. Falling to their deaths, realizing their walk off the roof was more terrifying than facing their guilt. To be tried in court. They took an oath to rehabilitation, but they decided on experimentation and barbaric practices. Electroshock therapy, lobotomies, mixing patients'' medicine, and depriving them of sleep, when they misbehaved. The demon awoke something primal and feral between doctor and patient.


    The doctor that greeted John no longer had the light that surrounded him before when they first met. Saying for a man with a missing nose. With each visit, he was deprived of his sanity. Each attempt at treating John was more violent and less forgiving. Each time the doctor acted as if it was their first time meeting. And each time the demon greeted the doctor with joy forcing the doctor to perform barbaric practices that could only damage John''s mind further. Fully knowing the damage he was doing to John the doctor always played music with a big smile, and always made note of how John was feeling throughout his treatment.


    "How are ya feeling today Johnny!" The doctor would say bright and chipper before getting started.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "We''re doing just fine doctor..." The demon would grin still muzzled.


    "Now are you still hearing voices, John?" The doctor would ask.


    "Why no doctor! The voices are all gone! The medications are helping." The demon would lie.


    "Yeah, I don''t believe you, John." The doctor would say. Before preparing his outdated practice.


    With electroshock therapy, and a nurse wearing a cross. John''s skin turned gray and his veins popped. His eyes were red with bloodlust. He''d violently shake the bed. No intent to hurt but to scare the staff. The demon made sure it was known throughout the hospital, even if only remembered as a myth. As you left "John''s Room" you''d forget about the whole encounter, but we''re left with a sense of fear and unbridled uneasiness. As if your life was in danger. This fear made some of the doctors act in ways they normally wouldn''t. Most of it was just for show. To make the demon feel powerful, and to make all those that encountered John afraid of it. Mainly to torture John anyway the demon could. It fed on the fear and the chaos of the hospital.


    The world turned red. Never ending ash fell from the sky when John finally lost his mind. After so many days alone, the entity broke him. It made sure John starved but kept him alive and in pain. It made him frail. The demon released him from the table. Not because it couldn''t before but to show John it always had the power to do so. And when he emerged from the forgotten hospital. He saw the world on fire. A doomsday world only the devil would ask for. The world matched the decayed and bloodied faces of the people in the hospital. An almost tentacle-like fungus was wrapped around everything, everywhere glows like there was a fire nearby. Almost as if a layer of blood was always over his eyes. And the air was always harsh with soot as if his lungs were blackened with cancer. Never getting a fresh breath again. Stuck in a fear and flight response forever.


    Sirens begin to block the entrance to the grocery store. John regains consciousness, waking up on the floor with the worst migraine. Seeing rotten food and mold. Picking himself off the ground. His hands and mouth were covered in blood. Dripping from his chin and down his shirt. Having no time to survey the scene as he panics and runs out of a nearby emergency exit. Heading to the nearby forest as the local police arrive they chase him away from the building. Seeing him flee from the scene. A white stubby man with orange hair and balding. New to "real" police work, as his partner would call it, saw John heading into the woods and proceeded after him.


    "Get on the ground! Freeze!" The policeman shouted.


    The flashing lights, outlining the trees, and shadows that looked like ghosts grabbed at his legs as he ran. Hearing the policemen shout as they chased him from the scene. Only knowing him for suspicious activity, fleeing from the scene of a crime.


    A second squad car carrying two policemen drives up late to the scene. We can now tell it is in Louisiana due to the Louisiana state police markings on the side of the two squad cars. These two policemen approached the entrance.


    "Should we follow their lead?"


    "No! We should check for civilians. Try and get some statements." His partner responds.


    He runs into the dark. Looking for signs of life, he sees the woman''s blood splattered all over the vegetables and an infant''s bottom half soaked the ground at the wheels of the cart. Fear is plastered on the woman''s face, with the misplaced joints. Her head is feet from her body. The fear settles into the rookie officer as he runs out of the store and pukes on the grass nearby the front door.


    He was confused as to why he was puking outside the grocery store. After raising his head from vomiting, he sees his partner awestruck in fear inside. Trying to gather his thoughts the nameless vomiting officer joins his partner. And suddenly remembered why he vomited.


    Another body is found near a register, throat and stomach ripped open and hollowed out, his eyes white. Down near the meat products displayed human entrails. Blood filled the shelves as the organs dripped onto the floor. Jim and Beth''s bodies were found near a fire exit with a flashing light. The doors were left open, letting in the moonlight. Seeing the path the suspect took into the woods. Guns were drawn, and they decided to turn around and wait outside for backup. Trying to avoid damaging the crime scene further. A crash is heard.


    "Did you hear that?" One officer said.


    Deciding to not be ruled by fear and do right by the victims. They stopped and headed towards the sound to investigate. On the floor was the missing half of the infant. Its top half sits at the center of a pentagram with an ouroboros surrounding it. Fingers of the other victims outlined the star of the pentagram.


    As soon as the police officers saw this symbol. The fear sent them into a trance. Calling only those that would pick up and move the bodies to another location.


    Calling in the paramedics and the coroner. All appeared at the crime scene and the first thing they were shown was the symbol. They entered the building and then forgot as soon as their portion of the job was done. Thinking it was some sort of dream. Carrying the bodies into the van they hopped into the ambulance as if it happened all the time. Slight grins on their faces, blank looks in their eyes. In a trance. No one spoke. The children were nowhere to be found and no one was looking for them. Everywhere the demon flexes his prowess, the location is struck with tragedy and a shroud of secrecy.


    Files were collected and photographs were taken, only to have blank pages and corrupted photos when they left. Almost as if this slaughter of at least five people is treated as a simple traffic stop. The bodies were cleaned up, everyone went back to work and the reputation of the grocery store was fine.


    As John ran through the woods with police on his tail. He gasped for breath as he jumped over branches and a tree that hadn''t fallen yet. The two policemen looking confused chased him as a tree fell (extremely close to where John suspiciously jumped) on the seasoned officer, with a gray mustache. The orange haired balding man skidding in his tracks looks back at his senior officer.


    "Don''t wait for me, get the suspect!" The seasoned officer yelled.


    The chubbier man already out of breath ran after John.


    "Please leave me alone!" John yelled.


    "Stop running!" The policeman said, gasping for air as he collapsed, from chest pain. Giving up on his pursuit.


    John stopped and tried to help the man.


    "You¡­you¡­you''re under ar¡­arreesssst." He stuttered. As he fell to the ground. John held him in his arms as he passed out. He began shaking violently. He heard yells and footsteps quickly approaching. More than likely his partner.


    John waited till he was in sight of the other police officer before taking off deeper into the woods. Praying he wouldn''t follow and attend to his partner.


    "Stop!" The officer with the gray hair yelled while he attended to his partner. Who sat up after the suspect was farther away, with no memory of why he was on the ground.


    John stumbled through the woods. Sheepishly ignoring his orders.


    "I''m okay¡­." The orange-haired officer muttered.


    The seasoned officer scoffs and sits beside his partner frustrated with the loss of a suspect.


    "FUCK!" he yells in frustration.


    "I get stuck with the diabetic!"


    "You didn''t have to wait for me¡­" the balding Police officer said with disappointment.


    "You collapsed under the pretense of a seizure or heart attack¡­ did you really expect me to keep going¡­" he responded.


    John, quickly running out of breath, goes deeper and deeper into the woods. The cops decide to turn back and get the collective information of their colleagues back at the grocery store.


    "The suspect escaped and officer Gus Stein should be checked by a medic." The veteran officer speaks into the walkie.


    "He''s a tough enough guy." The voice responds in a sarcastic sort of tone over the radio.


    The red-haired officer, Gus, was the office joke. Very clumsy. Gus was married and had a couple of kids. Gus Jr. was eight years old and had a much too large interest in complex heavy machines. He''s always taking things apart to figure out how they worked. And his other son Greg who was just shy of 14. Was the lead guitarist and coordinator for his band. The father didn''t understand either of their interests but was nonetheless supportive. His wife, however, was bored of her husband. Misty. A housewife. Left at home for multiple hours of the day, while the husband works and the children are at school or practice. She cheated on Gus regularly, she dates as if she were single. Even while pregnant with presumably Gus''s children. Constantly wine drunk and on antidepressants. Trying to kill some of the dreams she had. They married in fear. Gus is in fear of never getting another woman. Misty being his first. And Misty is in fear of never being truly loved by anyone. She knew Gus loved her though. She once loved Gus, but that love had a time stamp neither was aware of. Gus knew this and confronted his disingenuous wife, she lived in denial. She didn''t know how to admit she hated her life and hated her husband all while Gus cherished every portion of it. Gus dropped the allegations on his wife and moved on. Staying focused on his career.


    "I''m really alright." The curly red-haired officer says.


    Stan Grier, the seasoned officer, helped Gus dust off some of the dirt. He realized Gus sweats a lot in his uniform.


    "Ugh! Clean yourself up." He wiped Gus''s sweat on his pants.


    They slowly approached the grocery store after what seemed like being lost in the woods for hours. Only to see their car being the only one there. The store closed down and locked up. Looking as if everyone went home and not as if several gruesome murders had just taken place. Their lights are still flashing, and they get in their vehicle.


    "Dispatch report on that possible 10-66?." Stan says as Gus huffs and puffs getting into the car.


    "Officers 313 you haven''t reported in 5 hours and there is no record of a shooting since your last report¡­"


    "It''s 11 pm!" Stan gasped.


    "What were we doing five and a half hours ago Gus?"


    "Stopping for a quick food break, pretty sure Stan."


    "Confirm a Code 7 as the last check-in?"


    "Confirmed. Chief would like to see you two."


    "I''m guessing you forgot to tell em we were back from lunch too then?" Stan asked, frustrated.


    Not knowing what they''re about to walk into. Slowly approaching the chief''s office. Seeing the station acting normal as if a grocery store full of people weren''t just murdered.


    "Don''t say shit, let me talk him off the ledge." Stan says to Gus.


    Getting closer to the chief''s office they hear him yelling at his assistant.


    "If they aren''t in my office in the next ten God damn minutes! I need them here now! They have been missing for 5 hours! I will have Stan''s badge crammed so far up his good-for-nothing partner''s ass!"


    "He''s pissed." Gus said.


    "Yeah, no shit." Stan said.


    "Fucking eat me, let''s get this over with."


    "You say some strange shit." Stan said, opening the office door.


    "Where the fuck have you two been! Besides jerking each other off, y''all better have a good excuse why you took a 4-hour lunch break, before deciding to stroll in on back to work." The chief curses in a strong Boston accent.


    "We showed up to the scene and saw a suspect fleeing from the scene, so instead of investigating which stunt doubles Starsky and Hutch did just fine, thank you. We went after the suspect." Stan said, pointing to the door.


    "What is this 10-66? There was nothing called in from that area!" The chief sneers.


    "Call dispatch! Call them, right fucking now, you wanna call me a liar! You think I wanna be spending my day gallivanting with this asshole!" Stan says pointing at Gus.


    "Thanks, Stan." Gus gets up to leave to answer a call from his wife.


    "Oh go on cry to your wife. Asshole¡­" Stan mutters.


    "Dispatch!?" Chief shouts into the walkie.


    "Go ahead chief!" Dispatch chimes over the radio.


    "I need a reference from the officers of vehicle 313 reporting to a possible 10-66?" Chief says.


    "Uhhh you''re not gonna believe this Chief but the last few hours of the call data, it has been corrupted." Dispatch responds.


    "God Damn it! Get the fuck out Stan. I don''t even care about this shit anymore. I gotta go clean up this mess. I don''t care any more. Congrats, you''re off the hook"


    "Not even an apology? That''s fucking rich." Stan gets up and leaves the office


    Rushing by Gus and headed for the front door. Hoping Gus wouldn''t see him. Stan leaves the police station headed down the street toward a bar.


    "I''m on my way home honey." Gus comments to his wife. "No, I didn''t get fired, Stan''s fine, why do you care? He''s leaving now, I''m on my way home, if, if, if Stan doesn''t want to go out for drinks." He stutters and eagerly hangs the phone up.


    "Stan! Wait up!" Gus shouts, rushing to catch up.


    Stan starts taking longer strides trying to not look like he was trying to escape from Gus.


    "No Gus. I spend all damn day with you in the car. I don''t want to get drinks or dinner or whatever dumb shit you do after work." Stan shouts sternly.


    "But I didn''t say anything." Gus says sheepishly.


    "But that''s what my answer is. No, I don''t want to hang out with you." Stan says mockingly.


    Gus turns around in defeat and heads toward his car. He gets in and he drives home. His wife''s car isn''t there. Gus doesn''t particularly care where his wife is after the day he''s had. Knowing there will be some kind of argument when she gets home. His sons are at their grandparents for winter break. Gus sits down and mixes himself a drink while he waits for his wife.


    Meanwhile, Stan is getting prepared for a date. Shaping his hair in the mirror, he''s already late. He wasn''t a bad-looking man by his terms. He was getting gray. Being on the force for most of his life. Stan Greir had seen a lot on the job. Things he couldn''t tell anyone. It made him very closed off. Stan had a problem leaving work at the door. His marriage suffered because of it. He drank, and he was never home. Partially because of work and partially because he couldn''t handle his wife being so human. She truly wanted to understand her husband and Stan wouldn''t let anyone in. So she divorced him and moved away. Stan has been alone since.


    He plucks a few flowers along the way hoping for them to be a decent but minor apology. Stan entered a popular sports bar. The bar had a bright neon sign. "The Ranch". Stan sees a blonde sitting by herself in a booth. Wearing a nice spring dress.


    "Hey hun!" Stan blushes


    The blonde gets up with glee to hug Stan.


    "Hi baby, you didn''t tell me you were gonna be late. I can''t believe you come here." She waves her hands in disgust.


    "Heyyyy! This is my favorite bar¡­Got chewed out today at the office. To be honest I''d like to leave it there, along with your husband."


    "I know, you were the one that mentioned him." Misty shrugged as she sipped her drink.


    Misty and Stan would talk the night away which eventually led to them having sex later that night at a motel. Not mentioning Gus again and not like they hadn''t done this before. They stayed at motels to keep things casual. When Misty knew for certain she could sneak back into her home unnoticed. She took her chance. Early in the morning. When Gus would be passed out in his favorite leather chair. More drunk than usual. Pants and buckles were undone from his senseless masturbating even though they hadn''t shared a bed in months. Misty found it disgusting, Gus had recurring nightmares that kept him awake and in turn kept Misty awake. So Gus more often than not slept in that chair. There were many things she didn''t like about Gus, some of these things she used to love about him. When he was loud to get his point across she thought it was passion. When he would burp his loudest at dinner she used to laugh. When he would bring home small projects and ended up making little gifts for her. She thought he was dedicated to her. Now she found his loudness rude and irritating. Now she was the one cleaning up, while Gus allowed the mess from his garage, motor oil, wrench sets, and car parts to enter his home. For all of Gus'' "projects", most he sold for metal after losing more than what he bought it for and breaking it several times. Gus was not a very clean man, to begin with. Wearing his clothes for too long, staining them with food, and other things. Leaving stains on the furniture and toilet seat. And just not very well kept.


    It didn''t bother Stan nor did it bother Misty what they were doing to Gus. Misty resented her husband. Stan decided he deserved a new start and that was Misty. He felt sorry for his partner who was supposed to trust him with his life. The truth was they felt tortured by Gus'' presence. They found it fun to sneak around. Even joked about it regularly.


    Hours earlier¡­after escaping the officers'' John fled further to a clearing that led to an abandoned graveyard. Filled with trash and old lawn chairs. The gravestones were faded and broken. A strange fog lay over the graveyard. A forest surrounded it. John had no clue how close to town he was. He walked for several miles in the dark. Hoping to find shelter.


    "Getting tired yet?" The voice sneered


    "Hon..honestly go fuck yourself." John said aloud and out of breath.


    "I can make that happen Johnny boy. I can promise you wouldn''t like how." the demon says.


    John trips and starts coughing. Knocking the air out of him and sending him to the ground. He can''t move as he struggles to breathe. The air burns as it feels like ash in his lungs. The trees look long dead to John even though the forest is flourishing. Strange liquids are oozing from under the bark. The trees'' reflection from the moon mixed with the fog makes the bark look silver. Moonlight is his only source of vision. As he stumbled his way through the woods he found an old cemetery. On the edge of the cemetery was a small cottage. A hole in the roof and no lights on. Made it feel as though it was abandoned. John started a small fire in the chimney that was still intact. The visions of the events attack him while he attempts to warm himself.


    "Why did you kill us, John!" The demon shifts his screech into Beth''s voice.


    "I didn''t¡­" John sobs to himself as the murders replay in his mind.


    "No one is gonna believe you. Especially since you killed those kids." The demon taunted


    "Liar! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!" John screamed into the night and banged his head against a beam.


    "Yeah go ahead Johnny boy knock yourself out again. Make it easy."


    John heard the demonic laughter closing in on him. He stepped outside the cottage hoping for some air. Something about it, even with the hole in the roof, made the cottage seem small and claustrophobic. Just before John was about to sit down, he heard rustling nearby. The dirt started to shift. John grabs a nearby shovel and approaches the grave. A corpse''s head pops out of the ground. A bag over its head with a rope around its neck. John viciously slams the shovel on the ground, breaking open the head. Insects poured out as the bag ripped open. They started eating away at John''s legs. This wasn''t happening. John fell asleep inside the cottage. The demon however was using John''s body to dig up something. His subconscious just needed a push in the right direction.


    The demon took hold of John''s body. Still in a trance, he took the shovel and dug into an unmarked grave. Eventually dropping to dig with John''s hands. He uncovered a coffin. This coffin was much taller and wider than any human coffin. It had chains wrapped around it and ancient ruins carved into it. Some that looked similar to those in John''s dreams. All of which hold no power now that the sorcerers that originally wrote these ruins were dead. For these ruins were to lock something inside. The demon opened the coffin, and exposed the skeletal remains of a demon, with horns, one eye, and teeth like a shark. The coffin leaked and steamed with green ooze. Similar green ooze that was leaking out of the trees. It gripped a book to its chest. It had ouroboros surrounding a pentagram on the cover. Matching the cult sigil from John''s dream.


    John woke up the next morning to the smoldering flames of a dead fire. The book layed next to him. He felt compelled to take it with him so he stuffed it into his jacket. He was more interested in eating than reading at the moment so he exited the cabin and began wandering the forest. Hoping to find a town and somewhere to eat. Miles in the forest, that was highly unlikely. What John saw in that forest he could not comprehend. I will try my best to explain it.


    The trees were covered with a gray moss that glowed and reflected so much it was almost silver. The bark was cracked and was missing large chunks but suspended in the air. Piece by piece as if they were paused in place, yet floating upwards. Erratic cracks in the bark, seemingly with no pattern. The headstone''s writing glowed. The faded gravestones had their writing reconnected with the outline glow of the headstone. Any creature he came across had the looks of having just been through a nuclear blast. John, unsure if they were real, would avoid these beasts. The beasts paid him no attention either. The sunlight burned John''s eyes. The sky was bright red, almost pink, with things falling from the atmosphere but never hitting the ground and always in the distance. Using his hand to shade his eyes, he walked through the floating forest, unsure if he was even still among the living. For John, every day was a horrific acid trip that would never end.


    Walking through the forest gave John plenty of time to think. And for once the demon was quiet. Only because it was lying in wait and plotting. But it was the first quiet John had gotten for the better half of his life. The demon had been there so long John had forgotten what it was like to have a mind at peace. Or as close to peace as John would feel. The demon created a constant pressure anytime it uttered a word John''s head would pulse. Every word sounded like a low tone or a dull whisper. It was met with a pounding against the side of his skull. That small sound turned into a roar as it echoed through his mind. Causing John to have horrible migraines, which left him in tears and immobile. Stuck in a fetal position while the demon filled him with insults. After a while, John muscled through them. No way to make the pain stop but John couldn''t lie down anymore.


    John started to remember the time he spent after the asylum, hoping for help in a church. The demon''s reach couldn''t possibly reach him in the house of god. Right? He walked the streets not recognizing where he was. So much had changed. John had been in the asylum for quite a few years. Locked in a room and forgotten about. The demon was the puppet master and John was not his only puppet. The manipulation of memory and thought, the demon was capable of was astonishing. The doctors'' denied any allegations of wrongdoing, simply because they couldn''t remember. They remembered a normal, nonviolent, everyday shift. That''s the dream the demon played before them. When they entered that facility, their minds were in a daze. When they were finally brought before a jury. The demon forgot to wipe the memories of the visitors. He wanted the patients there to suffer, so he couldn''t wipe everything in their memories.


    After the pile-up of court cases, the doctors took the stand. All video footage was erased, and all paperwork was invalid. Eye witness accounts and more bruises and scars on the patients. So many built-up cases crippled the asylum and left it abandoned, except for John.


    As John walked past a tech store in his search for his boyhood church. A flat-screen tv in the window was playing one of these court cases on the news channel. A woman on the stand was crying. Sobbing so hard, it was hard for her to speak.


    "My hu¡­hu¡­husband¡­was a great man¡­what you people did to him was inexcusable, and downright evil. He fought for this country and he came home with severe PTSD. It got so bad to the point the state had to make the awful decision and have him put in your facility. He was a danger to himself and his loved ones¡­"


    She began sobbing harder.


    "Gotta love a good soap opera." the demon had joked.


    "Shut up." John winced.


    "His name was Tyrone Bartholomew Caesar. You only knew him by his "patient" number 01928. He was a decorated war hero. Something of which he was very proud of. You stripped him of his name. You stripped away his humanity. After you promised to help, you took whatever sanity he had left and then you murdered him." She sobbed.


    It seemed as though there was more but it quickly jumped back to the anchors sitting at the desk.


    "This is one of the first to sue. And one of the few who wanted to step forward and speak on behalf of the patients at Parkhurst asylum. She will be getting over a million dollars in grievance if she wins this case. And quite frankly I don''t know how this went on for this long. You can check out the full speech on our website, the link is at the bottom of the screen." the lady reporter stated.


    "It''s quite a tragedy, thankfully these butchers will be behind bars. We will be back with sports after some sponsors."


    It plays some music indicating the end of the segment and goes to the commercial.


    "Seems even your ability to make people forget is limited." John taunts.


    "Ah, just like the media, glazing over the important information and treating the tragedy as a midday drama special. I love the news." John can feel his face wanting to twitch to a grin.


    "You''re twisted¡­" John said.


    John made his way down the sidewalk. Approaching one of the oldest buildings in the city. As John got closer to the building he felt uneasy. When he stepped onto the church grounds, everything in his body told him to run away. He pushed onward. Entirely surprised he could even enter the church. John walked up the pews searching.


    "Hello?" John called out.


    "I need help!"


    "Yes good sir, How may I help you?" A priest answered.


    The priest steps out. He''s an older man with a hunch and a strange grin. John remembers that grin. He can''t place a name but somewhere in his memory is that man''s smile. It gives John the creeps. The grin doesn''t fade almost like his face is frozen, the man''s eyes are wide open and looks like he has no intention of blinking. The priest collapses to the floor. His eyes start to bloodshot and start to bulge out of his head. He seizes up and starts shaking violently. Bashing his skull on the cement floor. John turns to run. But the demon stops him in his tracks.


    "So first, I''m gonna take care of God''s little messenger. Then I''m gonna show you why his religion or at least his faith is utter bullshit." The demon growls in John''s mind.


    The demon raises John''s hand, and he stretches out his arms and fingers, the man rises from the floor and his throat is in John''s palms.


    "I don''t want to hurt anyone! Stop this!" John yells.


    "Oh, you''re going to!"


    Memories of John being in church flashed before his eyes, and then they turned dark. John saw the grin of the man¡­ he was hurting him. John vividly now, reliving the memory, remembered crying and picking his shorts up from the ground. He received a church cookie, for not squealing and kicking too much.


    "What happens here, is between you, me, and God. Our little secret." The pastor would say to John before passing him the cookie.


    A rosary and a cross on his left hand. This pastor was also his Sunday school teacher. Wore khaki pants, and a button shirt. John had blocked this out of his memory and eventually moved past the trauma. After the demon entered his life he damn near forgot his childhood altogether. But these memories, the demon left intact. John hadn''t visited these memories since he was a young man. And for good reason. John had been to this church before and was prayed on by this man. John hadn''t seen him since he was fifteen years old.


    The pastor used to bribe him with communion wine and crackers. Until one day when John stayed after service. The pastor laid his hand on the boy''s genitals. John was embarrassed when he hardened. The pastor told John that it was okay because God wanted him too. And when John started to deny the pastor his advances. The pastor threatened to tell his parents he had broken into the wine. He was twelve when the abuse started and it only got worse as he got older. He was well into his 40s now. John didn''t recognize the pastor because to John he was missing portions of his face. Like someone had beaten him bloody. The pastor had no hair and yellow skin and aged significantly. The last time John had seen the man was several decades ago. John felt enraged.


    John began to squeeze. It became harder to deny the demon his intentions. It was to show John you can''t even trust God. God let his messenger hurt a little boy. He heard the pastor''s laughter in his mind. He heard that same laughter more than once while he joked with John''s parents. And now he''s hearing it as an adult. It was much raspier and older now. Filled with phlegm and gurgling blood.


    "I WAS A LITTLE BOY!!" John screamed as it echoed through the walls of the church.


    John exploded and struck the pastor. The pastor began to seize as he hit the ground. John began to kick and stomp the pastor with his boots. He kicked and stomped harder. The pastor was dead before he hit the floor. John didn''t stop stomping until he had to wipe the gray matter off his boots. He still hears the pastor''s laughter in his mind, among the waves of the dead.

 Chapter 2

    He finally found the edge of the forest and the main road. After wandering like a petrified soul of hell,  he found the sign marking the entrance to a town.


    "Sherwood, Louisiana." He said to himself.


    John hoped he found his way through the forest and didn''t backtrack in any way. He fears being identified even though the demon wipes their memories. It is difficult to pinpoint who knows what''s going on. However, it seemed Gus and Stan were somehow unaffected. John accidentally wandered the forest until he ended right back in their jurisdiction. He walked in a huge circle and he didn''t know it.


    He had passed them on the street and neither recognized the other. Gus was busy with his lunch and Stan was grabbing their coffees. Stan sits down starting their shift together. The same time every day. Gus found these things mundane, Stan however appreciated routine.


    "I don''t like the looks of this. None of this makes sense." Stan says to himself.


    "What doesn''t?" Gus intervenes in Stan''s thoughts.


    "First, we get to a scene, we chase down a suspect, they treat your heart attack"


    Gus raises his finger to interject¡­but Stan continues.


    "As if it were some sort of trip and fall, then we get back to the station in which the chief figures there was never a call in the first place and supposedly we''re off-grid doing nothing. And any redeeming evidence that there was at least one wounded person in that store is gone." Stan stops talking.


    "It wasn''t a heart attack."


    "That''s what you got from all that." Stan says in a serious tone. "People could''ve died, no one gives a shit and that''s what you got¡­the part about you¡­unbelievable¡­" Stan gets up and starts marching towards the cruiser.


    "That guy did something to me¡­I haven''t felt right since. Like someone is always watching me through the curtains."


    "Sure it wasn''t all the beer. Not even your wife is peeking at you through the curtains." Stan chuckles.


    "Fuck you." Gus sneers unamused and looks down rubbing his forehead.


    "You''re gonna have to deal with me whether you like it or not. We never went inside, we never saw any bodies. All we heard was static over the radio, while we were in the forest. But something is wrong. When we got back to the car I don''t remember really getting back to the station. Almost like we woke up there. Almost like that whole call was a dream." Gus offers his point on events.


    "While we were in the woods, was it kinda when it started? More short of breath than usual." Stan questions.


    "Yeah. So maybe we should look into the coroner''s office to see if any bodies showed up." Gus suggests.


    "Not a bad idea. Not like we have anything else to do." Stan smiles. Putting his sunglasses on his face and getting in the car. Gus follows suit and they drive off.


    They pass by John once more.


    "It''s those two guys who are gonna kill you." The demon laughed.


    John ignored the demon''s rants and moved on. Panting down the sidewalk. John''s lungs always hurt as if they were filled with ash. His stomach is always empty, and his lips are always dry. The demon starved him and cramped his stomach. Keeping him weak but alive. He could walk for miles and never stop.


    John stopped at a local bar for a drink. Everyone in the bar was a different shade of yellow. Most bleeding from various orifices. Some with car and motor bike parts sticking out of them. Some with rope burns and barbed wire hanging out of them. Drinking their share of poison.


    "Hey, what can I get for you?" The bartender asks. With half his face falling off. Exposing the better half to what looked like road rash. Possibly from a motorcycle accident.


    "Just Jack and Coke please no ice." John responds unsure if he''d get his drink.


    A man in a suit and cane approaches John.


    "Hey, what can I get for you?" The bartender says again as if it was the first time he''d seen John.


    "Nothing for me, thanks." John responds after realizing the bartender would never remember him.


    "A brandy, on the rocks, please. And a jack and coke with no ice please." the man says before sitting down.


    "Coming right up!" The bartender exclaimed and returned swiftly with the man''s drink.


    "Who are you?" John asks.


    "Hey, what can I get for you?" The bartender asks. As he keeps forgetting about John''s presence.


    "We''re good thanks." The man responded.


    "Let''s go have a more quiet drink." The man reveals his arm with a tattoo. The same sigil as the one in the book.


    John jumps up and grabs him by the suit, the bartender gasps, and everyone stares.


    "Hey, guys take it outside." The bartender says. Then everyone forgets about the altercation altogether.


    The man in the white suit and red trim. Wearing sunglasses and a fedora smiles a devilish grin. John noticed the man had paler than white skin, which means his death wasn''t necessarily caused by drinking. He wasn''t bleeding so no gunshot or stab wounds are the cause. And he seemed much older, with Wrinkles and crow''s feet. No charring of the skin so he wasn''t burned nor was he a heavy smoker. It''s almost as if the man were drained of his blood. And left on a mortuary table. Only to wake up and walk out without a proper release. He seemed so ordinary compared to the other people that John came across.  John had a hard time believing this is what the man looked like. Because everyone else looked, by far, more terrifying. He couldn''t explain it but they felt more human. While this man did not.  He let go and began to walk away. He wanted nothing more than to get away from this man.


    A dark aura surrounded the man. His smirk is that of a salesman who thinks he has you right where he wants you. A businessman''s smirk that says we''re gonna make a deal you can''t refuse. Seeing this man looking so normal, really freaked John out.


    John exited the bar with the man only a few steps behind him.


    "The fact you look the most normal out of everyone I''ve ever met¡­and the fact you don''t forget about me, proves to me I shouldn''t trust you. Cause in some twisted way, you fit into this nonsense. The least I can do is hear you out while I walk." John said coldly.


    "What do you want? You want to tell me why you have a sigil tattooed on your arm I''ve only seen in dreams." John continued walking.


    "We both knew that you weren''t going to do anything." The man smiles. "We both know that you have a voice in your head you will do anything to get rid of."


    "You better start making some sense. Or I''m done listening."


    "I was there, John." The man said. "Inside the tomb. I''ve been looking for you."


    "That was a dream!" John yelled and pointed at the insane man''s claims.


    "Are you sure, John? Read any good books lately? Cause I don''t wake up from dreams with voices in my head! My name''s Dwight Scranton and I did this to you. I wanna undo it."


    "Why should I believe you?" John asks hesitantly.


    "Cause I''ve got voices in my head too. Visions of the end times. I have pulsing headaches so bad, a bullet to my head would be a mercy killing. But it won''t let me die. My cult and I tracked you down. We convinced you to join us. And then we made you our sacrifice and then¡­you didn''t die either." Dwight says.


    John stops and turns around, he punches the man in the face.


    "You know Dwight Scranton sounds like a fake name¡­huh?" John says not realizing he had knocked the glasses off the man''s face.


    He turns in horror as he realizes why the man had sunglasses on inside. He had gouged his eyes out. But with John''s vision, he can see thousands of maggots infesting his eye sockets. Festering in his eye holes. Falling into his mouth leaving a strange liquid which they left while desperately trying to attach. Most are still falling to the dirt to be crushed as the man scuffles to cover his eyes.


    "What the actual living fuck!" John yelled.


    "Don''t fucking look!" The strange man responded.


    "Keep those fucking insects to yourself, that''s highly disturbing."


    "How the fuck do you think I feel, I can feel them buzzing in my skull." The well-dressed man yelled.


    "Can you even fucking see anymore?" John freaks.


    "No!¡­why do you think I need YOUR help?! And that''s a really stupid question my fucking eyes are gone!¡±


    "We have a long walk, want to tell me what happened?" John asks.


    A black limousine with tinted windows pulls beside them.


    "We don''t¡­get in the limo." Dwight says.


    John gets in the limo with the rusted front fender, a black car with a red interior. It was an older-looking model. They definitely looked the part of the poor man''s limo without it actually being one. The driver didn''t talk the entire ride. Never took his eyes off the road. Almost zombified attention span. John would take note of this. He didn''t trust the suited man. Makes you wonder how a rich blind man gets anything done.


    They pulled up to an old shabby mansion. Strangely the driver just stayed in the vehicle and stared. Like he had been shut off after he completed his task. Or was patiently waiting for a new one.


    "Your driver coming?" John points out.


    "Aw shit." The old man bellowed, frustrated.


    He leaned in the driver''s side window and whispered something John couldn''t hear into his ear. The man stepped back and his driver got out of the car and this time John got a good look at him. He was a tall, very stiff white man.


    The greenery had overtaken the entryway. The mansion had a distortion to it. Like it had a fourth-dimensional shadow looming over it. A shadow with a grudge. John felt this very energy at the hospital, before the hospital was destroyed. If you looked away from it for even a second you''d forget it was there. It felt as if it was in a universe of its own. It looked drastically aged to John. Whether it be from the dark looming over it. Or just a rich man who no longer had the help he once had. The man with no eyes brought this energy here. John was determined to learn all that he could. He finally found someone who didn''t forget about him the moment he entered the room.


    The easiest way to explain it is for whatever reason if the demon wanted you to forget. You forgot. John did not have a handle on the hows or the whys. He saw it all as a strange way to torment him. As demons do. This man searching for John only means the demon wanted him to find John. Could he trust him? Was he the one that placed John in the sarcophagus? John had nothing. No idea how to stop it. No idea if any of it were real. Should he even humor this man? If he could reach any level of peace, that would be a blessing. John didn''t understand his place in the game before him.


    "So how do we fix it?" John asked.


    "Honestly I don''t know." The man said.


    "Are you fucking kidding me? How do you know this isn''t exactly what the demons want? Us together? How do you know? How can you sit here and tell me, that you cut your fucking eyes out for a higher power that''s got a soft side." John yelled mockingly.


    "See I think, they just want to go home."


    "You''re fucking crazy!"


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "If you''re so damn smart, why haven''t you gotten rid of yours? What do you think it wants?" the old man asked.


    John sits down with his face in his hands.


    "I don''t know. It''s just been playing games. Killing. I can''t hold on to a single day long enough to even cope. And now I''ve lost yet another day! Driving around and going to some old ass house I''m not even sure you own"


    "Not like you had anything better to do, at least you didn''t have to walk. You should walk next time if you feel so inclined to deny my generosity and good heart." Dwight said.


    "Do you even have a heart, old man?"


    "We called them here! We ripped them from their dimension and brought them here!"


    "You brought fucking who here?! John shouts.


    "The voice in your head! The demon is plaguing your soul. Driving you mad."


    "I''M ALREADY FUCKING LOONEY TUNES ASSHOLE! YOU DID THAT!"


    "Oh, how little you know."


    "Then fucking teach me. What am I missing?"


    "Well, are you ready to go to school? Help me to the library, up the stairs, second door to the left."


    John helped the old blind man out of his leather office chair and led the way. They passed by the driver, who must''ve been his butler because he was in the kitchen. In a more well-dressed attire. Oddly wiping the counter in a circular motion. Not moving from the spot he was in. Staring straight ahead, looking at a cupboard door. Grey skinned with rope marks around his neck.


    "I''ve been there¡­we met years ago¡­you were lost and broke, you were looking for direction. I see you found your book."


    Mr. Stanton drew John''s attention from the odd butler. A woman rushed past them, bringing clothes to the laundry room, not paying any attention to either of them.


    "Oh, I''m sure praising interdimensional demons was exactly what I was missing in my life."


    "You know damn well I''m what you were missing. what''s life without a little torture and bloodshed?" John''s shadow said.


    "You''ve been quiet." John said allowed.


    "He''s talking about me isn''t he?" The old man said.


    "Not everything is about you." John snapped back.


    "Humans¡­you always believe you''re so important." The demon bellowed in John''s mind.


    They get to the library and stand in the middle of the room.  They open this book with an ouroboros circling a pentagram on the cover. A dark leather cover, leather laces, and bounds. The book didn''t look old or damaged. Which was strange on its own since it was pulled from a wooden coffin. Another odd thing to John, was everything always looked decrepit and old. So why didn''t the book.


    "The Deceivers Portal."


    "Deceive is in the name¡­" John stated.


    "We were a group trying to bring about the end of the world."


    "And you somehow thought that if you were the one to open that doorway, you wouldn''t be the first ones to experience its destruction but excused entirely. That makes total sense in imagination land!"


    "You were the doorway¡­" The old man continues ignoring John.


    "Hold on¡­make some fucking sense or I''m gonna punch you in the face. You''re really testing my patience. And what the actual fuck is wrong with your butler."


    "I''m trying to explain! You won''t shut up long enough! You didn''t allow those doctors to help you at all, did you!? Always talking over them! Like you went to med school!" The old man snaps.


    "How do you know about the hospital?!" John yelled and wagged his finger in the old man''s face.


    "Stop fucking yelling!"


    "No I''m done, I''m leaving, I''m out!" John finished and he stormed off.


    "Bart, may you please bring our guest back to me!"


    John made it out the door. The butler Bart was hot on his trail. He was a tall lanky white man. With a very dead look in his eye. He was pale but nowhere near as pale as Mr. Scranton. Dwight looked like he was completely deprived of oxygen and had a nasty case of frostbite Bart however just looked like a walking corpse. He chased down John, and out the door, they both went.


    "Don''t you fucking touch me." John shouted at the butler.


    The butler just silently walked toward John. Just as John tried to run, the butler lifted him by his jacket. The butler was much stronger than John anticipated, inhumanly strong. If he gets hurt he''s liable to black out and slaughter the butler. But John holds on. The butler grabs him and drags him back. And throws him into the library, In front of Mr. Scranton. The butler closes the door and leaves.


    John looks up at Mr. Scranton.


    "Welcome Back!"


    "Look I''m gonna explain everything, you need to trust me. I''m running out of time, you''re running out of time. So you''re gonna get off the floor and sit in that chair." The old man said.


    He stands there with his arms crossed, waiting for John to get off the floor. John almost lay there in the fetal position. Feeling emasculated. After all his progress, he felt weak and powerless. The beast inside was stronger than him and so was this zombie-like butler.


    "You may leave us!" Dwight Scranton ordered.


    It backed away and closed the door. John only heard a couple of receding footsteps. Possibly some fake ones. John didn''t want to necessarily point it out. But this butler seemed to have the intelligence of Frankenstein''s monster. Maybe a little more loyal and a lot less talkative. This butler had a dim look on his face. All the lights on and no one home in that man. He only ever replied to Dwight Scranton. There was a good indication that the butler was waiting outside of the door if John tried to leave again.


    "What the fuck is his problem." John sneered.


    "His problem is he''s dead." Dwight responded.


    "What the fuck do you mean? Like dead, dead?"


    "Yes, dead, dead dumbass. We are pretty close to it ourselves. He didn''t just work for me and my family, he was a dear friend of mine! I knew him better than the majority of my family. After I had been possessed, I came home, to him hanging from the chandelier by the entryway. I didn''t know whether it was from the curse I put on you, myself, and others. Or if he was just depressed and angry. To believe it was because I left is so egocentric. I paraded around, on a drunken binge for months, that he had been murdered and I was gonna solve his case..." Dwight paused while pouring himself another drink.


    "I couldn''t accept that my dearest friend would leave me here. I blamed everything on myself. And yet, I couldn''t accept it not being my fault. So I hunted for his killer. That was until I brought myself to go through his personal effects. Months after his passing. Long after I cut him down. He left a letter addressed to his wife."


    To My Dearest Wife,


    The master has left on an expedition and I fear the worst. After I had received the news of our child. I haven''t slept. I haven''t eaten, and I feel helpless. The whole point of this job was to make sure she was taken care of. To make sure she lived a full life. And I couldn''t manage that. Our efforts weren''t enough. My efforts weren''t enough¡­ Now she is dead¡­and I want to join her. I remember her birth so vividly, it is my favorite day. And that is why her death has hurt me this much. If time mends a broken heart¡­I refuse to find out¡­


    I don''t know who will find this but please get in contact with my wife. Pass on my final words of suffering. I don''t want to talk myself out of it, I only want to see my daughter again.


    "It was stamped with his family sigil. He lost a son already to pneumonia. After the birth of his daughter, she started to fall ill from stomach cancer. He worked for me while I paid all his fees. His poor little girl, even my wealth wasn''t enough to help them."


    "You still haven''t explained the part about him being a corpse. You haven''t explained anything!" John said.


    The man glares at John, sips his drink, and continues.


    "I didn''t bring Bart back from the dead¡­ My demon did, to torment me. Wear down my sanity. They''re interdimensional beings. They kill without mercy. They have no interest in your self actualizations, or humanity''s petty squabbles, you''re merely a vehicle. We opened a portal, John. They have an agenda and we don¡¯t have a choice!¡±


    "I don''t care what it is, Dwight! I want it gone! I don''t care what happened to you! I don''t care about your zombie best friend with the dead wife!" John yells.


    "I thought you of all people would understand!" Dwight began to gurgle and twitch.


    He hunched over in pain, and a twisted grin formed under his blue lips. The maggots started to crawl beneath his skin. They began to increase in number falling rapidly off his face. The old man began to hum. He turns around and dashes at John lifting him off his feet! He removes his glasses and smiles as the bugs crawl all over the Dwight and John.


    "Hello, Johnny boy!" The thing behind the twisted grin gargled and croaked underneath all the maggots.


    John was unsure really what to do and just hung there in fear. He could feel the insects crawling onto him. The man''s forearm felt rubbery and almost soap-like. The frustration John felt. Unable to move. Unable to react. Then suddenly John hangs his head.


    "Well, this is interesting. Figured I was the only one here. Didn''t care too much to look either" The demon says in a low growl.


    "Ah well, it does seem there are others" the thing hissed.


    The man with maggots in his eyes spoke with a much raspier voice, almost sickly. Like he was rolling a ball of phlegm in his throat. John could see the hell his demon was putting him through, he shuddered in fear. It was by far the most disgusting thing he has ever seen. He realized first that the body of the man known as Dwight Scranton was dead. The entire inside of his husk was a colony of maggots. Shifting and moving beneath his skin. While buzzing and consuming his body. All working in unison as if Dwight''s body was a flesh puppet. It shook John to his core; as he fell further and further asleep. The shadows of the maggoty thing loomed over them. As did the carnal demon of slaughter. Still not revealing their true forms. Only talking behind the faces of the possessed.


    "Now that we put the kiddies to bed we can speak freely." John heard his demon say as he drifted further and further from consciousness.


    In the depths of John''s consciousness, he was falling. A never-ending feeling of falling. He couldn''t open his eyes but it was like he was on a constant drop of a rollercoaster that didn''t end. And each time John gets a conscious awareness of his internal surroundings he''s met with death. Caused by the victims of his other half. They practically line up. Time passes oddly in John''s mind. John experiences it how you or I would in regular time. While trapped in his subconscious mind, however, time in the real world is much slower. What is hours in the outside world is like days or months to John in his mind. John switches so often that he could never keep track of the time he lost.


    This time John ends up appearing at his childhood home. John had quite the anger management issue as a young man. Holes in the wall throughout each of his mother''s homes. Being evicted on numerous occasions. In this particular home, John spent most of his childhood.


    Everything around him had an almost ribbon effect, opening up a door would lead you to another random portion of the house. Walking outside could place you in the bathroom. Walking up the stairs could place you in the basement and that''s what happened to John. He went searching for signs of life. He ran straight to the kitchen and as soon as he passed the archway, he disappeared and reappeared running in the same direction, running towards the kitchen again. He slid and stopped himself. He turned and tried to go upstairs as soon as he turned the corner to go up the stairs. The basement door was closed behind him. He made his way into the basement. The door behind him wasn''t budging.


    He heard sobbing, as he slowly lurched through the basement. Trying to stay quiet. It was dark and there was a singular light in the corner of the main room. The ceiling was low. And the smell was all too familiar. As he ventured further into the basement the sobbing grew louder. The fear in the pit of his stomach grew stronger as he approached the light.


    He saw a woman crouched over sobbing into her hands. John''s feelings of familiarity grew stronger, as did his fear. He knew the woman crouched over.


    "Mom?" John whispered.


    John hadn''t seen his mom since he was a young man. She died¡­ So he and his brother had to fend for themselves when John was only 15. Luckily his brother, who was 19 at the time, could claim guardianship over John and kept him out of the foster system. Unfortunately, his brother had to give up his diploma, on his second attempt in his senior year. His brother needed to work and John needed to finish school. John was filled with shame, he couldn''t remember their names. But he did know how he felt about them, and that alone reminded him of the relationship he had with them.


    As he was about to touch her shoulder. She shoots around screaming in John''s face. Eyes carved out. Blood orifices circled her eyes. Maggots by the thousands nesting in her eye sockets and toothless mouth. John falls to the ground terrified. She gargles and vomits, what looks like billions of maggots onto John. As his mother''s corpse falls on top of him; John closes his eyes shut in fear. Praying she wouldn''t land on him. As John opened his eyes he realized he was on the floor of the study in Dwight''s house, and among the waking world.


    "The maggots trap you in a trance created by your guilt. Most people don''t escape the trance." The old man says standing over John.


    "Is that what you did to him? That''s messed up. I should fucking kill you!" John says looking at the butler who never seems to leave Dwight''s side.


    "Like I said I couldn''t bear losing my friend¡­He''s back with his daughter, I saw it for myself." Dwight responded.


    "I thought you said they had a funeral? That he was buried for months?" John said.


    "Well I did, and he was. He dug himself out. He was buried on the property. The maggots found their way into the coffin and they repaired his brain, he dug himself out and wandered back inside and started making me coffee. What is so hard to understand! He''s dedicated to his craft!" Dwight yelled.


    "You honestly believe he wants to be here. Waiting on you? Even more so, you think HE wants to be there?! After he hung himself¡­to get away from you, hell I''d hang myself if I thought it''d get me away from you too. I don''t think I can die." John laughed as he started to realize how fucked he truly was.


    "Good. Why don''t you try it, I''ll even help you. You haven''t once complimented my nice suit!"


    "Maybe that''s because you''re a pile of maggots pretending to be a guy." John replied sarcastically and started to laugh harder.


    "I am not! I''m a person possessed by a 4th-dimensional force, whose mental representation happens to look like a lot of maggots¡­ that devoured my body and now holds my consciousness prisoner. You need to understand John, they came here by accident¡­"


    "You called them here!" John yelled. "You, me, and who knows how many others are possessed by demonic figures, you purposely drove us crazy! Opened a doorway to a realm you had no understanding of! For what?! Riches?! Immortality?! Influence?! Power?! Fucking wishes?!" John protests angrily, he wasn''t laughing anymore.


    "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."


    John grabs him by the jacket.


    "Glad someone got what they wanted." He released the man.


    "I can teach you to control it! You won''t black out anymore! You will be able to control your god''s  ability." He says, dusting himself off.


    "THEY ARE NOT GODS!" John shouted.


    "Why don''t you understand these things are horrible monsters?! They and you ruined my life! They ruined your life?! You''re broke and alone Dwight! Your butler is a damn zombie. His soul is forever in agony because of you. Why don''t you understand that I want it gone." John tried to reason with Dwight.


    "They have unimaginable power, John."


    "There''s nothing that thing has that I want. You said you had a room here. I''d like to rest." John ends the conversation abruptly.


    "Down the hall to the left, a bed has already been made. Some extra clothes. You have your own bathroom. We both know you won''t be sleeping though. Get out of my sight." The old man sneered.


    John went upstairs and paced around his room most of the night. It wasn¡¯t like he was going to sleep anyway.

 Chapter 3

    Gus and Stan arrived at the morgue sometime in the afternoon. They approach a desk where a young woman is sitting, surrounded by papers, trinkets, and picture frames of her family. She had blonde hair and was wearing a bright pink blouse and a vanilla-colored skirt.


    Stan tips his hat to greet the young woman. "Scuse me ma''am sorry to bother you, we were wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for us."


    "Sure, but Dr. Cayden went on a quick errand; he should be back any minute. If you don''t mind waiting, that is." The mortician''s assistant said.


    "Not a problem. This should be a question you could answer for us anyhow." Stan says.


    "Am I gonna need a lawyer?" The assistant asks jokingly.


    "No ma''am. We''re just doing a follow-up with the mortician''s office about a few bodies that came in?"


    "Not to be rude officers, a lot of bodies come in here."


    "You''d know ma''am. Quite a few bodies all showing up at the same time? From a similar location." Gus says.


    "I really should ask Dr. Cayden¡­" she says while she reaches for the phone.


    Stan quickly grabs the assistant''s key card off her desk. He makes a break for the door between the lobby and the set of doors leading to different areas of the morgue.


    "You can''t go through there!" She chases after Stan.


    "I''ll be quick." Stan shouts.


    Stan hurries down the hall, hoping to find the body-holding area. Gus grabs the door and follows him down the hall. Stan ends up in a room with nothing but metal refrigerated drawers. Holding bodies mainly from the unrecorded 10-66.


    "All this death and there''s no record. Everyone''s treating the call like it didn''t happen. Now, why is that?" Stan says to himself.


    He starts to observe the room. Looking at the names on the units. Anything to lead back to who they saw in the woods. A mother and child were stored next to each other. It stops Stan in his tracks.


    "You aren''t allowed in here! I could lose my job for this! I''m going to call Dr. Cayden!" the assistant hurries back to her desk pushing past Gus.


    "Heather and Janice Wright. Ages 30 and 3. A mother and daughter." Gus reads allowed from a clipboard hanging off the drawer.


    Gus opens the doors. They pull out the tables first with the mother. Then the child''s. Slowly pulling down Janice Wright''s bloody sheet. Revealing the broken jaw and disfigured face. Her eyes and mouth were still open in horror. Separated from her body. Her arms and legs are stiff and visibly broken. Blood can be heard hitting Gus'' shoe. After the guilt was finished washing over their faces, they realized this woman was not only decapitated but also had been torn in half. Her legs and torso were twisted to unholy shapes.


    "This poor woman." Gus said.


    "Something happened Gus. These people weren''t killed by some guy with a gun, these people weren''t stabbed. I don''t even think it was that guy we chased in the woods. They were torn apart. Tortured and slaughtered like cattle."


    "What should we do?" Gus asked.


    At that moment Dr. Cayden snuck up behind them. Nearly scaring Gus out of his skin.


    "Ahhhhhhh!!!" Gus screams.


    "What are you doing here? Why am I getting a call that a couple of officers are harassing my assistant? You officers finally come to pick up your corpses?"


    Dr. Cayden is an older white gentleman in a lab coat. He''s a cooky, old man, with square glasses, shaking his cane at the officers.


    "They just dropped them off! I haven''t heard anything in days! You drop off pieces of bodies, ask me to put them together then just leave? Your department is full of assholes, you know that?"


    "You think he''s talking about the chief?" Gus whispers.


    "Probably." Stan replies. "So they just dropped off the bodies and left you to pick up the parts?" Stan quickly snapped back to the situation at hand.


    "Yes! Then I got an email to cremate them! Without another word? Really?! These people deserve more than that! I already pieced them together and at least got their names! I haven''t contacted the families yet! I figure your department should do some of the Goddamn leg work!" Dr. Cayden rants loudly.


    "Sir. Sir. Please calm down. I didn''t know. Now¡­"


    The doctor dries his tears.


    "Yes, I''ll show you the email¡­" Dr. Cayden said.


    They make their way to Dr. Cayden''s computer. He types on his computer bringing up the email sent from the police department. More importantly from Chief Fields.


    To: Dr. Cayden


    From: Police Chief Fields


    06/07/2012 7:00 AM


    Hello Dr. Cayden,


    We had an incident last night involving some kind of mass murder. Originally reported as a possible robbery at the grocery store on Mortif Dr. My officers and the on-scene ICU unit picked up several bodies. I''m going to ask you to cremate after full autopsy reports of all the victims. I think it''s best if the families don''t see the bodies. I apologize ahead of time for the gruesome details I am about to share with you. Majority of the victims'' limbs have been severed, they have been decapitated, their faces have been carved off and eaten. The fingers have been separated from the hands and found throughout the store. Entrails were spread out like pork sausages in the meat section. A woman and her baby were found dead at the entryway in pieces. After you finish the autopsy reports I will send some officers over to collect the data. You will speak about this with no one. You can understand the seriousness of the situation as to why I contacted directly.


    Best regards,


    Chief Fields.


    "That son of a bitch! This is days ago. Gus what''s today." Stan says while he wipes his mouth and thinks.


    "The uh tenth." Gus had to think for a minute.


    "Dr. Cayden, I''m gonna need those autopsy reports." Stan says.


    "Did Chief Fields send you?" Cayden responds.


    "Yeah, for the reports." Gus catches on.


    "Okay quite frankly the quicker I dispose of those bodies the better I''ll feel. Their loved ones don''t deserve to see them like this. I''m not doing anything unless you can promise me you''ll do right by those people." Dr. Cayden replied.


    "I promise the families will be notified." Stan says sincerely.


    "I need those autopsy reports and after I figure out what''s going on, we will notify the families." Stan repeated.


    "Honestly it''s nothing I''ve ever seen before. Come look at this." With a disturbed look on his face, Dr. Cayden points over to another door.


    Dr. Cayden opens the door to reveal Harry Bennette, age 18. Harry had been working the night of the murders. His throat had been ripped open and he was missing fingers. Dr. Cayden was lucky to identify him. As the fingers and face had been chewed off. His vest and name tag were bagged up as were all the victims clothes.


    "These claw marks are of no animal I''ve ever seen, and also look at this." Dr Cayden points again but to an opening in the arm socket. The bones twist in unnatural shapes. The arms are detached and at Harry''s side. He is missing fingers but his head is intact.


    "It''s almost as if the arms were twisted off." Cayden says.


    "If they weren''t going to clean up the bodies, why sever the limbs after death? Don''t most people only sever limbs for torture or to make the body more transferable." Gus says.


    "It wasn''t just severed, Gus. It was torn off. This was no animal but I don''t see how a human could do this either. The strength needed to tear the limbs off would be inhuman. I''d say the fingers and faces missing, meant the killer would be trying to conceal the identity. But they were found scattered and dental records would''ve done the job." Stan replies.


    "Sir, there is a crushed skull under one of these sheets. There''s teeth marks on most of the victims, a mix of human and beastial." Dr. Cayden says.


    "We need to tell someone about this." Gus says.


    "Look Gus, we have no idea who we can trust. That email came from the chief, which means he knew about it. Something isn''t adding up. How is he gonna know about a call that we were at the very least, the second responders too? Then act like we abandoned our post? Nothing about this makes sense." Stan whispers to Gus.


    "Maybe the chief misread?" Gus responds.


    Stan looks in disbelief. "Do you know how long that report would be? Who do you want to report this to?"


    "Fucking someone!" Gus throws his hands up, visibly upset and distraught at the present situation.


    "Gus, if you tell anyone I won''t be able to protect you from the backlash if I''m right." Stan warns.


    "What are you Stan? A secret agent all of the sudden? This is bigger than us!"


    "If you don''t calm down, I swear to god!" Stan shouts but is cut off.


    "Let''s recap shall we. We have several bodies. The only lead we had escaped. We have no idea who he was or where he was going." Gus reiterates, visibly scared.


    "Gus I''m telling you we can solve this ourselves. Something is going on and the chief is involved or at least knows about it." Stan, trying to make his point.


    "You don''t like me, Stan. I don''t trust you. I still don''t know why the department keeps us as partners after all your "senior complaints". I can''t tell you how many times I requested a transfer. Even as a rookie." Gus says his voice shaking.


    "First off let''s not do this in front of the doc¡­" Stan says.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "See! Right there! It''s that attitude. I''ll be handing in my letter of resignation as soon as possible. Gus says, gripping his fists.


    "Where''s the doctor?" Stan asks.


    The doctor snuck away while Gus and Stan were having their quarrel. Gus and Stan rush back to the front desk.


    "Yes sir. They said they were YOUR officers¡­" Stan hits the dial tone before Dr. Cayden could finish his frantic sentence.


    "We weren''t done making our report yet." Stan says.


    "I wasn''t talking to anyone. It went straight to voicemail." Dr. Cayden protests.


    "Now, if it went straight to voicemail why did it sound more like a response and less like a call me back sort of message?" Stan asks sarcastically.


    Dr. Cayden is scared and looking for the correct response on Gus and Stan''s faces.


    "Sir, we aren''t gonna hurt you but I need you to explain to me. Beginning to end. What happened, how did the bodies get in your possession?" Gus asks.


    Dr. Cayden was too shocked to respond.


    "Ok¡­have it your way." Stan says impatiently. He slowly begins to push papers off Dr. Cayden''s desk.


    "What no kids, that''s a shame?" Stan says before swiping a picture frame of Dr. Cayden and his wife to the ground. Breaking it.


    "Stan! What are you doing!?" Gus yells.


    "Shut up Gus!"


    "The chief specifically told me not to share the details except to the officers HE sent." Dr. Cayden got more upset.


    "We are the officers HE sent!" Stan says begrudgingly.


    Stan grabs him by the shirt collar.


    "Tell me! Who gave you the bodies!" Stan shouts.


    Gus puts his hand on Stan''s forearm.


    "Stop Stan!" Gus shouts.


    "No, I won''t stop. Gus, this is how you get answers!" Stan says gritting his teeth.


    "Maybe to some asshole at a bar, I would be less likely to protest but Stan, this is a doctor with a good reputation with the police department." Gus says.


    Stan just looks at Gus then back at Dr. Cayden still gritting his teeth. Seeing the fear in Caydens eyes. Stan let him go. Stan storms out of the office.


    "I''ll be sure to bring your names up to the chief when you leave." Dr. Cayden is still shaking.


    "Do what you have to do, doctor. I''m sorry for the trouble." Gus leaves in fear of what is about to happen.


    In fear of what was to become of his job and his life. Large amounts of bodies appear, a partner who is willing to go outside of, not just training but the law itself, to get what he wants. An estranged mystery having to do with his boss. Gus found himself in a world of uncertainty. He wanted to do real police work and knew of the grit required. But to experience a truly difficult case with so much carnage and no real leads was a different beast all on its own.


    Gus gets in the passenger side of the police cruiser. Stan is waiting for him standing outside the car with a cigarette. After the car door slams Stan gets in the car with his cigarette visibly upset and silent.


    "Could you please put that out, it''s giving me a headache." Gus says as he is about to take a sip from his coffee cup.


    Stan takes the cup, removes the lid and throws his cigarette into it and puts the lid back on the cup and hands it back to Gus.


    "That better for ya?" Stan says, still angry.


    Gus stares into his cup for a second and throws it out the window. Disgusted and unsurprised as Stan sits with a small grin on his face.


    "I should write you up for littering among insubordination." Stan says smirking and thinking very highly of himself.


    "I should turn you in, for abuse of power and assault!" Gus tries to stand his ground.


    Stan slaps Gus upside the back of the head.


    "May as well make it two counts." Stan slaps him again.


    "Want to make it three, how about four Gus!" Stan shouts, short of losing his temper again.


    "You and I both know it''d only be one individual count of assault two counting me. Not each individual hit counts as a case. Asshole¡­" Gus mutters.


    "What was that! Speak up! Something is going on and I''m gonna find out what it is! You want to stop me! You want to go to the chief! Go ahead!"


    Gus thought to himself for a moment. He solemnly sunk into his seat. Stan pulls the car over.


    "Here''s your chance. Make sure to say hi to your wife for me." Stan said fully aware that Gus had no idea what his wife was up to.


    Gus decided it was best to let Stan cool off. So he got out of the car and decided to walk back to the station. Stan angrily drove off to clear his head. In retrospect, Stan knew he could have handled the entire situation better. His anger always got the best of him. Ever since his wife had left him for a much softer man. Stan felt the world owed him a win. So taking the wife of someone whom Stan deemed lesser was a worthy prize in his eyes. And Stan did feel Gus was lesser. Gus was larger and slower than Stan, definitely more inexperienced in police work. Gus was a more meek man. Just a pushover and a yes man. Stan however was a more willful and head strong man. He knew what he wanted and didn''t care how others viewed him. He had been on the force long enough to know when he was pushing his bounds. Stan was in way over his head and with no one to trust he just needed some comfort to get his head straight. Nothing, a drink and some company wouldn''t fix.


    Gus walked down the street still in uniform. He hoped Stan would turn around but knew he wouldn''t. Gus didn''t want to walk but for his safety and to avoid Stan''s wrath he decided it was better for both of them. Gus, for the life of him, couldn''t figure out why Stan hated him so much. Gus chalked it up to Stan being an old cop who''s been there too long. An old cop who got stuck with the rookie.


    After looking up from the ground and escaping his thought process Gus realized he was nearby the grocery store, where this all started. He got towards the entrance. The doors slid open like they always did. Another one of the strangest things about this case was the fact the grocery store spent no time opening back up. A few of their employees and customers are slaughtered and not even a public apology. To Gus, the community had been acting strangely. But not in the way you would think. A small town where multiple people have been chopped up and not even a missing persons report. No vigils, no funeral plans. The call itself said shots fired but there was no bullet damage on the bodies. There were numerous people here and yet no one heard anything. From the looks of it, nothing had been followed up on. Things like this just don''t go unnoticed. Maybe Stan was on to something. And maybe the Chief knew about it.


    A woman at a desk shouts to Gus as he enters the grocery store.


    "Hi, welcome. How can I help you today?" The young lady at the customer service desk asks.


    "Yes um, I came to ask a few questions to some of the employees. On account of some other employees here having gone missing? You wouldn''t happen to know anything about that would ya?" The less Gus gave away the more she could tell him Gus thought.


    "No, everyone was here today. But if you do find them, maybe tell them to show up for work. We have several open shifts and I''m tired of covering my manager''s mistakes." the cashier complained.


    "Is your manager in today?" Gus asked.


    Her face turned white. "No?" she hesitated.


    "I''m not tryna get you in trouble. I''m trying to make sure everyone''s ok." Gus nodded consolingly.


    "Yeah, she''s in the office. Just over there" she points.


    "If you go to the end of the registers, pass by the restrooms, down that hallway is her office."


    Gus followed the directions and came to a door labeled managers office. He knocked twice.


    "C''mon on in." The manager hollered with a chipper tone.


    A name plate sat on her desk, Jennifer Winnifred She was a red haired woman with a heavy southern accent. Wearing a green collared shirt unlike the vests the other employees wear. She has a boombox sitting on the filing cabinet. She was singing along to Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson. Gus only recognized it because his mother used to sing it while she cleaned.


    "Yes hi,ya ma''am." He hesitated. "I''m officer Gus Stein. I''m sorry to bother you."


    She looked puzzled. "Okay? How can I help you?" she continued bobbing her head and humming along.


    "Ma''am do you know Harry Bennette?"


    "No, but with how todays going I could have lost my brain and don''t know it." she giggled to herself.


    "What''s wrong with your brain?" Gus jokes.


    "Well to start I got this nasty cut on the back of my head with no clue of how I got it. I left a whole shift open, with no coverage. Now my other employees and I are working doubles all week. Ya ever feel like you''re missing a day? She said in her strong southern accent.


    "Man, got to hate that!" Gus said awkwardly while making mental notes about needing the coverage.


    "Yeah, is there anything else I can help you with? I''m sorry I''m really busy." The manager exclaimed.


    "Ma''am were you here on June sixth of this year?" Gus asked.


    "Uh let me check the schedule. June sixth?" She stopped.


    She paused.


    And almost as if she was in a trance. She began to mouth the June sixth as if she was having trouble finding it on the calendar. She started to whisper it to herself and repeat it faster. She stopped. Her voice began to crackle and pop. The lights above Gus''s head started to fizzle. Her face snapped and looked at Gus with a wicked smile. She began to whisper it again.


    "Ma''am are you ok?" Gus asked.


    "June sixth¡­June sixth¡­June sixth¡­"


    Jennifer Winnifred began to get louder and louder till she was practically screaming. Gus is shocked and too scared to move from his chair.


    JUNE SIXTH! JUNE SIXTH! JUNE SIXTH!


    People started to gather outside her office to see the commotion. She stood up. She took one big breath. It sounded like all of the air was taken out of her lungs, followed by a croaking sound. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She collapsed back in her chair with her head on the desk, eyes wide open. Bleeding from the mark on her skull and her eyes and ears.


    "Someone call an ambulance!" Gus yelled frantically before checking her pulse.


    She was already dead¡­


    As someone dialed 911 Gus decided it was best to leave. If Chief Fields were involved and Stan was right. He did not want the Chief thinking he was poking around in his business. And he didn''t want to listen to Stan holler at him for letting the Chief know what he had been up to. If Stan were wrong then Gus had just left the scene where he could have been easily identified. Possibly even helped. Gus decided to go home and make a drink to calm his nerves. He told no one what he had witnessed.


    Stan made it back to the precinct. He headed straight for the chief''s office to confront him about his emails. He saw Misty Stein. In the chief''s office, talking to him, smiling and twirling her hair. She had that same look on her face the other night. She saw Stan and her smile instantly fell. She couldn''t take her eyes off of him. Stan would say they looked guilty but he knew their encounter could have been anything. Could''ve been about Gus, or him. If she was fooling around with Stan who was to say it was only him. She certainly wasn''t fooling around with her husband. Confronting her there and then would wreak havoc on Stan''s life.


    Stan decided to turn in the squad car and head to the bar not even out of uniform. He sat alone. He had a rum and coke. Irritated about his day. Chief had it out for Stan and he knew it. Every advance Stan made, Chief Randy Fields was two steps ahead of him. Stunting his career. Stan believed him to be a half ass chief and even more of a half assed cop. Stan saw him as a suck up until he was able to get comfy. It was bad enough that Stan went to high school with Randy. They were on the same football team. No one was supposed to know it, but the coaches used play positions as tokens for their card games. Randy''s father was the elementary gym teacher and flag football coach. He was also Stan''s Co-Coach Stan was seen to just have natural talent for the game. Stan''s coach (who''s name Stan couldn''t remember.) would acknowledge that. Too bad Stan''s high school coach had a bad poker face. If the bet wasn''t evident, Randy''s father bet that if he won the draw Randy would be quarterback. If he lost he would owe the coach bears tickets. Randy''s father called a good bluff and won the hand. Randy was announced to be the quarterback. Stan became the running back. That was only the beginning of Chief Randy Fields getting ahead of Stan.


    As Stan continued his drink. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Misty enter the bar.  He pretended not to notice her behind him as he waved the bar for another drink.


    "Stan¡­" Misty said sheepishly.


    "Yes? Can I help you ma''am." Stan said mockingly.


    "First off it wasn''t like that." Misty said.


    "And what was it like?" he said, slightly inebriated.


    "I was looking for Gus, when Randy stopped me. I was hoping you''d come find and rescue me."


    "Oh so you and Fields are on a first name basis?"


    "Don''t do that Stan."


    By this point Stan had a few. And was finding it hard to filter his tone. He liked Misty. He wasn''t sure if he could trust her and he didn''t. She''s cheating on her husband with his patrol partner. For Stan to believe that it couldn''t happen to him (again) was ludicrous.


    "Stan, I''m putting my life on the line even being here now, if that''s not showing I''m dedicated to you. I don''t know what to do." Misty protested.


    "That''s manipulative. Even the construction of your sentences sounds like a lie. I''d bet you''d say those similar sentences to your husband." Stan says.


    "What sentences?!" Misty responded.


    "Oh Stan, what you saw couldn''t possibly be what you saw. You only saw it with your own two eyes!" Stan gritted.


    "Oh fuck off Stan!" Misty walks away.


    "Sure. Walk away. Thank you." He tips his drink.


    She can be heard sobbing as she leaves the bar. Stan sits by himself with his thoughts till the bar closes.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4


    Gus and Stan arrived at the morgue sometime in the afternoon. They approach a desk where a young woman is sitting, surrounded by papers, trinkets, and picture frames of her family. She had blonde hair and was wearing a bright pink blouse and a vanilla-colored skirt.


    Stan tips his hat to greet the young woman. "Scuse me ma''am sorry to bother you, we were wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for us."


    "Sure, but Dr. Cayden went on a quick errand; he should be back any minute. If you don''t mind waiting, that is." The mortician''s assistant said.


    "Not a problem. This should be a question you could answer for us anyhow." Stan says.


    "Am I gonna need a lawyer?" The assistant asks jokingly.


    "No ma''am. We''re just doing a follow-up with the mortician''s office about a few bodies that came in?"


    "Not to be rude officers, a lot of bodies come in here."


    "You''d know ma''am. Quite a few bodies all showing up at the same time? From a similar location." Gus says.


    "I really should ask Dr. Cayden¡­" she says while she reaches for the phone.


    Stan quickly grabs the assistant''s key card off her desk. He makes a break for the door between the lobby and the set of doors leading to different areas of the morgue.


    "You can''t go through there!" She chases after Stan.


    "I''ll be quick." Stan shouts.


    Stan hurries down the hall, hoping to find the body-holding area. Gus grabs the door and follows him down the hall. Stan ends up in a room with nothing but metal refrigerated drawers. Holding bodies mainly from the unrecorded 10-66.


    "All this death and there''s no record. Everyone''s treating the call like it didn''t happen. Now, why is that?" Stan says to himself.


    He starts to observe the room. Looking at the names on the units. Anything to lead back to who they saw in the woods. A mother and child were stored next to each other. It stops Stan in his tracks.


    "You aren''t allowed in here! I could lose my job for this! I''m going to call Dr. Cayden!" the assistant hurries back to her desk pushing past Gus.


    "Heather and Janice Wright. Ages 30 and 3. A mother and daughter." Gus reads allowed from a clipboard hanging off the drawer.


    Gus opens the doors. They pull out the tables first with the mother. Then the child''s. Slowly pulling down Janice Wright''s bloody sheet. Revealing the broken jaw and disfigured face. Her eyes and mouth were still open in horror. Separated from her body. Her arms and legs are stiff and visibly broken. Blood can be heard hitting Gus'' shoe. After the guilt was finished washing over their faces, they realized this woman was not only decapitated but also had been torn in half. Her legs and torso were twisted to unholy shapes.


    "This poor woman." Gus said.


    "Something happened Gus. These people weren''t killed by some guy with a gun, these people weren''t stabbed. I don''t even think it was that guy we chased in the woods. They were torn apart. Tortured and slaughtered like cattle."


    "What should we do?" Gus asked.


    At that moment Dr. Cayden snuck up behind them. Nearly scaring Gus out of his skin.


    "Ahhhhhhh!!!" Gus screams.


    "What are you doing here? Why am I getting a call that a couple of officers are harassing my assistant? You officers finally come to pick up your corpses?"


    Dr. Cayden is an older white gentleman in a lab coat. He''s a cooky, old man, with square glasses, shaking his cane at the officers.


    "They just dropped them off! I haven''t heard anything in days! You drop off pieces of bodies, ask me to put them together then just leave? Your department is full of assholes, you know that?"


    "You think he''s talking about the chief?" Gus whispers.


    "Probably." Stan replies. "So they just dropped off the bodies and left you to pick up the parts?" Stan quickly snapped back to the situation at hand.


    "Yes! Then I got an email to cremate them! Without another word? Really?! These people deserve more than that! I already pieced them together and at least got their names! I haven''t contacted the families yet! I figure your department should do some of the Goddamn leg work!" Dr. Cayden rants loudly.


    "Sir. Sir. Please calm down. I didn''t know. Now¡­"


    The doctor dries his tears.


    "Yes, I''ll show you the email¡­" Dr. Cayden said.


    They make their way to Dr. Cayden''s computer. He types on his computer bringing up the email sent from the police department. More importantly from Chief Fields.


    To: Dr. Cayden


    From: Police Chief Fields


    06/07/2012 7:00 AM


    Hello Dr. Cayden,


    We had an incident last night involving some kind of mass murder. Originally reported as a possible robbery at the grocery store on Mortif Dr. My officers and the on-scene ICU unit picked up several bodies. I''m going to ask you to cremate after full autopsy reports of all the victims. I think it''s best if the families don''t see the bodies. I apologize ahead of time for the gruesome details I am about to share with you. Majority of the victims'' limbs have been severed, they have been decapitated, their faces have been carved off and eaten. The fingers have been separated from the hands and found throughout the store. Entrails were spread out like pork sausages in the meat section. A woman and her baby were found dead at the entryway in pieces. After you finish the autopsy reports I will send some officers over to collect the data. You will speak about this with no one. You can understand the seriousness of the situation as to why I contacted directly.


    Best regards,


    Chief Fields.


    "That son of a bitch! This is days ago. Gus what''s today." Stan says while he wipes his mouth and thinks.


    "The uh tenth." Gus had to think for a minute.


    "Dr. Cayden, I''m gonna need those autopsy reports." Stan says.


    "Did Chief Fields send you?" Cayden responds.


    "Yeah, for the reports." Gus catches on.


    "Okay quite frankly the quicker I dispose of those bodies the better I''ll feel. Their loved ones don''t deserve to see them like this. I''m not doing anything unless you can promise me you''ll do right by those people." Dr. Cayden replied.


    "I promise the families will be notified." Stan says sincerely.


    "I need those autopsy reports and after I figure out what''s going on, we will notify the families." Stan repeated.


    "Honestly it''s nothing I''ve ever seen before. Come look at this." With a disturbed look on his face, Dr. Cayden points over to another door.


    Dr. Cayden opens the door to reveal Harry Bennette, age 18. Harry had been working the night of the murders. His throat had been ripped open and he was missing fingers. Dr. Cayden was lucky to identify him. As the fingers and face had been chewed off. His vest and name tag were bagged up as were all the victims clothes.


    "These claw marks are of no animal I''ve ever seen, and also look at this." Dr Cayden points again but to an opening in the arm socket. The bones twist in unnatural shapes. The arms are detached and at Harry''s side. He is missing fingers but his head is intact.


    "It''s almost as if the arms were twisted off." Cayden says.


    "If they weren''t going to clean up the bodies, why sever the limbs after death? Don''t most people only sever limbs for torture or to make the body more transferable." Gus says.


    "It wasn''t just severed, Gus. It was torn off. This was no animal but I don''t see how a human could do this either. The strength needed to tear the limbs off would be inhuman. I''d say the fingers and faces missing, meant the killer would be trying to conceal the identity. But they were found scattered and dental records would''ve done the job." Stan replies.


    "Sir, there is a crushed skull under one of these sheets. There''s teeth marks on most of the victims, a mix of human and beastial." Dr. Cayden says.


    "We need to tell someone about this." Gus says.


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    "Look Gus, we have no idea who we can trust. That email came from the chief, which means he knew about it. Something isn''t adding up. How is he gonna know about a call that we were at the very least, the second responders too? Then act like we abandoned our post? Nothing about this makes sense." Stan whispers to Gus.


    "Maybe the chief misread?" Gus responds.


    Stan looks in disbelief. "Do you know how long that report would be? Who do you want to report this to?"


    "Fucking someone!" Gus throws his hands up, visibly upset and distraught at the present situation.


    "Gus, if you tell anyone I won''t be able to protect you from the backlash if I''m right." Stan warns.


    "What are you Stan? A secret agent all of the sudden? This is bigger than us!"


    "If you don''t calm down, I swear to god!" Stan shouts but is cut off.


    "Let''s recap shall we. We have several bodies. The only lead we had escaped. We have no idea who he was or where he was going." Gus reiterates, visibly scared.


    "Gus I''m telling you we can solve this ourselves. Something is going on and the chief is involved or at least knows about it." Stan, trying to make his point.


    "You don''t like me, Stan. I don''t trust you. I still don''t know why the department keeps us as partners after all your "senior complaints". I can''t tell you how many times I requested a transfer. Even as a rookie." Gus says his voice shaking.


    "First off let''s not do this in front of the doc¡­" Stan says.


    "See! Right there! It''s that attitude. I''ll be handing in my letter of resignation as soon as possible. Gus says, gripping his fists.


    "Where''s the doctor?" Stan asks.


    The doctor snuck away while Gus and Stan were having their quarrel. Gus and Stan rush back to the front desk.


    "Yes sir. They said they were YOUR officers¡­" Stan hits the dial tone before Dr. Cayden could finish his frantic sentence.


    "We weren''t done making our report yet." Stan says.


    "I wasn''t talking to anyone. It went straight to voicemail." Dr. Cayden protests.


    "Now, if it went straight to voicemail why did it sound more like a response and less like a call me back sort of message?" Stan asks sarcastically.


    Dr. Cayden is scared and looking for the correct response on Gus and Stan''s faces.


    "Sir, we aren''t gonna hurt you but I need you to explain to me. Beginning to end. What happened, how did the bodies get in your possession?" Gus asks.


    Dr. Cayden was too shocked to respond.


    "Ok¡­have it your way." Stan says impatiently. He slowly begins to push papers off Dr. Cayden''s desk.


    "What no kids, that''s a shame?" Stan says before swiping a picture frame of Dr. Cayden and his wife to the ground. Breaking it.


    "Stan! What are you doing!?" Gus yells.


    "Shut up Gus!"


    "The chief specifically told me not to share the details except to the officers HE sent." Dr. Cayden got more upset.


    "We are the officers HE sent!" Stan says begrudgingly.


    Stan grabs him by the shirt collar.


    "Tell me! Who gave you the bodies!" Stan shouts.


    Gus puts his hand on Stan''s forearm.


    "Stop Stan!" Gus shouts.


    "No, I won''t stop. Gus, this is how you get answers!" Stan says gritting his teeth.


    "Maybe to some asshole at a bar, I would be less likely to protest but Stan, this is a doctor with a good reputation with the police department." Gus says.


    Stan just looks at Gus then back at Dr. Cayden still gritting his teeth. Seeing the fear in Caydens eyes. Stan let him go. Stan storms out of the office.


    "I''ll be sure to bring your names up to the chief when you leave." Dr. Cayden is still shaking.


    "Do what you have to do, doctor. I''m sorry for the trouble." Gus leaves in fear of what is about to happen.


    In fear of what was to become of his job and his life. Large amounts of bodies appear, a partner who is willing to go outside of, not just training but the law itself, to get what he wants. An estranged mystery having to do with his boss. Gus found himself in a world of uncertainty. He wanted to do real police work and knew of the grit required. But to experience a truly difficult case with so much carnage and no real leads was a different beast all on its own.


    Gus gets in the passenger side of the police cruiser. Stan is waiting for him standing outside the car with a cigarette. After the car door slams Stan gets in the car with his cigarette visibly upset and silent.


    "Could you please put that out, it''s giving me a headache." Gus says as he is about to take a sip from his coffee cup.


    Stan takes the cup, removes the lid and throws his cigarette into it and puts the lid back on the cup and hands it back to Gus.


    "That better for ya?" Stan says, still angry.


    Gus stares into his cup for a second and throws it out the window. Disgusted and unsurprised as Stan sits with a small grin on his face.


    "I should write you up for littering among insubordination." Stan says smirking and thinking very highly of himself.


    "I should turn you in, for abuse of power and assault!" Gus tries to stand his ground.


    Stan slaps Gus upside the back of the head.


    "May as well make it two counts." Stan slaps him again.


    "Want to make it three, how about four Gus!" Stan shouts, short of losing his temper again.


    "You and I both know it''d only be one individual count of assault two counting me. Not each individual hit counts as a case. Asshole¡­" Gus mutters.


    "What was that! Speak up! Something is going on and I''m gonna find out what it is! You want to stop me! You want to go to the chief! Go ahead!"


    Gus thought to himself for a moment. He solemnly sunk into his seat. Stan pulls the car over.


    "Here''s your chance. Make sure to say hi to your wife for me." Stan said fully aware that Gus had no idea what his wife was up to.


    Gus decided it was best to let Stan cool off. So he got out of the car and decided to walk back to the station. Stan angrily drove off to clear his head. In retrospect, Stan knew he could have handled the entire situation better. His anger always got the best of him. Ever since his wife had left him for a much softer man. Stan felt the world owed him a win. So taking the wife of someone whom Stan deemed lesser was a worthy prize in his eyes. And Stan did feel Gus was lesser. Gus was larger and slower than Stan, definitely more inexperienced in police work. Gus was a more meek man. Just a pushover and a yes man. Stan however was a more willful and head strong man. He knew what he wanted and didn''t care how others viewed him. He had been on the force long enough to know when he was pushing his bounds. Stan was in way over his head and with no one to trust he just needed some comfort to get his head straight. Nothing, a drink and some company wouldn''t fix.


    Gus walked down the street still in uniform. He hoped Stan would turn around but knew he wouldn''t. Gus didn''t want to walk but for his safety and to avoid Stan''s wrath he decided it was better for both of them. Gus, for the life of him, couldn''t figure out why Stan hated him so much. Gus chalked it up to Stan being an old cop who''s been there too long. An old cop who got stuck with the rookie.


    After looking up from the ground and escaping his thought process Gus realized he was nearby the grocery store, where this all started. He got towards the entrance. The doors slid open like they always did. Another one of the strangest things about this case was the fact the grocery store spent no time opening back up. A few of their employees and customers are slaughtered and not even a public apology. To Gus, the community had been acting strangely. But not in the way you would think. A small town where multiple people have been chopped up and not even a missing persons report. No vigils, no funeral plans. The call itself said shots fired but there was no bullet damage on the bodies. There were numerous people here and yet no one heard anything. From the looks of it, nothing had been followed up on. Things like this just don''t go unnoticed. Maybe Stan was on to something. And maybe the Chief knew about it.


    A woman at a desk shouts to Gus as he enters the grocery store.


    "Hi, welcome. How can I help you today?" The young lady at the customer service desk asks.


    "Yes um, I came to ask a few questions to some of the employees. On account of some other employees here having gone missing? You wouldn''t happen to know anything about that would ya?" The less Gus gave away the more she could tell him Gus thought.


    "No, everyone was here today. But if you do find them, maybe tell them to show up for work. We have several open shifts and I''m tired of covering my manager''s mistakes." the cashier complained.


    "Is your manager in today?" Gus asked.


    Her face turned white. "No?" she hesitated.


    "I''m not tryna get you in trouble. I''m trying to make sure everyone''s ok." Gus nodded consolingly.


    "Yeah, she''s in the office. Just over there" she points.


    "If you go to the end of the registers, pass by the restrooms, down that hallway is her office."


    Gus followed the directions and came to a door labeled managers office. He knocked twice.


    "C''mon on in." The manager hollered with a chipper tone.


    A name plate sat on her desk, Jennifer Winnifred She was a red haired woman with a heavy southern accent. Wearing a green collared shirt unlike the vests the other employees wear. She has a boombox sitting on the filing cabinet. She was singing along to Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson. Gus only recognized it because his mother used to sing it while she cleaned.


    "Yes hi,ya ma''am." He hesitated. "I''m officer Gus Stein. I''m sorry to bother you."


    She looked puzzled. "Okay? How can I help you?" she continued bobbing her head and humming along.


    "Ma''am do you know Harry Bennette?"


    "No, but with how todays going I could have lost my brain and don''t know it." she giggled to herself.


    "What''s wrong with your brain?" Gus jokes.


    "Well to start I got this nasty cut on the back of my head with no clue of how I got it. I left a whole shift open, with no coverage. Now my other employees and I are working doubles all week. Ya ever feel like you''re missing a day? She said in her strong southern accent.


    "Man, got to hate that!" Gus said awkwardly while making mental notes about needing the coverage.


    "Yeah, is there anything else I can help you with? I''m sorry I''m really busy." The manager exclaimed.


    "Ma''am were you here on June sixth of this year?" Gus asked.


    "Uh let me check the schedule. June sixth?" She stopped.


    She paused.


    And almost as if she was in a trance. She began to mouth the June sixth as if she was having trouble finding it on the calendar. She started to whisper it to herself and repeat it faster. She stopped. Her voice began to crackle and pop. The lights above Gus''s head started to fizzle. Her face snapped and looked at Gus with a wicked smile. She began to whisper it again.


    "Ma''am are you ok?" Gus asked.


    "June sixth¡­June sixth¡­June sixth¡­"


    Jennifer Winnifred began to get louder and louder till she was practically screaming. Gus is shocked and too scared to move from his chair.


    JUNE SIXTH! JUNE SIXTH! JUNE SIXTH!


    People started to gather outside her office to see the commotion. She stood up. She took one big breath. It sounded like all of the air was taken out of her lungs, followed by a croaking sound. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She collapsed back in her chair with her head on the desk, eyes wide open. Bleeding from the mark on her skull and her eyes and ears.


    "Someone call an ambulance!" Gus yelled frantically before checking her pulse.


    She was already dead¡­


    As someone dialed 911 Gus decided it was best to leave. If Chief Fields were involved and Stan was right. He did not want the Chief thinking he was poking around in his business. And he didn''t want to listen to Stan holler at him for letting the Chief know what he had been up to. If Stan were wrong then Gus had just left the scene where he could have been easily identified. Possibly even helped. Gus decided to go home and make a drink to calm his nerves. He told no one what he had witnessed.


    Stan made it back to the precinct. He headed straight for the chief''s office to confront him about his emails. He saw Misty Stein. In the chief''s office, talking to him, smiling and twirling her hair. She had that same look on her face the other night. She saw Stan and her smile instantly fell. She couldn''t take her eyes off of him. Stan would say they looked guilty but he knew their encounter could have been anything. Could''ve been about Gus, or him. If she was fooling around with Stan who was to say it was only him. She certainly wasn''t fooling around with her husband. Confronting her there and then would wreak havoc on Stan''s life.


    Stan decided to turn in the squad car and head to the bar not even out of uniform. He sat alone. He had a rum and coke. Irritated about his day. Chief had it out for Stan and he knew it. Every advance Stan made, Chief Randy Fields was two steps ahead of him. Stunting his career. Stan believed him to be a half ass chief and even more of a half assed cop. Stan saw him as a suck up until he was able to get comfy. It was bad enough that Stan went to high school with Randy. They were on the same football team. No one was supposed to know it, but the coaches used play positions as tokens for their card games. Randy''s father was the elementary gym teacher and flag football coach. He was also Stan''s Co-Coach Stan was seen to just have natural talent for the game. Stan''s coach (who''s name Stan couldn''t remember.) would acknowledge that. Too bad Stan''s high school coach had a bad poker face. If the bet wasn''t evident, Randy''s father bet that if he won the draw Randy would be quarterback. If he lost he would owe the coach bears tickets. Randy''s father called a good bluff and won the hand. Randy was announced to be the quarterback. Stan became the running back. That was only the beginning of Chief Randy Fields getting ahead of Stan.


    As Stan continued his drink. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Misty enter the bar.  He pretended not to notice her behind him as he waved the bar for another drink.


    "Stan¡­" Misty said sheepishly.


    "Yes? Can I help you ma''am." Stan said mockingly.


    "First off it wasn''t like that." Misty said.


    "And what was it like?" he said, slightly inebriated.


    "I was looking for Gus, when Randy stopped me. I was hoping you''d come find and rescue me."


    "Oh so you and Fields are on a first name basis?"


    "Don''t do that Stan."


    By this point Stan had a few. And was finding it hard to filter his tone. He liked Misty. He wasn''t sure if he could trust her and he didn''t. She''s cheating on her husband with his patrol partner. For Stan to believe that it couldn''t happen to him (again) was ludicrous.


    "Stan, I''m putting my life on the line even being here now, if that''s not showing I''m dedicated to you. I don''t know what to do." Misty protested.


    "That''s manipulative. Even the construction of your sentences sounds like a lie. I''d bet you''d say those similar sentences to your husband." Stan says.


    "What sentences?!" Misty responded.


    "Oh Stan, what you saw couldn''t possibly be what you saw. You only saw it with your own two eyes!" Stan gritted.


    "Oh fuck off Stan!" Misty walks away.


    "Sure. Walk away. Thank you." He tips his drink.


    She can be heard sobbing as she leaves the bar. Stan sits by himself with his thoughts till the bar closes.