u/Lazy_Palpitation_517

When you're a senior in high school, you think you have everything figured out. You and your friends get together and make plans for the future, fully believing it will all work out. Careers are decided, trips are mapped out and you just know everything will go to plan, but then life comes along and just happens. College, a job, falling in love. Eventually, all those plans grow more and more distant, and the ties that held those old high school friendships together seem to just fade away.  

 

I was on my way home from work on a Friday evening when I got a call from an unknown number. Normally, I would just let it go to voicemail. But today for some reason I decided to answer. I thought that maybe if it was a scam call, I could at least have a little fun with it. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey man, how's it hanging?” Asked a man’s voice. 

“Uh, good. Who is this?” I responded. 

“Oh shit, I guess it has been a while. Its Sam, Sam (Redacted).” 

I laughed, I thought the voice sounded familiar, Sam had been my best friend in high school, but we hadn't talked in years. "Sam! Dude how long has it been? 9, 10 years? 

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, more like 12. How you been asshole?” 

“I've been good man, how about you?” 

“Living the dream bro. Hey, guess who I ran into the other day?” 

“Who?” I asked. 

“Josh, you remember Josh, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course. I haven't seen him since high school though, how is he?” 

Sam, Josh and I had been inseparable as teenagers, but over time we had just grown apart. 

“He’s good,” Said Sam, “Do you remember how we use to always talk about getting together and heading down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but the timing never worked out?” 

It was true, one of us was always busy with work or school, or girls and the long talked about trip never came to fruition. 

“Yeah, I remember.” I said. 

“Well, we got to talking and it turns out we are both free this time around.” Said Sam. 

“Okay.” I said, knowing where this was going. 

“So, what do you say? You still up for the trip?” 

I sighed. “I don't know man, I've kind of got a lot going on right now. I just started this new job and my girlfriend and I are moving in together. The timing is just a bit off for me right now.” 

“Come on Ben, we may never get another chance to take this trip.” Said Sam. 

The truth was, it had been a really long time and we were all different people now. I wasn't sure I even wanted to go anymore. I really just wanted to focus on my career and my future with Alice. On the other hand, it would be really good to see the guys again. 

“Look, I'm not saying no. Just let me sleep on it, okay?” 

“Alright man, give me a call and let me know. Either way we should try to hang out soon.” 

 

When I got home, I had a long talk with Alice about the guys and the trip we had always wanted to take. 

“It sounds like a fun trip, and your friends really want you to go.” She said. 

“I want to go too, I just don't know if the friendship is still there like it was before. I mean, we haven't exactly stayed in touch over the years.” 

Alice smiled, “Look babe, I can't tell you what to do here. If you want to go you should go, just don't find you a Cajun girl while you're down there.”  

I smiled back and kissed her, “How’d I get so lucky to get a girl like you?” 

She grinned up at me, “We both got lucky.” 

 

The next morning, I called Sam to tell him I was In and a week later we were on the road. For the most part we followed the course we had drawn out in high school. We had planned on making more stops when we were younger, really stretching the drive and getting the most of it. But adult life necessitated that we make the 20-hour drive as quick as possible. 

 We took turns sleeping and driving nonstop, which was absolutely fucking miserable. The long drive however proved my previous fears about our friendships to be completely unfounded. The three of us quickly fell into the familiar pattern of shit talking and cracking jokes, just like the old days.  

 

We were a few hours out from our destination when we stopped to get gas. It was one of those old timey gas stations, like you would see in a cheesy slasher flick. 

“You guys want anything?” Asked Josh as he headed for the door. 

I shook my head, “I'm good.” 

“Grab me a baja blast.” Said Sam. 

I stepped out of the Jeep to pump the gas. Josh had been driving but I would take over for the rest of the drive. 

“Pennsylvania huh?” Said a deep Cajun accented voice from behind me.  

I turned to see an old man with a bushy gray beard looking at our license plate. 

“You boys are a long way from home, aren't ya?” 

I nodded and cleared my throat, “Uh yeah, it's been quite a drive.” 

The old man smiled, “Yall come down here for Mardi Gras?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it's something we wanted to do since we were in high school.” 

The old man nodded, “I thought as much. Just make sure y'all stay on the main road, we wouldn't want you boys getting lost down by the bog.” 

I nodded and smiled politely, “No, we wouldn't want that.” 

He leaned in and gave me a sly grin, “Old Dr. Weller down there aint had any new blood for a good while now, and I'm sure he's wantin it.” 

I squinted at him in confusion, “Who?” 

“Never mind son,” He said laughing and patting me on the back, “Just stay out of the swamp and you'll be fine.” 

“I'm back fuckers.” Yelled Josh as he exited the gas station holding up Sam’s baja blast in one hand and a 30 pack of beer in the other.  

I grinned and shook my head. While Sam and I had become marginally more responsible with age, Josh was the same as he always was. 

I turned back to where the odd old man had been standing but he was gone, I glanced around thinking maybe he had walked off somewhere but saw no sign of him. I finished pumping the gas and climbed into the driver's seat. 

“Home stretch boys.” I said putting the jeep into gear. 

I glanced back at the gas station and saw the old man inside talking with the attendant, they were watching us as we pulled back onto the road.  

“Places like that give me serious hills have eyes vibes man.” Said Sam cracking open his soda. 

“Yeah dude I don't know how anyone lives out here in the middle of nowhere like this.” Said Josh. 

“Life, uh, uh, finds a way.” I said, doing my impeccable Jeff Goldblum impression. 

Josh laughed and Sam shook his head as we headed on down the road. 

 

Sam and Josh had both fallen asleep after about a half hour of driving. I checked the gps on my phone but the little car hadn't moved for the past few miles, no service out here. Oh well, I thought, by my reckoning we would be pulling into New Orleans around midnight. Sam snored loudly in the passenger seat next to me, so I turned up the radio to try and drown him out. I was getting pretty tired too, tired and irritable. I looked up from the radio and slammed on the brakes. 

“Oh Shit!” 

Something large and pale dashed across the road right in front of us. The tires squealed as I yanked the wheel to the side to avoid whatever it was, but the road was too narrow. We came to a sudden and jarring stop as the jeep slid off the road and slammed into the swampy water at the base of a mangrove tree. My head impacted the steering wheel, and I blacked out. 

“Ben! Ben!”  

Someone was shaking me. “Sam? What? What happened?” 

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the stars I was seeing. 

“Ben, are you alright?” Asked Sam as he shook me. 

I nodded glancing around, “Yeah, I hit my head, but I think I'm good.” 

There was water up the top of the jeeps hood and that was smashed in around a tree trunk. I turned to face Sam and saw that his face was covered in blood. 

“Dude, your face.”  

Sam shook his head, “Its fine, it was the air bag. Broke my god damn nose.” 

I nodded and turned to check on Josh, “Josh, hey man, you okay back there?” 

There was no answer. 

“Josh?”  

“Quit fucking around man, are you good?” yelled Sam.  

We both managed to get our seat belts undone and turned to check the back seat. Josh wasn't there. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Oh god.” Said Sam staring out through the shattered windshield. 

Up ahead, in the glow of the flickering headlights, was a bloodied and broken body bobbing in the water. 

We both started yelling for Josh as we climbed our way out of the submerged jeep and splashed our way over to our friend. We carried him as gently but as quickly back up and onto the road. 

“Shit, he's not breathing.” Said Sam as we lay him out on the pavement, “Quick there are flashlights and a first aid kit under the back seat.” 

I ran back to the jeep and began searching for the emergency supplies as Sam started chest compressions on Josh. It took me a few minutes, and I had to duck under the murky water, but I could hear Josh beginning to cough as I climbed back out of the Jeep with the kit. 

“What the fuck happened?” Josh yelled between coughs, “What's wrong with my arm?”  

“Ben, hurry the fuck up!” Yelled Sam. 

“I'm here. I'm here.” I said as I stumbled up and flicked on one of the flashlights. 

Sam took the other light, and we shined them down on Josh’s mangled body. 

His body was covered in bleeding cuts, and the left side of his face had nearly been scraped away. His left arm was visibly broken, a shard of jagged bone protruding from the flesh just above his elbow. 

“How bad is it?” Asked Josh with a half-smile. 

“Well man, It aint good.” I said.  

“Fuck man, we have to get him out of here.” said Sam as he paced back and forth trying to get his phone to come on. “Dammit, its dead. Do you have yours?” 

I shook my head, “Mine was on the dash, it's probably at the bottom of the swamp.” 

Josh tried to reach for his pocket then groaned in pain, “I think I still have mine.” 

I bent down and removed the device from his pocked, “Shit.” He had it but it was shattered and soaked. 

“What the hell do we do now?” Yelled Sam. “How did this even happen?” 

I stood up and looked up the road, “There was an animal or something in the road, I swerved to miss it and lost control.”  

Sam shook his head and continued pacing and muttering to himself. 

“Look man, I'm sorry but right now we just need to get Josh some help.” 

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Sam asked.  

“I think one of us needs to go for help, while the other stays here with Josh.” 

Sam thought for a moment before nodding in agreement, “Ok, I'll stay.” 

I nodded, “Ill head back toward the gas station, hopefully I'll run into someone sooner. You guys just sit tight.”  

“Please hurry.” Said Sam, his face lined with concern as he looked down at Josh. 

I nodded and knelt down next to Josh, “Hey man, I'm gonna go get us some help. I need you to stay awake and keep an eye on Sam, okay?”  

Josh raised his good hand in a thumbs up, “Sure thing man.”  

His words were distorted from the wounds to his face. I felt sick, this was my fault. If anything happened to him... 

“I'm so sorry Josh, I...” 

“It's cool man, even with half a face I'm still better looking than either one of you.” 

The three of us laughed for a moment, then I stood and told them I'd be back soon and started walking. 

 

I was about 20 minutes down the road when I saw something up ahead in the gloom. It was distant and dim, but it looked like the glow of a porch light. I thought I would have to walk all the way back to the gas station, but if someone lived out here, I could get help to the guys that much quicker.  

After another few minutes I came to a path that led off of the road to the light source. The path was old; it looked like it was once a driveway but had grown thick with weeds. For some reason, I found myself not wanting to step off of the road. The old man at the gas station came to mind, what had he said? Mr. Weller? Dr. Weller? I shook my head, it didn't matter. That was just some crazy old man trying to scare the out of towners.  

The path curved and twisted around and eventually led to a relatively open area with a two-story brick building, it was overgrown and obviously abandoned. But the outside light was still on. 

“What the hell?”  

I approached the building, there were clearly words printed on the face of the building at some point, but time and neglect had all but wiped them away. Of the letters that remained, all I could clearly make out was “Hospital.” 

You know that part of your brain that tells you when something isn't right? Mine was screaming for me to turn and run away from this place, but I couldn't, my friends needed help. The outside light was on, maybe there was still power inside, maybe there was a working phone. 

I pushed open the front door of the hospital and stepped inside. 

I found myself standing in the waiting room. I shined my flashlight around, the walls were covered in mold, the floors caked with dirt and the old light fixtures dangled brokenly from the ceiling. But the most unsettling part was that all of the waiting room chairs had been turned to face the door I had just entered. I know it makes no sense but seeing those chairs turned at me, I felt an odd sense of intrusion, like I had just walked in on a private gathering. I felt like I was uninvited. 

I nearly turned and left right then but suddenly a sound echoed through the dark building. A phone was ringing; there was a phone here. Someone must have been living in the old hospital, and they had a phone.  

The ringing sounded like it was coming from the second floor, so I quickly made my way across the waiting room to the staircase. 

“Hello?” I called out, not wanting to surprise someone and end up getting shot, “Hello, I just need to use your phone. My friends and I were in an accident, we need help.”  

I stepped onto the second floor and immediately knew where the ringing was coming from. Just like the first floor, the second floor was dilapidated and dark, apart from one room. At the other end of the corridor was a shut office door with light pouring out from around the edges.  

“Hello?” I called out again, “Is anyone there?” 

Still no answer. I cautiously made my way across the corridor to the office door. As I approached, I could make out the name stenciled on the face of the door, “Dr. Weller.” 

I swallowed a lump in my throat and pushed open the office door. The inside of the office was an absolute wreck. There were old files and newspapers scattered in all directions, the desk sat crookedly on one broken leg, and the floor was completely covered in what looked like empty blood bags. curiously, most of them labeled O negative. In one corner of the office was what looked like a makeshift cot, made of chair pieces and lab coats.  

The phone on the desk had stopped ringing when I opened the door, but when I picked it up to call for help there was no dial tone. My stomach dropped when I realized it wasn't even plugged in.  

“What the...” 

I glanced around trying to understand what was happening. My eyes fell on one of the old newspapers. The front page read, “Local Dr arrested for occult practices” most of the article was unreadable due to water damage and age but this was what I could make out, “Doctor promises miracle cure to patients... Experimental type of bloodletting... Multiple counts of exsanguination... Patients and families horrified as...” 

Suddenly the phone started ringing again. I stared at it in horror, that wasn't fucking possible. My heart pounded as the phone kept on ringing. I watched in slow motion as my arm reached out and took hold of the phone. With a shaky hand I raised it to my ear and listened. I could hear voices; they sounded like they were far away but growing closer. My heart pounded harder when I realized it was Josh and Sam; I couldn't make out what they were saying but I could clearly hear them talking to each other. All at once there was the sound of hurried movement and Sam cried out. There was a wet ripping sound and Sams voice rose to a fever pitch and Josh let out a horrified shriek. I stood there, paralyzed as my friends screamed and screamed. 

I broke out of my paralysis and ran for the stairs; my heart skipped a beat when I stepped back into the waiting room. All of the chairs had now turned to face the staircase. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and I was in a coma.  

Suddenly there came the sound of dozens of voices, all talking at once. Of all the horrific things the voices were saying, there was one word that stood out over and over again... “Run.” 

I ran across the room and out the door, I ran down the path and back to the road. My legs ached and my lungs were on fire, but I kept on running until I got back to the gas station. The attendant called emergency services when I told him about the accident. The attendant offered to drive me back to the scene of the accident, but I refused. I would not go back, I knew what the paramedics would find.  

Sam and Josh were never found. The police say there was no sign of a struggle, that most likely Sam went for help and got lost in the swamp. As for Josh, well the amount of blood he lost would have attracted predators. Thats the official story, but I know what happened. I realized it when I was standing in the office of Dr Weller. The pale blur I saw on the road, the thing I swerved to miss. It was wearing a lab coat. 

When you're a senior in high school, you think you have everything figured out. You and your friends get together and make plans for the future, fully believing it will all work out. Careers are decided, trips are mapped out and you just know everything will go to plan, but then life comes along and just happens. College, a job, falling in love. Eventually, all those plans grow more and more distant, and the ties that held those old high school friendships together seem to just fade away.  

 

I was on my way home from work on a Friday evening when I got a call from an unknown number. Normally, I would just let it go to voicemail. But today for some reason I decided to answer. I thought that maybe if it was a scam call, I could at least have a little fun with it. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey man, how's it hanging?” Asked a man’s voice. 

“Uh, good. Who is this?” I responded. 

“Oh shit, I guess it has been a while. Its Sam, Sam (Redacted).” 

I laughed, I thought the voice sounded familiar, Sam had been my best friend in high school, but we hadn't talked in years. "Sam! Dude how long has it been? 9, 10 years? 

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, more like 12. How you been asshole?” 

“I've been good man, how about you?” 

“Living the dream bro. Hey, guess who I ran into the other day?” 

“Who?” I asked. 

“Josh, you remember Josh, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course. I haven't seen him since high school though, how is he?” 

Sam, Josh and I had been inseparable as teenagers, but over time we had just grown apart. 

“He’s good,” Said Sam, “Do you remember how we use to always talk about getting together and heading down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but the timing never worked out?” 

It was true, one of us was always busy with work or school, or girls and the long talked about trip never came to fruition. 

“Yeah, I remember.” I said. 

“Well, we got to talking and it turns out we are both free this time around.” Said Sam. 

“Okay.” I said, knowing where this was going. 

“So, what do you say? You still up for the trip?” 

I sighed. “I don't know man, I've kind of got a lot going on right now. I just started this new job and my girlfriend and I are moving in together. The timing is just a bit off for me right now.” 

“Come on Ben, we may never get another chance to take this trip.” Said Sam. 

The truth was, it had been a really long time and we were all different people now. I wasn't sure I even wanted to go anymore. I really just wanted to focus on my career and my future with Alice. On the other hand, it would be really good to see the guys again. 

“Look, I'm not saying no. Just let me sleep on it, okay?” 

“Alright man, give me a call and let me know. Either way we should try to hang out soon.” 

 

When I got home, I had a long talk with Alice about the guys and the trip we had always wanted to take. 

“It sounds like a fun trip, and your friends really want you to go.” She said. 

“I want to go too, I just don't know if the friendship is still there like it was before. I mean, we haven't exactly stayed in touch over the years.” 

Alice smiled, “Look babe, I can't tell you what to do here. If you want to go you should go, just don't find you a Cajun girl while you're down there.”  

I smiled back and kissed her, “How’d I get so lucky to get a girl like you?” 

She grinned up at me, “We both got lucky.” 

 

The next morning, I called Sam to tell him I was In and a week later we were on the road. For the most part we followed the course we had drawn out in high school. We had planned on making more stops when we were younger, really stretching the drive and getting the most of it. But adult life necessitated that we make the 20-hour drive as quick as possible. 

 We took turns sleeping and driving nonstop, which was absolutely fucking miserable. The long drive however proved my previous fears about our friendships to be completely unfounded. The three of us quickly fell into the familiar pattern of shit talking and cracking jokes, just like the old days.  

 

We were a few hours out from our destination when we stopped to get gas. It was one of those old timey gas stations, like you would see in a cheesy slasher flick. 

“You guys want anything?” Asked Josh as he headed for the door. 

I shook my head, “I'm good.” 

“Grab me a baja blast.” Said Sam. 

I stepped out of the Jeep to pump the gas. Josh had been driving but I would take over for the rest of the drive. 

“Pennsylvania huh?” Said a deep Cajun accented voice from behind me.  

I turned to see an old man with a bushy gray beard looking at our license plate. 

“You boys are a long way from home, aren't ya?” 

I nodded and cleared my throat, “Uh yeah, it's been quite a drive.” 

The old man smiled, “Yall come down here for Mardi Gras?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it's something we wanted to do since we were in high school.” 

The old man nodded, “I thought as much. Just make sure y'all stay on the main road, we wouldn't want you boys getting lost down by the bog.” 

I nodded and smiled politely, “No, we wouldn't want that.” 

He leaned in and gave me a sly grin, “Old Dr. Weller down there aint had any new blood for a good while now, and I'm sure he's wantin it.” 

I squinted at him in confusion, “Who?” 

“Never mind son,” He said laughing and patting me on the back, “Just stay out of the swamp and you'll be fine.” 

“I'm back fuckers.” Yelled Josh as he exited the gas station holding up Sam’s baja blast in one hand and a 30 pack of beer in the other.  

I grinned and shook my head. While Sam and I had become marginally more responsible with age, Josh was the same as he always was. 

I turned back to where the odd old man had been standing but he was gone, I glanced around thinking maybe he had walked off somewhere but saw no sign of him. I finished pumping the gas and climbed into the driver's seat. 

“Home stretch boys.” I said putting the jeep into gear. 

I glanced back at the gas station and saw the old man inside talking with the attendant, they were watching us as we pulled back onto the road.  

“Places like that give me serious hills have eyes vibes man.” Said Sam cracking open his soda. 

“Yeah dude I don't know how anyone lives out here in the middle of nowhere like this.” Said Josh. 

“Life, uh, uh, finds a way.” I said, doing my impeccable Jeff Goldblum impression. 

Josh laughed and Sam shook his head as we headed on down the road. 

 

Sam and Josh had both fallen asleep after about a half hour of driving. I checked the gps on my phone but the little car hadn't moved for the past few miles, no service out here. Oh well, I thought, by my reckoning we would be pulling into New Orleans around midnight. Sam snored loudly in the passenger seat next to me, so I turned up the radio to try and drown him out. I was getting pretty tired too, tired and irritable. I looked up from the radio and slammed on the brakes. 

“Oh Shit!” 

Something large and pale dashed across the road right in front of us. The tires squealed as I yanked the wheel to the side to avoid whatever it was, but the road was too narrow. We came to a sudden and jarring stop as the jeep slid off the road and slammed into the swampy water at the base of a mangrove tree. My head impacted the steering wheel, and I blacked out. 

“Ben! Ben!”  

Someone was shaking me. “Sam? What? What happened?” 

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the stars I was seeing. 

“Ben, are you alright?” Asked Sam as he shook me. 

I nodded glancing around, “Yeah, I hit my head, but I think I'm good.” 

There was water up the top of the jeeps hood and that was smashed in around a tree trunk. I turned to face Sam and saw that his face was covered in blood. 

“Dude, your face.”  

Sam shook his head, “Its fine, it was the air bag. Broke my god damn nose.” 

I nodded and turned to check on Josh, “Josh, hey man, you okay back there?” 

There was no answer. 

“Josh?”  

“Quit fucking around man, are you good?” yelled Sam.  

We both managed to get our seat belts undone and turned to check the back seat. Josh wasn't there. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Oh god.” Said Sam staring out through the shattered windshield. 

Up ahead, in the glow of the flickering headlights, was a bloodied and broken body bobbing in the water. 

We both started yelling for Josh as we climbed our way out of the submerged jeep and splashed our way over to our friend. We carried him as gently but as quickly back up and onto the road. 

“Shit, he's not breathing.” Said Sam as we lay him out on the pavement, “Quick there are flashlights and a first aid kit under the back seat.” 

I ran back to the jeep and began searching for the emergency supplies as Sam started chest compressions on Josh. It took me a few minutes, and I had to duck under the murky water, but I could hear Josh beginning to cough as I climbed back out of the Jeep with the kit. 

“What the fuck happened?” Josh yelled between coughs, “What's wrong with my arm?”  

“Ben, hurry the fuck up!” Yelled Sam. 

“I'm here. I'm here.” I said as I stumbled up and flicked on one of the flashlights. 

Sam took the other light, and we shined them down on Josh’s mangled body. 

His body was covered in bleeding cuts, and the left side of his face had nearly been scraped away. His left arm was visibly broken, a shard of jagged bone protruding from the flesh just above his elbow. 

“How bad is it?” Asked Josh with a half-smile. 

“Well man, It aint good.” I said.  

“Fuck man, we have to get him out of here.” said Sam as he paced back and forth trying to get his phone to come on. “Dammit, its dead. Do you have yours?” 

I shook my head, “Mine was on the dash, it's probably at the bottom of the swamp.” 

Josh tried to reach for his pocket then groaned in pain, “I think I still have mine.” 

I bent down and removed the device from his pocked, “Shit.” He had it but it was shattered and soaked. 

“What the hell do we do now?” Yelled Sam. “How did this even happen?” 

I stood up and looked up the road, “There was an animal or something in the road, I swerved to miss it and lost control.”  

Sam shook his head and continued pacing and muttering to himself. 

“Look man, I'm sorry but right now we just need to get Josh some help.” 

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Sam asked.  

“I think one of us needs to go for help, while the other stays here with Josh.” 

Sam thought for a moment before nodding in agreement, “Ok, I'll stay.” 

I nodded, “Ill head back toward the gas station, hopefully I'll run into someone sooner. You guys just sit tight.”  

“Please hurry.” Said Sam, his face lined with concern as he looked down at Josh. 

I nodded and knelt down next to Josh, “Hey man, I'm gonna go get us some help. I need you to stay awake and keep an eye on Sam, okay?”  

Josh raised his good hand in a thumbs up, “Sure thing man.”  

His words were distorted from the wounds to his face. I felt sick, this was my fault. If anything happened to him... 

“I'm so sorry Josh, I...” 

“It's cool man, even with half a face I'm still better looking than either one of you.” 

The three of us laughed for a moment, then I stood and told them I'd be back soon and started walking. 

 

I was about 20 minutes down the road when I saw something up ahead in the gloom. It was distant and dim, but it looked like the glow of a porch light. I thought I would have to walk all the way back to the gas station, but if someone lived out here, I could get help to the guys that much quicker.  

After another few minutes I came to a path that led off of the road to the light source. The path was old; it looked like it was once a driveway but had grown thick with weeds. For some reason, I found myself not wanting to step off of the road. The old man at the gas station came to mind, what had he said? Mr. Weller? Dr. Weller? I shook my head, it didn't matter. That was just some crazy old man trying to scare the out of towners.  

The path curved and twisted around and eventually led to a relatively open area with a two-story brick building, it was overgrown and obviously abandoned. But the outside light was still on. 

“What the hell?”  

I approached the building, there were clearly words printed on the face of the building at some point, but time and neglect had all but wiped them away. Of the letters that remained, all I could clearly make out was “Hospital.” 

You know that part of your brain that tells you when something isn't right? Mine was screaming for me to turn and run away from this place, but I couldn't, my friends needed help. The outside light was on, maybe there was still power inside, maybe there was a working phone. 

I pushed open the front door of the hospital and stepped inside. 

I found myself standing in the waiting room. I shined my flashlight around, the walls were covered in mold, the floors caked with dirt and the old light fixtures dangled brokenly from the ceiling. But the most unsettling part was that all of the waiting room chairs had been turned to face the door I had just entered. I know it makes no sense but seeing those chairs turned at me, I felt an odd sense of intrusion, like I had just walked in on a private gathering. I felt like I was uninvited. 

I nearly turned and left right then but suddenly a sound echoed through the dark building. A phone was ringing; there was a phone here. Someone must have been living in the old hospital, and they had a phone.  

The ringing sounded like it was coming from the second floor, so I quickly made my way across the waiting room to the staircase. 

“Hello?” I called out, not wanting to surprise someone and end up getting shot, “Hello, I just need to use your phone. My friends and I were in an accident, we need help.”  

I stepped onto the second floor and immediately knew where the ringing was coming from. Just like the first floor, the second floor was dilapidated and dark, apart from one room. At the other end of the corridor was a shut office door with light pouring out from around the edges.  

“Hello?” I called out again, “Is anyone there?” 

Still no answer. I cautiously made my way across the corridor to the office door. As I approached, I could make out the name stenciled on the face of the door, “Dr. Weller.” 

I swallowed a lump in my throat and pushed open the office door. The inside of the office was an absolute wreck. There were old files and newspapers scattered in all directions, the desk sat crookedly on one broken leg, and the floor was completely covered in what looked like empty blood bags. curiously, most of them labeled O negative. In one corner of the office was what looked like a makeshift cot, made of chair pieces and lab coats.  

The phone on the desk had stopped ringing when I opened the door, but when I picked it up to call for help there was no dial tone. My stomach dropped when I realized it wasn't even plugged in.  

“What the...” 

I glanced around trying to understand what was happening. My eyes fell on one of the old newspapers. The front page read, “Local Dr arrested for occult practices” most of the article was unreadable due to water damage and age but this was what I could make out, “Doctor promises miracle cure to patients... Experimental type of bloodletting... Multiple counts of exsanguination... Patients and families horrified as...” 

Suddenly the phone started ringing again. I stared at it in horror, that wasn't fucking possible. My heart pounded as the phone kept on ringing. I watched in slow motion as my arm reached out and took hold of the phone. With a shaky hand I raised it to my ear and listened. I could hear voices; they sounded like they were far away but growing closer. My heart pounded harder when I realized it was Josh and Sam; I couldn't make out what they were saying but I could clearly hear them talking to each other. All at once there was the sound of hurried movement and Sam cried out. There was a wet ripping sound and Sams voice rose to a fever pitch and Josh let out a horrified shriek. I stood there, paralyzed as my friends screamed and screamed. 

I broke out of my paralysis and ran for the stairs; my heart skipped a beat when I stepped back into the waiting room. All of the chairs had now turned to face the staircase. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and I was in a coma.  

Suddenly there came the sound of dozens of voices, all talking at once. Of all the horrific things the voices were saying, there was one word that stood out over and over again... “Run.” 

I ran across the room and out the door, I ran down the path and back to the road. My legs ached and my lungs were on fire, but I kept on running until I got back to the gas station. The attendant called emergency services when I told him about the accident. The attendant offered to drive me back to the scene of the accident, but I refused. I would not go back, I knew what the paramedics would find.  

Sam and Josh were never found. The police say there was no sign of a struggle, that most likely Sam went for help and got lost in the swamp. As for Josh, well the amount of blood he lost would have attracted predators. Thats the official story, but I know what happened. I realized it when I was standing in the office of Dr Weller. The pale blur I saw on the road, the thing I swerved to miss. It was wearing a lab coat. 

It all started when my older brother, who I had lived with for the past 2 years, lost his job. I knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped through the door. Lately he had been coming home in a really good mood, apparently there was a manager position open at the dealership he worked at. And according to the buzz he had been hearing around the water cooler, the position was between him and one other salesman. From the look on his face. I could tell he hadn't gotten it. But that wasn't all; something else was wrong. His face was pale as he leaned against the wall. 

“Kev?” I said, standing up from the couch. “You, okay?” 

He took a deep breath and faced me, a forced smile spreading across his face. “Uh yeah, I got some news though.” 

“Fucking Brian got it?” I asked. 

He nodded. “Fucking Brian got it.”  

I sighed, “Sorry bro, I...” 

“That's not all.” He said, cutting me off. 

“Okay, what?” I asked. 

I took a breath and walked over to the fridge, “I may have had an overly emotional response to losing the position. Especially to Brian.”  

“Uh oh.” I said. “You didn't hit him, did you?” 

Kev gave me a shocked look as he pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “You think I would do something like that?”  

I shrugged, “Well, you have been taking a lot lately about pounding his smug face into the pavement.” 

He shook his head, “Despite how much I wanted to, no. What I did do wasn't much better though.” 

“Well don't keep me in suspense here, what did you do?” 

He sighed and took a sip of beer, “I may have asked the regional manager if they were clinically insane or just fucking stupid.” 

I snorted out a laugh. “And how did he take that?” 

“She.” He said, correcting me, “Don't be sexist.” 

“Whoa.” I said waving my hands sarcastically. “How did “she” take that?” 

“Not well.”  He said, plopping down on the couch. “She fired me, right there on the spot.”  

“Shit.” I said, sitting next to him. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Eh, I’ll find something.” He said. “Besides, I have some savings. We will be okay for a while.” 

 

Three weeks later, the lockdowns started. We all heard it, two weeks to flatten the curve. Well, weeks turned into months, and Kevin's savings were quickly depleted. With rent, car payments and groceries, the stimulus checks we received just weren't cutting it. By December of 2020, things were looking pretty grim. 

It was in December that I happened to slip on a patch of ice on the way home from school. I fell back hard on the concrete, splitting the back of my head open. After lying there seeing stars for a moment, I made my way on home.  When Kevin saw what had happened, he rushed me to the ER. But the place was crowded with covid paranoid people. Kev searched up urgent care centers near our location, and we took off for the closest one.  

Ten minutes later we pulled up to the Brundle 24hr clinic. There were a few people sitting around inside the waiting room, but when the receptionist saw the blood on the back of my head, she took me back to see the doctor right away. And that was when I first met Dr. Gordon. 

 

He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with messy thinning gray hair. He wore a pair of black rimmed glasses with slightly tinted lenses over a beaked nose. “Well, you don't seem to have a concussion, but I still wouldn't recommend taking a nap right away.” said the Doctor. “I’ll have the nurse put a couple staples in that gash and you will be free to go. Just take it easy for the next day or so and come back if anything changes.” 

“Thanks.”  

Kevin nodded, “Yeah, thanks Doc.”  

When the Doctor left the room, I turned to my brother. “Are you mad?” I asked with a wince. 

Kevin turned to face me, “What? No, why would I be mad?” He asked. 

I shrugged, “I don't know, we don't exactly have a ton of money to pay for a doctor visit right now.” 

Kevin got and came over to sit next to me on the exam table, “Luke, after things fell apart with mom and dad, I said I would take care of you. And that's exactly what I’m gonna do. So what if money is a little tight right now, we will figure it out. You know why?” 

“Why?” I asked. 

“Because we’re brothers. If the whole damn world falls apart, we still got each other. Right?” He put up his fist. 

“Right.” I nodded and bumped his fist with mine. 

I let out a long breath as I looked around the room. Then something caught my eye. “Hey, what about that?” I said, pointing to a flyer on the wall. 

Kevin got up and took down the flyer before coming back to the exam table. Together we read it over. There was a lot of technical jargon and legal mumbo jumbo I didn't quite understand but the gist of it was, take drugs and get paid.  

“So could we like, get paid to smoke weed or something?” I asked, mostly sarcastically. 

“Not that kind of drugs, idiot.” Said Kevin with a laugh. 

“Okay, so what is it then?”  

“Well, it's basically a drug trial. It’s kind of strange though, I don't know if I’ve ever seen a flyer for drug trials in a Drs office.” He said.  

“Should we ask about it?” I asked. 

Kevin shrugged, “Well, the pay seems pretty good. I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask.” 

After the nurse came in and put three staples in my head, and after Kevin got done chuckling at my discomfort. We asked the nurse about the flyer. 

“I really don't know too much about it, other than its one of Dr. Gordons projects he does with a research lab upstate. If you want more details, you'll have to talk to him or call the number on the flyer.” 

 

That evening, Kevin and I talked over the prospect of becoming guinea pigs for money. He didn't like the idea of me participating in the trial. He said, “Look, you can come with me to the lab but let me check it out first and make sure it's safe. Besides you’ll be 18 next month and if you still want to do it, you won't need an adult to sign for you.” 

I grudgingly agreed and listened as he called the number on the flyer. A few minutes later, he had an appointment made with the lab for that Friday.  

When Kev got off the phone, he turned to me and said, "They said to bring someone who could drive me home. In case of adverse effects. You cool with having a 3-day weekend?”  

I nodded, “As if you even have to ask.” 

The next few days drug on, but finally Friday arrived. Kevin and I drove the 25 miles outside of town in silence. I had the compulsion to bring up all the horrible side effects I had ever heard of, but I could see how nervous my brother was, so I resisted the urge.  

I looked up at the name on the building as we pulled up to the lab, “Promethionics?” 

Kevin shrugged, “Maybe it's from the Greek god Prometheus.” 

“What did he do again?” I asked. 

“He gave people fire or something, I can't remember.” Said Kev. 

 

I had expected to see a lobby full of people, with the pay they were offering for these trials. But it seemed like me and Kev were the only ones there. 

“Excuse me.” Said Kevin as he walked up to the receptionist's desk. “I’m here for drug trials. Can you tell me where I need to go?” 

The receptionist smiled warmly, “Oh yes, we have been expecting you. Have a seat and I’ll let them know you're here.” 

“Okay, thanks.” Said Kevin before turning and heading for the waiting room seats.  

I followed, and we had just sat down when a door to a long hallway opened, and Dr. Gordon stepped out into the waiting room with a metal clipboard under his arm. He waved us over and explained the process of the test.  

“Now, we will take you back,” he said speaking to my brother, “you’ll have to sign an NDA, then you will be given a presentation on the drug you are to test. What it's meant to do, what we think it will do, and potential side effects you may experience. Then you will have the option to continue to the test, or if you feel uncomfortable with continuing, you can deny doing the test and be on your way.”  

Kev nodded, looking more nervous than ever. “Okay, sounds good.” 

“Can I come back with him?” I asked. 

Dr. Gordon shook his head, “I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait here in the lobby. Only trial participants are permitted inside the lab.” 

“Oh, okay.” I said, feeling a little disappointed.  

Kev punched my arm, “Don't worry about me, bro. I got this.” 

I nodded and watched as they turned and left through the door. Leaving me alone in the lobby. 

I played games on my phone until the battery died, then paced the floor for a while. Eventually I wandered over to the stack of old magazines and picked one up, thumbing through the pages. It was an old national geographic magazine, featuring animals of the amazon. After I had finished with the magazine I tossed it down and was digging through for another one when Kevin came back out. 

“Hey?” I called, starting across the lobby to him. Dr. Gordon came through the door behind him, talking quietly to my brother.  

Kevin nodded to the Doctor, then smiled up at me, “Hey bro.” 

“So, did you do it? How do you feel? What was it for?” I asked. 

Kev put his hands up in a slowdown motion. “Easy Luke. One thing at a time. Yes, I took the drug. I feel fine, and no I can’t talk about what it was for.” 

“Not even to me?” I asked, looking from my brother to the Doctor. 

 But Dr. Gordon didn't acknowledge my question. He just smiled and placed the clipboard in Kev's hand. “Kevin, I want you to take as many notes as possible. Any difference you feel at all, document it, no matter how small it may seem.” 

Kev nodded, “Okay, I’ll do that. And when do I come back for phase 2?” He asked. 

“Phase 2?” I echoed. 

Dr. Gordon smiled. “Tammy will get you scheduled at the front desk, and she will have your check.” 

They shook hands, and I followed my brother to the receptionist's desk. 

“Does Monday work for you?” She asked. 

Kev smiled and nodded, “Yes Monday would be great.” 

“Sweet.” I said. “I get Monday off too.” 

“Oh.” Kev said, “Shit, I didn't even think about school. You probably don't need to miss again.” 

“Well, I'm not gonna miss being here for you.” I said. 

He shood his head, “No its fine, I can get Jerry to come with me.” 

“Jerry?” I laughed. “You wanna bring our uber paranoid, half blind Vietnam vet neighbor to a secret research lab.” 

“Okay, it's not a secret lab.” Said Kevin. 

“Oh, really? What's the NDA about then?” I asked. 

He shook his head, “That's normal procedure for these things.”  

“Whatever you say, man.”  

“Can we reschedule to the weekend?” He asked the receptionist. 

Tammy clickety clacked on her computer for a moment then looked up shaking her head, “Sorry but no, Monday is our only available time for the next few months. Otherwise, you’ll have to start phase 1 over.”  

“Just schedule it for Monday.” I said. “I'm coming with you, dude. You’re doing this for us and I wanna be here for you.” 

Kevin Smiled. 

“I also wanna be here if you like start growing a dick on your forehead or something.” I added. 

He shook his head, “Alright, Monday it is.” 

“Perfect. I’ve got you scheduled.” Said Tammy, “And here’s your check.” She said as she slid the check for five thousand dollars across the desk. 

That night Kev and I went to one of the few steak houses that were still open during the lockdown to celebrate. Frivolous? Yes. But we didn't care; we had barely been scraping by, and now we had a five grand in our pockets, and another check coming in a few days. Things were starting to look up.  

At dinner, I asked Kev again about the drug trial, but all he would say was, “If this stuff works little brother, it's going to change the world. And we get to be a part of it.” 

When I got up the next morning, Kev was sitting at the table. He was writing something on the clipboard Dr. Gordon had given him. 

“What's up man? Side effects?” I asked. 

He looked up at me, “Eh maybe. Had nightmares all night. Could be just stress. Either way, I figured it was good to write it down.” 

“Couldn't hurt.” I said, filling a bowl with cereal. 

We hang around the house for the rest of the day, watching tv, playing video games, and not doing much of anything. Normally Kev would be online searching for jobs, or out job hunting at the essential workplaces. But today he just laid around relaxing, it was good to see him less stressed.  

 

That night, I awoke to the sound of Kevin screaming. I jumped out of bed and ran to his room to see him sitting bolt upright in bed, his eyes wide and sweat pouring from his face.  

“Kevin, what's wrong?” I asked, flicking on the light.  

He slowly turned to face me, his chest heaving. At first it seemed like he didn't recognize me. “Luke? What are you doing here? What happened?” 

I shook my head, “You tell me man. You were screaming, so I came running.” 

“It's these damn nightmares.” He said, rubbing a shaking hand across his head. “I'm fine now.” 

“You sure you should continue the trial?” I asked. 

He scoffed, “It's just nightmares.” 

“Yeah but...” 

“But nothing.” He said interrupting me, “I'm fine now. This will be worth it in the long run.” 

“What kind of nightmares are you having anyway?” I asked. 

Kev turned over and covered his head with his pillow, “Trust me bro, you don't wanna know. Now turn out the light and go to bed.” 

I shrugged and turned out the light, “If you say so, just try to keep it down unless you're dying.” 

I couldn't see clearly in the dark but I think he flipped me off. 

 

The next morning, I didn't see much of Kevin. I checked on him a few times, but he said he was just tired and had a headache. I reminded him to write it down in his notes for Dr. Gordon. He said he would, and that was the last we spoke all that Sunday. Around noon I went skateboarding with some friends. They asked why I wasn't at school Friday, so I told them I had to drive my brother to do some weird stuff for money with a creepy older guy, and then refused to elaborate further. I thought it would make for a fun conversation next time they come over. 

That evening when I got home, Kevin was up and acting like himself again.  

“Pizza sound good?” He asked as I walked through the door. 

“Sure, I'm starving.” I said. “You feeling better then?” 

He nodded, “Yeah, I'm good. Couldn't sleep worth a damn last night but I'm feeling better now.” 

“Good.” I said. “Did you write down your symptoms?” I asked, glancing at the clipboard.  

“Yes mother.” Kev said sarcastically. 

I showed him my middle finger, and we ate our pizza and watched old Simpsons episodes for a while before heading to bed.  

 

The next morning when we arrived at the Promethionics lab, Dr. Gordon was already waiting for us. 

“Good morning?” He said with a smile. “Anything to report?” 

Kev nodded, “Morning. And yes, I have taken some notes.” 

He took the clipboard and guided my brother through the lab door, leaving me alone again. 

“Okay, guess I’ll just wait here.” I said as the door closed.  

As I sat in the lobby, I played games and watched meat canyon videos on my phone. This time, I wasn't waiting nearly as long as before. But when Kev came out, something was definitely wrong.  

He was leaning on Dr. Gordon as they walked across the lobby. His skin looked pale and sweat poured down his face as he shivered violently. 

“What the hell happened to him?” I said, running across the lobby to meet them. 

“Your brother had an adverse reaction to the treatment. He needs bed rest, but he should be fine in a day or two.” Said Dr Gordon. 

“Bed rest my ass.” I said taking my brothers weight from the Dr. “He needs the emergency room.” 

“No!” Said Gordon and Kevin at the same time. 

“No hospital.” Said Kev.  

I looked up at the Dr. “What do you mean, no hospital?”  

Dr. Gordon fixed me with a stare, “Under the NDA your brother signed, he is legally prohibited from seeking medical attention outside this facility.” 

I looked at my brother, “Kev, what the fuck did you do?”  

He shook his head and smiled weakly, “It's not as bad as it looks. The Doc knows what he's doing, I'll be right as rain in no time.” 

“I don't know about this.” I said. 

“Listen to your brother,” said Gordon. Then to Kev he said, “Trust the program.” 

Kevin nodded and pushed off of me to go set up his next appointment with Tammy. I stayed for a moment, staring into Gordons eyes. There was something in them I didn't like. Something predatory. 

“Luke!” Kev called from the receptionist desk, “Pull the car around, let's go home.” 

Gordon stared back at me a moment longer, then gave a small smile before turning back for the lab door. 

When I pulled the car around, Kev got in and showed me the check. This time, it was for ten thousand.  

I looked at the check then to my brother, “Is that how much your life is worth?” I asked. 

Kevin sighed and met my eyes, “My savings are gone and I can't find a job. We were about to be evicted. Without this, we don't have a home, we don't have food. We need this.” 

I shook my head and put the car in drive, “I hope you know what you're doing.” 

“Trust me. It will be fine.” 

“But...”  

“My next appointment is Thursday.” He said interrupting me. “You’ve missed enough school for this, I’ll either come by myself or get Jerry to come with me.” 

“Kev, I don't think you should keep doing this.” But he was already asleep in the passenger seat.  

When we got home, I had a hell of a time getting Kev into the house and in bed. I checked his temperature, but despite the chills and poring sweat, he was completely normal. A little colder than normal, actually. The thermometer read, 95.5. I remembered reading somewhere that anything below 95 was considered hypothermic, but there was no way Kev had hypothermia. I mean, it was December, but he hadn't been outside, that I know of. He kept saying he was freezing so I threw a few more blankets over him and turned out his light, hoping he could get some rest.  

I warmed up some left-over pizza and played some video games for the rest of the day, occasionally checking on my unconscious brother. I wondered if I should call someone. Mom and dad weren't what I would call reliable or loving. There was Uncle Steve, but he lived in the next state over. I could call a few friends to come over with me, but I didn't know how much help they would be with Kev if he took a turn for the worse. In the end, I decided to set alarms throughout the night to check on him and if things got too bad, I’d call 911, NDAs be damned. 

 

It was about 10:45 and I had just finished off the last of the pizza. I decided to check on Kev one more time before bed. The first of my “check on jackass” alarms wasn't set to go off until 12:30. I cracked Kev’s door open and peaked into the darkened room, “Hey bro, you still alive?” 

But he didn't answer. I walked into the room and heard the shower on in his adjoining bathroom. The bathroom light was on, and steam pooled out from under the shut door. My first thought was, “Great he's feeling better, or at least well enough to take a shower.” 

I yelled through the door, “Hey don't forget to scrub behind your ears.”  

But he didn't respond. 

“Hey, Kev.” I called “You okay man?” 

Still, no answer. 

“Kev?” I called again as I pushed open the bathroom door.  

The bathroom was like a sauna. There was so much steam, I could barely see where I was going as I stepped up to the shower curtain. “Bro, I need you to say something or else we are both about to be traumatized.” He still didn't say anything, so I sighed and pulled back the curtain. 

Kevin stood there under the shower spray, his mouth and eyes wide open with the heat turned to full blast. He had been meaning to get the thermostat on the hot water tank fixed, I really wish he had. His skin, from head to toe was red and blistered from the heat of the water. But he acted like he didn't even notice. I gasped and leaned into the shower, turning off the spray. 

“Jesus, Kevin! What the hell are you doing?” I demanded as I wrapped a towel around him and pulled him from the shower.  

“I... I... Was cold.” He said, his teeth chattering. “I just wanted to be warm.” 

“Alright that's it, I'm taking you to the hospital.” I said, looking over his blistered face. “I don't know what they gave you, but we have to stop. You need help.”  

Kevin shook his head, “I think you are right, but no hospital.” 

“Why not? Fuck the NDA, you need medical attention.” I exclaimed. 

“Can't go to hospital.” He said. “If I break the NDA, I go to federal prison.” 

“God dammit, Kev. What did have we gotten into?”  

I helped him to his bed and laid him down, “Listen,” He said shaking, “Call Dr. Gordon, He will know what to do.” 

‘Are you sure?” I asked, “I don't trust him.” 

Kevin laid his head back on the pillow, “He’s all we got right now.” 

After laying cold towels over Kevins body, I found the number for the lab and called. 

It rang 3 times and then a voice said, “Promethionics, how can I direct your call?” 

“Hello, I need to speak with Dr. Gordon immediately. It's about my brother; he’s been participating in the drug trials.” I said, my voice sounding frantic. 

“Hold please.” 

After an infuriatingly long two minutes, the doctor answered, “This is Dr. Gordon. Tell me what's happening, leave out no details.” 

I told him. I explained about the shivering the low body temperature and the burns from the shower. 

“He says he doesn't even feel the burns; he's just freezing. I really think he needs to go to the ER.” 

“Alright, just calm down son.” Said Gordon. “The ER won't do anything I can't do. Give me your address and I will be right over. I need to examine him.” 

Against my better judgement, I gave him the address and he said he was on his way. After hanging up the phone, I sat on the bed next to my broiled and shivering brother.  

25 agonizing minutes later, the doorbell rang. I ran through the house and flung open the door. Dr. Gordon stepped through holding a large case. “Show me to him.” He demanded. 

I took him to Kev’s room and he asked me to wait outside. 

“Fuck you, he’s my brother.” I said pushing past him. 

I could tell this irritated Gordon, but he simply stepped past me and knelt next to Kevin's bed. He opened his case and removed several items from it. After checking his blood pressure, temperature, pupil dilation, and looking in his throat, he turned to me.  

“I really must insist you leave the room, what I have to discuss with your brother is strictly need to know. Between doctor and patient.” 

I stepped forward, balling my hands into fists, “Yeah? Well, guess what asshole, I need to know.” 

“Luke.” Said Kev. “It’s okay. Just give us a minute.”  

I shook my head, “Kevin, no. I'm not leaving you alone with this creep.” 

“Trust me, son. Your brother's health is my utmost priority.” Said the Doctor. 

I didn't like it, but what could I do? Kevin needed help and Gordon clearly wasn't going to help him with me in the room. I stepped out and closed the door behind me but stayed close listening. I could hear the doctors hushed voice, but I couldn't make out any words. Kevin made a sound like a sob, and I nearly opened the door right then, but I held off and kept listening. What had Gordon said? Something about metamorphosis? What the fuck was happening? Kevin was agreeing to something, but I couldn't hear what. 

“Enough of this shit.” I thought as I pushed open the door to see Dr. Gordon with a large syringe filled with a black oily liquid. And he was injecting it into my brother's arm. 

I dashed across the room and attempted to push the dr away from Kevin, but I was too late. He pushed down on the plunger, injecting the entire contents of the syringe into his arm.  

“What did you do?” I yelled, “What was that?”  

Gordon didn't answer. He packed all of his equipment into his bag and pushed past me. I grabbed his shoulder, intending on stopping him, but he turned quickly and hit me hard in the stomach. I collapsed to the floor coughing and gasping for air.  

Gordon looked down at me, “Your brother is doing very important work, if you do anything to interfere. Call the police, take him to the hospital, anything but leave him here in this room. You will both be taken to an undisclosed site and buried so deep that no one will ever find you.”  

“What did you do?” I asked through wheezes. 

He smiled, “I'm going to change the world, and your brother is going to help me. A team will be here in a few hours to pick up your brother and drop off a substantially larger check than you have so far received. I suggest you accept the check and do not interfere with my team.”  

“What? Where are you taking him?” I asked. 

Just then, Kevin began seizing on the bed. I jumped up and ran to his side, “Help him!” I said looking to Gordon.  

But he just watched my brother as he seized, “I already have.” He then turned and left. 

I tried to hold Kev still on his side as his seizures continued for the next 5 minutes, before gradually slowing to a stop. I checked his airway and he seemed to be breathing fine, but he was out cold. I tried and tried to wake him, tears running down my face. “Kevin, what do I do?” 

After a few more minutes, Kevin suddenly sat upright in bed and cocked his head toward me.  

“K... Kev?” I said. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, of course he wasn't, but what else could I say?  

He wobbled for a moment, then his eyes focused on me, “Luke?”  

I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, holding him up. “I’m here Kev, I'm here.” 

“Somethings wrong, Luke.” He said in my ear. “I don't think the drug trial was a good idea.”  

I nodded, my head against his shoulder, “I know man, what are we going to do?”  

“It's too late.” He said, then he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “There’s something under my skin.”  

I leaned back and looked at him, “What? What are you talking about?”  

Something in his eyes changed and he shook his head, “I don't know, what did I say?”  

“You said... there’s something under your skin.” I said, hearing the tremble in my own voice.  

Kevin smiled, “Did I say that? I don't remember.”  

I swallowed, “Kevin, bro. You’re scaring me.” 

My brother cocked his head and looked at me curiously, “Who's Kevin?” 

I stood and began backing towards the door.  

“Where are you going?” He asked. 

I tried to smile, “I'm just gonna get a glass of water. Do you want some water?’'  

He didn't answer; he just kept smiling. Like nothing in the world was wrong. 

I started down the hall and reached for my phone. Gordon said not to call anyone, but was he bluffing? He had to be, maybe I could call the police and... My phone wasn't in my pocket; I had left it in Kevins room. I turned around to go get my phone and there was Kevin, standing in the dark at the end of the hall.  

“Where’s your water?” He asked, his voice a chilling monotone.  

Before I could answer, he broke into a sprint straight down the hall toward me. I turned and ran for my room as fast as I could. Slamming and locking the door behind me. Kevin pounded on the door over and over for nearly a minute straight. Then, in an eerily calm voice, he said. “Luke... Because we’re brothers...” 

“What?” I said, confused. 

“Yes, Monday would be great...” He continued. 

Tears were rolling down my face, “Kevin, what's happening?” 

“I said I would take care of you... It's just nightmares.” Suddenly he began pounding on the door again. 

I slumped to the floor and leaned against the door. My world breaking apart around me. What had they done to my brother? And would I ever get him back? Eventually the pounding stopped. I leaned over and peaked under the door to see Kevin's feet walking away. I took a breath and let it out slowly. I had to get to my phone and call for help; I had to get to Kevins room.  

After about 10 minutes of indecision, I grabbed my old baseball bat and held it close as I unlocked the door and turned the knob, slowly opening the door. I couldn't see Kevin, but there was a smell something from the kitchen. It smelled like burning meat. 

I cautiously stepped through the front room and peered into the kitchen. I placed my hand over my mouth, stifling a scream. Kevin was there, bent over on the floor in front of the open oven. He mumbled, “freezing.” over and over, his hands and forearms held inside the glowing hot oven. The flesh bubbled and popped as it turned black under the heat.  

A gasp slipped out as a chunk of meat slipped from his arm and fell to the floor. He turned to see me and smiled wide. “Trust me, it will be fine.” 

I stumbled back to the floor, staring up at him as he stood. He looked down at me, then to his own charred arms. For a brief moment, fear and disbelief flashed in his bloodshot eyes. But just as quickly, it was replaced by a morbid curiosity. “Theres something on my skin.” 

“K... Kevin?”  

He met my eyes, and shook his head, “No.”  

Suddenly, he reached up with both hands. Digging his fingers into the burnt and blistered flesh on his head. He grasped tight and began to peel the flesh from his face. Revealing a raw and ragged, misshapen form beneath. Over and over, he grasped and ripped. Flesh and hair and muscle sloughed to the ground around him until there was nothing left but a tall thin visage of something vaguely man shaped, wrapped in writhing oily black veins.  

I screamed and screamed as the thing that had been my brother looked down at me. I scrambled back and jumped to my feet, running back through the house. I could hear the things wet footsteps squelching behind me, but I made it to my room and locked the door. I crawled underneath my bed, my heart pounding in my ears. I watched in shock and terror as the thing bent down and stared under the door at me.  

I must have passed out because the next thing I remember was Dr. Gordon yelling as men in hazmat suits pulled me out from under the bed. 

“Where is Kevin?” He demanded, “Where is your brother?”  

All I could do was shake my head and look to the kitchen floor, at the pile of gore he had left behind. 

“Dammit!” Exclaimed Gordon. He then began barking orders to the men to search the area for the “Specimen.” 

Gordon turned back to me pointing his finger, “You. What did you do to him?” He shouted. “Answer me you little shit or...” 

“Or what?” Came a voice from the front room.  

All of the hazmat suited men stopped what they were doing, even Gordon stopped, his eyes widening.  

“What exactly will you do, Dr, Gordon?” asked the man. He was shorter than average, with neatly combed dark hair. We wore an expensive looking suit and round wire rim glasses. 

“Director Neilan, I...” said Gordon.  

“I think your little experiment has gone on long enough.” Said the man. “It's clearly beyond your abilities to control.”  

“But I can recover from this. We will find the specimen.” Said Gordon.  

“We will find the specimen.” Said the man. “You, I will deal with later.”  

And with that, the hazmat suited men continued with their duties. Dr. Gordon, however, lowered his head and left without another word.  

The man called Neilan sat down at the dining room table and motioned me over. I numbly walked across the room and sat down across from him. 

“I'm sorry about your brother.” He said. “That isn't how I like to do things.”  

“Do what?” I asked.  

He studied me for a moment but didn't answer. Instead, he opened a suitcase and removed an official looking document and a check. He slid the document across to me; it was another fucking NDA.  

“You expect me to sign this?” I said angrily. 

He nodded, “I do.”  

“Why?” 

He shrugged, “The alternative is you disappear.” 

“Disappear?” I asked. 

He nodded again, “You could wind up in a landfill. I could just kill you here and make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Or I could give you to Dr. Gordon and let him continue his research. We have options.” 

I swallowed hard, “You can't do this.” 

“I can.” He said matter of fact. “As I said, it isn't how I like to do things. But here we are. I suggest you sign and take this.” He said, sliding the check across the table to me. “Time is short, you won't get this offer again.” 

What else could I do? I signed.  

Neilan gave me a smile and a nod, as he stood and placed the NDA in his briefcase. “We will take care of the cover story, and we will be in touch to take your statement on tonight's events, once you've had time to recuperate. And don't think we won't be watching you.” 

I nodded and looked down at the check, feeling sick and broken.  

Neilan stopped and turned back to face me before leaving, “I know it may not seem like it now, but your brother is a true patriot and a hero for his sacrifice to this great nation.” Then he turned and left.  

 

I have lived well for the past years, but the guilt has been slowly suffocating me. I still don't have any answers, but the truth is out there, whatever happens to me.  

It all started when my older brother, who I had lived with for the past 2 years, lost his job. I knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped through the door. Lately he had been coming home in a really good mood, apparently there was a manager position open at the dealership he worked at. And according to the buzz he had been hearing around the water cooler, the position was between him and one other salesman. From the look on his face. I could tell he hadn't gotten it. But that wasn't all; something else was wrong. His face was pale as he leaned against the wall. 

“Kev?” I said, standing up from the couch. “You, okay?” 

He took a deep breath and faced me, a forced smile spreading across his face. “Uh yeah, I got some news though.” 

“Fucking Brian got it?” I asked. 

He nodded. “Fucking Brian got it.”  

I sighed, “Sorry bro, I...” 

“That's not all.” He said, cutting me off. 

“Okay, what?” I asked. 

I took a breath and walked over to the fridge, “I may have had an overly emotional response to losing the position. Especially to Brian.”  

“Uh oh.” I said. “You didn't hit him, did you?” 

Kev gave me a shocked look as he pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “You think I would do something like that?”  

I shrugged, “Well, you have been taking a lot lately about pounding his smug face into the pavement.” 

He shook his head, “Despite how much I wanted to, no. What I did do wasn't much better though.” 

“Well don't keep me in suspense here, what did you do?” 

He sighed and took a sip of beer, “I may have asked the regional manager if they were clinically insane or just fucking stupid.” 

I snorted out a laugh. “And how did he take that?” 

“She.” He said, correcting me, “Don't be sexist.” 

“Whoa.” I said waving my hands sarcastically. “How did “she” take that?” 

“Not well.”  He said, plopping down on the couch. “She fired me, right there on the spot.”  

“Shit.” I said, sitting next to him. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Eh, I’ll find something.” He said. “Besides, I have some savings. We will be okay for a while.” 

 

Three weeks later, the lockdowns started. We all heard it, two weeks to flatten the curve. Well, weeks turned into months, and Kevin's savings were quickly depleted. With rent, car payments and groceries, the stimulus checks we received just weren't cutting it. By December of 2020, things were looking pretty grim. 

It was in December that I happened to slip on a patch of ice on the way home from school. I fell back hard on the concrete, splitting the back of my head open. After lying there seeing stars for a moment, I made my way on home.  When Kevin saw what had happened, he rushed me to the ER. But the place was crowded with covid paranoid people. Kev searched up urgent care centers near our location, and we took off for the closest one.  

Ten minutes later we pulled up to the Brundle 24hr clinic. There were a few people sitting around inside the waiting room, but when the receptionist saw the blood on the back of my head, she took me back to see the doctor right away. And that was when I first met Dr. Gordon. 

 

He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with messy thinning gray hair. He wore a pair of black rimmed glasses with slightly tinted lenses over a beaked nose. “Well, you don't seem to have a concussion, but I still wouldn't recommend taking a nap right away.” said the Doctor. “I’ll have the nurse put a couple staples in that gash and you will be free to go. Just take it easy for the next day or so and come back if anything changes.” 

“Thanks.”  

Kevin nodded, “Yeah, thanks Doc.”  

When the Doctor left the room, I turned to my brother. “Are you mad?” I asked with a wince. 

Kevin turned to face me, “What? No, why would I be mad?” He asked. 

I shrugged, “I don't know, we don't exactly have a ton of money to pay for a doctor visit right now.” 

Kevin got and came over to sit next to me on the exam table, “Luke, after things fell apart with mom and dad, I said I would take care of you. And that's exactly what I’m gonna do. So what if money is a little tight right now, we will figure it out. You know why?” 

“Why?” I asked. 

“Because we’re brothers. If the whole damn world falls apart, we still got each other. Right?” He put up his fist. 

“Right.” I nodded and bumped his fist with mine. 

I let out a long breath as I looked around the room. Then something caught my eye. “Hey, what about that?” I said, pointing to a flyer on the wall. 

Kevin got up and took down the flyer before coming back to the exam table. Together we read it over. There was a lot of technical jargon and legal mumbo jumbo I didn't quite understand but the gist of it was, take drugs and get paid.  

“So could we like, get paid to smoke weed or something?” I asked, mostly sarcastically. 

“Not that kind of drugs, idiot.” Said Kevin with a laugh. 

“Okay, so what is it then?”  

“Well, it's basically a drug trial. It’s kind of strange though, I don't know if I’ve ever seen a flyer for drug trials in a Drs office.” He said.  

“Should we ask about it?” I asked. 

Kevin shrugged, “Well, the pay seems pretty good. I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask.” 

After the nurse came in and put three staples in my head, and after Kevin got done chuckling at my discomfort. We asked the nurse about the flyer. 

“I really don't know too much about it, other than its one of Dr. Gordons projects he does with a research lab upstate. If you want more details, you'll have to talk to him or call the number on the flyer.” 

 

That evening, Kevin and I talked over the prospect of becoming guinea pigs for money. He didn't like the idea of me participating in the trial. He said, “Look, you can come with me to the lab but let me check it out first and make sure it's safe. Besides you’ll be 18 next month and if you still want to do it, you won't need an adult to sign for you.” 

I grudgingly agreed and listened as he called the number on the flyer. A few minutes later, he had an appointment made with the lab for that Friday.  

When Kev got off the phone, he turned to me and said, "They said to bring someone who could drive me home. In case of adverse effects. You cool with having a 3-day weekend?”  

I nodded, “As if you even have to ask.” 

The next few days drug on, but finally Friday arrived. Kevin and I drove the 25 miles outside of town in silence. I had the compulsion to bring up all the horrible side effects I had ever heard of, but I could see how nervous my brother was, so I resisted the urge.  

I looked up at the name on the building as we pulled up to the lab, “Promethionics?” 

Kevin shrugged, “Maybe it's from the Greek god Prometheus.” 

“What did he do again?” I asked. 

“He gave people fire or something, I can't remember.” Said Kev. 

 

I had expected to see a lobby full of people, with the pay they were offering for these trials. But it seemed like me and Kev were the only ones there. 

“Excuse me.” Said Kevin as he walked up to the receptionist's desk. “I’m here for drug trials. Can you tell me where I need to go?” 

The receptionist smiled warmly, “Oh yes, we have been expecting you. Have a seat and I’ll let them know you're here.” 

“Okay, thanks.” Said Kevin before turning and heading for the waiting room seats.  

I followed, and we had just sat down when a door to a long hallway opened, and Dr. Gordon stepped out into the waiting room with a metal clipboard under his arm. He waved us over and explained the process of the test.  

“Now, we will take you back,” he said speaking to my brother, “you’ll have to sign an NDA, then you will be given a presentation on the drug you are to test. What it's meant to do, what we think it will do, and potential side effects you may experience. Then you will have the option to continue to the test, or if you feel uncomfortable with continuing, you can deny doing the test and be on your way.”  

Kev nodded, looking more nervous than ever. “Okay, sounds good.” 

“Can I come back with him?” I asked. 

Dr. Gordon shook his head, “I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait here in the lobby. Only trial participants are permitted inside the lab.” 

“Oh, okay.” I said, feeling a little disappointed.  

Kev punched my arm, “Don't worry about me, bro. I got this.” 

I nodded and watched as they turned and left through the door. Leaving me alone in the lobby. 

I played games on my phone until the battery died, then paced the floor for a while. Eventually I wandered over to the stack of old magazines and picked one up, thumbing through the pages. It was an old national geographic magazine, featuring animals of the amazon. After I had finished with the magazine I tossed it down and was digging through for another one when Kevin came back out. 

“Hey?” I called, starting across the lobby to him. Dr. Gordon came through the door behind him, talking quietly to my brother.  

Kevin nodded to the Doctor, then smiled up at me, “Hey bro.” 

“So, did you do it? How do you feel? What was it for?” I asked. 

Kev put his hands up in a slowdown motion. “Easy Luke. One thing at a time. Yes, I took the drug. I feel fine, and no I can’t talk about what it was for.” 

“Not even to me?” I asked, looking from my brother to the Doctor. 

 But Dr. Gordon didn't acknowledge my question. He just smiled and placed the clipboard in Kev's hand. “Kevin, I want you to take as many notes as possible. Any difference you feel at all, document it, no matter how small it may seem.” 

Kev nodded, “Okay, I’ll do that. And when do I come back for phase 2?” He asked. 

“Phase 2?” I echoed. 

Dr. Gordon smiled. “Tammy will get you scheduled at the front desk, and she will have your check.” 

They shook hands, and I followed my brother to the receptionist's desk. 

“Does Monday work for you?” She asked. 

Kev smiled and nodded, “Yes Monday would be great.” 

“Sweet.” I said. “I get Monday off too.” 

“Oh.” Kev said, “Shit, I didn't even think about school. You probably don't need to miss again.” 

“Well, I'm not gonna miss being here for you.” I said. 

He shood his head, “No its fine, I can get Jerry to come with me.” 

“Jerry?” I laughed. “You wanna bring our uber paranoid, half blind Vietnam vet neighbor to a secret research lab.” 

“Okay, it's not a secret lab.” Said Kevin. 

“Oh, really? What's the NDA about then?” I asked. 

He shook his head, “That's normal procedure for these things.”  

“Whatever you say, man.”  

“Can we reschedule to the weekend?” He asked the receptionist. 

Tammy clickety clacked on her computer for a moment then looked up shaking her head, “Sorry but no, Monday is our only available time for the next few months. Otherwise, you’ll have to start phase 1 over.”  

“Just schedule it for Monday.” I said. “I'm coming with you, dude. You’re doing this for us and I wanna be here for you.” 

Kevin Smiled. 

“I also wanna be here if you like start growing a dick on your forehead or something.” I added. 

He shook his head, “Alright, Monday it is.” 

“Perfect. I’ve got you scheduled.” Said Tammy, “And here’s your check.” She said as she slid the check for five thousand dollars across the desk. 

That night Kev and I went to one of the few steak houses that were still open during the lockdown to celebrate. Frivolous? Yes. But we didn't care; we had barely been scraping by, and now we had a five grand in our pockets, and another check coming in a few days. Things were starting to look up.  

At dinner, I asked Kev again about the drug trial, but all he would say was, “If this stuff works little brother, it's going to change the world. And we get to be a part of it.” 

When I got up the next morning, Kev was sitting at the table. He was writing something on the clipboard Dr. Gordon had given him. 

“What's up man? Side effects?” I asked. 

He looked up at me, “Eh maybe. Had nightmares all night. Could be just stress. Either way, I figured it was good to write it down.” 

“Couldn't hurt.” I said, filling a bowl with cereal. 

We hang around the house for the rest of the day, watching tv, playing video games, and not doing much of anything. Normally Kev would be online searching for jobs, or out job hunting at the essential workplaces. But today he just laid around relaxing, it was good to see him less stressed.  

 

That night, I awoke to the sound of Kevin screaming. I jumped out of bed and ran to his room to see him sitting bolt upright in bed, his eyes wide and sweat pouring from his face.  

“Kevin, what's wrong?” I asked, flicking on the light.  

He slowly turned to face me, his chest heaving. At first it seemed like he didn't recognize me. “Luke? What are you doing here? What happened?” 

I shook my head, “You tell me man. You were screaming, so I came running.” 

“It's these damn nightmares.” He said, rubbing a shaking hand across his head. “I'm fine now.” 

“You sure you should continue the trial?” I asked. 

He scoffed, “It's just nightmares.” 

“Yeah but...” 

“But nothing.” He said interrupting me, “I'm fine now. This will be worth it in the long run.” 

“What kind of nightmares are you having anyway?” I asked. 

Kev turned over and covered his head with his pillow, “Trust me bro, you don't wanna know. Now turn out the light and go to bed.” 

I shrugged and turned out the light, “If you say so, just try to keep it down unless you're dying.” 

I couldn't see clearly in the dark but I think he flipped me off. 

 

The next morning, I didn't see much of Kevin. I checked on him a few times, but he said he was just tired and had a headache. I reminded him to write it down in his notes for Dr. Gordon. He said he would, and that was the last we spoke all that Sunday. Around noon I went skateboarding with some friends. They asked why I wasn't at school Friday, so I told them I had to drive my brother to do some weird stuff for money with a creepy older guy, and then refused to elaborate further. I thought it would make for a fun conversation next time they come over. 

That evening when I got home, Kevin was up and acting like himself again.  

“Pizza sound good?” He asked as I walked through the door. 

“Sure, I'm starving.” I said. “You feeling better then?” 

He nodded, “Yeah, I'm good. Couldn't sleep worth a damn last night but I'm feeling better now.” 

“Good.” I said. “Did you write down your symptoms?” I asked, glancing at the clipboard.  

“Yes mother.” Kev said sarcastically. 

I showed him my middle finger, and we ate our pizza and watched old Simpsons episodes for a while before heading to bed.  

 

The next morning when we arrived at the Promethionics lab, Dr. Gordon was already waiting for us. 

“Good morning?” He said with a smile. “Anything to report?” 

Kev nodded, “Morning. And yes, I have taken some notes.” 

He took the clipboard and guided my brother through the lab door, leaving me alone again. 

“Okay, guess I’ll just wait here.” I said as the door closed.  

As I sat in the lobby, I played games and watched meat canyon videos on my phone. This time, I wasn't waiting nearly as long as before. But when Kev came out, something was definitely wrong.  

He was leaning on Dr. Gordon as they walked across the lobby. His skin looked pale and sweat poured down his face as he shivered violently. 

“What the hell happened to him?” I said, running across the lobby to meet them. 

“Your brother had an adverse reaction to the treatment. He needs bed rest, but he should be fine in a day or two.” Said Dr Gordon. 

“Bed rest my ass.” I said taking my brothers weight from the Dr. “He needs the emergency room.” 

“No!” Said Gordon and Kevin at the same time. 

“No hospital.” Said Kev.  

I looked up at the Dr. “What do you mean, no hospital?”  

Dr. Gordon fixed me with a stare, “Under the NDA your brother signed, he is legally prohibited from seeking medical attention outside this facility.” 

I looked at my brother, “Kev, what the fuck did you do?”  

He shook his head and smiled weakly, “It's not as bad as it looks. The Doc knows what he's doing, I'll be right as rain in no time.” 

“I don't know about this.” I said. 

“Listen to your brother,” said Gordon. Then to Kev he said, “Trust the program.” 

Kevin nodded and pushed off of me to go set up his next appointment with Tammy. I stayed for a moment, staring into Gordons eyes. There was something in them I didn't like. Something predatory. 

“Luke!” Kev called from the receptionist desk, “Pull the car around, let's go home.” 

Gordon stared back at me a moment longer, then gave a small smile before turning back for the lab door. 

When I pulled the car around, Kev got in and showed me the check. This time, it was for ten thousand.  

I looked at the check then to my brother, “Is that how much your life is worth?” I asked. 

Kevin sighed and met my eyes, “My savings are gone and I can't find a job. We were about to be evicted. Without this, we don't have a home, we don't have food. We need this.” 

I shook my head and put the car in drive, “I hope you know what you're doing.” 

“Trust me. It will be fine.” 

“But...”  

“My next appointment is Thursday.” He said interrupting me. “You’ve missed enough school for this, I’ll either come by myself or get Jerry to come with me.” 

“Kev, I don't think you should keep doing this.” But he was already asleep in the passenger seat.  

When we got home, I had a hell of a time getting Kev into the house and in bed. I checked his temperature, but despite the chills and poring sweat, he was completely normal. A little colder than normal, actually. The thermometer read, 95.5. I remembered reading somewhere that anything below 95 was considered hypothermic, but there was no way Kev had hypothermia. I mean, it was December, but he hadn't been outside, that I know of. He kept saying he was freezing so I threw a few more blankets over him and turned out his light, hoping he could get some rest.  

I warmed up some left-over pizza and played some video games for the rest of the day, occasionally checking on my unconscious brother. I wondered if I should call someone. Mom and dad weren't what I would call reliable or loving. There was Uncle Steve, but he lived in the next state over. I could call a few friends to come over with me, but I didn't know how much help they would be with Kev if he took a turn for the worse. In the end, I decided to set alarms throughout the night to check on him and if things got too bad, I’d call 911, NDAs be damned. 

 

It was about 10:45 and I had just finished off the last of the pizza. I decided to check on Kev one more time before bed. The first of my “check on jackass” alarms wasn't set to go off until 12:30. I cracked Kev’s door open and peaked into the darkened room, “Hey bro, you still alive?” 

But he didn't answer. I walked into the room and heard the shower on in his adjoining bathroom. The bathroom light was on, and steam pooled out from under the shut door. My first thought was, “Great he's feeling better, or at least well enough to take a shower.” 

I yelled through the door, “Hey don't forget to scrub behind your ears.”  

But he didn't respond. 

“Hey, Kev.” I called “You okay man?” 

Still, no answer. 

“Kev?” I called again as I pushed open the bathroom door.  

The bathroom was like a sauna. There was so much steam, I could barely see where I was going as I stepped up to the shower curtain. “Bro, I need you to say something or else we are both about to be traumatized.” He still didn't say anything, so I sighed and pulled back the curtain. 

Kevin stood there under the shower spray, his mouth and eyes wide open with the heat turned to full blast. He had been meaning to get the thermostat on the hot water tank fixed, I really wish he had. His skin, from head to toe was red and blistered from the heat of the water. But he acted like he didn't even notice. I gasped and leaned into the shower, turning off the spray. 

“Jesus, Kevin! What the hell are you doing?” I demanded as I wrapped a towel around him and pulled him from the shower.  

“I... I... Was cold.” He said, his teeth chattering. “I just wanted to be warm.” 

“Alright that's it, I'm taking you to the hospital.” I said, looking over his blistered face. “I don't know what they gave you, but we have to stop. You need help.”  

Kevin shook his head, “I think you are right, but no hospital.” 

“Why not? Fuck the NDA, you need medical attention.” I exclaimed. 

“Can't go to hospital.” He said. “If I break the NDA, I go to federal prison.” 

“God dammit, Kev. What did have we gotten into?”  

I helped him to his bed and laid him down, “Listen,” He said shaking, “Call Dr. Gordon, He will know what to do.” 

‘Are you sure?” I asked, “I don't trust him.” 

Kevin laid his head back on the pillow, “He’s all we got right now.” 

After laying cold towels over Kevins body, I found the number for the lab and called. 

It rang 3 times and then a voice said, “Promethionics, how can I direct your call?” 

“Hello, I need to speak with Dr. Gordon immediately. It's about my brother; he’s been participating in the drug trials.” I said, my voice sounding frantic. 

“Hold please.” 

After an infuriatingly long two minutes, the doctor answered, “This is Dr. Gordon. Tell me what's happening, leave out no details.” 

I told him. I explained about the shivering the low body temperature and the burns from the shower. 

“He says he doesn't even feel the burns; he's just freezing. I really think he needs to go to the ER.” 

“Alright, just calm down son.” Said Gordon. “The ER won't do anything I can't do. Give me your address and I will be right over. I need to examine him.” 

Against my better judgement, I gave him the address and he said he was on his way. After hanging up the phone, I sat on the bed next to my broiled and shivering brother.  

25 agonizing minutes later, the doorbell rang. I ran through the house and flung open the door. Dr. Gordon stepped through holding a large case. “Show me to him.” He demanded. 

I took him to Kev’s room and he asked me to wait outside. 

“Fuck you, he’s my brother.” I said pushing past him. 

I could tell this irritated Gordon, but he simply stepped past me and knelt next to Kevin's bed. He opened his case and removed several items from it. After checking his blood pressure, temperature, pupil dilation, and looking in his throat, he turned to me.  

“I really must insist you leave the room, what I have to discuss with your brother is strictly need to know. Between doctor and patient.” 

I stepped forward, balling my hands into fists, “Yeah? Well, guess what asshole, I need to know.” 

“Luke.” Said Kev. “It’s okay. Just give us a minute.”  

I shook my head, “Kevin, no. I'm not leaving you alone with this creep.” 

“Trust me, son. Your brother's health is my utmost priority.” Said the Doctor. 

I didn't like it, but what could I do? Kevin needed help and Gordon clearly wasn't going to help him with me in the room. I stepped out and closed the door behind me but stayed close listening. I could hear the doctors hushed voice, but I couldn't make out any words. Kevin made a sound like a sob, and I nearly opened the door right then, but I held off and kept listening. What had Gordon said? Something about metamorphosis? What the fuck was happening? Kevin was agreeing to something, but I couldn't hear what. 

“Enough of this shit.” I thought as I pushed open the door to see Dr. Gordon with a large syringe filled with a black oily liquid. And he was injecting it into my brother's arm. 

I dashed across the room and attempted to push the dr away from Kevin, but I was too late. He pushed down on the plunger, injecting the entire contents of the syringe into his arm.  

“What did you do?” I yelled, “What was that?”  

Gordon didn't answer. He packed all of his equipment into his bag and pushed past me. I grabbed his shoulder, intending on stopping him, but he turned quickly and hit me hard in the stomach. I collapsed to the floor coughing and gasping for air.  

Gordon looked down at me, “Your brother is doing very important work, if you do anything to interfere. Call the police, take him to the hospital, anything but leave him here in this room. You will both be taken to an undisclosed site and buried so deep that no one will ever find you.”  

“What did you do?” I asked through wheezes. 

He smiled, “I'm going to change the world, and your brother is going to help me. A team will be here in a few hours to pick up your brother and drop off a substantially larger check than you have so far received. I suggest you accept the check and do not interfere with my team.”  

“What? Where are you taking him?” I asked. 

Just then, Kevin began seizing on the bed. I jumped up and ran to his side, “Help him!” I said looking to Gordon.  

But he just watched my brother as he seized, “I already have.” He then turned and left. 

I tried to hold Kev still on his side as his seizures continued for the next 5 minutes, before gradually slowing to a stop. I checked his airway and he seemed to be breathing fine, but he was out cold. I tried and tried to wake him, tears running down my face. “Kevin, what do I do?” 

After a few more minutes, Kevin suddenly sat upright in bed and cocked his head toward me.  

“K... Kev?” I said. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, of course he wasn't, but what else could I say?  

He wobbled for a moment, then his eyes focused on me, “Luke?”  

I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, holding him up. “I’m here Kev, I'm here.” 

“Somethings wrong, Luke.” He said in my ear. “I don't think the drug trial was a good idea.”  

I nodded, my head against his shoulder, “I know man, what are we going to do?”  

“It's too late.” He said, then he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “There’s something under my skin.”  

I leaned back and looked at him, “What? What are you talking about?”  

Something in his eyes changed and he shook his head, “I don't know, what did I say?”  

“You said... there’s something under your skin.” I said, hearing the tremble in my own voice.  

Kevin smiled, “Did I say that? I don't remember.”  

I swallowed, “Kevin, bro. You’re scaring me.” 

My brother cocked his head and looked at me curiously, “Who's Kevin?” 

I stood and began backing towards the door.  

“Where are you going?” He asked. 

I tried to smile, “I'm just gonna get a glass of water. Do you want some water?’'  

He didn't answer; he just kept smiling. Like nothing in the world was wrong. 

I started down the hall and reached for my phone. Gordon said not to call anyone, but was he bluffing? He had to be, maybe I could call the police and... My phone wasn't in my pocket; I had left it in Kevins room. I turned around to go get my phone and there was Kevin, standing in the dark at the end of the hall.  

“Where’s your water?” He asked, his voice a chilling monotone.  

Before I could answer, he broke into a sprint straight down the hall toward me. I turned and ran for my room as fast as I could. Slamming and locking the door behind me. Kevin pounded on the door over and over for nearly a minute straight. Then, in an eerily calm voice, he said. “Luke... Because we’re brothers...” 

“What?” I said, confused. 

“Yes, Monday would be great...” He continued. 

Tears were rolling down my face, “Kevin, what's happening?” 

“I said I would take care of you... It's just nightmares.” Suddenly he began pounding on the door again. 

I slumped to the floor and leaned against the door. My world breaking apart around me. What had they done to my brother? And would I ever get him back? Eventually the pounding stopped. I leaned over and peaked under the door to see Kevin's feet walking away. I took a breath and let it out slowly. I had to get to my phone and call for help; I had to get to Kevins room.  

After about 10 minutes of indecision, I grabbed my old baseball bat and held it close as I unlocked the door and turned the knob, slowly opening the door. I couldn't see Kevin, but there was a smell something from the kitchen. It smelled like burning meat. 

I cautiously stepped through the front room and peered into the kitchen. I placed my hand over my mouth, stifling a scream. Kevin was there, bent over on the floor in front of the open oven. He mumbled, “freezing.” over and over, his hands and forearms held inside the glowing hot oven. The flesh bubbled and popped as it turned black under the heat.  

A gasp slipped out as a chunk of meat slipped from his arm and fell to the floor. He turned to see me and smiled wide. “Trust me, it will be fine.” 

I stumbled back to the floor, staring up at him as he stood. He looked down at me, then to his own charred arms. For a brief moment, fear and disbelief flashed in his bloodshot eyes. But just as quickly, it was replaced by a morbid curiosity. “Theres something on my skin.” 

“K... Kevin?”  

He met my eyes, and shook his head, “No.”  

Suddenly, he reached up with both hands. Digging his fingers into the burnt and blistered flesh on his head. He grasped tight and began to peel the flesh from his face. Revealing a raw and ragged, misshapen form beneath. Over and over, he grasped and ripped. Flesh and hair and muscle sloughed to the ground around him until there was nothing left but a tall thin visage of something vaguely man shaped, wrapped in writhing oily black veins.  

I screamed and screamed as the thing that had been my brother looked down at me. I scrambled back and jumped to my feet, running back through the house. I could hear the things wet footsteps squelching behind me, but I made it to my room and locked the door. I crawled underneath my bed, my heart pounding in my ears. I watched in shock and terror as the thing bent down and stared under the door at me.  

I must have passed out because the next thing I remember was Dr. Gordon yelling as men in hazmat suits pulled me out from under the bed. 

“Where is Kevin?” He demanded, “Where is your brother?”  

All I could do was shake my head and look to the kitchen floor, at the pile of gore he had left behind. 

“Dammit!” Exclaimed Gordon. He then began barking orders to the men to search the area for the “Specimen.” 

Gordon turned back to me pointing his finger, “You. What did you do to him?” He shouted. “Answer me you little shit or...” 

“Or what?” Came a voice from the front room.  

All of the hazmat suited men stopped what they were doing, even Gordon stopped, his eyes widening.  

“What exactly will you do, Dr, Gordon?” asked the man. He was shorter than average, with neatly combed dark hair. We wore an expensive looking suit and round wire rim glasses. 

“Director Neilan, I...” said Gordon.  

“I think your little experiment has gone on long enough.” Said the man. “It's clearly beyond your abilities to control.”  

“But I can recover from this. We will find the specimen.” Said Gordon.  

“We will find the specimen.” Said the man. “You, I will deal with later.”  

And with that, the hazmat suited men continued with their duties. Dr. Gordon, however, lowered his head and left without another word.  

The man called Neilan sat down at the dining room table and motioned me over. I numbly walked across the room and sat down across from him. 

“I'm sorry about your brother.” He said. “That isn't how I like to do things.”  

“Do what?” I asked.  

He studied me for a moment but didn't answer. Instead, he opened a suitcase and removed an official looking document and a check. He slid the document across to me; it was another fucking NDA.  

“You expect me to sign this?” I said angrily. 

He nodded, “I do.”  

“Why?” 

He shrugged, “The alternative is you disappear.” 

“Disappear?” I asked. 

He nodded again, “You could wind up in a landfill. I could just kill you here and make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Or I could give you to Dr. Gordon and let him continue his research. We have options.” 

I swallowed hard, “You can't do this.” 

“I can.” He said matter of fact. “As I said, it isn't how I like to do things. But here we are. I suggest you sign and take this.” He said, sliding the check across the table to me. “Time is short, you won't get this offer again.” 

What else could I do? I signed.  

Neilan gave me a smile and a nod, as he stood and placed the NDA in his briefcase. “We will take care of the cover story, and we will be in touch to take your statement on tonight's events, once you've had time to recuperate. And don't think we won't be watching you.” 

I nodded and looked down at the check, feeling sick and broken.  

Neilan stopped and turned back to face me before leaving, “I know it may not seem like it now, but your brother is a true patriot and a hero for his sacrifice to this great nation.” Then he turned and left.  

 

I have lived well for the past years, but the guilt has been slowly suffocating me. I still don't have any answers, but the truth is out there, whatever happens to me.  

When I was a kid, I didn’t have the best home life. My parents were always busy and when they weren’t, they seemed to never have much interest in spending time with me. They were never abusive, just emotionally unavailable. So eventually I just stopped trying to get their attention and made peace with how it was.

The summers I spent at my grandparents house was where I felt the happiest and the most at home. They lived out in the country on a large piece of land, filled with woods and fields. I’d spend my days wandering the game trails and exploring the property with my dog, Rusty, always finding something new and interesting. Like the old stone wall in the middle of the woods that stretched across a small creek, or the rotting remains of an old wooden shed long forgotten. Then, on cooler nights, I would put up my small tent in the yard and sleep under the stars. My grandparents were the best and kindest people I ever knew. Any time I got hurt or felt bad about something, Grandma was there to pick me up and fix me a meal. Grandpa was an amazing storyteller, many late nights he stayed up telling the tales of hero’s, cowboys, and frontier times. They gave me free range of the entire property and the house. Except for one place. I was never allowed to go in or near the basement. Even straying too close to the basement door was discouraged.

“There is nothing down there for you.” My grandmother would say.

On the rare occasion I got up the courage to ask my grandfather about it, he only smiled and said, “We keep a lot of old things in the basement.”

“Like old tools or something?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It isn’t safe to go down there, Tommy. Besides, you have the whole property as your playground.”

And for years I was satisfied with that answer, happy enough to leave the basement alone. Until I wasn’t.

By the time I was fourteen, I had explored the property in its entirety. Seen all it had to offer. I found though, that there was a nagging curiosity that pulled at my mind. One that I had come back to more than once. What was in the basement?

One night after supper, fried chicken and Mac n cheese. I waited up in my tent until late into the night, long after the lights in the house had gone out. I got up and made for the tent zipper, waking Rusty as I stepped across the crackling plastic of the tent floor. The red heeler sat up and looked at me sideways as if to ask what I was doing.

“Stay here, boy.” I said patting his head.

He let out a soft woof, as I climbed out of the tent and made my way to the house.

The old wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. I paused in the doorway, listening for signs of movement from upstairs. After about a minute of silence, I let out the breath I had been holding and made my way through the front room to the kitchen. Grandpa always kept the basement locked with a heavy padlock. If I wanted to see what was down there, I would need his keys.

I knew that sometimes he took his keys to his room with him, but luckily they were hanging in their place on the key hooks by the back door. I reached up and took the keys, doing my best to prevent them from jangling, then made my way over to the basement door.

Wood creaked from somewhere within the old farm house as I reached for the lock. I ran through half of the keys on the ring, before the lock finally snapped open audibly. My heart pounded with anticipation as I turned the old iron knob and pulled open the door. The hinges squeaked with disuse and again I held my breath, waiting to see the lights flicking on from upstairs.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped through the dark doorway, flicking on the old Maglite I used when camping out in the yard. The old wooden steps seemed to go down far deeper than they should have. I kept watching for a pull string for the lights, but there was only thick layers of ancient looking cobwebs illuminated in the dim yellow of my old flashlight. The smell of dirt any musty wood rot filled my nose as I made my way down.

After what felt like 20 yards of rickety steps, I found myself standing on a dirt floor. I shined the flashlight around to see dirt walls and roof. There was no basement, just a rough hole dug into the ground. And there at the back of the hole was a wall. The back wall was not made of dirt but stacked cinder blocks, and in the center of the wall stood another locked wooden door.

 This one was different, heavy chains ran across the door to large steel bolts drilled into the wall and the door itself had heavy padlocks at the top and bottom.

I stepped up to the wall, grandpas keys in my hand.  Examining the chained door, wondering what my grandparents could be hiding down here, when I heard the sound of movement. Only it wasn’t  coming from upstairs. It was from behind the door. I stepped back, shining my light on the door. Were they keeping something in there? Some kind of animal? And then I heard it speak.

“Hello?” The voice sounded small and pained. Muffled by the heavy door.

I began to back away, goosebumps rising on my arms.

“Please, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just let me go home.” they said with a sob.

My heart pounded as I asked. “Who are you?”

The voice was silent for a solid minute before it spoke again.

“You’re not the ones who put me here. How did you get down here?”

“I… I was curious. I’m not supposed to…”

“Can you let me out?” asked the voice.

“I, I probably shouldn’t.” I said backing away.

They let out another sob, “Please, I just want to go home.”

I noticed that there was a sliding peep hole on the door. Curiosity itched at the back of my mind, as I stepped back up to the door.

“Who put you down here?” I asked. “And why?”

I reached up and slid the peep hole open, trying to see in, but the hole was too small to use my light and look through very well. I the faint rays of light that managed to shine into the locked room I could make out a figure, crouched there in the dark.

“Please let me out.” It sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“I can’t see you.” I said trying to shift my light.

In the gloom, the figures head rose slightly. “You want to see me?” it asked as it slowly stood to its full height. I couldn’t see it clearly but its rail thin frame seemed to have to hunch over as to not hit the roof. Suddenly it broke into a dead sprint at the door.

I fell back as it slammed against the heavy wood and began screaming, “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” The once small voice, huge and filled with rage.

The door shook as I climbed to my feet and turned away. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. When I got to the basement door, I did my best to close it as quietly as I could and snap the padlock back into place.

I ran back out of the house to my tent and climbed into my sleeping bag. Rusty, seeing my panic, curled up next to me, licking the tears from my face. I turned back to look out the mesh tent window at the house to see my grandparents bedroom light turn on, followed by the rest of the house lights. They had heard me. I turned away, pretending to be asleep. I heard the front door opened and waited for one of them to call out to me, but they never did. After a moment I turned back to see grandpa standing in the front porch light, staring at my tent. I turned back and pinched my eyes shut and didn’t sleep at all.

Eventually, the sun rose and I heard the door open again. “Tommy, come eat breakfast!” grandma called.

I left my tent and went inside, waiting to be scolded for what I had done. But the scolding never came. Grandma smiled as she sat a large plate of pancakes in front of me. I smiled back and dug in. Maybe they didn’t know I had gone down there. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.

“Linda, have you seen my keys?” asked grandpa as he stepped into the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat. The keys. I forgot to put them back.

Grandma shook her head, “No, did you leave them in your pants again? Check the laundry.”

He nodded and headed off to check.

After a moment, he called out, “No, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“That man.” Said grandma shaking her head, she then called out, “Well, I’m sure they will turn up.” She then went to start washing the dishes.

I hurriedly finished my pancakes and stood, preparing to leave the room and patting my pants pockets for the keys. “oh no.” I thought, hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Finished already?” called grandma behind me.

“Yeah, thanks grandma. They were great.” I said over my shoulder as I pushed through the screen door.

I searched the tent over and over, but the keys were gone. “Where are they?” I muttered over and over. Then it hit me, could I have dropped them last night? Were they down there, in the basement? I felt sick just thinking about it.

I stepped out of the tent and saw Rusty standing on the grass. He was staring at the house, his head cocked to one side as if listening. I stepped over to him and put my hand on his back. I guess the sudden touch startled him because he turned, snapping and growling before realizing it was me.

“Whoa, easy boy. It’s just me.” I said pulling my hand back.

He wined and lowered his head, nuzzling against me as if to say “I’m sorry.” I petted him and whispered to him that he was a good boy.

“Thomas.” Grandpa called.

I stood, feeling my heart pounding. They only ever called my Thomas when I was in trouble

He was standing next to his pickup in the driveway and motioned me over. As I approached, he said, “Get in. Let’s go for a drive.”

I numbly walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Grandpa got in and started the truck, eyeing the house.

We drove in silence out to the pasture. He didn’t speak or look at me. The old suspension of the farm truck squeaked as we drove over bumps and through ruts. Eventually we came to a stop overlooking a wheat meadow. Grandpa killed the truck and stared through the window for a moment in silence.

Without turning to me, he said, “I’m gonna ask you a question now. And whatever your answer, I’m going to trust you.” He turned to face me, “Okay?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

His pale blue eyes started into mine for a moment, “Did you go into the basement last night?”

My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to cry. I thought about lying to him but I couldn’t. “Yes.” I said, my voice trembling.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked back, there was anger in them.

“Grandpa?”

But he held up his hand stopping me, “What did you see?”

I swallowed, “There were stairs, a lot of them and another door. A… a locked door. With someone behind it.”

He leaned in close, his eyes drilling into mine, his next words were spoken slowly and with great care, “Did you speak to it?”

I nodded, feeling tears building up in my eyes, “Y…Yes.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, “Okay, Tommy. It’s okay. Just tell me everything.”

I told him.

He listened and nodded, “But you didn’t open the door? You didn’t let it out?”

“No.” I shook my head, “But I almost did. I thought it was someone in trouble.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s okay, the important thing is that you didn’t.”

I sniffed, “What is it?”

He sighed, and looked out over the meadow. “I don’t know. But it came from the woods.” He nodded to a thicket of trees on the other side of the meadow, “From those trees, right there.”

“Years ago I was out hunting in this very spot.  Sat right here as the sun sat, no deer in sight. But then I heard leaves crunching just ahead in the trees. I sat up and readied my rifle. Thinking this was it, here comes a big one.”  He turned to face me, “And then your grandma walked out of the woods. She stood there in the dusk light, looking around until she saw me. I almost believed it was her. It looked just like her, moved like her, sounded like her when she called out to me. I would have sworn it was her, only she was sitting right next to me in the deer stand.” He shook his head, “Back then she liked to go with me every once in a while. Neither of us has been hunting since.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I shot it.” He said bluntly. “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what it was trying to be.” He shook his head before continuing. “The thing fell to the ground and we left. Thinking it was over. It wasn’t until the next night when I realized, it wasn’t. She… It was calling my name out by the fence, “Bill, I’m hurt.” Or “Honey I need you.” We tried to ignore it, tried to kill it, tried everything but it just kept coming back.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

He laughed, “The only thing I could think of, trapped it.”

“How?”

He sighed, “I dug the tunnel in the basement and I let it inside. Let it believe I fell for it’s deception. I called her, it, to come in and see what I had been working on. Led it down to the basement and shut the door behind it.”

“That worked?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said with a chuckle. “It screamed and raged, banging on the door when it realized, but as long as we keep it locked up down  there ,it can’t hurt us.”

“What does it want?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, “You know what a cuckoo bird is, right?”

I nodded.

“I think maybe it’s something similar. I don’t know for sure, but I think it wants to take the place of someone.”

I swallowed, “Like grandma?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.” He said turning to face me, “Now, where are my keys.”

“I think I dropped them last night.” I said.

His face fell, “Where?”

“I… I think…” I stuttered.

“Dammit , where, Tommy?!” He shouted.

“In the basement, I think.” I finally said.

“Oh my God.” He breathed.

Grandpa started the he truck and slammed it into drive, throwing dirt and grass as he peeled out and headed back for the house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought it couldn’t get out.”

He didn’t answer until we slid to a halt back at the house.

“Thomas, take Rusty and get away from here.” He said, flinging the door open.

“What? Where do we go?”

He shook his head, “Go to the woods, to the old shed. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

I nodded and whistled for Rusty to come. Grandpa was heading for the house as we headed for the trees.

15 minutes later, we arrived at the shed, Rusty was running all over, sniffing and peeing on everything he could. We had been out to the old shed in a quite a while and he had lots of territory to remark.

We sat there waiting for most of the day. I wondered what happened at the house. Could that thing have gotten out? Were they okay? I felt sick worrying about them. About what was happening.

Eventually I heard the sound of grandpas truck coming down one of the trails. I stood and made my way out to see the truck coming along, grandma behind the wheel.

She smiled when she saw me, “Come along, Thomas. Dinner is almost done.”

I slowly stepped forward. “Where’s grandpa? I thought he was gonna come get me.”

She smiled again, “Oh he had to run to the store to pick something up, he should be back soon.”

I nodded and headed for the truck, “Okay.”

Rusty suddenly came up behind me and started barking at the truck, I turned to face him, “What is it, boy?”

He continued barking and growling, and bearing his teeth. I turned back to grandma who was still smiling. “Silly dog.” She said, looking at him, “I visited with the neighbors earlier, he probably smells their cat on me.”

I nodded and climbed into the truck. But Rusty refused to get in, he just kept barking and snarling at grandma.

Grandma drove us back to the house with my dog following at a distance.

“Grandpa mentioned some stuff earlier.” I said as we drove. “Stuff about the basement.”

Grandma sighed, “Is he telling you stories again?”

I shook my head, “No, he seemed serious. He said you guys saw something strange a long time ago. And that you had it locked up in the basement.”  

She pulled the truck to a stop in the driveway. “I don’t  want to talk about that anymore.” She said, getting out. “Now come on, dinner is waiting.”

I climbed out of the truck to see Rusty sitting out in the yard. No matter how I called to him, he wouldn’t come any closer. Eventually, I turned and followed grandma into the house, leaving him outside.

As I stepped into the house, I immediately caught a whiff of burning meat. Stepping into the kitchen, I saw the dinner she had laid out. Meatloaf that had been burnt so badly it looked like a piece of charred tree bark.

“Sit down.” She said pointing to the dining room table. As I sat, my eyes tracked along the wall to the basement door. The wide open basement door.

My heart pounded as she lay the plate of food on the table in front of me. She then sat down and smiled wide at me, waiting for me to eat.

“I’m… not that hungry.” I said with a glance down at the plate.

She sat there, unblinking as a fly landed on her open eyeball. Her smile never wavering. “But you love my cooking.” She said after a moment.

I nodded, “I do.” My voice trembled, “I’m just not hung…”

She slammed her hand on the table and screamed, “Eat the fucking food!”  Her face contorted in rage.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reached for the fork.

Rusty began barking outside again. Grandmas smile slammed back into place, “My goodness, did you forget to feed that dog again?”

I tried to stand, “Yes, I’ll go…”

But she stood and slammed her own fork down through my hand, pinning it to the dining room table.

I gasped in the sudden pain as blood oozed up from around the utensil.

“You stay here and eat.” She said still smiling. “I’ll take care of the dog.”

Tears of pain and shock and fear rolled down my face as she turned and walked out the back door.

Rusty barked like a feral beast outside and I realized now was my chance to get away. I didn’t know what happened to Grandpa but right then there was nothing for me to do but get out of there. I reached to the fork and felt a shock of pain as I grasped it. With all the effort I could manage, I gave it a solid yank. I tried not to scream, I tried. But the pain was more than I could bear and I screamed anyway. Rusty let out even more furious barks and growls, then my dog let out one pain filled yelp before falling silent.

Silent sobs racked my chest as I reached for the truck keys on the counter. Then the back door creaked open. I turned to see the imposter, standing in the doorway. Her fingernails coated in wet blood.

“Rusty isn’t feeling well.” She said, still smiling. “Did you eat?” she asked.

I nodded shakily, “It was good. Can I have more?”

She smiled all the wider and stepped up to me, placing one bloody hand on my cheek, “Of course you can, you’re a growing boy. And I’m going to take care of you, forever.”

When she stepped over to the stove and began filling another plate, I ran for the door. I pushed through it, slamming it back against the house and running for the truck. I leapt inside and fumbled the keys with my injured hand. Looking back to the house I saw the door open and the imposter step outside, looking around for where I had gone.

When her eyes locked on me she tilted her head, just like Rusty had. She suddenly dropped to all fours and ran at the truck, her limbs contorting and bending at extra joints like a huge spider.

The engine roared to life just as she kept into the hood and started beating on the windshield. “Stay! Stay! She screamed, over and over in a voice that sounded like too many voices scrambled up together. I floored the truck in reverse, then spun the wheel, flinging her off and turning the truck around before slamming it into drive and tearing off down the road.

I watched in the rearview mirror as I drove. She stood and looking like nothing in the world was wrong, turned and headed back to the house.

When I finally made it home, neither of my parents were there. I called the police and told them that an intruder was in my grandparents house and that I had gotten away. They said they would send a car out and let me know what they found. Then I called my parents and told them the same thing.

They found both of my grandparents in the basement. They never told me how they died, but we had closed casket funerals. They never found the intruder. The police and my parents didn’t believe me about the imposter. Said something about traumatic memories or something, I don’t know. I know what I saw though, and I know what I heard in the following nights. What I still hear, just outside my bedroom window. She wants to come inside. Maybe I should dig a tunnel.

When I was a kid, I didn’t have the best home life. My parents were always busy and when they weren’t, they seemed to never have much interest in spending time with me. They were never abusive, just emotionally unavailable. So eventually I just stopped trying to get their attention and made peace with how it was.

The summers I spent at my grandparents house was where I felt the happiest and the most at home. They lived out in the country on a large piece of land, filled with woods and fields. I’d spend my days wandering the game trails and exploring the property with my dog, Rusty, always finding something new and interesting. Like the old stone wall in the middle of the woods that stretched across a small creek, or the rotting remains of an old wooden shed long forgotten. Then, on cooler nights, I would put up my small tent in the yard and sleep under the stars. My grandparents were the best and kindest people I ever knew. Any time I got hurt or felt bad about something, Grandma was there to pick me up and fix me a meal. Grandpa was an amazing storyteller, many late nights he stayed up telling the tales of hero’s, cowboys, and frontier times. They gave me free range of the entire property and the house. Except for one place. I was never allowed to go in or near the basement. Even straying too close to the basement door was discouraged.

“There is nothing down there for you.” My grandmother would say.

On the rare occasion I got up the courage to ask my grandfather about it, he only smiled and said, “We keep a lot of old things in the basement.”

“Like old tools or something?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It isn’t safe to go down there, Tommy. Besides, you have the whole property as your playground.”

And for years I was satisfied with that answer, happy enough to leave the basement alone. Until I wasn’t.

By the time I was fourteen, I had explored the property in its entirety. Seen all it had to offer. I found though, that there was a nagging curiosity that pulled at my mind. One that I had come back to more than once. What was in the basement?

One night after supper, fried chicken and Mac n cheese. I waited up in my tent until late into the night, long after the lights in the house had gone out. I got up and made for the tent zipper, waking Rusty as I stepped across the crackling plastic of the tent floor. The red heeler sat up and looked at me sideways as if to ask what I was doing.

“Stay here, boy.” I said patting his head.

He let out a soft woof, as I climbed out of the tent and made my way to the house.

The old wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. I paused in the doorway, listening for signs of movement from upstairs. After about a minute of silence, I let out the breath I had been holding and made my way through the front room to the kitchen. Grandpa always kept the basement locked with a heavy padlock. If I wanted to see what was down there, I would need his keys.

I knew that sometimes he took his keys to his room with him, but luckily they were hanging in their place on the key hooks by the back door. I reached up and took the keys, doing my best to prevent them from jangling, then made my way over to the basement door.

Wood creaked from somewhere within the old farm house as I reached for the lock. I ran through half of the keys on the ring, before the lock finally snapped open audibly. My heart pounded with anticipation as I turned the old iron knob and pulled open the door. The hinges squeaked with disuse and again I held my breath, waiting to see the lights flicking on from upstairs.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped through the dark doorway, flicking on the old Maglite I used when camping out in the yard. The old wooden steps seemed to go down far deeper than they should have. I kept watching for a pull string for the lights, but there was only thick layers of ancient looking cobwebs illuminated in the dim yellow of my old flashlight. The smell of dirt any musty wood rot filled my nose as I made my way down.

After what felt like 20 yards of rickety steps, I found myself standing on a dirt floor. I shined the flashlight around to see dirt walls and roof. There was no basement, just a rough hole dug into the ground. And there at the back of the hole was a wall. The back wall was not made of dirt but stacked cinder blocks, and in the center of the wall stood another locked wooden door.

 This one was different, heavy chains ran across the door to large steel bolts drilled into the wall and the door itself had heavy padlocks at the top and bottom.

I stepped up to the wall, grandpas keys in my hand.  Examining the chained door, wondering what my grandparents could be hiding down here, when I heard the sound of movement. Only it wasn’t  coming from upstairs. It was from behind the door. I stepped back, shining my light on the door. Were they keeping something in there? Some kind of animal? And then I heard it speak.

“Hello?” The voice sounded small and pained. Muffled by the heavy door.

I began to back away, goosebumps rising on my arms.

“Please, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just let me go home.” they said with a sob.

My heart pounded as I asked. “Who are you?”

The voice was silent for a solid minute before it spoke again.

“You’re not the ones who put me here. How did you get down here?”

“I… I was curious. I’m not supposed to…”

“Can you let me out?” asked the voice.

“I, I probably shouldn’t.” I said backing away.

They let out another sob, “Please, I just want to go home.”

I noticed that there was a sliding peep hole on the door. Curiosity itched at the back of my mind, as I stepped back up to the door.

“Who put you down here?” I asked. “And why?”

I reached up and slid the peep hole open, trying to see in, but the hole was too small to use my light and look through very well. I the faint rays of light that managed to shine into the locked room I could make out a figure, crouched there in the dark.

“Please let me out.” It sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“I can’t see you.” I said trying to shift my light.

In the gloom, the figures head rose slightly. “You want to see me?” it asked as it slowly stood to its full height. I couldn’t see it clearly but its rail thin frame seemed to have to hunch over as to not hit the roof. Suddenly it broke into a dead sprint at the door.

I fell back as it slammed against the heavy wood and began screaming, “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” The once small voice, huge and filled with rage.

The door shook as I climbed to my feet and turned away. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. When I got to the basement door, I did my best to close it as quietly as I could and snap the padlock back into place.

I ran back out of the house to my tent and climbed into my sleeping bag. Rusty, seeing my panic, curled up next to me, licking the tears from my face. I turned back to look out the mesh tent window at the house to see my grandparents bedroom light turn on, followed by the rest of the house lights. They had heard me. I turned away, pretending to be asleep. I heard the front door opened and waited for one of them to call out to me, but they never did. After a moment I turned back to see grandpa standing in the front porch light, staring at my tent. I turned back and pinched my eyes shut and didn’t sleep at all.

Eventually, the sun rose and I heard the door open again. “Tommy, come eat breakfast!” grandma called.

I left my tent and went inside, waiting to be scolded for what I had done. But the scolding never came. Grandma smiled as she sat a large plate of pancakes in front of me. I smiled back and dug in. Maybe they didn’t know I had gone down there. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.

“Linda, have you seen my keys?” asked grandpa as he stepped into the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat. The keys. I forgot to put them back.

Grandma shook her head, “No, did you leave them in your pants again? Check the laundry.”

He nodded and headed off to check.

After a moment, he called out, “No, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“That man.” Said grandma shaking her head, she then called out, “Well, I’m sure they will turn up.” She then went to start washing the dishes.

I hurriedly finished my pancakes and stood, preparing to leave the room and patting my pants pockets for the keys. “oh no.” I thought, hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Finished already?” called grandma behind me.

“Yeah, thanks grandma. They were great.” I said over my shoulder as I pushed through the screen door.

I searched the tent over and over, but the keys were gone. “Where are they?” I muttered over and over. Then it hit me, could I have dropped them last night? Were they down there, in the basement? I felt sick just thinking about it.

I stepped out of the tent and saw Rusty standing on the grass. He was staring at the house, his head cocked to one side as if listening. I stepped over to him and put my hand on his back. I guess the sudden touch startled him because he turned, snapping and growling before realizing it was me.

“Whoa, easy boy. It’s just me.” I said pulling my hand back.

He wined and lowered his head, nuzzling against me as if to say “I’m sorry.” I petted him and whispered to him that he was a good boy.

“Thomas.” Grandpa called.

I stood, feeling my heart pounding. They only ever called my Thomas when I was in trouble

He was standing next to his pickup in the driveway and motioned me over. As I approached, he said, “Get in. Let’s go for a drive.”

I numbly walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Grandpa got in and started the truck, eyeing the house.

We drove in silence out to the pasture. He didn’t speak or look at me. The old suspension of the farm truck squeaked as we drove over bumps and through ruts. Eventually we came to a stop overlooking a wheat meadow. Grandpa killed the truck and stared through the window for a moment in silence.

Without turning to me, he said, “I’m gonna ask you a question now. And whatever your answer, I’m going to trust you.” He turned to face me, “Okay?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

His pale blue eyes started into mine for a moment, “Did you go into the basement last night?”

My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to cry. I thought about lying to him but I couldn’t. “Yes.” I said, my voice trembling.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked back, there was anger in them.

“Grandpa?”

But he held up his hand stopping me, “What did you see?”

I swallowed, “There were stairs, a lot of them and another door. A… a locked door. With someone behind it.”

He leaned in close, his eyes drilling into mine, his next words were spoken slowly and with great care, “Did you speak to it?”

I nodded, feeling tears building up in my eyes, “Y…Yes.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, “Okay, Tommy. It’s okay. Just tell me everything.”

I told him.

He listened and nodded, “But you didn’t open the door? You didn’t let it out?”

“No.” I shook my head, “But I almost did. I thought it was someone in trouble.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s okay, the important thing is that you didn’t.”

I sniffed, “What is it?”

He sighed, and looked out over the meadow. “I don’t know. But it came from the woods.” He nodded to a thicket of trees on the other side of the meadow, “From those trees, right there.”

“Years ago I was out hunting in this very spot.  Sat right here as the sun sat, no deer in sight. But then I heard leaves crunching just ahead in the trees. I sat up and readied my rifle. Thinking this was it, here comes a big one.”  He turned to face me, “And then your grandma walked out of the woods. She stood there in the dusk light, looking around until she saw me. I almost believed it was her. It looked just like her, moved like her, sounded like her when she called out to me. I would have sworn it was her, only she was sitting right next to me in the deer stand.” He shook his head, “Back then she liked to go with me every once in a while. Neither of us has been hunting since.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I shot it.” He said bluntly. “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what it was trying to be.” He shook his head before continuing. “The thing fell to the ground and we left. Thinking it was over. It wasn’t until the next night when I realized, it wasn’t. She… It was calling my name out by the fence, “Bill, I’m hurt.” Or “Honey I need you.” We tried to ignore it, tried to kill it, tried everything but it just kept coming back.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

He laughed, “The only thing I could think of, trapped it.”

“How?”

He sighed, “I dug the tunnel in the basement and I let it inside. Let it believe I fell for it’s deception. I called her, it, to come in and see what I had been working on. Led it down to the basement and shut the door behind it.”

“That worked?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said with a chuckle. “It screamed and raged, banging on the door when it realized, but as long as we keep it locked up down  there ,it can’t hurt us.”

“What does it want?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, “You know what a cuckoo bird is, right?”

I nodded.

“I think maybe it’s something similar. I don’t know for sure, but I think it wants to take the place of someone.”

I swallowed, “Like grandma?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.” He said turning to face me, “Now, where are my keys.”

“I think I dropped them last night.” I said.

His face fell, “Where?”

“I… I think…” I stuttered.

“Dammit , where, Tommy?!” He shouted.

“In the basement, I think.” I finally said.

“Oh my God.” He breathed.

Grandpa started the he truck and slammed it into drive, throwing dirt and grass as he peeled out and headed back for the house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought it couldn’t get out.”

He didn’t answer until we slid to a halt back at the house.

“Thomas, take Rusty and get away from here.” He said, flinging the door open.

“What? Where do we go?”

He shook his head, “Go to the woods, to the old shed. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

I nodded and whistled for Rusty to come. Grandpa was heading for the house as we headed for the trees.

15 minutes later, we arrived at the shed, Rusty was running all over, sniffing and peeing on everything he could. We had been out to the old shed in a quite a while and he had lots of territory to remark.

We sat there waiting for most of the day. I wondered what happened at the house. Could that thing have gotten out? Were they okay? I felt sick worrying about them. About what was happening.

Eventually I heard the sound of grandpas truck coming down one of the trails. I stood and made my way out to see the truck coming along, grandma behind the wheel.

She smiled when she saw me, “Come along, Thomas. Dinner is almost done.”

I slowly stepped forward. “Where’s grandpa? I thought he was gonna come get me.”

She smiled again, “Oh he had to run to the store to pick something up, he should be back soon.”

I nodded and headed for the truck, “Okay.”

Rusty suddenly came up behind me and started barking at the truck, I turned to face him, “What is it, boy?”

He continued barking and growling, and bearing his teeth. I turned back to grandma who was still smiling. “Silly dog.” She said, looking at him, “I visited with the neighbors earlier, he probably smells their cat on me.”

I nodded and climbed into the truck. But Rusty refused to get in, he just kept barking and snarling at grandma.

Grandma drove us back to the house with my dog following at a distance.

“Grandpa mentioned some stuff earlier.” I said as we drove. “Stuff about the basement.”

Grandma sighed, “Is he telling you stories again?”

I shook my head, “No, he seemed serious. He said you guys saw something strange a long time ago. And that you had it locked up in the basement.”  

She pulled the truck to a stop in the driveway. “I don’t  want to talk about that anymore.” She said, getting out. “Now come on, dinner is waiting.”

I climbed out of the truck to see Rusty sitting out in the yard. No matter how I called to him, he wouldn’t come any closer. Eventually, I turned and followed grandma into the house, leaving him outside.

As I stepped into the house, I immediately caught a whiff of burning meat. Stepping into the kitchen, I saw the dinner she had laid out. Meatloaf that had been burnt so badly it looked like a piece of charred tree bark.

“Sit down.” She said pointing to the dining room table. As I sat, my eyes tracked along the wall to the basement door. The wide open basement door.

My heart pounded as she lay the plate of food on the table in front of me. She then sat down and smiled wide at me, waiting for me to eat.

“I’m… not that hungry.” I said with a glance down at the plate.

She sat there, unblinking as a fly landed on her open eyeball. Her smile never wavering. “But you love my cooking.” She said after a moment.

I nodded, “I do.” My voice trembled, “I’m just not hung…”

She slammed her hand on the table and screamed, “Eat the fucking food!”  Her face contorted in rage.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reached for the fork.

Rusty began barking outside again. Grandmas smile slammed back into place, “My goodness, did you forget to feed that dog again?”

I tried to stand, “Yes, I’ll go…”

But she stood and slammed her own fork down through my hand, pinning it to the dining room table.

I gasped in the sudden pain as blood oozed up from around the utensil.

“You stay here and eat.” She said still smiling. “I’ll take care of the dog.”

Tears of pain and shock and fear rolled down my face as she turned and walked out the back door.

Rusty barked like a feral beast outside and I realized now was my chance to get away. I didn’t know what happened to Grandpa but right then there was nothing for me to do but get out of there. I reached to the fork and felt a shock of pain as I grasped it. With all the effort I could manage, I gave it a solid yank. I tried not to scream, I tried. But the pain was more than I could bear and I screamed anyway. Rusty let out even more furious barks and growls, then my dog let out one pain filled yelp before falling silent.

Silent sobs racked my chest as I reached for the truck keys on the counter. Then the back door creaked open. I turned to see the imposter, standing in the doorway. Her fingernails coated in wet blood.

“Rusty isn’t feeling well.” She said, still smiling. “Did you eat?” she asked.

I nodded shakily, “It was good. Can I have more?”

She smiled all the wider and stepped up to me, placing one bloody hand on my cheek, “Of course you can, you’re a growing boy. And I’m going to take care of you, forever.”

When she stepped over to the stove and began filling another plate, I ran for the door. I pushed through it, slamming it back against the house and running for the truck. I leapt inside and fumbled the keys with my injured hand. Looking back to the house I saw the door open and the imposter step outside, looking around for where I had gone.

When her eyes locked on me she tilted her head, just like Rusty had. She suddenly dropped to all fours and ran at the truck, her limbs contorting and bending at extra joints like a huge spider.

The engine roared to life just as she kept into the hood and started beating on the windshield. “Stay! Stay! She screamed, over and over in a voice that sounded like too many voices scrambled up together. I floored the truck in reverse, then spun the wheel, flinging her off and turning the truck around before slamming it into drive and tearing off down the road.

I watched in the rearview mirror as I drove. She stood and looking like nothing in the world was wrong, turned and headed back to the house.

When I finally made it home, neither of my parents were there. I called the police and told them that an intruder was in my grandparents house and that I had gotten away. They said they would send a car out and let me know what they found. Then I called my parents and told them the same thing.

They found both of my grandparents in the basement. They never told me how they died, but we had closed casket funerals. They never found the intruder. The police and my parents didn’t believe me about the imposter. Said something about traumatic memories or something, I don’t know. I know what I saw though, and I know what I heard in the following nights. What I still hear, just outside my bedroom window. She wants to come inside. Maybe I should dig a tunnel.

The mid autumn breeze blew at the back of my neck as I pushed through the door of my apartment building. Sam, the night guard looked up from his desk and gave me a wave, “Late night, huh?”

I nodded and hurried to the elevator, feeling the grocery bags I was carrying staining at the seams.

“Oh, hey let me get that for you.” He said, standing up and getting the button.

“Thanks, Sam.” I said, hoping that bags held at least until I got to my floor.

He smiled, turning up the edges of his white mustache, “No problem, Josh.”

We stood there in the lobby in silence, waiting for the elevator. I watched as the numbers began counting down from 15.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Said Sam.

I nodded watching the oh so slowly descending elevator numbers. “Yeah. It’s uh… getting cool out there.”

Sam nodded and smiled.

God, I wished the elevator would hurry. Sam was a good guy but it was late and I was in no mood for small talk.

I looked back at the numbers, it was at the 8th floor now. I sighed.

“Tough week?”

I forced a smile and cleared my throat, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a long one.”

The florescent lights of the lobby hummed overhead as the numbers descended.

I felt Sam turn to me, about to say something else. When suddenly the quiet of the lobby was interrupted by someone pushing through the door from the street.

The man stepped into the lobby, coughing violently. He stepped over to a wooden bench that sat next to the rows of mailboxes and plopped down, continuing to cough.

Sam and I had both turned to look at the man, he was thin, maybe mid forties with thinning greasy dark hair and a long gray overcoat that was stained with… I didn’t want I guess with what.

The man looked up as Sam started towards him.

“Geez pal, you sound pretty rough.” Said Sam.

The man nodded and continued coughing as the elevator dinged open.

Sam turned back to me apologetically, “Shoot, Josh. I was gonna help you up, but…” He said, tilting his head toward the ill man.

I shook my head, “Oh no, I’m fine.” I said, feeling a bit relieved, “I think he needs help more than I do.”

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button with the toe of my shoe. He nodded and turned away to face the man. I heard him ask the coughing man. “Buddy, is there someone I can call for you?” But the doors closed before I could hear the mans answer.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open on the 7th floor and I stepped out to see a man in a baggy sweatshirt shouting and banging on a door down the hall. “Shit.” I sighed.

I walked down the long hallway trying to avoid the situation. Unfortunately the situation was happening at the door across from mine. The man turned to look at me as I approached.

“What?” He shouted. “You got a fucking problem?”

The door he had been pounding on swung open and a woman stepped out into the hall, throwing a duffle bag at his chest. “Take your shit and go!” She shouted.

And that was when the grocery bags decided to rip. Cans of knock off spaghetti o’s, spam, ramen noodles, a jug of lactose free milk and other pathetic food stuff spilled out onto the floor.

The fighting couple turned to look at me as silence filled the hall.

I made my Jim Halpert face as I looked from them to my fallen groceries.

The man shook his head, “Whatever, I’m out of here.” Before storming off down the hall.

I sighed and bent to start picking up my things.

“Here, let me help.” Said the woman as she bent to pick up a can of beans that had rolled over by her door.

“Thanks, I’m Josh by the way.” I said with a smile. “I live across the hall.”

She nodded and smiled back, “I’m Rosa. We just moved in… well, I guess it’s just me now.”

“Yeah, I uh… I saw. Sorry.” I said, feeling awkward.

Rosa shook her head, “Don’t be, he’s a pendejo.”

I stood and unlocked my door. Rosa helped me bring in my groceries and looked around at my messy apartment.

“Sorry about the mess.” I said, “I haven’t entertained in a while.”

She shrugged, “Its fine, you should see mine. Still full of moving boxes, and only half of its mine.”

“Well, thanks for the help.” I said as she turned to leave, “And sorry about the uh… pendejo.”

She laughed, “His name is Steve.”

“Think I prefer pendejo.” I said with a smile.

“I’ll see you around Josh.” Said Rosa as she smiled back and closed the door.

I turned away from the door, and began putting my groceries away. I went to bed that night thinking I might like to get to know Rosa better.

The next morning when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, I was greeted by what was essentially an angry mob. The building tenants were in an uproar. I pushed through the crowd to get to my mailbox, only to find it empty.

“No mail today!” Someone shouted.

I turned to see Frank, the grumpy old Vietnam vet who lived on the floor above mine, standing by the security desk.

“What’s going on?” I shouted.

He pointed to the door, “See for yourself.”

Instead of pushing through the crowd, I stepped up onto a bench to see over the bobbing heads.

There were chains on the outside of the lobby doors. And what looked like heavy gage chain link fencing across the entire front of the building.

“What’s happening?” Asked Rosa as she stepped onto the bench next to me.

I shook my head, “I don’t know. It looks like the building as been locked down.”

“What? Why?” she asked, “I have to be at work in two hours.”

I was about to say something else when the building intercom squealed to life. “Attention residents of Pine Hills Apartments. Due to a potentially contagious viral outbreak, the building is now under quarantine.”

The tenants quieted, listening to the speaker, some backed away from the crowd, looking weary.

Immediately, I thought of the coughing man from last night and wondered if Sam was okay.

“How long are we stuck here?” Someone shouted.

I couldn’t tell where the person speaking was, but I assumed they were tapped into the intercom from outside. That had to be listening though, because the next thing they said was, “We are working on a time table right now. But due to the severity of the situation, we can’t give any more details. We advise you all to return to your apartments and self isolate for the time being.”

The people shouted more protests about civil rights, their jobs, and other such concerns. But the intercom stayed silent.

Eventually the residents started to trickle back to the elevators and stairwells. Eyeing anyone who so much as sniffed with a cold suspicion.

“Great. Now I have to go call work and tell them I’m stuck in a petri dish.” Said Rosa as she hopped down from the bench and headed for the elevator. “See ya.” She said with a half wave over her shoulder, already looking at her phone.

“Bye.” I mumbled as she left.

I noticed Frank, watching me from the other side of the slowly emptying lobby. I made my way over to stand next to him.

“You believe this shit?” He asked with a nod to the door.

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you?”

He shook his head adjusted the green ball cap he wore. “Not for a God damn second.”

“You don’t think there is a virus?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” He said in his gravely voice. “But I think they know a whole lot more about it than they’re letting on. Working on a time table, my ass. Hell, kid, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put the shit in here their selves.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how paranoid that sounds?”

He smiled, “Hey, just because I’m paranoid, don’t mean they ain’t out to get me.”

I smiled back, “Right.”

Frank was known to be a hateful old grouch to most people in the building. But for some reason we had hit it off. I chalked it up to us both being relatively unsociable and reclusive.

“By the way,” He said, “Whose your new lady friend.”

I rolled my eyes at his use of “lady friend.” “Her name is Rosa. She’s my new neighbor.”

Frank nodded and winked. “I could think of worse neighbors to have.”

I shook my head and I patted the old dog on the shoulder, “Good talking with you, Frank. I think I’m gonna head up now.”

He nodded, “Sure, but hey, Josh.” 

I turned back to face him.

“You be careful, alright.” He said seriously. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

I nodded my thanks and headed for the elevator.

When I stepped onto my floor. The first thing that struck me was the silence. It stood in stark contrast to the uproar that had been going on down in the lobby.

As I walked down the long gray carpeted hall, a sound caught my ear. I stopped just outside Mrs. Johnson’s door and listened to the coughing that came from within. “Damn.” I thought. She sounded terrible. Part of me wanted to reach out and knock on her door to ask if she needed anything. But after a moment of hesitation, I listened to the voice of caution in my head and walked away.

The rest of the day passed without much event. I sat on the couch, ate junk food, played video games and watched TV. I thought about going across the hall and asking Rosa if she wanted to watch a movie or something, but decided against it. They had said to self isolate after all.

It was around 9:30 PM when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peep hole to see Rosa standing there, a concerned look on her face.

I brushed crumbs off my shirt and gave a glance around to the apartment that I still hadn’t cleaned and opened the door.

“Hey.” I said.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, pointing down the hall to Mrs. Johnson’s door.

From out in the hall, I could hear that the coughing had gotten significantly worse. I grimaced, “Holy shit. I heard her coughing earlier but it was nowhere near that bad.”

“Should we do something?” She asked.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess we could call 911 but with the lockdown, I don’t know if they would even come.”

“That’s the other thing.” Said Rosa turning to face me, “Do you have any service?”

I turned and picked up my phone from the counter, no signal. “Huh.” I muttered, “No, I got nothing.”

“I don’t either.” She said, coming in and sitting at my table. “I’ve been trying to call work all day but I can’t get any reception.”

I sat down at the table across from her, “That’s weird. Maybe a tower is down or something?”

She shrugged, “Maybe. Odd timing though.”

I was thinking the same thing, Frank’s paranoid mentality had began to rub off on me.

“So what do you do for work?” I asked, changing the subject.

“ER nurse.” She said, “That is, if I still have a job. I’m way late for my shift.”

“Well that sounds exciting.” I Said.

“It can be.” She said with a nod, “What about you?”

“Nothing exciting at all, I’m a writer. Well, a journalist actually.” I said.

“Oh, anything I might have read?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Not unless you make a habit of reading about local dog shows or the new flag pole at City Hall.”

Suddenly we heard the sound of a door flinging open down the hall, accompanied by violent, racking, wet coughs.

Rosa and I stood slowly and stepped over to my still open door. Peeking around the door jam, we saw Mrs. Johnson stumbling down the hall. She was bent over, hacking up dark chunks of viscous fluid. She looked up at us, tears running down her face, the same dark ooze dripped from her nose. And then she broke into a dead sprint down the hall, straight at us.

I grabbed Rosa, who had been stepping out into the hall, and pulled her back into my apartment, I slammed to door shut and turned the dead bolt. Mrs. Johnson began pounding violently on the heavy door, coughing and screaming.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed, stepping back from the door.

Rosa didn’t speak, her eyes were fixed on the door as it shook from the battering of an 82 year old woman.

We stood there in shocked silence as the banging on the door slowly stopped. After a moment more, we heard footsteps receding down the hallway.

When Rosa finally did speak, all she said was, “Can I stay here tonight?”

I nodded wordlessly.

The building intercom sounded. “Attention residents of Pine Hills. Do not open your doors. Do not check on your neighbors. Do not leave your apartments. There is a biological vector inside the building.”

We looked at each other in shocked disbelief.  What the hell was going on?

I offered Rosa my bed but she refused, opting to sleep on the couch instead. The next morning we ate cereal and flicked through the local news stations, hoping to see something about our building and what was going on. But there was no coverage of our situation at all. I was sure Frank would have something to say about that.

I turned to Rosa on the couch and asked, “You work at the hospital right? Do you have any idea what’s going on? What contagion that could have been?.”

She sat down her bowl and shook her head, “I mostly deal with cuts and broken bones, stomach flu at the worst. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I don’t understand how she was so fast. And her strength? I mean, I was worried for a minute that she would knock the door down.” I said.

Rosa nodded, “And did you see the look in her eyes? She looked more like a rabid animal than a person.”

We sat there in silence for a moment.

“Is there another way out of the building?” She asked after a moment. “I just… I have a really bad feeling about all this.”

I thought about it,  “Maybe the fire escape?”

She nodded, stepping over to the window. “Holy shit.” She muttered.

“What?” I asked, getting up to go see out the window.

We realized then that the fire escape wouldn’t work. On the building rooftop across the street was a man with a scoped rifle. I moved to another window and saw the same thing on the next building.

“Surely they wouldn’t…” She began.

“Yeah.” I said cutting her off. The image of Mrs. Johnson flashing in my mind. “I think they would.”

We spent the rest of the day sitting around, talking, eating more junk food and wondering when this would all end. Every once in a while, I could have sworn I heard movement from out in the hall. But when I looked out of the peephole, I saw nothing but the dark stains on the carpet, left behind my Mrs. Johnson.

That night we ate a frozen pizza and watched old reruns of the Twilight zone. If the situation had been different, it actually might have been sort of romantic. As it was, we were both jumping at ever sound from within the building. At some point, we had both dozed off there on the couch.

Sometime later, my eyes blinked open to the sound of something thumping around from somewhere inside my apartment. I sat up and looked around. Rosa was still asleep, curled up on the other side of the couch. I stood and was about to search the apartment when the sound stopped. I scratched my head and headed for my bedroom when the sound came again. Something fleshy, sliding against something metallic. I glanced up to the oversized air duct on the ceiling. Something was up there.

It moved through the duct, slowly and clumsily. I stepped over to the couch, tapping Rosa on the shoulder, “Rosa. Rosa, wake up.”

She turned over and stretched, mumbling something sleepily.

Whatever was in the duct reached the vent over the kitchen and dark oozing fluid began to drip down onto the tile floor.

I leaned over and shook Rosa hard, “Rosa, wake the fuck up. Something is here.”

Her eyes shot open and she leapt up, just as the vent collapsed and the thing fell to the floor with a wet slap.

We stood in the front room, looking into the kitchen as it crawled across the floor. It was Yan, the yoga instructor from down the hall, or at least it used to be. I only recognized him from the mess of curly blond hair he still had. His body was stretched, smashed, and bleeding. Bones and joints had snapped and relocated until he was compact enough to worm his way through the tight ducting. His head rotated around to look at us, a hungry leer on his bearded face.

“What the shit!” Rosa screamed.

The sound of wet bones creaking and popping began as his arms and legs tried to move back to their original positions. I grabbed Rosa’s hand and ran for the apartment door.

We stepped out into the hall, shutting my door behind us. “Where do we go?” She asked. “I left my keys on your coffee table.”

“Shit.” I breathed. “Come on.” 

We started down the hall, knocking on every apartment door we came to, but no one answered.

Suddenly Rosa’s door flung open and Steve stepped out. Apparently he had never actually left the building. “Hey what’s…” He started.

My door opened and Yan stumbled out into the hall. Both his arms were somehow contorted to the same side of his body. His torso looked twisted halfway at his midsection and his legs hadn’t taken their correct shape.

Steve shouted and tried to back away from the misshapen man but Yan was too close and too quick. He grabbed onto the shocked man’s face and bit into it.

We watched in horror as they fell to the floor in a heap of thrashing limbs. Steve screamed as Yan tore at him with his hands and teeth until he went silent, a pool of blood slowly spreading on the floor.

I couldn’t understand what was happening, what the hell kind of virus did this?

Yan looked up at us from Steve’s mangled body, he smiled a wet toothy smile and then plunged his arms and then his head into Steve’s chest cavity.

I bent over and puked on the gray carpet as the two bodies began to roll across the floor, slamming into the walls with the wet sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones. Then the fucking thing stood up. Yan had contorted himself inside Steve’s body, biting and ripping holes for his head and twisted limbs. Somehow the flesh combined to form an amalgamation of the two men that crawled toward us. At first it was unsteady on its eight twisted and broken limbs, but the thing soon picked up it’s pace as it skittered down the hall after us, it’s two sets of teeth chattering loudly.

“Josh!” said Rosa, looking at the Yan/Steve thing as it rushed towards us.

“I know, keep trying!” I said pounding on the next door, then the next, “Help us!” I shouted.

“Somebody, please!” shouted Rosa as she kept knocking.

Yan/Steve let out creaking gasps as it hobbled after us, dark fluid pouring from its mouths.

Then the elevator on our end of the hall dinged. We turned as the doors opened and a man stepped out wearing a gas mask and holding a pistol. He fired at the thing over and over, until one then the other of its deformed heads blew off in chunks. “Move your asses!” Shouted the muffled yet familiar voice of Frank.

We ran for the elevator as we heard something large moving at the other end of the hall. We turned to look once we were inside. There, coming around the corner of the long hallway was something I had no room for in my mind. It was a conglomeration of flesh.

The doors slid closed and Frank hit the button for the top floor.

“What the fuck is going on, Frank?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at us for a moment before peeling off the gas mask, “Guess it ain’t airborne then. Seein as how you two ain’t infected.” He said, reloading his pistol and tucking it into his belt.

“What kind of virus does that?” Rosa asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. My contact on the outside wouldn’t tell me.”

“Contact? What contact?” I asked.

“The one that owed me a favor for some sketchy shit that went down back in ‘Nam.” He said meeting my eyes, “and that’s all I’m saying about that for now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rosa.

Frank smiled, “We are getting the hell out of here, little lady. Part of that favor I mentioned, includes a helo ride out of this shit show.”

Rosa and I both signed in relief. Thinking that this was almost over. And then the power went out.

“Fuck.” Said Frank as the lights went out and the elevator screeched to a stop.

“What are we gonna do?” Asked Rosa, her voice panicked.

“Elevator hatch.” I said. “We can climb to the roof from there.”

Frank clicked on a small flashlight, illuminating the elevator, “Good call, kid. Now give me a boost.”

I knelt and let him stand on my knee to reach the hatch. It swung open with a clang and the old vet scrambled up through. Before turning and reaching down for us.

“Alright.” I said to Rosa, “Up you get.” Then boosted her up into Franks waiting arms.

The elevator suddenly jolted as I was about to jump up. The impact knocked me to the floor, as the doors began to be pulled open by too many hands.

I screamed when I saw it. I don’t know how many people were bound up in that horrific knot of pulsing flesh but they all looked at me at once and let out a howl of dozens of voices. Luckily the elevator had only partially reached the floor below, leaving a 2 foot gap between the interior floor and exterior ceiling.

“Here!” Yelled Frank.

The pistol clattered to the floor in front of me. I grabbed it up and fired into the creature as fast as I could. The voices screamed but it didn’t relent. One of the longer of its arms managed to grasp onto my leg as I scrambled back against the elevator wall. Slowly I was being pulled toward the other grasping hands and chomping mouths. I saw Sam there in its horrible face, and Mrs. Johnson, and several other of the tenants I had come to know since moving in.

“Josh!” Shouted Rosa. “When I tell you, shoot the arm!”

The elevator jolted again, I looked up to see Frank and Rosa jumping on the roof. I heard them counting and jumping in sync.

The thing yanked again, pulling my left leg completely through the door.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted. “Wait, my leg is…!

The elevator dropped, Rosa and Frank shouted, “Now!”

I leaned forward, the drop making it feel like I was floating for a moment. I fired the pistol into the things arm as I kicked out at the door with my other leg. The shot was good and the arm released. I fell back against the wall as the elevator dropped to the floor below.

I looked down at my throbbing leg to see that the arm hadn’t let go. It was sliced off at the elbow, still clinging to my leg and trying to worm it’s way up. I jumped up pushing the appendage off of me. It flopped wildly on the floor, before righting itself and crawling across the floor after me. I kicked it away and jumped up to the hatch.

Frank and Rosa were already making their way up the ladder on the other side of the shaft. I tossed the empty pistol away and climbed after them as the huge mass of flesh began pushing the door back open and  squeezing its way through. It got stuck and began ripping chunks off of itself to get at us.

When I looked back down, in the red emergency lighting, the thing looked like it was crawling out of the pits of hell itself. “Guys, we need to hurry!” I shouted as the thing wetly popped loose, and into the shaft.

Rosa looked back and screamed.

“Keep going!” Yelled Frank!

We did, we climbed and climbed, hearing the countless slap of hands and feet against the elevator shaft walls accompanied by the moans of dozens of voices just below us.

When we finally reached the rooftop, the helicopter was waiting, just like Frank had said. Two armed men ushered us aboard and we took off into the night.

45 minutes later, we were debriefed by a Mr. Neilan. He was the director of some obscure government agency I had never heard of. Apparently Frank had helped them out years ago with some kind of problem in Vietnam. It was all very hush hush.

Neilan told us that we were among a lucky few who had survived similar events as this. When I asked him what actually happened all he would say was that it was “An unfortunate series of events that led to an outbreak of an unknown origin.”

“You know I’m gonna tell people about this right?” I said meeting his eyes. “This is bullshit and the people deserve to know what’s happening.”

Neilan studied me for a moment from behind his round wire rim glasses. “Who do you think will believe you?”

I don’t know who will believe this. Hell, I’m not sure I want to believe it. But I have to try, I am a reporter after all.

I never really learned why we moved around so much when I was a kid. I always had the feeling dad was chasing something or maybe running from something. Unlike mom's usual excuse, of, “Daddy got a new, better paying job.” Dad would never answer when I would ask why we had to leave again.

He would come home from work one evening and loudly announce, “Time to go!” and mom and I would quickly pack up whatever shitty little apartment we happen to be staying in, and we would be on the road that later that night. That was my life for 14 years.

We were renting a run down singlewide somewhere in Missouri, when one day I came home from school and dad's pickup was already home. It was almost unheard of for dad to be home early on a weekday. My concern grew as I approached the house and saw that the trucks driver's side door was standing open, and so was the front door to the house.

I remember that walk, down the driveway to the house. The absolute silence of the world as my footsteps crunched over the gravel and dirt. The creak of each wooden step up to the small wobbly porch. The feel of the warm breeze that blew through the trailers open door, carrying with it a coppery smell.

I saw mom first, slumped down against the wall beside the couch. She was pale and wouldn't look at me, no matter how loud I called to her. She just stared straight ahead, shivering. After summoning up as much courage as I could, I stepped into the house and around the corner, and there was dad. At first, I couldn't understand what I was seeing, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that, that was dad.

He was on his back, on top of the dining room table. His head hung backwards off of the edge, at too sharp of an angle. His eyes rolled in their sockets before focusing on me for the briefest of moments. He tried to speak but all that came out was a wet gurgle as blood poured from his lips and... God his throat, it was gone. It was like it had been ripped away and flung across the room. Blood coated the walls and ceiling in thick dripping lines.

I don't remember much after that, but they say I ran to a neighbor's house and got them to call 911. Dad was obviously dead when police arrived. They took mom to the hospital and tried to get her to tell them what she had seen, but the shock was too deep. She wouldn’t speak. She was eventually admitted to the psyche ward. For years, therapists tried to help her to process and talk about what she had seen.

I ended up moving in with my grandparents in El Paso. They had mom moved to an assisted living home an hour's drive from their house. We visited her often at first, hoping and praying that she would come back to us. But she never did. Occasionally she would whistle, but only ever one tune. Grandpa said the tune sounded familiar, but he could never place it. Eventually the visits became every other week, then once a month. By the time I was 18, I only saw mom a couple times a year for special occasions. I spent a lot of my free time in therapy, I had nightmares of my dad's face for years, still do sometimes.

My life with my grandparents was more comfortable than I could ever have imagined. I had good food, a warm bed every night, and I was finally in school long enough to make real, lasting friendships. And I struggled with the guilt that I was happier with my grandparents than I ever was with my parents.

Now I'm a relatively happy, stable, and sane 35-year-old history teacher with a wife and a son of my own, despite the trauma I went through as a child.

For the past couple weeks, I've been waking up in the middle of the night with my mother's whistle stuck in my head. Grace told me it could be the manifestation of my guilt for not visiting mom in a while. It made sense, after all I hadn't gone to visit for the past two years. But to be honest, I didn’t feel much guilt. Maybe that made me an asshole, but I was pretty sure she didn’t even know who I was anymore. But, I was off work the next day, so I figured I had no excuse.

That morning, I got Shawn off to preschool and headed for the Shady Grove care home. I still lived roughly an hour from the home, plenty of time to think on the drive. I realized my hand was shaking as I raised my coffee to my lips and did my best to clear my mind of the questions that would probably never be answered. I took a steadying breath and turned up the radio.

“Hi Susan.” I said as I approached the nurse's desk.

The older woman with poufy blonde hair looked up and studied me for a moment before recognition spread a smile on her face, “Jim, hi. Wow it's been a while.”

I nodded, “Yeah well, I've been busy.” Clearing my throat I continued, “How is she?”

Susan stood up and came around the desk, “Oh you know her, she just sits quietly most of the time. Although some of the night staff say she has started whistling more lately. Come on, I'll take you to her.”

“How long has she been doing that for?”

“Oh, just the past week or so.”

We walked down the sterile white halls, the smell of soiled bed sheets, bleach, and stale body odor permeated the air. I hated this place, it felt like deaths waiting room.

Finally, Susan brought me to a brightly lit reading room with large windows facing a garden outside. There she was, sitting slumped in her wheelchair. Her once dark brown hair now turned gray, hung down around her shoulders in tangles. I slowly walked across the room, picking up a white plastic chair on the way. I sat down next to her and looked her over.

“Hey mom.” I said, touching her arm.

She didn't look at me; she never did. Her vacant eyes stayed fixed forward. Lost in a moment, years ago.

“Mom, it's Jim. Your son.”

Still nothing. I don't know why I always come here expecting anything else. I nodded, “It's okay mom, I'll just sit here with you for a while.”

We sat and watched the butterflies in the garden for a while. Then I stood and just as I was about to leave, mom started to whistle. When I turned to look at her, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Her eyes, while still mostly fixed straight forward, had more focus in them than I had seen in years.

“Mom?” I asked. Bending down to her.

She didn't answer just kept whistling and looking straight ahead, a single tear ran down her face. I turned to see where she was looking. Out the window, across the garden, in a darkened upstairs window on the other side of the courtyard. At first, I thought I could see something, was it a person? I couldn't tell. But when I blinked, whatever I thought I saw was gone.

I stopped a nurse as she passed, “Excuse me, what's on the other side of the building there?” I asked as I pointed to the darkened window.

“Oh, that's going to be the therapeutic wing when its finished, unfortunately the contractors are dragging their feet.” She answered.

“So, it’s empty? There’s nothing or no one in there?”

“Shouldn't be. Unless it was one of the workers.”

I nodded and turned back to mom as she slowly stopped whistling and went back to her vacant stare. I looked back at the window again but there was nothing there. I sighed and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodbye mom, I'll see you next time.” And with that I left Shady Grove.

That night, I spoke with Grace about the visit with my mother while we washed the dishes.

“Well, it sounds like not much has changed. Do you at least feel better after seeing her?”

“I don't know, maybe. On the one hand it was good to see her, but...” I trailed off as I absently dried a plate.

“But?” Prompted Grace.

I shrugged, “But at the same time, she’s not her. I keep waiting for her to snap out of it. Every time I visit, I walk in thinking maybe this time she will turn and just...” 

Grace put her hand on my shoulder, “I'm sorry.”

“I know it's awful, but sometimes I wish that if she can't get better, she could just move on. Does that make me a monster?”

She wrapped her arms around me, “No, honey. It just means you just want her to be free, whatever freedom looks like.”

I leaned in and kissed her. And then Shawn started yelling.

“Momma I had a bad dream!” He cried.

Grace sighed and smiled up at me, “To be continued.” She said before turning and leaving me to finish the dishes.

I woke up again that night, it wasn't the whistling in my head though. You know how when you think you are alone, but then you slowly get that feeling crawling up your spine that someone is looking at you? It was like that. I sat up and looked around the room but saw only shadows. I lay back down and tried to sleep.

After a while I decided to get up for a glass of water. I left my bedroom and walked down the hall past Shawn’s room, his SpongeBob nightlight illuminating his room in a yellow glow. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen. I downed one glass and was about to fill it again when I heard it. Moms whistle. Only it wasn't in my head. It was on the other side of my front door.

I froze listening to the whistle for a solid minute before it stopped. It was the exact same tune. I stepped over to the front door. Was mom out there? Could she have gotten here? No, she didn't even know where I lived. My heart was pounding as I looked through the peep hole. But, there was no one there. I pulled the curtain on the front room window aside and looked out but still nothing. Just the empty street, the neighbor's houses were all dark except for porch lights and the single streetlight on the corner.

I went back to the kitchen and drank another half glass of water before walking back upstairs and past Shawn’s room, Shawn’s dark room.

I stopped and walked back to his room. Hadn’t it been lit by his nightlight? I shrugged thinking maybe it broke, and went back to bed. Except, Shawn’s nightlight was now sitting on my pillow.

I picked it up and looked it over, wondering how it had gotten there. I almost woke grace and asked her, but she had to perform surgery in the morning and needed her sleep. I took the nightlight back to Shawn’s room to plug it in, I didn’t want him waking up without it. I was about to head back to my room when I noticed something.

Shawn’s room faced the street, and through his window under the glow of the streetlight was a man. He was a tall thin man, dressed in dark clothes with a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat, concealing his face in shadow. But I could swear I saw the glint of eyes, like an animal's eyes reflected in light, and he was looking right into the window, at me. I stared back for a moment, then the man tipped his hat before turning and walking off into the darkness.

I woke my wife and told her what I saw, “Grace, he was in the house I'm sure of it!”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “Did you see him?”

I shook my head, “I didn't see him, but I know he was here, I don't know how, I just know.”

“Okay.” she said putting her hands on my trembling arms, “Let's just calm down and call the police.”

When the sheriff arrived, I told him what had happened and he took down my statement, looking at me dubiously.

Sheriff Ward had been a longtime friend of my grandparents; he knew them well and knew my story.

“So, you're saying that this man broke into your house, moved your son's nightlight and then whistled at your door?” He asked, smoothing his mustache.

I crossed my arms and dropped my head; this was ridiculous. I was losing my mind. It was probably old trauma from my past rearing its head and making me see and hear things. I felt so embarrassed to have made this into such a big thing.

Grace said, “Jim says this man was in our house, as crazy as it sounds, I believe him.”

The Sheriff sighed, “Okay, I'll put out an APB to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious matching your description. And for the time being I'll have a car posted her in case he comes back.”

“Thank you.” Said Grace.

I nodded my thanks and we went back inside.

The next day happened to be a Saturday, so I spent the morning drinking coffee and grading papers. Around noon my long-time buddy, Ben, came over to see how things were going. I told him about what had happened or what I thought had happened over a few beers while Shawn and Bens kids played in the yard.

“Shits crazy man.” Said Ben, “You think it has something to do with your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

Ben leaned back, causing my lawn chain to groan, “Well, seeing as how your dad was murdered when you were a kid, could it be that you are seeing things. And having such an extreme reaction to it because you are afraid of being murdered yourself and leaving your son irreparably scarred the way you were?”

I stared at him for a moment, “Since when are you a fucking psychologist?”

He laughed, “Hey brother I just call em like I see em.”

I sighed, “I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe I am overreacting. I should probably make an appointment to see my therapist.”

Ben shrugged, “Not a bad idea amigo. Now pass me another beer.”

That evening Grace had to work late, so me and Shawn were on our own for dinner. We made homemade pizzas and watched cartoons until the he fell asleep on the couch. I carried him to bed and tucked him in before heading back downstairs to watch reruns of the twilight zone.

I had just sat down with my bowl of popcorn, when I heard something hit the back door. I got up and walked over to look outside. There, just outside on the ground, was Shawn's nightlight. I turned and ran upstairs as fast as I could to check on Shawn, I knew that the light was there when I tucked him in.

When I got to his room, I saw that he was fine, still asleep. I walked to my room and grabbed my shotgun before heading back downstairs.

I flung open the door and walked out into the yard pumping the shotgun, “Where are you? You son of a bitch! Come out here!”

Then I heard it, a deep and raspy voice, singing,

“Oooh death

OoOh death

Wont you spare me over till another year”

My heart froze, the tune... It was what my mother had been whistling for the past 20 years. I turned in the direction of the voice, and the man stepped out of the shadow of a small tree near the edge of my yard. He was twenty yards away when I raised my gun.

“Who are you?” I yelled, “What do you want?”

The man just smiled, even from that distance I could see there was something wrong with his teeth.

“You take one more step and I'll shoot.” I shouted.

He raised his arms in a “Here I am” gesture as he walked.

“I mean it, I'll kill you!”

But he just kept coming, so I fired. Only he wasn't where I was aiming. He was off to the left, I adjusted my aim and fired again, but he wasn't there either. He was off to the far right, I fired again. But again, I missed and in the next moment he was right in front of me. I fell back to the ground just as one of the deputies came running around the side of the house.

“What the hell are you shooting at?” He asked.

In my panic, I had forgotten about the deputy parked out front. I turned back to where the man was, but he was gone. What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him I was shooting at a ghost, even if that's what if felt like. My sanity was already up for debate as far as the sheriff's department was concerned.

I shakily got to my feet, “Uh, Opossum. They like to dig through our trash.”

The deputy shook his head, “Well did you get him at least?”

“No.” I said looking around the yard, “I guess not.”

For the rest of the night, I sat up in Shawn’s room, my shotgun across my lap, for all the good it had done. When Grace finally made it home, it was nearly 4:30AM. I told her what I had seen and she wanted to believe me. But even I knew how it sounded.

I managed to convince her that I just needed a few days on my own to get my head straight. That morning, she packed bags for her and Shawn and went to stay at her mom’s house for a couple days. I stood in the driveway and waved them off before heading back inside for my keys. I needed to take another trip to Shady Grove.

When I arrived, I found mom in the same brightly lit reading room, facing out the window. Again, I pulled over a chair and sat next to her.

“Mom, it's Jim. I really need you to talk to me.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice.

“What happened to dad?” I asked, leaving the chair and kneeling down in front of her, “What did you see?”

I was answered by silence and the same vacant stare.

“He was in my house god dammit!” I erupted. “My son, your grandson, may be in danger! Fucking say something!”

“Sir.” said one of the nurses. “You’re gonna need to lower your voice.”

“Yeah.” I said, “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

I stood and started for the door, then a thought occurred to me. I turned back to her face mom.

“Ooh death.” I began to sing, “OoOh death.”

And then something happened, I never thought I’d see. Mom slowly turned her head, her eyes widened, tears ran down her face. Her lip quivered as she took a sharp inhale of breath, and then she began screaming. Nurses quickly gathered around, pushing me back and taking her away.

30 minutes later, a nurse came and found me sitting in the reading room. “Sir?”

“Yes?” I said standing up, “How is she?”

“She’s calmed down now, we’ve given her a mild sedative, she wants to speak to you.”

The words hit me like a freight train; “She wants to speak to you.” The words I had prayed to hear for the past 20 years, but had given up on. I wordlessly followed them to her room. Her eyes fluttered up to me as I stepped through the door.

“Hi mom.” I said. She weakly waved me closer, and I knelt down by her side, taking her hand.

“Jimmy.” She said, her voice was weak and small.

“I'm here mom.” I said. Leaning close.

She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He’s coming for you, now.”

“Who is he?”

She shook her head, “Run if you want. It won't matter in the end.”

“What are you saying? Run from who?”

“Find your father's family, they will tell you. He didn't know until it was too late.”

“Tell me what?” I asked “I don't understand. Who is he?”

She gave me a sad smile and put her hand on my cheek, “He’s death.”

And with that she turned away and closed her eyes. I tried to wake her, but the nurses quickly ushered me out, saying they would call if anything changed.

I never knew my father’s family, but I remembered him talking about his sister Caroline when I was younger.

After searching Facebook, I found out she had died two years ago. The memorial page for her was run by her daughter, Carla. I sent her a message and to my surprise, she messaged back right away. She said she knew exactly who my father was and who I was.

I messaged, “Ok, maybe you can help me figure this out. As I'm sure you know, my father was murdered 20 years ago, and as crazy as it sounds, I think his killer is back. I don't understand what's happening, but my mother told me to find my father's family and ask them.”

She replied, “Yes, I’m sorry about your father. I’ve heard of the family curse, but I don't really believe it. My grandfather told me the story before he died. Supposedly the men in our family all die violent deaths or some such nonsense. He died of a heart attack so like I said I don’t really believe it.”

I replied, “Wow, okay that sounds pretty crazy. Is there any more you can tell me about the story?”

She replied, “Not really. I have some of grandpas old documents he kept on the family history, I can send you them if you like?”

I replied, “Yes thank you, that would be great.”

25 minutes later I received a series of messages containing documents on my family's history all the way back to the 1700s. It didn't take me long to sort through the images and find the one detailing “the Tennessee incident of 1865.” The story was from the journal of my ancestor, a union soldier.

“June 3rd,1865.

We arrived at Jonesborough on the long ride home to Kentucky. The men were hungry and saddle weary from days of riding, and we were in search of a bed and a bite to eat.

We came upon a homestead late in the evening, Captain Connors approached the door and knocked, hoping to find some hospitality. The young woman at the door told us she had no food nor beds for “Yankee bastards.” Like us. I was content to move on in search of some place more accommodating. Captain Connors and the men, however, were not.

Without another word, the captain pushed through the door, knocking the woman aside. The men followed his lead, and after a moment of hesitation I also dismounted and headed inside. To my dying day, I will regret the decision to follow them into that house. But I was tired and hungry, and the road had been long.

The woman protested but Connors and the men tied her to a post while we ate her food. When I had my fill, I found a comfortable place to lay my head for the night. Inevitably the men began to discuss the young woman, and who should go first. Connors announced that as captain he had the “right” to take her first. I had no interest in such things, so I took my leave of the house and made my bed in the barn outside, doing my best to block out the commotion from the house.

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of gunshots and men screaming. I flung off my saddle blanket and peered out the barn door. Evidently, the woman's reb husband had come home and found Connors and the men in his home.

Connors stumbled out the house; a gunshot wound to his left arm. He spun and fired his revolver back into the house until it ran dry. I readied my rifle and took aim at the house as a man dressed in confederate gray streaked with red burst through the door. The man had blood on his hands and murder in his eyes as he approached Connors, a dripping bowie knife in his hand. I didn't hesitate; I fired. The ball taking the man straight in the chest. At once, he stumbled back and fell to his knees, a shocked look on his rage filled face.

Slowly a few of the men that were still living stepped out of the house and surrounded the rebel. Connors stepped to his horse and pulled a second navy revolver from his saddle, just as the woman came running from the house to stand between the men and her husband. She screamed and raged at them, begging us to just leave. Connors shot her without hesitation. The rebel screamed in rage as he tried to rise at Connors, his knife still in hand. But he was easily knocked back to the ground.

A young boy appeared from within the house, crying and screaming. Apparently, the mother had hidden the boy beneath the floorboards when she saw us approaching her home. The boy ran to his  parents and stood between them and Connors.

I left the barn and approached Connors, I told him we should just leave, that the reb was as good as dead anyhow. But Connors wasn't done. Pushing the crying boy aside, he pried the knife from the dying man's hands and plunged it into his gut; the man screamed in pain and rage as tears flowed down his face. Connors ordered the men to pitch the woman and child inside the house and set it alight, then to string up a rope in the barn. I mounted my horse and refused to watch as they strung up the broken and dying man, but I heard what he said.

“You can kill me now, but I swear on all that is holy, I will find a way back and end each of you. I will reap my bloody vengeance upon every man in your bloodline if it's the last thing I d...” He went silent as the rope went taut. We left him hanging here, his home in a blaze.

I continued to ride with Connors and the men until we reached Kentucky, but I had my fill of death. What we did was wrong, and I fear for my life and the lives of my sons. I see him in my dreams, and I hear his woeful song in the night. What have we done? What have we done?”

“Jesus Christ.” I breathed. It was a horrible story, and my ancestor played a part in it. Could it be true? Was this some kind of vengeful spirit, coming to collect his due? I didn't know, but I was beginning to fear it was. I scrolled through the documents, reading several entries detailing the deaths of the men of my family. More times than not, it was the same story; a horrific wound to the neck and a mysteriously small amount of blood at the scene.

It couldn’t be what I was thinking. My throat felt dry as I opened a new search tab. I let out a single grim chuckle at the insanity of the situation as I began my research into vampirism.

There was a lot of stuff but what I found interesting were creatures called strigoi and uppier. Beings that rose from their graves in the night to feed on the life force or blood of the living. It was said that they came from those who died violently or lived sinful lives.

I went down a deep rabbit hole, reading stories and theorizing. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had only seen him at night, so maybe that myth was true. And if that was true, he had to have somewhere to rest during the day, didn't he?

And then it hit me. Shady Grove. According to Susan, mom had been whistling more for the past couple weeks. And that day I visited her, she saw something, hell even I saw something across the garden in the unfinished wing.

 I looked out the window at the afternoon sun; there was still time.

Ben picked up on the third ring, “Hey partner, what's up?”

“Ben” I said wasting no time. “I need your help, right now. Don't ask any questions, just meet me out in front of your house. Bring your lasso and a gun.”

There was a moment of pause on the line, then he said. “Alright, I'll be waiting.”

I picked him up ten minutes later and we were on our way.

“You wanna tell me what we are doing?” Asked Ben as he looked at the speedometer, “and maybe slow down a tick so we don't get pulled over.”

I looked down, I was doing 90 and the dial was rising. I let off the gas and turned to him, “How long have we been friends?”

“Since high school, I reckon.”

“And you trust me, right?”

Ben gave me a look, “Well you're making it a bit tough right now but yeah, I trust you.”

I nodded, “Good. We’re on our way to the Shady Grove care home to kill a vampire that has been stalking my family since the 1800s.”

Ben stared at me for a moment then said, “Huh. Ok. Well, I'm assuming you have a plan for the uh...” he trailed off.

“Vampire. Yeah, I think I know where he's sleeping. If we can get him into the sunlight, it may kill him or at least weaken him enough to kill him.”

“I see you've thought this through then.” He said.

“I have.”

Ben nodded again, ‘Alright.”

45 minutes later we pulled into the Shady Grove parking lot. Ben and I got out of the car and made our way around the building.

When we pushed through the doors on the addition, Ben grabbed my arm, “Hey man, how far are you taking this?”

I turned back to him, “As far as it takes. I have to keep my family safe.”

“I don't know about this, Jim.” He said, shaking his head.

“Just trust me a little longer. If we get in there and there's no vampire, you have my full permission to knock me in the head and admit me to an asylum, okay?”

Ben sighed and nodded, “Let's just get on with this.”

Once we were inside, we began our search. We scoured the first floor, then we moved on to the second floor. We searched every room, every closet, and still there was nothing.

“Okay, we’ve searched.” Said Ben. “Now do you have a preference on which asylum I send you to?”

I sighed, “I don't know what to say. I really thought we would find him.”

“Jim, I don't think there is him. I think you need help. Have you spoken to your therapist?”

I deflated. “No... But, I will.”

Ben nodded, “Come on partner, let's get you home.”

I nodded back and we turned to head for the stairs. “Thank you for coming with me Ben. You’re a good friend.”

I took my first step down the staircase, then noticed Ben’s silence. I turned back to face him, “Ben?”

He was staring up at the ceiling over the stairwell. I stepped back to see what he was looking at. There, hanging upside down from the ceiling, was a god damn vampire.

“Maybe we can share a padded cell.” Mumbled Ben.

I hushed him and sat down the toolbox. Opening it and removing a large hunting knife, a crucifix and some garlic oil. “Got your rope?”

Ben nodded out of his stupor and sat down the toolbox he had been carrying. Removing his handgun and lasso. He shakily checked the chamber of his pistol and slipped it into his back pocket.

I stepped to the back of the room and pulled down a large westward facing tarp that was covering an unfinished wall, revealing the lowering evening sun.

“What's the plan here?” Asked Ben.

I came back and stood beside him, pouring the garlic oil onto the knife blade. “Well, you just rope him and then we pull him to the sunlight, and I stab him with this. If that doesn't work, shoot him in the head until he stops moving.”

“This is fucking insane!” Said ben in a panicked whisper.

“I know, but here we are, and we are running out of time.” I said, motioning to the setting sun.

“Shit. Alright let's do this.” He said as he prepared his rope. Mumbling  under his breath, “Son of a bitch got me out her after a god damn vampire.”

Ben twirled the lasso overhead three times, and then let it fly. The vampire's eyes sprung open just as he cinched the rope tight around his chest. I grabbed the rope and we both ran backwards, dragging the flailing creature into the setting sunlight. The vampire immediately burst into flames and began shrieking in an awful high and low pitch at the same time. He flailed and flopped, kicking out and trying to get loose. But we held tight and in the next moment, the vampire withered to an ashy corpse.

“People were sure to have heard that.” Said Ben, breathing heavily.

I nodded, “Yeah, we should go.”

“What about the body?”

I looked around the room, “There, the tarp.”

As fast as we could, we wrapped the smoldering body in the tarp and made a dash for the car, stowing the remains in the trunk. Neither of us spoke on the drive home.

I dropped a sick looking Ben off at his house without saying a word and headed home. When I pulled into the driveway, Grace and Shawn were already home. I got out and met them in the driveway. “What are you doing home? I thought you were staying at your moms.”

“I was, but there was an emergency at work. I would have left Shawn with mom, but she had the flu. I've been trying to call you.” she said, then after looking me over she asked, “Are you alright?”

I tried to smile, “Yeah, I think I'm alright. But we should talk.”

She touched my arm "Of course, honey. But can it wait till I get home? I really have to go.”

I looked back at the trunk of my car and nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled, “Shawn’s had dinner, but he still needs a bath. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Me too.” I smiled then kissed her before she left.

Shawn and I went inside and sat on the couch watching Scooby doo for the next hour or so. I had just put Shawn to bed, when my phone went off. It was a text from Ben, “Need to talk. Come over, now.”

He was shaken up, so was I. Finding out vampires exist just minutes before you kill one would send anyone over the edge. I text back, “Okay, just put Shawn to bed. Be over in a bit.”

We still keep a baby monitor in Shawn’s' room since my office is downstairs and across the house, so I slipped the receiver into my back pocket before heading over to Ben's house.

When I got there, I saw that his shop lights were on. Ben had converted his backyard work shop into a dive bar. I pushed the door open to see Ben slumped in his barstool, his back to me.

“Hey.” I said approaching him, “You okay, pal?”

He didn't answer.

“Ben?” I said as I reached out and spun the barstool around.

 Ben's head swung loosely as he spun, revealing his torn open throat and shattered spine.

I stumbled back in shock, falling to the floor. Ben's head dangled there until the remaining flap of skin stretched and snapped. His head fell to the floor with a wet thud.

Suddenly the jukebox blared to life. I turned to see him. His back to me as he leaned over the jukebox. His burnt clothes hanging on him like rags. His sickly gray skin covered in fresh burn scars.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.” He smiled, turning to face me, “My how you've grown.”

I tried to move but I was paralyzed with fear, struggling to even drag in a breath.

“You didn't see me back then, did you?.” He laughed, “But I saw you.”

I leapt to my feet and ran for the door; the vampires laugh following me all the way. “Where ya runnin to boy?”

I hit the door as I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing the sheriff's office as I ran. After 5 long rings the dispatcher answered, “Sherrif's department this is...”

“I need someone here now!” I screamed, cutting her off, “He killed him! God, he killed Ben!”

“Slow down, who killed who? What's going on?”

I told her the address as I ran but didn’t listen to whatever else she was saying. I slammed through my front door and started up the stairs when I remembered the garlic oil and the knife, still in my car. I turned and ran back downstairs and out to the car, grabbing the knife and stuffing the small bottle of garlic oil into my pocket before bolting back through the front door.

I ran to my room and grabbed my shotgun, ejecting the shells and prying them open with the knife before pouring some of the oil over the pellets inside. I slapped a piece of tape over the tip if each shell, hoping it would be enough to hold them closed and reloaded the shotgun.

 Suddenly there came a heavy thud on the roof, followed by footsteps. I ran to Shawn’s room and scooped him up.

“Dad? What's going on? Where are we going?” He asked sleepily.

“Don't worry buddy, we’re gonna go get momma then we are all going on a trip. But right now, I need you to hold on tight to me and keep quiet, can you do that?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me, “Is this like a game or something?”

“Yeah.” I said. Holding him tight and heading down the stairs. “It's just like a game, you gotta keep quiet, hold on to me and keep your eyes closed tight, got it?”

“Okay.” He said, burying his head in my shoulder.

“I love you, Shawn.” I said, tears rolling down my face.

“Love you dad.” He said, his little voice muffled by my shoulder.

I was at the front door, wondering if I could make it to my car when flashing red and blue came around the corner. I flung the door open and stepped outside to meet them.

“Jim.” Said Sheriff Ward stepping out of his patrol car, “What the hell's going on? What are you doing with that gun?”

Another patrol car pulled up next to him, and a deputy stepped out, meeting the Sheriff as they walked up the driveway.

“Sheriff it's the intruder from the other night he’s...”

“Is that what is this about? Dammit Jim.” Groaned the Sheriff, “You have got to stop...”

He cut off as he was suddenly hit by a lightning-fast blur of movement from the side yard. He didn't even have time to scream. The blur, along with the sheriff, disappeared through a tall hedge next to the house. The deputy froze, a splash of blood across his face.

“Sh... Sheriff?” The deputy muttered.

I slowly began to back up to the house, when the blur of motion came again. When it passed, the hand the deputy had been reaching for his weapon with, was gone. He looked down at the ragged, bleeding stump in confusion for a moment, then started screaming. The screaming came to a sudden stop when the vampire shot up behind him, digging his fingers into the man’s hair and biting a ragged chunk out of his neck.

I raised the shotgun and fired one of the garlic-coated rounds. This time, I hit him full in the chest. He screeched in pain, falling to the ground and writhing on all fours. Shawn still had his head buried in my shoulder but was now screaming as I ran to the deputy’s car and jumped inside. I put Shawn in the passenger seat and told him, “Keep your eyes shut, no matter what!”

I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but the car didn't move. I turned back around to see the vampire holding onto the brush guard. I gritted my teeth and shifted into drive, pressing the pedal to the floor.

His eyes widened in the brief moment before he disappeared under the hood of the car. His body crunched under the tires as I plowed forward, smashing the car through the front of my house. Bricks and sheetrock showered down over the car. I glanced at the rear-view mirror and could already see him, jerkily rising to his feet. His body, broken and misshapen. I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but it didn’t move.

The windshield was cracked, so I threw the deputy's jacket over Shawn and used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass. We climbed out and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Opening the closet, I pushed Shawn inside.

“Daddy?” He cried. “What's happening.”

I hugged him tight and told him I loved him, “Stay in here, please Shawn. Close your eyes, cover your head, and keep quiet. Remember the game? I want you to win, okay?”

He nodded tears pouring down his face. I closed the closet door as I heard the sound of footsteps and whistling coming up the stairs.

I turned to face him as he stepped through the doorway. I raised the shotgun, but he dashed forward before I could react. Knocking the gun to the floor and lifting me up by my throat.

“You have given me quite the fight, Jim. Quite a fight indeed.” He said, speaking through gritted teeth.

I tried to speak but with his grasp on my throat, all I could do was wheeze.

“What's that?” He asked mockingly, “I couldn't quite hear you.”

He loosened his grip and I drug in a ragged breath, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Neither did my son.”

“What do you know about what happened to me?” He snarled.

“I know,” I coughed, “they were taken from you. They wouldn’t want this.”

He squeezed tighter, “What do you know about what they would have wanted? You think they’d want mercy for you?! Or them?!” He shouted, bloody spit flying from his lips. “The ones who raped and murdered my wife?! Burned my son alive! Should I have shown them mercy?!”

“Please.” I wheezed, “Just stop.”

He shook his head, “Times up.” Then he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into my neck.

The pain was unlike anything I ever felt. My throat felt like it was filled with hot coals, as I felt my life quickly draining away. I prayed it would be over soon and he would just leave. That he wouldn't find Shawn. I felt cold rising from my feet, up my legs, and in my arms. I was dying, and then suddenly, I was free. I fell to the floor in a heap as the vampire stumbled back. The garlic coated knife stuck in his side.

“Get away from my dad!” Yelled Shawn.

The vampire stared down at the knife then at Shawn. I somehow found enough strength to climb to my knees and crawled over to put myself between my son and the monster.

He stared down at me, then back to my son. With a hiss, he pulled the blade from his side and stepped back. He could have killed us; there was nothing we could have done to stop him. Instead, he left. Just like that, it was over.

I told the investigators that I didn't know what had happened to the sheriff and deputy. I said that after I found Ben’s body and called the Sheriff's department, went home and holed up in my room with Shawn. I didn't see what had happened downstairs.

 I told Grace the truth; I think she believes me; she says she does. I know how it sounds though; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. There has been no sign of, him, since we moved into the new house. No, we won't be moving around like we did when I was a kid, just needed a change of scenery. I recovered from the bite surprisingly fast. What had been a row of ragged puncture wounds is now barely even a scar. I feel different too, more aware of things, stronger. Maybe I'm finally beginning to heal some of my old trauma. The sun feels hotter now too, I'm sure its fine though.

I never really learned why we moved around so much when I was a kid. I always had the feeling dad was chasing something or maybe running from something. Unlike mom's usual excuse, of, “Daddy got a new, better paying job.” Dad would never answer when I would ask why we had to leave again.

He would come home from work one evening and loudly announce, “Time to go!” and mom and I would quickly pack up whatever shitty little apartment we happen to be staying in, and we would be on the road that later that night. That was my life for 14 years.

We were renting a run down singlewide somewhere in Missouri, when one day I came home from school and dad's pickup was already home. It was almost unheard of for dad to be home early on a weekday. My concern grew as I approached the house and saw that the trucks driver's side door was standing open, and so was the front door to the house.

I remember that walk, down the driveway to the house. The absolute silence of the world as my footsteps crunched over the gravel and dirt. The creak of each wooden step up to the small wobbly porch. The feel of the warm breeze that blew through the trailers open door, carrying with it a coppery smell.

I saw mom first, slumped down against the wall beside the couch. She was pale and wouldn't look at me, no matter how loud I called to her. She just stared straight ahead, shivering. After summoning up as much courage as I could, I stepped into the house and around the corner, and there was dad. At first, I couldn't understand what I was seeing, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that, that was dad.

He was on his back, on top of the dining room table. His head hung backwards off of the edge, at too sharp of an angle. His eyes rolled in their sockets before focusing on me for the briefest of moments. He tried to speak but all that came out was a wet gurgle as blood poured from his lips and... God his throat, it was gone. It was like it had been ripped away and flung across the room. Blood coated the walls and ceiling in thick dripping lines.

I don't remember much after that, but they say I ran to a neighbor's house and got them to call 911. Dad was obviously dead when police arrived. They took mom to the hospital and tried to get her to tell them what she had seen, but the shock was too deep. She wouldn’t speak. She was eventually admitted to the psyche ward. For years, therapists tried to help her to process and talk about what she had seen.

I ended up moving in with my grandparents in El Paso. They had mom moved to an assisted living home an hour's drive from their house. We visited her often at first, hoping and praying that she would come back to us. But she never did. Occasionally she would whistle, but only ever one tune. Grandpa said the tune sounded familiar, but he could never place it. Eventually the visits became every other week, then once a month. By the time I was 18, I only saw mom a couple times a year for special occasions. I spent a lot of my free time in therapy, I had nightmares of my dad's face for years, still do sometimes.

My life with my grandparents was more comfortable than I could ever have imagined. I had good food, a warm bed every night, and I was finally in school long enough to make real, lasting friendships. And I struggled with the guilt that I was happier with my grandparents than I ever was with my parents.

Now I'm a relatively happy, stable, and sane 35-year-old history teacher with a wife and a son of my own, despite the trauma I went through as a child.

For the past couple weeks, I've been waking up in the middle of the night with my mother's whistle stuck in my head. Grace told me it could be the manifestation of my guilt for not visiting mom in a while. It made sense, after all I hadn't gone to visit for the past two years. But to be honest, I didn’t feel much guilt. Maybe that made me an asshole, but I was pretty sure she didn’t even know who I was anymore. But, I was off work the next day, so I figured I had no excuse.

That morning, I got Shawn off to preschool and headed for the Shady Grove care home. I still lived roughly an hour from the home, plenty of time to think on the drive. I realized my hand was shaking as I raised my coffee to my lips and did my best to clear my mind of the questions that would probably never be answered. I took a steadying breath and turned up the radio.

“Hi Susan.” I said as I approached the nurse's desk.

The older woman with poufy blonde hair looked up and studied me for a moment before recognition spread a smile on her face, “Jim, hi. Wow it's been a while.”

I nodded, “Yeah well, I've been busy.” Clearing my throat I continued, “How is she?”

Susan stood up and came around the desk, “Oh you know her, she just sits quietly most of the time. Although some of the night staff say she has started whistling more lately. Come on, I'll take you to her.”

“How long has she been doing that for?”

“Oh, just the past week or so.”

We walked down the sterile white halls, the smell of soiled bed sheets, bleach, and stale body odor permeated the air. I hated this place, it felt like deaths waiting room.

Finally, Susan brought me to a brightly lit reading room with large windows facing a garden outside. There she was, sitting slumped in her wheelchair. Her once dark brown hair now turned gray, hung down around her shoulders in tangles. I slowly walked across the room, picking up a white plastic chair on the way. I sat down next to her and looked her over.

“Hey mom.” I said, touching her arm.

She didn't look at me; she never did. Her vacant eyes stayed fixed forward. Lost in a moment, years ago.

“Mom, it's Jim. Your son.”

Still nothing. I don't know why I always come here expecting anything else. I nodded, “It's okay mom, I'll just sit here with you for a while.”

We sat and watched the butterflies in the garden for a while. Then I stood and just as I was about to leave, mom started to whistle. When I turned to look at her, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Her eyes, while still mostly fixed straight forward, had more focus in them than I had seen in years.

“Mom?” I asked. Bending down to her.

She didn't answer just kept whistling and looking straight ahead, a single tear ran down her face. I turned to see where she was looking. Out the window, across the garden, in a darkened upstairs window on the other side of the courtyard. At first, I thought I could see something, was it a person? I couldn't tell. But when I blinked, whatever I thought I saw was gone.

I stopped a nurse as she passed, “Excuse me, what's on the other side of the building there?” I asked as I pointed to the darkened window.

“Oh, that's going to be the therapeutic wing when its finished, unfortunately the contractors are dragging their feet.” She answered.

“So, it’s empty? There’s nothing or no one in there?”

“Shouldn't be. Unless it was one of the workers.”

I nodded and turned back to mom as she slowly stopped whistling and went back to her vacant stare. I looked back at the window again but there was nothing there. I sighed and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodbye mom, I'll see you next time.” And with that I left Shady Grove.

That night, I spoke with Grace about the visit with my mother while we washed the dishes.

“Well, it sounds like not much has changed. Do you at least feel better after seeing her?”

“I don't know, maybe. On the one hand it was good to see her, but...” I trailed off as I absently dried a plate.

“But?” Prompted Grace.

I shrugged, “But at the same time, she’s not her. I keep waiting for her to snap out of it. Every time I visit, I walk in thinking maybe this time she will turn and just...” 

Grace put her hand on my shoulder, “I'm sorry.”

“I know it's awful, but sometimes I wish that if she can't get better, she could just move on. Does that make me a monster?”

She wrapped her arms around me, “No, honey. It just means you just want her to be free, whatever freedom looks like.”

I leaned in and kissed her. And then Shawn started yelling.

“Momma I had a bad dream!” He cried.

Grace sighed and smiled up at me, “To be continued.” She said before turning and leaving me to finish the dishes.

I woke up again that night, it wasn't the whistling in my head though. You know how when you think you are alone, but then you slowly get that feeling crawling up your spine that someone is looking at you? It was like that. I sat up and looked around the room but saw only shadows. I lay back down and tried to sleep.

After a while I decided to get up for a glass of water. I left my bedroom and walked down the hall past Shawn’s room, his SpongeBob nightlight illuminating his room in a yellow glow. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen. I downed one glass and was about to fill it again when I heard it. Moms whistle. Only it wasn't in my head. It was on the other side of my front door.

I froze listening to the whistle for a solid minute before it stopped. It was the exact same tune. I stepped over to the front door. Was mom out there? Could she have gotten here? No, she didn't even know where I lived. My heart was pounding as I looked through the peep hole. But, there was no one there. I pulled the curtain on the front room window aside and looked out but still nothing. Just the empty street, the neighbor's houses were all dark except for porch lights and the single streetlight on the corner.

I went back to the kitchen and drank another half glass of water before walking back upstairs and past Shawn’s room, Shawn’s dark room.

I stopped and walked back to his room. Hadn’t it been lit by his nightlight? I shrugged thinking maybe it broke, and went back to bed. Except, Shawn’s nightlight was now sitting on my pillow.

I picked it up and looked it over, wondering how it had gotten there. I almost woke grace and asked her, but she had to perform surgery in the morning and needed her sleep. I took the nightlight back to Shawn’s room to plug it in, I didn’t want him waking up without it. I was about to head back to my room when I noticed something.

Shawn’s room faced the street, and through his window under the glow of the streetlight was a man. He was a tall thin man, dressed in dark clothes with a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat, concealing his face in shadow. But I could swear I saw the glint of eyes, like an animal's eyes reflected in light, and he was looking right into the window, at me. I stared back for a moment, then the man tipped his hat before turning and walking off into the darkness.

I woke my wife and told her what I saw, “Grace, he was in the house I'm sure of it!”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “Did you see him?”

I shook my head, “I didn't see him, but I know he was here, I don't know how, I just know.”

“Okay.” she said putting her hands on my trembling arms, “Let's just calm down and call the police.”

When the sheriff arrived, I told him what had happened and he took down my statement, looking at me dubiously.

Sheriff Ward had been a longtime friend of my grandparents; he knew them well and knew my story.

“So, you're saying that this man broke into your house, moved your son's nightlight and then whistled at your door?” He asked, smoothing his mustache.

I crossed my arms and dropped my head; this was ridiculous. I was losing my mind. It was probably old trauma from my past rearing its head and making me see and hear things. I felt so embarrassed to have made this into such a big thing.

Grace said, “Jim says this man was in our house, as crazy as it sounds, I believe him.”

The Sheriff sighed, “Okay, I'll put out an APB to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious matching your description. And for the time being I'll have a car posted her in case he comes back.”

“Thank you.” Said Grace.

I nodded my thanks and we went back inside.

The next day happened to be a Saturday, so I spent the morning drinking coffee and grading papers. Around noon my long-time buddy, Ben, came over to see how things were going. I told him about what had happened or what I thought had happened over a few beers while Shawn and Bens kids played in the yard.

“Shits crazy man.” Said Ben, “You think it has something to do with your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

Ben leaned back, causing my lawn chain to groan, “Well, seeing as how your dad was murdered when you were a kid, could it be that you are seeing things. And having such an extreme reaction to it because you are afraid of being murdered yourself and leaving your son irreparably scarred the way you were?”

I stared at him for a moment, “Since when are you a fucking psychologist?”

He laughed, “Hey brother I just call em like I see em.”

I sighed, “I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe I am overreacting. I should probably make an appointment to see my therapist.”

Ben shrugged, “Not a bad idea amigo. Now pass me another beer.”

That evening Grace had to work late, so me and Shawn were on our own for dinner. We made homemade pizzas and watched cartoons until the he fell asleep on the couch. I carried him to bed and tucked him in before heading back downstairs to watch reruns of the twilight zone.

I had just sat down with my bowl of popcorn, when I heard something hit the back door. I got up and walked over to look outside. There, just outside on the ground, was Shawn's nightlight. I turned and ran upstairs as fast as I could to check on Shawn, I knew that the light was there when I tucked him in.

When I got to his room, I saw that he was fine, still asleep. I walked to my room and grabbed my shotgun before heading back downstairs.

I flung open the door and walked out into the yard pumping the shotgun, “Where are you? You son of a bitch! Come out here!”

Then I heard it, a deep and raspy voice, singing,

“Oooh death

OoOh death

Wont you spare me over till another year”

My heart froze, the tune... It was what my mother had been whistling for the past 20 years. I turned in the direction of the voice, and the man stepped out of the shadow of a small tree near the edge of my yard. He was twenty yards away when I raised my gun.

“Who are you?” I yelled, “What do you want?”

The man just smiled, even from that distance I could see there was something wrong with his teeth.

“You take one more step and I'll shoot.” I shouted.

He raised his arms in a “Here I am” gesture as he walked.

“I mean it, I'll kill you!”

But he just kept coming, so I fired. Only he wasn't where I was aiming. He was off to the left, I adjusted my aim and fired again, but he wasn't there either. He was off to the far right, I fired again. But again, I missed and in the next moment he was right in front of me. I fell back to the ground just as one of the deputies came running around the side of the house.

“What the hell are you shooting at?” He asked.

In my panic, I had forgotten about the deputy parked out front. I turned back to where the man was, but he was gone. What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him I was shooting at a ghost, even if that's what if felt like. My sanity was already up for debate as far as the sheriff's department was concerned.

I shakily got to my feet, “Uh, Opossum. They like to dig through our trash.”

The deputy shook his head, “Well did you get him at least?”

“No.” I said looking around the yard, “I guess not.”

For the rest of the night, I sat up in Shawn’s room, my shotgun across my lap, for all the good it had done. When Grace finally made it home, it was nearly 4:30AM. I told her what I had seen and she wanted to believe me. But even I knew how it sounded.

I managed to convince her that I just needed a few days on my own to get my head straight. That morning, she packed bags for her and Shawn and went to stay at her mom’s house for a couple days. I stood in the driveway and waved them off before heading back inside for my keys. I needed to take another trip to Shady Grove.

When I arrived, I found mom in the same brightly lit reading room, facing out the window. Again, I pulled over a chair and sat next to her.

“Mom, it's Jim. I really need you to talk to me.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice.

“What happened to dad?” I asked, leaving the chair and kneeling down in front of her, “What did you see?”

I was answered by silence and the same vacant stare.

“He was in my house god dammit!” I erupted. “My son, your grandson, may be in danger! Fucking say something!”

“Sir.” said one of the nurses. “You’re gonna need to lower your voice.”

“Yeah.” I said, “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

I stood and started for the door, then a thought occurred to me. I turned back to her face mom.

“Ooh death.” I began to sing, “OoOh death.”

And then something happened, I never thought I’d see. Mom slowly turned her head, her eyes widened, tears ran down her face. Her lip quivered as she took a sharp inhale of breath, and then she began screaming. Nurses quickly gathered around, pushing me back and taking her away.

30 minutes later, a nurse came and found me sitting in the reading room. “Sir?”

“Yes?” I said standing up, “How is she?”

“She’s calmed down now, we’ve given her a mild sedative, she wants to speak to you.”

The words hit me like a freight train; “She wants to speak to you.” The words I had prayed to hear for the past 20 years, but had given up on. I wordlessly followed them to her room. Her eyes fluttered up to me as I stepped through the door.

“Hi mom.” I said. She weakly waved me closer, and I knelt down by her side, taking her hand.

“Jimmy.” She said, her voice was weak and small.

“I'm here mom.” I said. Leaning close.

She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He’s coming for you, now.”

“Who is he?”

She shook her head, “Run if you want. It won't matter in the end.”

“What are you saying? Run from who?”

“Find your father's family, they will tell you. He didn't know until it was too late.”

“Tell me what?” I asked “I don't understand. Who is he?”

She gave me a sad smile and put her hand on my cheek, “He’s death.”

And with that she turned away and closed her eyes. I tried to wake her, but the nurses quickly ushered me out, saying they would call if anything changed.

I never knew my father’s family, but I remembered him talking about his sister Caroline when I was younger.

After searching Facebook, I found out she had died two years ago. The memorial page for her was run by her daughter, Carla. I sent her a message and to my surprise, she messaged back right away. She said she knew exactly who my father was and who I was.

I messaged, “Ok, maybe you can help me figure this out. As I'm sure you know, my father was murdered 20 years ago, and as crazy as it sounds, I think his killer is back. I don't understand what's happening, but my mother told me to find my father's family and ask them.”

She replied, “Yes, I’m sorry about your father. I’ve heard of the family curse, but I don't really believe it. My grandfather told me the story before he died. Supposedly the men in our family all die violent deaths or some such nonsense. He died of a heart attack so like I said I don’t really believe it.”

I replied, “Wow, okay that sounds pretty crazy. Is there any more you can tell me about the story?”

She replied, “Not really. I have some of grandpas old documents he kept on the family history, I can send you them if you like?”

I replied, “Yes thank you, that would be great.”

25 minutes later I received a series of messages containing documents on my family's history all the way back to the 1700s. It didn't take me long to sort through the images and find the one detailing “the Tennessee incident of 1865.” The story was from the journal of my ancestor, a union soldier.

“June 3rd,1865.

We arrived at Jonesborough on the long ride home to Kentucky. The men were hungry and saddle weary from days of riding, and we were in search of a bed and a bite to eat.

We came upon a homestead late in the evening, Captain Connors approached the door and knocked, hoping to find some hospitality. The young woman at the door told us she had no food nor beds for “Yankee bastards.” Like us. I was content to move on in search of some place more accommodating. Captain Connors and the men, however, were not.

Without another word, the captain pushed through the door, knocking the woman aside. The men followed his lead, and after a moment of hesitation I also dismounted and headed inside. To my dying day, I will regret the decision to follow them into that house. But I was tired and hungry, and the road had been long.

The woman protested but Connors and the men tied her to a post while we ate her food. When I had my fill, I found a comfortable place to lay my head for the night. Inevitably the men began to discuss the young woman, and who should go first. Connors announced that as captain he had the “right” to take her first. I had no interest in such things, so I took my leave of the house and made my bed in the barn outside, doing my best to block out the commotion from the house.

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of gunshots and men screaming. I flung off my saddle blanket and peered out the barn door. Evidently, the woman's reb husband had come home and found Connors and the men in his home.

Connors stumbled out the house; a gunshot wound to his left arm. He spun and fired his revolver back into the house until it ran dry. I readied my rifle and took aim at the house as a man dressed in confederate gray streaked with red burst through the door. The man had blood on his hands and murder in his eyes as he approached Connors, a dripping bowie knife in his hand. I didn't hesitate; I fired. The ball taking the man straight in the chest. At once, he stumbled back and fell to his knees, a shocked look on his rage filled face.

Slowly a few of the men that were still living stepped out of the house and surrounded the rebel. Connors stepped to his horse and pulled a second navy revolver from his saddle, just as the woman came running from the house to stand between the men and her husband. She screamed and raged at them, begging us to just leave. Connors shot her without hesitation. The rebel screamed in rage as he tried to rise at Connors, his knife still in hand. But he was easily knocked back to the ground.

A young boy appeared from within the house, crying and screaming. Apparently, the mother had hidden the boy beneath the floorboards when she saw us approaching her home. The boy ran to his  parents and stood between them and Connors.

I left the barn and approached Connors, I told him we should just leave, that the reb was as good as dead anyhow. But Connors wasn't done. Pushing the crying boy aside, he pried the knife from the dying man's hands and plunged it into his gut; the man screamed in pain and rage as tears flowed down his face. Connors ordered the men to pitch the woman and child inside the house and set it alight, then to string up a rope in the barn. I mounted my horse and refused to watch as they strung up the broken and dying man, but I heard what he said.

“You can kill me now, but I swear on all that is holy, I will find a way back and end each of you. I will reap my bloody vengeance upon every man in your bloodline if it's the last thing I d...” He went silent as the rope went taut. We left him hanging here, his home in a blaze.

I continued to ride with Connors and the men until we reached Kentucky, but I had my fill of death. What we did was wrong, and I fear for my life and the lives of my sons. I see him in my dreams, and I hear his woeful song in the night. What have we done? What have we done?”

“Jesus Christ.” I breathed. It was a horrible story, and my ancestor played a part in it. Could it be true? Was this some kind of vengeful spirit, coming to collect his due? I didn't know, but I was beginning to fear it was. I scrolled through the documents, reading several entries detailing the deaths of the men of my family. More times than not, it was the same story; a horrific wound to the neck and a mysteriously small amount of blood at the scene.

It couldn’t be what I was thinking. My throat felt dry as I opened a new search tab. I let out a single grim chuckle at the insanity of the situation as I began my research into vampirism.

There was a lot of stuff but what I found interesting were creatures called strigoi and uppier. Beings that rose from their graves in the night to feed on the life force or blood of the living. It was said that they came from those who died violently or lived sinful lives.

I went down a deep rabbit hole, reading stories and theorizing. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had only seen him at night, so maybe that myth was true. And if that was true, he had to have somewhere to rest during the day, didn't he?

And then it hit me. Shady Grove. According to Susan, mom had been whistling more for the past couple weeks. And that day I visited her, she saw something, hell even I saw something across the garden in the unfinished wing.

 I looked out the window at the afternoon sun; there was still time.

Ben picked up on the third ring, “Hey partner, what's up?”

“Ben” I said wasting no time. “I need your help, right now. Don't ask any questions, just meet me out in front of your house. Bring your lasso and a gun.”

There was a moment of pause on the line, then he said. “Alright, I'll be waiting.”

I picked him up ten minutes later and we were on our way.

“You wanna tell me what we are doing?” Asked Ben as he looked at the speedometer, “and maybe slow down a tick so we don't get pulled over.”

I looked down, I was doing 90 and the dial was rising. I let off the gas and turned to him, “How long have we been friends?”

“Since high school, I reckon.”

“And you trust me, right?”

Ben gave me a look, “Well you're making it a bit tough right now but yeah, I trust you.”

I nodded, “Good. We’re on our way to the Shady Grove care home to kill a vampire that has been stalking my family since the 1800s.”

Ben stared at me for a moment then said, “Huh. Ok. Well, I'm assuming you have a plan for the uh...” he trailed off.

“Vampire. Yeah, I think I know where he's sleeping. If we can get him into the sunlight, it may kill him or at least weaken him enough to kill him.”

“I see you've thought this through then.” He said.

“I have.”

Ben nodded again, ‘Alright.”

45 minutes later we pulled into the Shady Grove parking lot. Ben and I got out of the car and made our way around the building.

When we pushed through the doors on the addition, Ben grabbed my arm, “Hey man, how far are you taking this?”

I turned back to him, “As far as it takes. I have to keep my family safe.”

“I don't know about this, Jim.” He said, shaking his head.

“Just trust me a little longer. If we get in there and there's no vampire, you have my full permission to knock me in the head and admit me to an asylum, okay?”

Ben sighed and nodded, “Let's just get on with this.”

Once we were inside, we began our search. We scoured the first floor, then we moved on to the second floor. We searched every room, every closet, and still there was nothing.

“Okay, we’ve searched.” Said Ben. “Now do you have a preference on which asylum I send you to?”

I sighed, “I don't know what to say. I really thought we would find him.”

“Jim, I don't think there is him. I think you need help. Have you spoken to your therapist?”

I deflated. “No... But, I will.”

Ben nodded, “Come on partner, let's get you home.”

I nodded back and we turned to head for the stairs. “Thank you for coming with me Ben. You’re a good friend.”

I took my first step down the staircase, then noticed Ben’s silence. I turned back to face him, “Ben?”

He was staring up at the ceiling over the stairwell. I stepped back to see what he was looking at. There, hanging upside down from the ceiling, was a god damn vampire.

“Maybe we can share a padded cell.” Mumbled Ben.

I hushed him and sat down the toolbox. Opening it and removing a large hunting knife, a crucifix and some garlic oil. “Got your rope?”

Ben nodded out of his stupor and sat down the toolbox he had been carrying. Removing his handgun and lasso. He shakily checked the chamber of his pistol and slipped it into his back pocket.

I stepped to the back of the room and pulled down a large westward facing tarp that was covering an unfinished wall, revealing the lowering evening sun.

“What's the plan here?” Asked Ben.

I came back and stood beside him, pouring the garlic oil onto the knife blade. “Well, you just rope him and then we pull him to the sunlight, and I stab him with this. If that doesn't work, shoot him in the head until he stops moving.”

“This is fucking insane!” Said ben in a panicked whisper.

“I know, but here we are, and we are running out of time.” I said, motioning to the setting sun.

“Shit. Alright let's do this.” He said as he prepared his rope. Mumbling  under his breath, “Son of a bitch got me out her after a god damn vampire.”

Ben twirled the lasso overhead three times, and then let it fly. The vampire's eyes sprung open just as he cinched the rope tight around his chest. I grabbed the rope and we both ran backwards, dragging the flailing creature into the setting sunlight. The vampire immediately burst into flames and began shrieking in an awful high and low pitch at the same time. He flailed and flopped, kicking out and trying to get loose. But we held tight and in the next moment, the vampire withered to an ashy corpse.

“People were sure to have heard that.” Said Ben, breathing heavily.

I nodded, “Yeah, we should go.”

“What about the body?”

I looked around the room, “There, the tarp.”

As fast as we could, we wrapped the smoldering body in the tarp and made a dash for the car, stowing the remains in the trunk. Neither of us spoke on the drive home.

I dropped a sick looking Ben off at his house without saying a word and headed home. When I pulled into the driveway, Grace and Shawn were already home. I got out and met them in the driveway. “What are you doing home? I thought you were staying at your moms.”

“I was, but there was an emergency at work. I would have left Shawn with mom, but she had the flu. I've been trying to call you.” she said, then after looking me over she asked, “Are you alright?”

I tried to smile, “Yeah, I think I'm alright. But we should talk.”

She touched my arm "Of course, honey. But can it wait till I get home? I really have to go.”

I looked back at the trunk of my car and nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled, “Shawn’s had dinner, but he still needs a bath. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Me too.” I smiled then kissed her before she left.

Shawn and I went inside and sat on the couch watching Scooby doo for the next hour or so. I had just put Shawn to bed, when my phone went off. It was a text from Ben, “Need to talk. Come over, now.”

He was shaken up, so was I. Finding out vampires exist just minutes before you kill one would send anyone over the edge. I text back, “Okay, just put Shawn to bed. Be over in a bit.”

We still keep a baby monitor in Shawn’s' room since my office is downstairs and across the house, so I slipped the receiver into my back pocket before heading over to Ben's house.

When I got there, I saw that his shop lights were on. Ben had converted his backyard work shop into a dive bar. I pushed the door open to see Ben slumped in his barstool, his back to me.

“Hey.” I said approaching him, “You okay, pal?”

He didn't answer.

“Ben?” I said as I reached out and spun the barstool around.

 Ben's head swung loosely as he spun, revealing his torn open throat and shattered spine.

I stumbled back in shock, falling to the floor. Ben's head dangled there until the remaining flap of skin stretched and snapped. His head fell to the floor with a wet thud.

Suddenly the jukebox blared to life. I turned to see him. His back to me as he leaned over the jukebox. His burnt clothes hanging on him like rags. His sickly gray skin covered in fresh burn scars.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.” He smiled, turning to face me, “My how you've grown.”

I tried to move but I was paralyzed with fear, struggling to even drag in a breath.

“You didn't see me back then, did you?.” He laughed, “But I saw you.”

I leapt to my feet and ran for the door; the vampires laugh following me all the way. “Where ya runnin to boy?”

I hit the door as I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing the sheriff's office as I ran. After 5 long rings the dispatcher answered, “Sherrif's department this is...”

“I need someone here now!” I screamed, cutting her off, “He killed him! God, he killed Ben!”

“Slow down, who killed who? What's going on?”

I told her the address as I ran but didn’t listen to whatever else she was saying. I slammed through my front door and started up the stairs when I remembered the garlic oil and the knife, still in my car. I turned and ran back downstairs and out to the car, grabbing the knife and stuffing the small bottle of garlic oil into my pocket before bolting back through the front door.

I ran to my room and grabbed my shotgun, ejecting the shells and prying them open with the knife before pouring some of the oil over the pellets inside. I slapped a piece of tape over the tip if each shell, hoping it would be enough to hold them closed and reloaded the shotgun.

 Suddenly there came a heavy thud on the roof, followed by footsteps. I ran to Shawn’s room and scooped him up.

“Dad? What's going on? Where are we going?” He asked sleepily.

“Don't worry buddy, we’re gonna go get momma then we are all going on a trip. But right now, I need you to hold on tight to me and keep quiet, can you do that?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me, “Is this like a game or something?”

“Yeah.” I said. Holding him tight and heading down the stairs. “It's just like a game, you gotta keep quiet, hold on to me and keep your eyes closed tight, got it?”

“Okay.” He said, burying his head in my shoulder.

“I love you, Shawn.” I said, tears rolling down my face.

“Love you dad.” He said, his little voice muffled by my shoulder.

I was at the front door, wondering if I could make it to my car when flashing red and blue came around the corner. I flung the door open and stepped outside to meet them.

“Jim.” Said Sheriff Ward stepping out of his patrol car, “What the hell's going on? What are you doing with that gun?”

Another patrol car pulled up next to him, and a deputy stepped out, meeting the Sheriff as they walked up the driveway.

“Sheriff it's the intruder from the other night he’s...”

“Is that what is this about? Dammit Jim.” Groaned the Sheriff, “You have got to stop...”

He cut off as he was suddenly hit by a lightning-fast blur of movement from the side yard. He didn't even have time to scream. The blur, along with the sheriff, disappeared through a tall hedge next to the house. The deputy froze, a splash of blood across his face.

“Sh... Sheriff?” The deputy muttered.

I slowly began to back up to the house, when the blur of motion came again. When it passed, the hand the deputy had been reaching for his weapon with, was gone. He looked down at the ragged, bleeding stump in confusion for a moment, then started screaming. The screaming came to a sudden stop when the vampire shot up behind him, digging his fingers into the man’s hair and biting a ragged chunk out of his neck.

I raised the shotgun and fired one of the garlic-coated rounds. This time, I hit him full in the chest. He screeched in pain, falling to the ground and writhing on all fours. Shawn still had his head buried in my shoulder but was now screaming as I ran to the deputy’s car and jumped inside. I put Shawn in the passenger seat and told him, “Keep your eyes shut, no matter what!”

I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but the car didn't move. I turned back around to see the vampire holding onto the brush guard. I gritted my teeth and shifted into drive, pressing the pedal to the floor.

His eyes widened in the brief moment before he disappeared under the hood of the car. His body crunched under the tires as I plowed forward, smashing the car through the front of my house. Bricks and sheetrock showered down over the car. I glanced at the rear-view mirror and could already see him, jerkily rising to his feet. His body, broken and misshapen. I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but it didn’t move.

The windshield was cracked, so I threw the deputy's jacket over Shawn and used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass. We climbed out and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Opening the closet, I pushed Shawn inside.

“Daddy?” He cried. “What's happening.”

I hugged him tight and told him I loved him, “Stay in here, please Shawn. Close your eyes, cover your head, and keep quiet. Remember the game? I want you to win, okay?”

He nodded tears pouring down his face. I closed the closet door as I heard the sound of footsteps and whistling coming up the stairs.

I turned to face him as he stepped through the doorway. I raised the shotgun, but he dashed forward before I could react. Knocking the gun to the floor and lifting me up by my throat.

“You have given me quite the fight, Jim. Quite a fight indeed.” He said, speaking through gritted teeth.

I tried to speak but with his grasp on my throat, all I could do was wheeze.

“What's that?” He asked mockingly, “I couldn't quite hear you.”

He loosened his grip and I drug in a ragged breath, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Neither did my son.”

“What do you know about what happened to me?” He snarled.

“I know,” I coughed, “they were taken from you. They wouldn’t want this.”

He squeezed tighter, “What do you know about what they would have wanted? You think they’d want mercy for you?! Or them?!” He shouted, bloody spit flying from his lips. “The ones who raped and murdered my wife?! Burned my son alive! Should I have shown them mercy?!”

“Please.” I wheezed, “Just stop.”

He shook his head, “Times up.” Then he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into my neck.

The pain was unlike anything I ever felt. My throat felt like it was filled with hot coals, as I felt my life quickly draining away. I prayed it would be over soon and he would just leave. That he wouldn't find Shawn. I felt cold rising from my feet, up my legs, and in my arms. I was dying, and then suddenly, I was free. I fell to the floor in a heap as the vampire stumbled back. The garlic coated knife stuck in his side.

“Get away from my dad!” Yelled Shawn.

The vampire stared down at the knife then at Shawn. I somehow found enough strength to climb to my knees and crawled over to put myself between my son and the monster.

He stared down at me, then back to my son. With a hiss, he pulled the blade from his side and stepped back. He could have killed us; there was nothing we could have done to stop him. Instead, he left. Just like that, it was over.

I told the investigators that I didn't know what had happened to the sheriff and deputy. I said that after I found Ben’s body and called the Sheriff's department, went home and holed up in my room with Shawn. I didn't see what had happened downstairs.

 I told Grace the truth; I think she believes me; she says she does. I know how it sounds though; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. There has been no sign of, him, since we moved into the new house. No, we won't be moving around like we did when I was a kid, just needed a change of scenery. I recovered from the bite surprisingly fast. What had been a row of ragged puncture wounds is now barely even a scar. I feel different too, more aware of things, stronger. Maybe I'm finally beginning to heal some of my old trauma. The sun feels hotter now too, I'm sure its fine though.

I never really learned why we moved around so much when I was a kid. I always had the feeling dad was chasing something or maybe running from something. Unlike mom's usual excuse, of, “Daddy got a new, better paying job.” Dad would never answer when I would ask why we had to leave again.

He would come home from work one evening and loudly announce, “Time to go!” and mom and I would quickly pack up whatever shitty little apartment we happen to be staying in, and we would be on the road that later that night. That was my life for 14 years.

We were renting a run down singlewide somewhere in Missouri, when one day I came home from school and dad's pickup was already home. It was almost unheard of for dad to be home early on a weekday. My concern grew as I approached the house and saw that the trucks driver's side door was standing open, and so was the front door to the house.

I remember that walk, down the driveway to the house. The absolute silence of the world as my footsteps crunched over the gravel and dirt. The creak of each wooden step up to the small wobbly porch. The feel of the warm breeze that blew through the trailers open door, carrying with it a coppery smell.

I saw mom first, slumped down against the wall beside the couch. She was pale and wouldn't look at me, no matter how loud I called to her. She just stared straight ahead, shivering. After summoning up as much courage as I could, I stepped into the house and around the corner, and there was dad. At first, I couldn't understand what I was seeing, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that, that was dad.

He was on his back, on top of the dining room table. His head hung backwards off of the edge, at too sharp of an angle. His eyes rolled in their sockets before focusing on me for the briefest of moments. He tried to speak but all that came out was a wet gurgle as blood poured from his lips and... God his throat, it was gone. It was like it had been ripped away and flung across the room. Blood coated the walls and ceiling in thick dripping lines.

I don't remember much after that, but they say I ran to a neighbor's house and got them to call 911. Dad was obviously dead when police arrived. They took mom to the hospital and tried to get her to tell them what she had seen, but the shock was too deep. She wouldn’t speak. She was eventually admitted to the psyche ward. For years, therapists tried to help her to process and talk about what she had seen.

I ended up moving in with my grandparents in El Paso. They had mom moved to an assisted living home an hour's drive from their house. We visited her often at first, hoping and praying that she would come back to us. But she never did. Occasionally she would whistle, but only ever one tune. Grandpa said the tune sounded familiar, but he could never place it. Eventually the visits became every other week, then once a month. By the time I was 18, I only saw mom a couple times a year for special occasions. I spent a lot of my free time in therapy, I had nightmares of my dad's face for years, still do sometimes.

My life with my grandparents was more comfortable than I could ever have imagined. I had good food, a warm bed every night, and I was finally in school long enough to make real, lasting friendships. And I struggled with the guilt that I was happier with my grandparents than I ever was with my parents.

Now I'm a relatively happy, stable, and sane 35-year-old history teacher with a wife and a son of my own, despite the trauma I went through as a child.

For the past couple weeks, I've been waking up in the middle of the night with my mother's whistle stuck in my head. Grace told me it could be the manifestation of my guilt for not visiting mom in a while. It made sense, after all I hadn't gone to visit for the past two years. But to be honest, I didn’t feel much guilt. Maybe that made me an asshole, but I was pretty sure she didn’t even know who I was anymore. But, I was off work the next day, so I figured I had no excuse.

That morning, I got Shawn off to preschool and headed for the Shady Grove care home. I still lived roughly an hour from the home, plenty of time to think on the drive. I realized my hand was shaking as I raised my coffee to my lips and did my best to clear my mind of the questions that would probably never be answered. I took a steadying breath and turned up the radio.

“Hi Susan.” I said as I approached the nurse's desk.

The older woman with poufy blonde hair looked up and studied me for a moment before recognition spread a smile on her face, “Jim, hi. Wow it's been a while.”

I nodded, “Yeah well, I've been busy.” Clearing my throat I continued, “How is she?”

Susan stood up and came around the desk, “Oh you know her, she just sits quietly most of the time. Although some of the night staff say she has started whistling more lately. Come on, I'll take you to her.”

“How long has she been doing that for?”

“Oh, just the past week or so.”

We walked down the sterile white halls, the smell of soiled bed sheets, bleach, and stale body odor permeated the air. I hated this place, it felt like deaths waiting room.

Finally, Susan brought me to a brightly lit reading room with large windows facing a garden outside. There she was, sitting slumped in her wheelchair. Her once dark brown hair now turned gray, hung down around her shoulders in tangles. I slowly walked across the room, picking up a white plastic chair on the way. I sat down next to her and looked her over.

“Hey mom.” I said, touching her arm.

She didn't look at me; she never did. Her vacant eyes stayed fixed forward. Lost in a moment, years ago.

“Mom, it's Jim. Your son.”

Still nothing. I don't know why I always come here expecting anything else. I nodded, “It's okay mom, I'll just sit here with you for a while.”

We sat and watched the butterflies in the garden for a while. Then I stood and just as I was about to leave, mom started to whistle. When I turned to look at her, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Her eyes, while still mostly fixed straight forward, had more focus in them than I had seen in years.

“Mom?” I asked. Bending down to her.

She didn't answer just kept whistling and looking straight ahead, a single tear ran down her face. I turned to see where she was looking. Out the window, across the garden, in a darkened upstairs window on the other side of the courtyard. At first, I thought I could see something, was it a person? I couldn't tell. But when I blinked, whatever I thought I saw was gone.

I stopped a nurse as she passed, “Excuse me, what's on the other side of the building there?” I asked as I pointed to the darkened window.

“Oh, that's going to be the therapeutic wing when its finished, unfortunately the contractors are dragging their feet.” She answered.

“So, it’s empty? There’s nothing or no one in there?”

“Shouldn't be. Unless it was one of the workers.”

I nodded and turned back to mom as she slowly stopped whistling and went back to her vacant stare. I looked back at the window again but there was nothing there. I sighed and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodbye mom, I'll see you next time.” And with that I left Shady Grove.

That night, I spoke with Grace about the visit with my mother while we washed the dishes.

“Well, it sounds like not much has changed. Do you at least feel better after seeing her?”

“I don't know, maybe. On the one hand it was good to see her, but...” I trailed off as I absently dried a plate.

“But?” Prompted Grace.

I shrugged, “But at the same time, she’s not her. I keep waiting for her to snap out of it. Every time I visit, I walk in thinking maybe this time she will turn and just...” 

Grace put her hand on my shoulder, “I'm sorry.”

“I know it's awful, but sometimes I wish that if she can't get better, she could just move on. Does that make me a monster?”

She wrapped her arms around me, “No, honey. It just means you just want her to be free, whatever freedom looks like.”

I leaned in and kissed her. And then Shawn started yelling.

“Momma I had a bad dream!” He cried.

Grace sighed and smiled up at me, “To be continued.” She said before turning and leaving me to finish the dishes.

I woke up again that night, it wasn't the whistling in my head though. You know how when you think you are alone, but then you slowly get that feeling crawling up your spine that someone is looking at you? It was like that. I sat up and looked around the room but saw only shadows. I lay back down and tried to sleep.

After a while I decided to get up for a glass of water. I left my bedroom and walked down the hall past Shawn’s room, his SpongeBob nightlight illuminating his room in a yellow glow. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen. I downed one glass and was about to fill it again when I heard it. Moms whistle. Only it wasn't in my head. It was on the other side of my front door.

I froze listening to the whistle for a solid minute before it stopped. It was the exact same tune. I stepped over to the front door. Was mom out there? Could she have gotten here? No, she didn't even know where I lived. My heart was pounding as I looked through the peep hole. But, there was no one there. I pulled the curtain on the front room window aside and looked out but still nothing. Just the empty street, the neighbor's houses were all dark except for porch lights and the single streetlight on the corner.

I went back to the kitchen and drank another half glass of water before walking back upstairs and past Shawn’s room, Shawn’s dark room.

I stopped and walked back to his room. Hadn’t it been lit by his nightlight? I shrugged thinking maybe it broke, and went back to bed. Except, Shawn’s nightlight was now sitting on my pillow.

I picked it up and looked it over, wondering how it had gotten there. I almost woke grace and asked her, but she had to perform surgery in the morning and needed her sleep. I took the nightlight back to Shawn’s room to plug it in, I didn’t want him waking up without it. I was about to head back to my room when I noticed something.

Shawn’s room faced the street, and through his window under the glow of the streetlight was a man. He was a tall thin man, dressed in dark clothes with a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat, concealing his face in shadow. But I could swear I saw the glint of eyes, like an animal's eyes reflected in light, and he was looking right into the window, at me. I stared back for a moment, then the man tipped his hat before turning and walking off into the darkness.

I woke my wife and told her what I saw, “Grace, he was in the house I'm sure of it!”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “Did you see him?”

I shook my head, “I didn't see him, but I know he was here, I don't know how, I just know.”

“Okay.” she said putting her hands on my trembling arms, “Let's just calm down and call the police.”

When the sheriff arrived, I told him what had happened and he took down my statement, looking at me dubiously.

Sheriff Ward had been a longtime friend of my grandparents; he knew them well and knew my story.

“So, you're saying that this man broke into your house, moved your son's nightlight and then whistled at your door?” He asked, smoothing his mustache.

I crossed my arms and dropped my head; this was ridiculous. I was losing my mind. It was probably old trauma from my past rearing its head and making me see and hear things. I felt so embarrassed to have made this into such a big thing.

Grace said, “Jim says this man was in our house, as crazy as it sounds, I believe him.”

The Sheriff sighed, “Okay, I'll put out an APB to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious matching your description. And for the time being I'll have a car posted her in case he comes back.”

“Thank you.” Said Grace.

I nodded my thanks and we went back inside.

The next day happened to be a Saturday, so I spent the morning drinking coffee and grading papers. Around noon my long-time buddy, Ben, came over to see how things were going. I told him about what had happened or what I thought had happened over a few beers while Shawn and Bens kids played in the yard.

“Shits crazy man.” Said Ben, “You think it has something to do with your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

Ben leaned back, causing my lawn chain to groan, “Well, seeing as how your dad was murdered when you were a kid, could it be that you are seeing things. And having such an extreme reaction to it because you are afraid of being murdered yourself and leaving your son irreparably scarred the way you were?”

I stared at him for a moment, “Since when are you a fucking psychologist?”

He laughed, “Hey brother I just call em like I see em.”

I sighed, “I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe I am overreacting. I should probably make an appointment to see my therapist.”

Ben shrugged, “Not a bad idea amigo. Now pass me another beer.”

That evening Grace had to work late, so me and Shawn were on our own for dinner. We made homemade pizzas and watched cartoons until the he fell asleep on the couch. I carried him to bed and tucked him in before heading back downstairs to watch reruns of the twilight zone.

I had just sat down with my bowl of popcorn, when I heard something hit the back door. I got up and walked over to look outside. There, just outside on the ground, was Shawn's nightlight. I turned and ran upstairs as fast as I could to check on Shawn, I knew that the light was there when I tucked him in.

When I got to his room, I saw that he was fine, still asleep. I walked to my room and grabbed my shotgun before heading back downstairs.

I flung open the door and walked out into the yard pumping the shotgun, “Where are you? You son of a bitch! Come out here!”

Then I heard it, a deep and raspy voice, singing,

“Oooh death

OoOh death

Wont you spare me over till another year”

My heart froze, the tune... It was what my mother had been whistling for the past 20 years. I turned in the direction of the voice, and the man stepped out of the shadow of a small tree near the edge of my yard. He was twenty yards away when I raised my gun.

“Who are you?” I yelled, “What do you want?”

The man just smiled, even from that distance I could see there was something wrong with his teeth.

“You take one more step and I'll shoot.” I shouted.

He raised his arms in a “Here I am” gesture as he walked.

“I mean it, I'll kill you!”

But he just kept coming, so I fired. Only he wasn't where I was aiming. He was off to the left, I adjusted my aim and fired again, but he wasn't there either. He was off to the far right, I fired again. But again, I missed and in the next moment he was right in front of me. I fell back to the ground just as one of the deputies came running around the side of the house.

“What the hell are you shooting at?” He asked.

In my panic, I had forgotten about the deputy parked out front. I turned back to where the man was, but he was gone. What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him I was shooting at a ghost, even if that's what if felt like. My sanity was already up for debate as far as the sheriff's department was concerned.

I shakily got to my feet, “Uh, Opossum. They like to dig through our trash.”

The deputy shook his head, “Well did you get him at least?”

“No.” I said looking around the yard, “I guess not.”

For the rest of the night, I sat up in Shawn’s room, my shotgun across my lap, for all the good it had done. When Grace finally made it home, it was nearly 4:30AM. I told her what I had seen and she wanted to believe me. But even I knew how it sounded.

I managed to convince her that I just needed a few days on my own to get my head straight. That morning, she packed bags for her and Shawn and went to stay at her mom’s house for a couple days. I stood in the driveway and waved them off before heading back inside for my keys. I needed to take another trip to Shady Grove.

When I arrived, I found mom in the same brightly lit reading room, facing out the window. Again, I pulled over a chair and sat next to her.

“Mom, it's Jim. I really need you to talk to me.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice.

“What happened to dad?” I asked, leaving the chair and kneeling down in front of her, “What did you see?”

I was answered by silence and the same vacant stare.

“He was in my house god dammit!” I erupted. “My son, your grandson, may be in danger! Fucking say something!”

“Sir.” said one of the nurses. “You’re gonna need to lower your voice.”

“Yeah.” I said, “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

I stood and started for the door, then a thought occurred to me. I turned back to her face mom.

“Ooh death.” I began to sing, “OoOh death.”

And then something happened, I never thought I’d see. Mom slowly turned her head, her eyes widened, tears ran down her face. Her lip quivered as she took a sharp inhale of breath, and then she began screaming. Nurses quickly gathered around, pushing me back and taking her away.

30 minutes later, a nurse came and found me sitting in the reading room. “Sir?”

“Yes?” I said standing up, “How is she?”

“She’s calmed down now, we’ve given her a mild sedative, she wants to speak to you.”

The words hit me like a freight train; “She wants to speak to you.” The words I had prayed to hear for the past 20 years, but had given up on. I wordlessly followed them to her room. Her eyes fluttered up to me as I stepped through the door.

“Hi mom.” I said. She weakly waved me closer, and I knelt down by her side, taking her hand.

“Jimmy.” She said, her voice was weak and small.

“I'm here mom.” I said. Leaning close.

She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He’s coming for you, now.”

“Who is he?”

She shook her head, “Run if you want. It won't matter in the end.”

“What are you saying? Run from who?”

“Find your father's family, they will tell you. He didn't know until it was too late.”

“Tell me what?” I asked “I don't understand. Who is he?”

She gave me a sad smile and put her hand on my cheek, “He’s death.”

And with that she turned away and closed her eyes. I tried to wake her, but the nurses quickly ushered me out, saying they would call if anything changed.

I never knew my father’s family, but I remembered him talking about his sister Caroline when I was younger.

After searching Facebook, I found out she had died two years ago. The memorial page for her was run by her daughter, Carla. I sent her a message and to my surprise, she messaged back right away. She said she knew exactly who my father was and who I was.

I messaged, “Ok, maybe you can help me figure this out. As I'm sure you know, my father was murdered 20 years ago, and as crazy as it sounds, I think his killer is back. I don't understand what's happening, but my mother told me to find my father's family and ask them.”

She replied, “Yes, I’m sorry about your father. I’ve heard of the family curse, but I don't really believe it. My grandfather told me the story before he died. Supposedly the men in our family all die violent deaths or some such nonsense. He died of a heart attack so like I said I don’t really believe it.”

I replied, “Wow, okay that sounds pretty crazy. Is there any more you can tell me about the story?”

She replied, “Not really. I have some of grandpas old documents he kept on the family history, I can send you them if you like?”

I replied, “Yes thank you, that would be great.”

25 minutes later I received a series of messages containing documents on my family's history all the way back to the 1700s. It didn't take me long to sort through the images and find the one detailing “the Tennessee incident of 1865.” The story was from the journal of my ancestor, a union soldier.

“June 3rd,1865.

We arrived at Jonesborough on the long ride home to Kentucky. The men were hungry and saddle weary from days of riding, and we were in search of a bed and a bite to eat.

We came upon a homestead late in the evening, Captain Connors approached the door and knocked, hoping to find some hospitality. The young woman at the door told us she had no food nor beds for “Yankee bastards.” Like us. I was content to move on in search of some place more accommodating. Captain Connors and the men, however, were not.

Without another word, the captain pushed through the door, knocking the woman aside. The men followed his lead, and after a moment of hesitation I also dismounted and headed inside. To my dying day, I will regret the decision to follow them into that house. But I was tired and hungry, and the road had been long.

The woman protested but Connors and the men tied her to a post while we ate her food. When I had my fill, I found a comfortable place to lay my head for the night. Inevitably the men began to discuss the young woman, and who should go first. Connors announced that as captain he had the “right” to take her first. I had no interest in such things, so I took my leave of the house and made my bed in the barn outside, doing my best to block out the commotion from the house.

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of gunshots and men screaming. I flung off my saddle blanket and peered out the barn door. Evidently, the woman's reb husband had come home and found Connors and the men in his home.

Connors stumbled out the house; a gunshot wound to his left arm. He spun and fired his revolver back into the house until it ran dry. I readied my rifle and took aim at the house as a man dressed in confederate gray streaked with red burst through the door. The man had blood on his hands and murder in his eyes as he approached Connors, a dripping bowie knife in his hand. I didn't hesitate; I fired. The ball taking the man straight in the chest. At once, he stumbled back and fell to his knees, a shocked look on his rage filled face.

Slowly a few of the men that were still living stepped out of the house and surrounded the rebel. Connors stepped to his horse and pulled a second navy revolver from his saddle, just as the woman came running from the house to stand between the men and her husband. She screamed and raged at them, begging us to just leave. Connors shot her without hesitation. The rebel screamed in rage as he tried to rise at Connors, his knife still in hand. But he was easily knocked back to the ground.

A young boy appeared from within the house, crying and screaming. Apparently, the mother had hidden the boy beneath the floorboards when she saw us approaching her home. The boy ran to his  parents and stood between them and Connors.

I left the barn and approached Connors, I told him we should just leave, that the reb was as good as dead anyhow. But Connors wasn't done. Pushing the crying boy aside, he pried the knife from the dying man's hands and plunged it into his gut; the man screamed in pain and rage as tears flowed down his face. Connors ordered the men to pitch the woman and child inside the house and set it alight, then to string up a rope in the barn. I mounted my horse and refused to watch as they strung up the broken and dying man, but I heard what he said.

“You can kill me now, but I swear on all that is holy, I will find a way back and end each of you. I will reap my bloody vengeance upon every man in your bloodline if it's the last thing I d...” He went silent as the rope went taut. We left him hanging here, his home in a blaze.

I continued to ride with Connors and the men until we reached Kentucky, but I had my fill of death. What we did was wrong, and I fear for my life and the lives of my sons. I see him in my dreams, and I hear his woeful song in the night. What have we done? What have we done?”

“Jesus Christ.” I breathed. It was a horrible story, and my ancestor played a part in it. Could it be true? Was this some kind of vengeful spirit, coming to collect his due? I didn't know, but I was beginning to fear it was. I scrolled through the documents, reading several entries detailing the deaths of the men of my family. More times than not, it was the same story; a horrific wound to the neck and a mysteriously small amount of blood at the scene.

It couldn’t be what I was thinking. My throat felt dry as I opened a new search tab. I let out a single grim chuckle at the insanity of the situation as I began my research into vampirism.

There was a lot of stuff but what I found interesting were creatures called strigoi and uppier. Beings that rose from their graves in the night to feed on the life force or blood of the living. It was said that they came from those who died violently or lived sinful lives.

I went down a deep rabbit hole, reading stories and theorizing. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had only seen him at night, so maybe that myth was true. And if that was true, he had to have somewhere to rest during the day, didn't he?

And then it hit me. Shady Grove. According to Susan, mom had been whistling more for the past couple weeks. And that day I visited her, she saw something, hell even I saw something across the garden in the unfinished wing.

 I looked out the window at the afternoon sun; there was still time.

Ben picked up on the third ring, “Hey partner, what's up?”

“Ben” I said wasting no time. “I need your help, right now. Don't ask any questions, just meet me out in front of your house. Bring your lasso and a gun.”

There was a moment of pause on the line, then he said. “Alright, I'll be waiting.”

I picked him up ten minutes later and we were on our way.

“You wanna tell me what we are doing?” Asked Ben as he looked at the speedometer, “and maybe slow down a tick so we don't get pulled over.”

I looked down, I was doing 90 and the dial was rising. I let off the gas and turned to him, “How long have we been friends?”

“Since high school, I reckon.”

“And you trust me, right?”

Ben gave me a look, “Well you're making it a bit tough right now but yeah, I trust you.”

I nodded, “Good. We’re on our way to the Shady Grove care home to kill a vampire that has been stalking my family since the 1800s.”

Ben stared at me for a moment then said, “Huh. Ok. Well, I'm assuming you have a plan for the uh...” he trailed off.

“Vampire. Yeah, I think I know where he's sleeping. If we can get him into the sunlight, it may kill him or at least weaken him enough to kill him.”

“I see you've thought this through then.” He said.

“I have.”

Ben nodded again, ‘Alright.”

45 minutes later we pulled into the Shady Grove parking lot. Ben and I got out of the car and made our way around the building.

When we pushed through the doors on the addition, Ben grabbed my arm, “Hey man, how far are you taking this?”

I turned back to him, “As far as it takes. I have to keep my family safe.”

“I don't know about this, Jim.” He said, shaking his head.

“Just trust me a little longer. If we get in there and there's no vampire, you have my full permission to knock me in the head and admit me to an asylum, okay?”

Ben sighed and nodded, “Let's just get on with this.”

Once we were inside, we began our search. We scoured the first floor, then we moved on to the second floor. We searched every room, every closet, and still there was nothing.

“Okay, we’ve searched.” Said Ben. “Now do you have a preference on which asylum I send you to?”

I sighed, “I don't know what to say. I really thought we would find him.”

“Jim, I don't think there is him. I think you need help. Have you spoken to your therapist?”

I deflated. “No... But, I will.”

Ben nodded, “Come on partner, let's get you home.”

I nodded back and we turned to head for the stairs. “Thank you for coming with me Ben. You’re a good friend.”

I took my first step down the staircase, then noticed Ben’s silence. I turned back to face him, “Ben?”

He was staring up at the ceiling over the stairwell. I stepped back to see what he was looking at. There, hanging upside down from the ceiling, was a god damn vampire.

“Maybe we can share a padded cell.” Mumbled Ben.

I hushed him and sat down the toolbox. Opening it and removing a large hunting knife, a crucifix and some garlic oil. “Got your rope?”

Ben nodded out of his stupor and sat down the toolbox he had been carrying. Removing his handgun and lasso. He shakily checked the chamber of his pistol and slipped it into his back pocket.

I stepped to the back of the room and pulled down a large westward facing tarp that was covering an unfinished wall, revealing the lowering evening sun.

“What's the plan here?” Asked Ben.

I came back and stood beside him, pouring the garlic oil onto the knife blade. “Well, you just rope him and then we pull him to the sunlight, and I stab him with this. If that doesn't work, shoot him in the head until he stops moving.”

“This is fucking insane!” Said ben in a panicked whisper.

“I know, but here we are, and we are running out of time.” I said, motioning to the setting sun.

“Shit. Alright let's do this.” He said as he prepared his rope. Mumbling  under his breath, “Son of a bitch got me out her after a god damn vampire.”

Ben twirled the lasso overhead three times, and then let it fly. The vampire's eyes sprung open just as he cinched the rope tight around his chest. I grabbed the rope and we both ran backwards, dragging the flailing creature into the setting sunlight. The vampire immediately burst into flames and began shrieking in an awful high and low pitch at the same time. He flailed and flopped, kicking out and trying to get loose. But we held tight and in the next moment, the vampire withered to an ashy corpse.

“People were sure to have heard that.” Said Ben, breathing heavily.

I nodded, “Yeah, we should go.”

“What about the body?”

I looked around the room, “There, the tarp.”

As fast as we could, we wrapped the smoldering body in the tarp and made a dash for the car, stowing the remains in the trunk. Neither of us spoke on the drive home.

I dropped a sick looking Ben off at his house without saying a word and headed home. When I pulled into the driveway, Grace and Shawn were already home. I got out and met them in the driveway. “What are you doing home? I thought you were staying at your moms.”

“I was, but there was an emergency at work. I would have left Shawn with mom, but she had the flu. I've been trying to call you.” she said, then after looking me over she asked, “Are you alright?”

I tried to smile, “Yeah, I think I'm alright. But we should talk.”

She touched my arm "Of course, honey. But can it wait till I get home? I really have to go.”

I looked back at the trunk of my car and nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled, “Shawn’s had dinner, but he still needs a bath. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Me too.” I smiled then kissed her before she left.

Shawn and I went inside and sat on the couch watching Scooby doo for the next hour or so. I had just put Shawn to bed, when my phone went off. It was a text from Ben, “Need to talk. Come over, now.”

He was shaken up, so was I. Finding out vampires exist just minutes before you kill one would send anyone over the edge. I text back, “Okay, just put Shawn to bed. Be over in a bit.”

We still keep a baby monitor in Shawn’s' room since my office is downstairs and across the house, so I slipped the receiver into my back pocket before heading over to Ben's house.

When I got there, I saw that his shop lights were on. Ben had converted his backyard work shop into a dive bar. I pushed the door open to see Ben slumped in his barstool, his back to me.

“Hey.” I said approaching him, “You okay, pal?”

He didn't answer.

“Ben?” I said as I reached out and spun the barstool around.

 Ben's head swung loosely as he spun, revealing his torn open throat and shattered spine.

I stumbled back in shock, falling to the floor. Ben's head dangled there until the remaining flap of skin stretched and snapped. His head fell to the floor with a wet thud.

Suddenly the jukebox blared to life. I turned to see him. His back to me as he leaned over the jukebox. His burnt clothes hanging on him like rags. His sickly gray skin covered in fresh burn scars.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.” He smiled, turning to face me, “My how you've grown.”

I tried to move but I was paralyzed with fear, struggling to even drag in a breath.

“You didn't see me back then, did you?.” He laughed, “But I saw you.”

I leapt to my feet and ran for the door; the vampires laugh following me all the way. “Where ya runnin to boy?”

I hit the door as I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing the sheriff's office as I ran. After 5 long rings the dispatcher answered, “Sherrif's department this is...”

“I need someone here now!” I screamed, cutting her off, “He killed him! God, he killed Ben!”

“Slow down, who killed who? What's going on?”

I told her the address as I ran but didn’t listen to whatever else she was saying. I slammed through my front door and started up the stairs when I remembered the garlic oil and the knife, still in my car. I turned and ran back downstairs and out to the car, grabbing the knife and stuffing the small bottle of garlic oil into my pocket before bolting back through the front door.

I ran to my room and grabbed my shotgun, ejecting the shells and prying them open with the knife before pouring some of the oil over the pellets inside. I slapped a piece of tape over the tip if each shell, hoping it would be enough to hold them closed and reloaded the shotgun.

 Suddenly there came a heavy thud on the roof, followed by footsteps. I ran to Shawn’s room and scooped him up.

“Dad? What's going on? Where are we going?” He asked sleepily.

“Don't worry buddy, we’re gonna go get momma then we are all going on a trip. But right now, I need you to hold on tight to me and keep quiet, can you do that?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me, “Is this like a game or something?”

“Yeah.” I said. Holding him tight and heading down the stairs. “It's just like a game, you gotta keep quiet, hold on to me and keep your eyes closed tight, got it?”

“Okay.” He said, burying his head in my shoulder.

“I love you, Shawn.” I said, tears rolling down my face.

“Love you dad.” He said, his little voice muffled by my shoulder.

I was at the front door, wondering if I could make it to my car when flashing red and blue came around the corner. I flung the door open and stepped outside to meet them.

“Jim.” Said Sheriff Ward stepping out of his patrol car, “What the hell's going on? What are you doing with that gun?”

Another patrol car pulled up next to him, and a deputy stepped out, meeting the Sheriff as they walked up the driveway.

“Sheriff it's the intruder from the other night he’s...”

“Is that what is this about? Dammit Jim.” Groaned the Sheriff, “You have got to stop...”

He cut off as he was suddenly hit by a lightning-fast blur of movement from the side yard. He didn't even have time to scream. The blur, along with the sheriff, disappeared through a tall hedge next to the house. The deputy froze, a splash of blood across his face.

“Sh... Sheriff?” The deputy muttered.

I slowly began to back up to the house, when the blur of motion came again. When it passed, the hand the deputy had been reaching for his weapon with, was gone. He looked down at the ragged, bleeding stump in confusion for a moment, then started screaming. The screaming came to a sudden stop when the vampire shot up behind him, digging his fingers into the man’s hair and biting a ragged chunk out of his neck.

I raised the shotgun and fired one of the garlic-coated rounds. This time, I hit him full in the chest. He screeched in pain, falling to the ground and writhing on all fours. Shawn still had his head buried in my shoulder but was now screaming as I ran to the deputy’s car and jumped inside. I put Shawn in the passenger seat and told him, “Keep your eyes shut, no matter what!”

I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but the car didn't move. I turned back around to see the vampire holding onto the brush guard. I gritted my teeth and shifted into drive, pressing the pedal to the floor.

His eyes widened in the brief moment before he disappeared under the hood of the car. His body crunched under the tires as I plowed forward, smashing the car through the front of my house. Bricks and sheetrock showered down over the car. I glanced at the rear-view mirror and could already see him, jerkily rising to his feet. His body, broken and misshapen. I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but it didn’t move.

The windshield was cracked, so I threw the deputy's jacket over Shawn and used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass. We climbed out and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Opening the closet, I pushed Shawn inside.

“Daddy?” He cried. “What's happening.”

I hugged him tight and told him I loved him, “Stay in here, please Shawn. Close your eyes, cover your head, and keep quiet. Remember the game? I want you to win, okay?”

He nodded tears pouring down his face. I closed the closet door as I heard the sound of footsteps and whistling coming up the stairs.

I turned to face him as he stepped through the doorway. I raised the shotgun, but he dashed forward before I could react. Knocking the gun to the floor and lifting me up by my throat.

“You have given me quite the fight, Jim. Quite a fight indeed.” He said, speaking through gritted teeth.

I tried to speak but with his grasp on my throat, all I could do was wheeze.

“What's that?” He asked mockingly, “I couldn't quite hear you.”

He loosened his grip and I drug in a ragged breath, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Neither did my son.”

“What do you know about what happened to me?” He snarled.

“I know,” I coughed, “they were taken from you. They wouldn’t want this.”

He squeezed tighter, “What do you know about what they would have wanted? You think they’d want mercy for you?! Or them?!” He shouted, bloody spit flying from his lips. “The ones who raped and murdered my wife?! Burned my son alive! Should I have shown them mercy?!”

“Please.” I wheezed, “Just stop.”

He shook his head, “Times up.” Then he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into my neck.

The pain was unlike anything I ever felt. My throat felt like it was filled with hot coals, as I felt my life quickly draining away. I prayed it would be over soon and he would just leave. That he wouldn't find Shawn. I felt cold rising from my feet, up my legs, and in my arms. I was dying, and then suddenly, I was free. I fell to the floor in a heap as the vampire stumbled back. The garlic coated knife stuck in his side.

“Get away from my dad!” Yelled Shawn.

The vampire stared down at the knife then at Shawn. I somehow found enough strength to climb to my knees and crawled over to put myself between my son and the monster.

He stared down at me, then back to my son. With a hiss, he pulled the blade from his side and stepped back. He could have killed us; there was nothing we could have done to stop him. Instead, he left. Just like that, it was over.

I told the investigators that I didn't know what had happened to the sheriff and deputy. I said that after I found Ben’s body and called the Sheriff's department, went home and holed up in my room with Shawn. I didn't see what had happened downstairs.

 I told Grace the truth; I think she believes me; she says she does. I know how it sounds though; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. There has been no sign of, him, since we moved into the new house. No, we won't be moving around like we did when I was a kid, just needed a change of scenery. I recovered from the bite surprisingly fast. What had been a row of ragged puncture wounds is now barely even a scar. I feel different too, more aware of things, stronger. Maybe I'm finally beginning to heal some of my old trauma. The sun feels hotter now too, I'm sure its fine though.

I never really learned why we moved around so much when I was a kid. I always had the feeling dad was chasing something or maybe running from something. Unlike mom's usual excuse, of, “Daddy got a new, better paying job.” Dad would never answer when I would ask why we had to leave again.

He would come home from work one evening and loudly announce, “Time to go!” and mom and I would quickly pack up whatever shitty little apartment we happen to be staying in, and we would be on the road that later that night. That was my life for 14 years.

We were renting a run down singlewide somewhere in Missouri, when one day I came home from school and dad's pickup was already home. It was almost unheard of for dad to be home early on a weekday. My concern grew as I approached the house and saw that the trucks driver's side door was standing open, and so was the front door to the house.

I remember that walk, down the driveway to the house. The absolute silence of the world as my footsteps crunched over the gravel and dirt. The creak of each wooden step up to the small wobbly porch. The feel of the warm breeze that blew through the trailers open door, carrying with it a coppery smell.

I saw mom first, slumped down against the wall beside the couch. She was pale and wouldn't look at me, no matter how loud I called to her. She just stared straight ahead, shivering. After summoning up as much courage as I could, I stepped into the house and around the corner, and there was dad. At first, I couldn't understand what I was seeing, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that, that was dad.

He was on his back, on top of the dining room table. His head hung backwards off of the edge, at too sharp of an angle. His eyes rolled in their sockets before focusing on me for the briefest of moments. He tried to speak but all that came out was a wet gurgle as blood poured from his lips and... God his throat, it was gone. It was like it had been ripped away and flung across the room. Blood coated the walls and ceiling in thick dripping lines.

I don't remember much after that, but they say I ran to a neighbor's house and got them to call 911. Dad was obviously dead when police arrived. They took mom to the hospital and tried to get her to tell them what she had seen, but the shock was too deep. She wouldn’t speak. She was eventually admitted to the psyche ward. For years, therapists tried to help her to process and talk about what she had seen.

I ended up moving in with my grandparents in El Paso. They had mom moved to an assisted living home an hour's drive from their house. We visited her often at first, hoping and praying that she would come back to us. But she never did. Occasionally she would whistle, but only ever one tune. Grandpa said the tune sounded familiar, but he could never place it. Eventually the visits became every other week, then once a month. By the time I was 18, I only saw mom a couple times a year for special occasions. I spent a lot of my free time in therapy, I had nightmares of my dad's face for years, still do sometimes.

My life with my grandparents was more comfortable than I could ever have imagined. I had good food, a warm bed every night, and I was finally in school long enough to make real, lasting friendships. And I struggled with the guilt that I was happier with my grandparents than I ever was with my parents.

Now I'm a relatively happy, stable, and sane 35-year-old history teacher with a wife and a son of my own, despite the trauma I went through as a child.

For the past couple weeks, I've been waking up in the middle of the night with my mother's whistle stuck in my head. Grace told me it could be the manifestation of my guilt for not visiting mom in a while. It made sense, after all I hadn't gone to visit for the past two years. But to be honest, I didn’t feel much guilt. Maybe that made me an asshole, but I was pretty sure she didn’t even know who I was anymore. But, I was off work the next day, so I figured I had no excuse.

That morning, I got Shawn off to preschool and headed for the Shady Grove care home. I still lived roughly an hour from the home, plenty of time to think on the drive. I realized my hand was shaking as I raised my coffee to my lips and did my best to clear my mind of the questions that would probably never be answered. I took a steadying breath and turned up the radio.

“Hi Susan.” I said as I approached the nurse's desk.

The older woman with poufy blonde hair looked up and studied me for a moment before recognition spread a smile on her face, “Jim, hi. Wow it's been a while.”

I nodded, “Yeah well, I've been busy.” Clearing my throat I continued, “How is she?”

Susan stood up and came around the desk, “Oh you know her, she just sits quietly most of the time. Although some of the night staff say she has started whistling more lately. Come on, I'll take you to her.”

“How long has she been doing that for?”

“Oh, just the past week or so.”

We walked down the sterile white halls, the smell of soiled bed sheets, bleach, and stale body odor permeated the air. I hated this place, it felt like deaths waiting room.

Finally, Susan brought me to a brightly lit reading room with large windows facing a garden outside. There she was, sitting slumped in her wheelchair. Her once dark brown hair now turned gray, hung down around her shoulders in tangles. I slowly walked across the room, picking up a white plastic chair on the way. I sat down next to her and looked her over.

“Hey mom.” I said, touching her arm.

She didn't look at me; she never did. Her vacant eyes stayed fixed forward. Lost in a moment, years ago.

“Mom, it's Jim. Your son.”

Still nothing. I don't know why I always come here expecting anything else. I nodded, “It's okay mom, I'll just sit here with you for a while.”

We sat and watched the butterflies in the garden for a while. Then I stood and just as I was about to leave, mom started to whistle. When I turned to look at her, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Her eyes, while still mostly fixed straight forward, had more focus in them than I had seen in years.

“Mom?” I asked. Bending down to her.

She didn't answer just kept whistling and looking straight ahead, a single tear ran down her face. I turned to see where she was looking. Out the window, across the garden, in a darkened upstairs window on the other side of the courtyard. At first, I thought I could see something, was it a person? I couldn't tell. But when I blinked, whatever I thought I saw was gone.

I stopped a nurse as she passed, “Excuse me, what's on the other side of the building there?” I asked as I pointed to the darkened window.

“Oh, that's going to be the therapeutic wing when its finished, unfortunately the contractors are dragging their feet.” She answered.

“So, it’s empty? There’s nothing or no one in there?”

“Shouldn't be. Unless it was one of the workers.”

I nodded and turned back to mom as she slowly stopped whistling and went back to her vacant stare. I looked back at the window again but there was nothing there. I sighed and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodbye mom, I'll see you next time.” And with that I left Shady Grove.

That night, I spoke with Grace about the visit with my mother while we washed the dishes.

“Well, it sounds like not much has changed. Do you at least feel better after seeing her?”

“I don't know, maybe. On the one hand it was good to see her, but...” I trailed off as I absently dried a plate.

“But?” Prompted Grace.

I shrugged, “But at the same time, she’s not her. I keep waiting for her to snap out of it. Every time I visit, I walk in thinking maybe this time she will turn and just...” 

Grace put her hand on my shoulder, “I'm sorry.”

“I know it's awful, but sometimes I wish that if she can't get better, she could just move on. Does that make me a monster?”

She wrapped her arms around me, “No, honey. It just means you just want her to be free, whatever freedom looks like.”

I leaned in and kissed her. And then Shawn started yelling.

“Momma I had a bad dream!” He cried.

Grace sighed and smiled up at me, “To be continued.” She said before turning and leaving me to finish the dishes.

I woke up again that night, it wasn't the whistling in my head though. You know how when you think you are alone, but then you slowly get that feeling crawling up your spine that someone is looking at you? It was like that. I sat up and looked around the room but saw only shadows. I lay back down and tried to sleep.

After a while I decided to get up for a glass of water. I left my bedroom and walked down the hall past Shawn’s room, his SpongeBob nightlight illuminating his room in a yellow glow. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen. I downed one glass and was about to fill it again when I heard it. Moms whistle. Only it wasn't in my head. It was on the other side of my front door.

I froze listening to the whistle for a solid minute before it stopped. It was the exact same tune. I stepped over to the front door. Was mom out there? Could she have gotten here? No, she didn't even know where I lived. My heart was pounding as I looked through the peep hole. But, there was no one there. I pulled the curtain on the front room window aside and looked out but still nothing. Just the empty street, the neighbor's houses were all dark except for porch lights and the single streetlight on the corner.

I went back to the kitchen and drank another half glass of water before walking back upstairs and past Shawn’s room, Shawn’s dark room.

I stopped and walked back to his room. Hadn’t it been lit by his nightlight? I shrugged thinking maybe it broke, and went back to bed. Except, Shawn’s nightlight was now sitting on my pillow.

I picked it up and looked it over, wondering how it had gotten there. I almost woke grace and asked her, but she had to perform surgery in the morning and needed her sleep. I took the nightlight back to Shawn’s room to plug it in, I didn’t want him waking up without it. I was about to head back to my room when I noticed something.

Shawn’s room faced the street, and through his window under the glow of the streetlight was a man. He was a tall thin man, dressed in dark clothes with a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat, concealing his face in shadow. But I could swear I saw the glint of eyes, like an animal's eyes reflected in light, and he was looking right into the window, at me. I stared back for a moment, then the man tipped his hat before turning and walking off into the darkness.

I woke my wife and told her what I saw, “Grace, he was in the house I'm sure of it!”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “Did you see him?”

I shook my head, “I didn't see him, but I know he was here, I don't know how, I just know.”

“Okay.” she said putting her hands on my trembling arms, “Let's just calm down and call the police.”

When the sheriff arrived, I told him what had happened and he took down my statement, looking at me dubiously.

Sheriff Ward had been a longtime friend of my grandparents; he knew them well and knew my story.

“So, you're saying that this man broke into your house, moved your son's nightlight and then whistled at your door?” He asked, smoothing his mustache.

I crossed my arms and dropped my head; this was ridiculous. I was losing my mind. It was probably old trauma from my past rearing its head and making me see and hear things. I felt so embarrassed to have made this into such a big thing.

Grace said, “Jim says this man was in our house, as crazy as it sounds, I believe him.”

The Sheriff sighed, “Okay, I'll put out an APB to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious matching your description. And for the time being I'll have a car posted her in case he comes back.”

“Thank you.” Said Grace.

I nodded my thanks and we went back inside.

The next day happened to be a Saturday, so I spent the morning drinking coffee and grading papers. Around noon my long-time buddy, Ben, came over to see how things were going. I told him about what had happened or what I thought had happened over a few beers while Shawn and Bens kids played in the yard.

“Shits crazy man.” Said Ben, “You think it has something to do with your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

Ben leaned back, causing my lawn chain to groan, “Well, seeing as how your dad was murdered when you were a kid, could it be that you are seeing things. And having such an extreme reaction to it because you are afraid of being murdered yourself and leaving your son irreparably scarred the way you were?”

I stared at him for a moment, “Since when are you a fucking psychologist?”

He laughed, “Hey brother I just call em like I see em.”

I sighed, “I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe I am overreacting. I should probably make an appointment to see my therapist.”

Ben shrugged, “Not a bad idea amigo. Now pass me another beer.”

That evening Grace had to work late, so me and Shawn were on our own for dinner. We made homemade pizzas and watched cartoons until the he fell asleep on the couch. I carried him to bed and tucked him in before heading back downstairs to watch reruns of the twilight zone.

I had just sat down with my bowl of popcorn, when I heard something hit the back door. I got up and walked over to look outside. There, just outside on the ground, was Shawn's nightlight. I turned and ran upstairs as fast as I could to check on Shawn, I knew that the light was there when I tucked him in.

When I got to his room, I saw that he was fine, still asleep. I walked to my room and grabbed my shotgun before heading back downstairs.

I flung open the door and walked out into the yard pumping the shotgun, “Where are you? You son of a bitch! Come out here!”

Then I heard it, a deep and raspy voice, singing,

“Oooh death

OoOh death

Wont you spare me over till another year”

My heart froze, the tune... It was what my mother had been whistling for the past 20 years. I turned in the direction of the voice, and the man stepped out of the shadow of a small tree near the edge of my yard. He was twenty yards away when I raised my gun.

“Who are you?” I yelled, “What do you want?”

The man just smiled, even from that distance I could see there was something wrong with his teeth.

“You take one more step and I'll shoot.” I shouted.

He raised his arms in a “Here I am” gesture as he walked.

“I mean it, I'll kill you!”

But he just kept coming, so I fired. Only he wasn't where I was aiming. He was off to the left, I adjusted my aim and fired again, but he wasn't there either. He was off to the far right, I fired again. But again, I missed and in the next moment he was right in front of me. I fell back to the ground just as one of the deputies came running around the side of the house.

“What the hell are you shooting at?” He asked.

In my panic, I had forgotten about the deputy parked out front. I turned back to where the man was, but he was gone. What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him I was shooting at a ghost, even if that's what if felt like. My sanity was already up for debate as far as the sheriff's department was concerned.

I shakily got to my feet, “Uh, Opossum. They like to dig through our trash.”

The deputy shook his head, “Well did you get him at least?”

“No.” I said looking around the yard, “I guess not.”

For the rest of the night, I sat up in Shawn’s room, my shotgun across my lap, for all the good it had done. When Grace finally made it home, it was nearly 4:30AM. I told her what I had seen and she wanted to believe me. But even I knew how it sounded.

I managed to convince her that I just needed a few days on my own to get my head straight. That morning, she packed bags for her and Shawn and went to stay at her mom’s house for a couple days. I stood in the driveway and waved them off before heading back inside for my keys. I needed to take another trip to Shady Grove.

When I arrived, I found mom in the same brightly lit reading room, facing out the window. Again, I pulled over a chair and sat next to her.

“Mom, it's Jim. I really need you to talk to me.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice.

“What happened to dad?” I asked, leaving the chair and kneeling down in front of her, “What did you see?”

I was answered by silence and the same vacant stare.

“He was in my house god dammit!” I erupted. “My son, your grandson, may be in danger! Fucking say something!”

“Sir.” said one of the nurses. “You’re gonna need to lower your voice.”

“Yeah.” I said, “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

I stood and started for the door, then a thought occurred to me. I turned back to her face mom.

“Ooh death.” I began to sing, “OoOh death.”

And then something happened, I never thought I’d see. Mom slowly turned her head, her eyes widened, tears ran down her face. Her lip quivered as she took a sharp inhale of breath, and then she began screaming. Nurses quickly gathered around, pushing me back and taking her away.

30 minutes later, a nurse came and found me sitting in the reading room. “Sir?”

“Yes?” I said standing up, “How is she?”

“She’s calmed down now, we’ve given her a mild sedative, she wants to speak to you.”

The words hit me like a freight train; “She wants to speak to you.” The words I had prayed to hear for the past 20 years, but had given up on. I wordlessly followed them to her room. Her eyes fluttered up to me as I stepped through the door.

“Hi mom.” I said. She weakly waved me closer, and I knelt down by her side, taking her hand.

“Jimmy.” She said, her voice was weak and small.

“I'm here mom.” I said. Leaning close.

She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He’s coming for you, now.”

“Who is he?”

She shook her head, “Run if you want. It won't matter in the end.”

“What are you saying? Run from who?”

“Find your father's family, they will tell you. He didn't know until it was too late.”

“Tell me what?” I asked “I don't understand. Who is he?”

She gave me a sad smile and put her hand on my cheek, “He’s death.”

And with that she turned away and closed her eyes. I tried to wake her, but the nurses quickly ushered me out, saying they would call if anything changed.

I never knew my father’s family, but I remembered him talking about his sister Caroline when I was younger.

After searching Facebook, I found out she had died two years ago. The memorial page for her was run by her daughter, Carla. I sent her a message and to my surprise, she messaged back right away. She said she knew exactly who my father was and who I was.

I messaged, “Ok, maybe you can help me figure this out. As I'm sure you know, my father was murdered 20 years ago, and as crazy as it sounds, I think his killer is back. I don't understand what's happening, but my mother told me to find my father's family and ask them.”

She replied, “Yes, I’m sorry about your father. I’ve heard of the family curse, but I don't really believe it. My grandfather told me the story before he died. Supposedly the men in our family all die violent deaths or some such nonsense. He died of a heart attack so like I said I don’t really believe it.”

I replied, “Wow, okay that sounds pretty crazy. Is there any more you can tell me about the story?”

She replied, “Not really. I have some of grandpas old documents he kept on the family history, I can send you them if you like?”

I replied, “Yes thank you, that would be great.”

25 minutes later I received a series of messages containing documents on my family's history all the way back to the 1700s. It didn't take me long to sort through the images and find the one detailing “the Tennessee incident of 1865.” The story was from the journal of my ancestor, a union soldier.

“June 3rd,1865.

We arrived at Jonesborough on the long ride home to Kentucky. The men were hungry and saddle weary from days of riding, and we were in search of a bed and a bite to eat.

We came upon a homestead late in the evening, Captain Connors approached the door and knocked, hoping to find some hospitality. The young woman at the door told us she had no food nor beds for “Yankee bastards.” Like us. I was content to move on in search of some place more accommodating. Captain Connors and the men, however, were not.

Without another word, the captain pushed through the door, knocking the woman aside. The men followed his lead, and after a moment of hesitation I also dismounted and headed inside. To my dying day, I will regret the decision to follow them into that house. But I was tired and hungry, and the road had been long.

The woman protested but Connors and the men tied her to a post while we ate her food. When I had my fill, I found a comfortable place to lay my head for the night. Inevitably the men began to discuss the young woman, and who should go first. Connors announced that as captain he had the “right” to take her first. I had no interest in such things, so I took my leave of the house and made my bed in the barn outside, doing my best to block out the commotion from the house.

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of gunshots and men screaming. I flung off my saddle blanket and peered out the barn door. Evidently, the woman's reb husband had come home and found Connors and the men in his home.

Connors stumbled out the house; a gunshot wound to his left arm. He spun and fired his revolver back into the house until it ran dry. I readied my rifle and took aim at the house as a man dressed in confederate gray streaked with red burst through the door. The man had blood on his hands and murder in his eyes as he approached Connors, a dripping bowie knife in his hand. I didn't hesitate; I fired. The ball taking the man straight in the chest. At once, he stumbled back and fell to his knees, a shocked look on his rage filled face.

Slowly a few of the men that were still living stepped out of the house and surrounded the rebel. Connors stepped to his horse and pulled a second navy revolver from his saddle, just as the woman came running from the house to stand between the men and her husband. She screamed and raged at them, begging us to just leave. Connors shot her without hesitation. The rebel screamed in rage as he tried to rise at Connors, his knife still in hand. But he was easily knocked back to the ground.

A young boy appeared from within the house, crying and screaming. Apparently, the mother had hidden the boy beneath the floorboards when she saw us approaching her home. The boy ran to his  parents and stood between them and Connors.

I left the barn and approached Connors, I told him we should just leave, that the reb was as good as dead anyhow. But Connors wasn't done. Pushing the crying boy aside, he pried the knife from the dying man's hands and plunged it into his gut; the man screamed in pain and rage as tears flowed down his face. Connors ordered the men to pitch the woman and child inside the house and set it alight, then to string up a rope in the barn. I mounted my horse and refused to watch as they strung up the broken and dying man, but I heard what he said.

“You can kill me now, but I swear on all that is holy, I will find a way back and end each of you. I will reap my bloody vengeance upon every man in your bloodline if it's the last thing I d...” He went silent as the rope went taut. We left him hanging here, his home in a blaze.

I continued to ride with Connors and the men until we reached Kentucky, but I had my fill of death. What we did was wrong, and I fear for my life and the lives of my sons. I see him in my dreams, and I hear his woeful song in the night. What have we done? What have we done?”

“Jesus Christ.” I breathed. It was a horrible story, and my ancestor played a part in it. Could it be true? Was this some kind of vengeful spirit, coming to collect his due? I didn't know, but I was beginning to fear it was. I scrolled through the documents, reading several entries detailing the deaths of the men of my family. More times than not, it was the same story; a horrific wound to the neck and a mysteriously small amount of blood at the scene.

It couldn’t be what I was thinking. My throat felt dry as I opened a new search tab. I let out a single grim chuckle at the insanity of the situation as I began my research into vampirism.

There was a lot of stuff but what I found interesting were creatures called strigoi and uppier. Beings that rose from their graves in the night to feed on the life force or blood of the living. It was said that they came from those who died violently or lived sinful lives.

I went down a deep rabbit hole, reading stories and theorizing. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had only seen him at night, so maybe that myth was true. And if that was true, he had to have somewhere to rest during the day, didn't he?

And then it hit me. Shady Grove. According to Susan, mom had been whistling more for the past couple weeks. And that day I visited her, she saw something, hell even I saw something across the garden in the unfinished wing.

 I looked out the window at the afternoon sun; there was still time.

Ben picked up on the third ring, “Hey partner, what's up?”

“Ben” I said wasting no time. “I need your help, right now. Don't ask any questions, just meet me out in front of your house. Bring your lasso and a gun.”

There was a moment of pause on the line, then he said. “Alright, I'll be waiting.”

I picked him up ten minutes later and we were on our way.

“You wanna tell me what we are doing?” Asked Ben as he looked at the speedometer, “and maybe slow down a tick so we don't get pulled over.”

I looked down, I was doing 90 and the dial was rising. I let off the gas and turned to him, “How long have we been friends?”

“Since high school, I reckon.”

“And you trust me, right?”

Ben gave me a look, “Well you're making it a bit tough right now but yeah, I trust you.”

I nodded, “Good. We’re on our way to the Shady Grove care home to kill a vampire that has been stalking my family since the 1800s.”

Ben stared at me for a moment then said, “Huh. Ok. Well, I'm assuming you have a plan for the uh...” he trailed off.

“Vampire. Yeah, I think I know where he's sleeping. If we can get him into the sunlight, it may kill him or at least weaken him enough to kill him.”

“I see you've thought this through then.” He said.

“I have.”

Ben nodded again, ‘Alright.”

45 minutes later we pulled into the Shady Grove parking lot. Ben and I got out of the car and made our way around the building.

When we pushed through the doors on the addition, Ben grabbed my arm, “Hey man, how far are you taking this?”

I turned back to him, “As far as it takes. I have to keep my family safe.”

“I don't know about this, Jim.” He said, shaking his head.

“Just trust me a little longer. If we get in there and there's no vampire, you have my full permission to knock me in the head and admit me to an asylum, okay?”

Ben sighed and nodded, “Let's just get on with this.”

Once we were inside, we began our search. We scoured the first floor, then we moved on to the second floor. We searched every room, every closet, and still there was nothing.

“Okay, we’ve searched.” Said Ben. “Now do you have a preference on which asylum I send you to?”

I sighed, “I don't know what to say. I really thought we would find him.”

“Jim, I don't think there is him. I think you need help. Have you spoken to your therapist?”

I deflated. “No... But, I will.”

Ben nodded, “Come on partner, let's get you home.”

I nodded back and we turned to head for the stairs. “Thank you for coming with me Ben. You’re a good friend.”

I took my first step down the staircase, then noticed Ben’s silence. I turned back to face him, “Ben?”

He was staring up at the ceiling over the stairwell. I stepped back to see what he was looking at. There, hanging upside down from the ceiling, was a god damn vampire.

“Maybe we can share a padded cell.” Mumbled Ben.

I hushed him and sat down the toolbox. Opening it and removing a large hunting knife, a crucifix and some garlic oil. “Got your rope?”

Ben nodded out of his stupor and sat down the toolbox he had been carrying. Removing his handgun and lasso. He shakily checked the chamber of his pistol and slipped it into his back pocket.

I stepped to the back of the room and pulled down a large westward facing tarp that was covering an unfinished wall, revealing the lowering evening sun.

“What's the plan here?” Asked Ben.

I came back and stood beside him, pouring the garlic oil onto the knife blade. “Well, you just rope him and then we pull him to the sunlight, and I stab him with this. If that doesn't work, shoot him in the head until he stops moving.”

“This is fucking insane!” Said ben in a panicked whisper.

“I know, but here we are, and we are running out of time.” I said, motioning to the setting sun.

“Shit. Alright let's do this.” He said as he prepared his rope. Mumbling  under his breath, “Son of a bitch got me out her after a god damn vampire.”

Ben twirled the lasso overhead three times, and then let it fly. The vampire's eyes sprung open just as he cinched the rope tight around his chest. I grabbed the rope and we both ran backwards, dragging the flailing creature into the setting sunlight. The vampire immediately burst into flames and began shrieking in an awful high and low pitch at the same time. He flailed and flopped, kicking out and trying to get loose. But we held tight and in the next moment, the vampire withered to an ashy corpse.

“People were sure to have heard that.” Said Ben, breathing heavily.

I nodded, “Yeah, we should go.”

“What about the body?”

I looked around the room, “There, the tarp.”

As fast as we could, we wrapped the smoldering body in the tarp and made a dash for the car, stowing the remains in the trunk. Neither of us spoke on the drive home.

I dropped a sick looking Ben off at his house without saying a word and headed home. When I pulled into the driveway, Grace and Shawn were already home. I got out and met them in the driveway. “What are you doing home? I thought you were staying at your moms.”

“I was, but there was an emergency at work. I would have left Shawn with mom, but she had the flu. I've been trying to call you.” she said, then after looking me over she asked, “Are you alright?”

I tried to smile, “Yeah, I think I'm alright. But we should talk.”

She touched my arm "Of course, honey. But can it wait till I get home? I really have to go.”

I looked back at the trunk of my car and nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled, “Shawn’s had dinner, but he still needs a bath. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Me too.” I smiled then kissed her before she left.

Shawn and I went inside and sat on the couch watching Scooby doo for the next hour or so. I had just put Shawn to bed, when my phone went off. It was a text from Ben, “Need to talk. Come over, now.”

He was shaken up, so was I. Finding out vampires exist just minutes before you kill one would send anyone over the edge. I text back, “Okay, just put Shawn to bed. Be over in a bit.”

We still keep a baby monitor in Shawn’s' room since my office is downstairs and across the house, so I slipped the receiver into my back pocket before heading over to Ben's house.

When I got there, I saw that his shop lights were on. Ben had converted his backyard work shop into a dive bar. I pushed the door open to see Ben slumped in his barstool, his back to me.

“Hey.” I said approaching him, “You okay, pal?”

He didn't answer.

“Ben?” I said as I reached out and spun the barstool around.

 Ben's head swung loosely as he spun, revealing his torn open throat and shattered spine.

I stumbled back in shock, falling to the floor. Ben's head dangled there until the remaining flap of skin stretched and snapped. His head fell to the floor with a wet thud.

Suddenly the jukebox blared to life. I turned to see him. His back to me as he leaned over the jukebox. His burnt clothes hanging on him like rags. His sickly gray skin covered in fresh burn scars.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.” He smiled, turning to face me, “My how you've grown.”

I tried to move but I was paralyzed with fear, struggling to even drag in a breath.

“You didn't see me back then, did you?.” He laughed, “But I saw you.”

I leapt to my feet and ran for the door; the vampires laugh following me all the way. “Where ya runnin to boy?”

I hit the door as I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing the sheriff's office as I ran. After 5 long rings the dispatcher answered, “Sherrif's department this is...”

“I need someone here now!” I screamed, cutting her off, “He killed him! God, he killed Ben!”

“Slow down, who killed who? What's going on?”

I told her the address as I ran but didn’t listen to whatever else she was saying. I slammed through my front door and started up the stairs when I remembered the garlic oil and the knife, still in my car. I turned and ran back downstairs and out to the car, grabbing the knife and stuffing the small bottle of garlic oil into my pocket before bolting back through the front door.

I ran to my room and grabbed my shotgun, ejecting the shells and prying them open with the knife before pouring some of the oil over the pellets inside. I slapped a piece of tape over the tip if each shell, hoping it would be enough to hold them closed and reloaded the shotgun.

 Suddenly there came a heavy thud on the roof, followed by footsteps. I ran to Shawn’s room and scooped him up.

“Dad? What's going on? Where are we going?” He asked sleepily.

“Don't worry buddy, we’re gonna go get momma then we are all going on a trip. But right now, I need you to hold on tight to me and keep quiet, can you do that?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me, “Is this like a game or something?”

“Yeah.” I said. Holding him tight and heading down the stairs. “It's just like a game, you gotta keep quiet, hold on to me and keep your eyes closed tight, got it?”

“Okay.” He said, burying his head in my shoulder.

“I love you, Shawn.” I said, tears rolling down my face.

“Love you dad.” He said, his little voice muffled by my shoulder.

I was at the front door, wondering if I could make it to my car when flashing red and blue came around the corner. I flung the door open and stepped outside to meet them.

“Jim.” Said Sheriff Ward stepping out of his patrol car, “What the hell's going on? What are you doing with that gun?”

Another patrol car pulled up next to him, and a deputy stepped out, meeting the Sheriff as they walked up the driveway.

“Sheriff it's the intruder from the other night he’s...”

“Is that what is this about? Dammit Jim.” Groaned the Sheriff, “You have got to stop...”

He cut off as he was suddenly hit by a lightning-fast blur of movement from the side yard. He didn't even have time to scream. The blur, along with the sheriff, disappeared through a tall hedge next to the house. The deputy froze, a splash of blood across his face.

“Sh... Sheriff?” The deputy muttered.

I slowly began to back up to the house, when the blur of motion came again. When it passed, the hand the deputy had been reaching for his weapon with, was gone. He looked down at the ragged, bleeding stump in confusion for a moment, then started screaming. The screaming came to a sudden stop when the vampire shot up behind him, digging his fingers into the man’s hair and biting a ragged chunk out of his neck.

I raised the shotgun and fired one of the garlic-coated rounds. This time, I hit him full in the chest. He screeched in pain, falling to the ground and writhing on all fours. Shawn still had his head buried in my shoulder but was now screaming as I ran to the deputy’s car and jumped inside. I put Shawn in the passenger seat and told him, “Keep your eyes shut, no matter what!”

I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but the car didn't move. I turned back around to see the vampire holding onto the brush guard. I gritted my teeth and shifted into drive, pressing the pedal to the floor.

His eyes widened in the brief moment before he disappeared under the hood of the car. His body crunched under the tires as I plowed forward, smashing the car through the front of my house. Bricks and sheetrock showered down over the car. I glanced at the rear-view mirror and could already see him, jerkily rising to his feet. His body, broken and misshapen. I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but it didn’t move.

The windshield was cracked, so I threw the deputy's jacket over Shawn and used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass. We climbed out and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Opening the closet, I pushed Shawn inside.

“Daddy?” He cried. “What's happening.”

I hugged him tight and told him I loved him, “Stay in here, please Shawn. Close your eyes, cover your head, and keep quiet. Remember the game? I want you to win, okay?”

He nodded tears pouring down his face. I closed the closet door as I heard the sound of footsteps and whistling coming up the stairs.

I turned to face him as he stepped through the doorway. I raised the shotgun, but he dashed forward before I could react. Knocking the gun to the floor and lifting me up by my throat.

“You have given me quite the fight, Jim. Quite a fight indeed.” He said, speaking through gritted teeth.

I tried to speak but with his grasp on my throat, all I could do was wheeze.

“What's that?” He asked mockingly, “I couldn't quite hear you.”

He loosened his grip and I drug in a ragged breath, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Neither did my son.”

“What do you know about what happened to me?” He snarled.

“I know,” I coughed, “they were taken from you. They wouldn’t want this.”

He squeezed tighter, “What do you know about what they would have wanted? You think they’d want mercy for you?! Or them?!” He shouted, bloody spit flying from his lips. “The ones who raped and murdered my wife?! Burned my son alive! Should I have shown them mercy?!”

“Please.” I wheezed, “Just stop.”

He shook his head, “Times up.” Then he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into my neck.

The pain was unlike anything I ever felt. My throat felt like it was filled with hot coals, as I felt my life quickly draining away. I prayed it would be over soon and he would just leave. That he wouldn't find Shawn. I felt cold rising from my feet, up my legs, and in my arms. I was dying, and then suddenly, I was free. I fell to the floor in a heap as the vampire stumbled back. The garlic coated knife stuck in his side.

“Get away from my dad!” Yelled Shawn.

The vampire stared down at the knife then at Shawn. I somehow found enough strength to climb to my knees and crawled over to put myself between my son and the monster.

He stared down at me, then back to my son. With a hiss, he pulled the blade from his side and stepped back. He could have killed us; there was nothing we could have done to stop him. Instead, he left. Just like that, it was over.

I told the investigators that I didn't know what had happened to the sheriff and deputy. I said that after I found Ben’s body and called the Sheriff's department, went home and holed up in my room with Shawn. I didn't see what had happened downstairs.

 I told Grace the truth; I think she believes me; she says she does. I know how it sounds though; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. There has been no sign of, him, since we moved into the new house. No, we won't be moving around like we did when I was a kid, just needed a change of scenery. I recovered from the bite surprisingly fast. What had been a row of ragged puncture wounds is now barely even a scar. I feel different too, more aware of things, stronger. Maybe I'm finally beginning to heal some of my old trauma. The sun feels hotter now too, I'm sure its fine though.

I never really learned why we moved around so much when I was a kid. I always had the feeling dad was chasing something or maybe running from something. Unlike mom's usual excuse, of, “Daddy got a new, better paying job.” Dad would never answer when I would ask why we had to leave again.

He would come home from work one evening and loudly announce, “Time to go!” and mom and I would quickly pack up whatever shitty little apartment we happen to be staying in, and we would be on the road that later that night. That was my life for 14 years.

We were renting a run down singlewide somewhere in Missouri, when one day I came home from school and dad's pickup was already home. It was almost unheard of for dad to be home early on a weekday. My concern grew as I approached the house and saw that the trucks driver's side door was standing open, and so was the front door to the house.

I remember that walk, down the driveway to the house. The absolute silence of the world as my footsteps crunched over the gravel and dirt. The creak of each wooden step up to the small wobbly porch. The feel of the warm breeze that blew through the trailers open door, carrying with it a coppery smell.

I saw mom first, slumped down against the wall beside the couch. She was pale and wouldn't look at me, no matter how loud I called to her. She just stared straight ahead, shivering. After summoning up as much courage as I could, I stepped into the house and around the corner, and there was dad. At first, I couldn't understand what I was seeing, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that, that was dad.

He was on his back, on top of the dining room table. His head hung backwards off of the edge, at too sharp of an angle. His eyes rolled in their sockets before focusing on me for the briefest of moments. He tried to speak but all that came out was a wet gurgle as blood poured from his lips and... God his throat, it was gone. It was like it had been ripped away and flung across the room. Blood coated the walls and ceiling in thick dripping lines.

I don't remember much after that, but they say I ran to a neighbor's house and got them to call 911. Dad was obviously dead when police arrived. They took mom to the hospital and tried to get her to tell them what she had seen, but the shock was too deep. She wouldn’t speak. She was eventually admitted to the psyche ward. For years, therapists tried to help her to process and talk about what she had seen.

I ended up moving in with my grandparents in El Paso. They had mom moved to an assisted living home an hour's drive from their house. We visited her often at first, hoping and praying that she would come back to us. But she never did. Occasionally she would whistle, but only ever one tune. Grandpa said the tune sounded familiar, but he could never place it. Eventually the visits became every other week, then once a month. By the time I was 18, I only saw mom a couple times a year for special occasions. I spent a lot of my free time in therapy, I had nightmares of my dad's face for years, still do sometimes.

My life with my grandparents was more comfortable than I could ever have imagined. I had good food, a warm bed every night, and I was finally in school long enough to make real, lasting friendships. And I struggled with the guilt that I was happier with my grandparents than I ever was with my parents.

Now I'm a relatively happy, stable, and sane 35-year-old history teacher with a wife and a son of my own, despite the trauma I went through as a child.

For the past couple weeks, I've been waking up in the middle of the night with my mother's whistle stuck in my head. Grace told me it could be the manifestation of my guilt for not visiting mom in a while. It made sense, after all I hadn't gone to visit for the past two years. But to be honest, I didn’t feel much guilt. Maybe that made me an asshole, but I was pretty sure she didn’t even know who I was anymore. But, I was off work the next day, so I figured I had no excuse.

That morning, I got Shawn off to preschool and headed for the Shady Grove care home. I still lived roughly an hour from the home, plenty of time to think on the drive. I realized my hand was shaking as I raised my coffee to my lips and did my best to clear my mind of the questions that would probably never be answered. I took a steadying breath and turned up the radio.

“Hi Susan.” I said as I approached the nurse's desk.

The older woman with poufy blonde hair looked up and studied me for a moment before recognition spread a smile on her face, “Jim, hi. Wow it's been a while.”

I nodded, “Yeah well, I've been busy.” Clearing my throat I continued, “How is she?”

Susan stood up and came around the desk, “Oh you know her, she just sits quietly most of the time. Although some of the night staff say she has started whistling more lately. Come on, I'll take you to her.”

“How long has she been doing that for?”

“Oh, just the past week or so.”

We walked down the sterile white halls, the smell of soiled bed sheets, bleach, and stale body odor permeated the air. I hated this place, it felt like deaths waiting room.

Finally, Susan brought me to a brightly lit reading room with large windows facing a garden outside. There she was, sitting slumped in her wheelchair. Her once dark brown hair now turned gray, hung down around her shoulders in tangles. I slowly walked across the room, picking up a white plastic chair on the way. I sat down next to her and looked her over.

“Hey mom.” I said, touching her arm.

She didn't look at me; she never did. Her vacant eyes stayed fixed forward. Lost in a moment, years ago.

“Mom, it's Jim. Your son.”

Still nothing. I don't know why I always come here expecting anything else. I nodded, “It's okay mom, I'll just sit here with you for a while.”

We sat and watched the butterflies in the garden for a while. Then I stood and just as I was about to leave, mom started to whistle. When I turned to look at her, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Her eyes, while still mostly fixed straight forward, had more focus in them than I had seen in years.

“Mom?” I asked. Bending down to her.

She didn't answer just kept whistling and looking straight ahead, a single tear ran down her face. I turned to see where she was looking. Out the window, across the garden, in a darkened upstairs window on the other side of the courtyard. At first, I thought I could see something, was it a person? I couldn't tell. But when I blinked, whatever I thought I saw was gone.

I stopped a nurse as she passed, “Excuse me, what's on the other side of the building there?” I asked as I pointed to the darkened window.

“Oh, that's going to be the therapeutic wing when its finished, unfortunately the contractors are dragging their feet.” She answered.

“So, it’s empty? There’s nothing or no one in there?”

“Shouldn't be. Unless it was one of the workers.”

I nodded and turned back to mom as she slowly stopped whistling and went back to her vacant stare. I looked back at the window again but there was nothing there. I sighed and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodbye mom, I'll see you next time.” And with that I left Shady Grove.

That night, I spoke with Grace about the visit with my mother while we washed the dishes.

“Well, it sounds like not much has changed. Do you at least feel better after seeing her?”

“I don't know, maybe. On the one hand it was good to see her, but...” I trailed off as I absently dried a plate.

“But?” Prompted Grace.

I shrugged, “But at the same time, she’s not her. I keep waiting for her to snap out of it. Every time I visit, I walk in thinking maybe this time she will turn and just...” 

Grace put her hand on my shoulder, “I'm sorry.”

“I know it's awful, but sometimes I wish that if she can't get better, she could just move on. Does that make me a monster?”

She wrapped her arms around me, “No, honey. It just means you just want her to be free, whatever freedom looks like.”

I leaned in and kissed her. And then Shawn started yelling.

“Momma I had a bad dream!” He cried.

Grace sighed and smiled up at me, “To be continued.” She said before turning and leaving me to finish the dishes.

I woke up again that night, it wasn't the whistling in my head though. You know how when you think you are alone, but then you slowly get that feeling crawling up your spine that someone is looking at you? It was like that. I sat up and looked around the room but saw only shadows. I lay back down and tried to sleep.

After a while I decided to get up for a glass of water. I left my bedroom and walked down the hall past Shawn’s room, his SpongeBob nightlight illuminating his room in a yellow glow. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen. I downed one glass and was about to fill it again when I heard it. Moms whistle. Only it wasn't in my head. It was on the other side of my front door.

I froze listening to the whistle for a solid minute before it stopped. It was the exact same tune. I stepped over to the front door. Was mom out there? Could she have gotten here? No, she didn't even know where I lived. My heart was pounding as I looked through the peep hole. But, there was no one there. I pulled the curtain on the front room window aside and looked out but still nothing. Just the empty street, the neighbor's houses were all dark except for porch lights and the single streetlight on the corner.

I went back to the kitchen and drank another half glass of water before walking back upstairs and past Shawn’s room, Shawn’s dark room.

I stopped and walked back to his room. Hadn’t it been lit by his nightlight? I shrugged thinking maybe it broke, and went back to bed. Except, Shawn’s nightlight was now sitting on my pillow.

I picked it up and looked it over, wondering how it had gotten there. I almost woke grace and asked her, but she had to perform surgery in the morning and needed her sleep. I took the nightlight back to Shawn’s room to plug it in, I didn’t want him waking up without it. I was about to head back to my room when I noticed something.

Shawn’s room faced the street, and through his window under the glow of the streetlight was a man. He was a tall thin man, dressed in dark clothes with a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat, concealing his face in shadow. But I could swear I saw the glint of eyes, like an animal's eyes reflected in light, and he was looking right into the window, at me. I stared back for a moment, then the man tipped his hat before turning and walking off into the darkness.

I woke my wife and told her what I saw, “Grace, he was in the house I'm sure of it!”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “Did you see him?”

I shook my head, “I didn't see him, but I know he was here, I don't know how, I just know.”

“Okay.” she said putting her hands on my trembling arms, “Let's just calm down and call the police.”

When the sheriff arrived, I told him what had happened and he took down my statement, looking at me dubiously.

Sheriff Ward had been a longtime friend of my grandparents; he knew them well and knew my story.

“So, you're saying that this man broke into your house, moved your son's nightlight and then whistled at your door?” He asked, smoothing his mustache.

I crossed my arms and dropped my head; this was ridiculous. I was losing my mind. It was probably old trauma from my past rearing its head and making me see and hear things. I felt so embarrassed to have made this into such a big thing.

Grace said, “Jim says this man was in our house, as crazy as it sounds, I believe him.”

The Sheriff sighed, “Okay, I'll put out an APB to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious matching your description. And for the time being I'll have a car posted her in case he comes back.”

“Thank you.” Said Grace.

I nodded my thanks and we went back inside.

The next day happened to be a Saturday, so I spent the morning drinking coffee and grading papers. Around noon my long-time buddy, Ben, came over to see how things were going. I told him about what had happened or what I thought had happened over a few beers while Shawn and Bens kids played in the yard.

“Shits crazy man.” Said Ben, “You think it has something to do with your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

Ben leaned back, causing my lawn chain to groan, “Well, seeing as how your dad was murdered when you were a kid, could it be that you are seeing things. And having such an extreme reaction to it because you are afraid of being murdered yourself and leaving your son irreparably scarred the way you were?”

I stared at him for a moment, “Since when are you a fucking psychologist?”

He laughed, “Hey brother I just call em like I see em.”

I sighed, “I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe I am overreacting. I should probably make an appointment to see my therapist.”

Ben shrugged, “Not a bad idea amigo. Now pass me another beer.”

That evening Grace had to work late, so me and Shawn were on our own for dinner. We made homemade pizzas and watched cartoons until the he fell asleep on the couch. I carried him to bed and tucked him in before heading back downstairs to watch reruns of the twilight zone.

I had just sat down with my bowl of popcorn, when I heard something hit the back door. I got up and walked over to look outside. There, just outside on the ground, was Shawn's nightlight. I turned and ran upstairs as fast as I could to check on Shawn, I knew that the light was there when I tucked him in.

When I got to his room, I saw that he was fine, still asleep. I walked to my room and grabbed my shotgun before heading back downstairs.

I flung open the door and walked out into the yard pumping the shotgun, “Where are you? You son of a bitch! Come out here!”

Then I heard it, a deep and raspy voice, singing,

“Oooh death

OoOh death

Wont you spare me over till another year”

My heart froze, the tune... It was what my mother had been whistling for the past 20 years. I turned in the direction of the voice, and the man stepped out of the shadow of a small tree near the edge of my yard. He was twenty yards away when I raised my gun.

“Who are you?” I yelled, “What do you want?”

The man just smiled, even from that distance I could see there was something wrong with his teeth.

“You take one more step and I'll shoot.” I shouted.

He raised his arms in a “Here I am” gesture as he walked.

“I mean it, I'll kill you!”

But he just kept coming, so I fired. Only he wasn't where I was aiming. He was off to the left, I adjusted my aim and fired again, but he wasn't there either. He was off to the far right, I fired again. But again, I missed and in the next moment he was right in front of me. I fell back to the ground just as one of the deputies came running around the side of the house.

“What the hell are you shooting at?” He asked.

In my panic, I had forgotten about the deputy parked out front. I turned back to where the man was, but he was gone. What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him I was shooting at a ghost, even if that's what if felt like. My sanity was already up for debate as far as the sheriff's department was concerned.

I shakily got to my feet, “Uh, Opossum. They like to dig through our trash.”

The deputy shook his head, “Well did you get him at least?”

“No.” I said looking around the yard, “I guess not.”

For the rest of the night, I sat up in Shawn’s room, my shotgun across my lap, for all the good it had done. When Grace finally made it home, it was nearly 4:30AM. I told her what I had seen and she wanted to believe me. But even I knew how it sounded.

I managed to convince her that I just needed a few days on my own to get my head straight. That morning, she packed bags for her and Shawn and went to stay at her mom’s house for a couple days. I stood in the driveway and waved them off before heading back inside for my keys. I needed to take another trip to Shady Grove.

When I arrived, I found mom in the same brightly lit reading room, facing out the window. Again, I pulled over a chair and sat next to her.

“Mom, it's Jim. I really need you to talk to me.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice.

“What happened to dad?” I asked, leaving the chair and kneeling down in front of her, “What did you see?”

I was answered by silence and the same vacant stare.

“He was in my house god dammit!” I erupted. “My son, your grandson, may be in danger! Fucking say something!”

“Sir.” said one of the nurses. “You’re gonna need to lower your voice.”

“Yeah.” I said, “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

I stood and started for the door, then a thought occurred to me. I turned back to her face mom.

“Ooh death.” I began to sing, “OoOh death.”

And then something happened, I never thought I’d see. Mom slowly turned her head, her eyes widened, tears ran down her face. Her lip quivered as she took a sharp inhale of breath, and then she began screaming. Nurses quickly gathered around, pushing me back and taking her away.

30 minutes later, a nurse came and found me sitting in the reading room. “Sir?”

“Yes?” I said standing up, “How is she?”

“She’s calmed down now, we’ve given her a mild sedative, she wants to speak to you.”

The words hit me like a freight train; “She wants to speak to you.” The words I had prayed to hear for the past 20 years, but had given up on. I wordlessly followed them to her room. Her eyes fluttered up to me as I stepped through the door.

“Hi mom.” I said. She weakly waved me closer, and I knelt down by her side, taking her hand.

“Jimmy.” She said, her voice was weak and small.

“I'm here mom.” I said. Leaning close.

She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He’s coming for you, now.”

“Who is he?”

She shook her head, “Run if you want. It won't matter in the end.”

“What are you saying? Run from who?”

“Find your father's family, they will tell you. He didn't know until it was too late.”

“Tell me what?” I asked “I don't understand. Who is he?”

She gave me a sad smile and put her hand on my cheek, “He’s death.”

And with that she turned away and closed her eyes. I tried to wake her, but the nurses quickly ushered me out, saying they would call if anything changed.

I never knew my father’s family, but I remembered him talking about his sister Caroline when I was younger.

After searching Facebook, I found out she had died two years ago. The memorial page for her was run by her daughter, Carla. I sent her a message and to my surprise, she messaged back right away. She said she knew exactly who my father was and who I was.

I messaged, “Ok, maybe you can help me figure this out. As I'm sure you know, my father was murdered 20 years ago, and as crazy as it sounds, I think his killer is back. I don't understand what's happening, but my mother told me to find my father's family and ask them.”

She replied, “Yes, I’m sorry about your father. I’ve heard of the family curse, but I don't really believe it. My grandfather told me the story before he died. Supposedly the men in our family all die violent deaths or some such nonsense. He died of a heart attack so like I said I don’t really believe it.”

I replied, “Wow, okay that sounds pretty crazy. Is there any more you can tell me about the story?”

She replied, “Not really. I have some of grandpas old documents he kept on the family history, I can send you them if you like?”

I replied, “Yes thank you, that would be great.”

25 minutes later I received a series of messages containing documents on my family's history all the way back to the 1700s. It didn't take me long to sort through the images and find the one detailing “the Tennessee incident of 1865.” The story was from the journal of my ancestor, a union soldier.

“June 3rd,1865.

We arrived at Jonesborough on the long ride home to Kentucky. The men were hungry and saddle weary from days of riding, and we were in search of a bed and a bite to eat.

We came upon a homestead late in the evening, Captain Connors approached the door and knocked, hoping to find some hospitality. The young woman at the door told us she had no food nor beds for “Yankee bastards.” Like us. I was content to move on in search of some place more accommodating. Captain Connors and the men, however, were not.

Without another word, the captain pushed through the door, knocking the woman aside. The men followed his lead, and after a moment of hesitation I also dismounted and headed inside. To my dying day, I will regret the decision to follow them into that house. But I was tired and hungry, and the road had been long.

The woman protested but Connors and the men tied her to a post while we ate her food. When I had my fill, I found a comfortable place to lay my head for the night. Inevitably the men began to discuss the young woman, and who should go first. Connors announced that as captain he had the “right” to take her first. I had no interest in such things, so I took my leave of the house and made my bed in the barn outside, doing my best to block out the commotion from the house.

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of gunshots and men screaming. I flung off my saddle blanket and peered out the barn door. Evidently, the woman's reb husband had come home and found Connors and the men in his home.

Connors stumbled out the house; a gunshot wound to his left arm. He spun and fired his revolver back into the house until it ran dry. I readied my rifle and took aim at the house as a man dressed in confederate gray streaked with red burst through the door. The man had blood on his hands and murder in his eyes as he approached Connors, a dripping bowie knife in his hand. I didn't hesitate; I fired. The ball taking the man straight in the chest. At once, he stumbled back and fell to his knees, a shocked look on his rage filled face.

Slowly a few of the men that were still living stepped out of the house and surrounded the rebel. Connors stepped to his horse and pulled a second navy revolver from his saddle, just as the woman came running from the house to stand between the men and her husband. She screamed and raged at them, begging us to just leave. Connors shot her without hesitation. The rebel screamed in rage as he tried to rise at Connors, his knife still in hand. But he was easily knocked back to the ground.

A young boy appeared from within the house, crying and screaming. Apparently, the mother had hidden the boy beneath the floorboards when she saw us approaching her home. The boy ran to his  parents and stood between them and Connors.

I left the barn and approached Connors, I told him we should just leave, that the reb was as good as dead anyhow. But Connors wasn't done. Pushing the crying boy aside, he pried the knife from the dying man's hands and plunged it into his gut; the man screamed in pain and rage as tears flowed down his face. Connors ordered the men to pitch the woman and child inside the house and set it alight, then to string up a rope in the barn. I mounted my horse and refused to watch as they strung up the broken and dying man, but I heard what he said.

“You can kill me now, but I swear on all that is holy, I will find a way back and end each of you. I will reap my bloody vengeance upon every man in your bloodline if it's the last thing I d...” He went silent as the rope went taut. We left him hanging here, his home in a blaze.

I continued to ride with Connors and the men until we reached Kentucky, but I had my fill of death. What we did was wrong, and I fear for my life and the lives of my sons. I see him in my dreams, and I hear his woeful song in the night. What have we done? What have we done?”

“Jesus Christ.” I breathed. It was a horrible story, and my ancestor played a part in it. Could it be true? Was this some kind of vengeful spirit, coming to collect his due? I didn't know, but I was beginning to fear it was. I scrolled through the documents, reading several entries detailing the deaths of the men of my family. More times than not, it was the same story; a horrific wound to the neck and a mysteriously small amount of blood at the scene.

It couldn’t be what I was thinking. My throat felt dry as I opened a new search tab. I let out a single grim chuckle at the insanity of the situation as I began my research into vampirism.

There was a lot of stuff but what I found interesting were creatures called strigoi and uppier. Beings that rose from their graves in the night to feed on the life force or blood of the living. It was said that they came from those who died violently or lived sinful lives.

I went down a deep rabbit hole, reading stories and theorizing. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had only seen him at night, so maybe that myth was true. And if that was true, he had to have somewhere to rest during the day, didn't he?

And then it hit me. Shady Grove. According to Susan, mom had been whistling more for the past couple weeks. And that day I visited her, she saw something, hell even I saw something across the garden in the unfinished wing.

 I looked out the window at the afternoon sun; there was still time.

Ben picked up on the third ring, “Hey partner, what's up?”

“Ben” I said wasting no time. “I need your help, right now. Don't ask any questions, just meet me out in front of your house. Bring your lasso and a gun.”

There was a moment of pause on the line, then he said. “Alright, I'll be waiting.”

I picked him up ten minutes later and we were on our way.

“You wanna tell me what we are doing?” Asked Ben as he looked at the speedometer, “and maybe slow down a tick so we don't get pulled over.”

I looked down, I was doing 90 and the dial was rising. I let off the gas and turned to him, “How long have we been friends?”

“Since high school, I reckon.”

“And you trust me, right?”

Ben gave me a look, “Well you're making it a bit tough right now but yeah, I trust you.”

I nodded, “Good. We’re on our way to the Shady Grove care home to kill a vampire that has been stalking my family since the 1800s.”

Ben stared at me for a moment then said, “Huh. Ok. Well, I'm assuming you have a plan for the uh...” he trailed off.

“Vampire. Yeah, I think I know where he's sleeping. If we can get him into the sunlight, it may kill him or at least weaken him enough to kill him.”

“I see you've thought this through then.” He said.

“I have.”

Ben nodded again, ‘Alright.”

45 minutes later we pulled into the Shady Grove parking lot. Ben and I got out of the car and made our way around the building.

When we pushed through the doors on the addition, Ben grabbed my arm, “Hey man, how far are you taking this?”

I turned back to him, “As far as it takes. I have to keep my family safe.”

“I don't know about this, Jim.” He said, shaking his head.

“Just trust me a little longer. If we get in there and there's no vampire, you have my full permission to knock me in the head and admit me to an asylum, okay?”

Ben sighed and nodded, “Let's just get on with this.”

Once we were inside, we began our search. We scoured the first floor, then we moved on to the second floor. We searched every room, every closet, and still there was nothing.

“Okay, we’ve searched.” Said Ben. “Now do you have a preference on which asylum I send you to?”

I sighed, “I don't know what to say. I really thought we would find him.”

“Jim, I don't think there is him. I think you need help. Have you spoken to your therapist?”

I deflated. “No... But, I will.”

Ben nodded, “Come on partner, let's get you home.”

I nodded back and we turned to head for the stairs. “Thank you for coming with me Ben. You’re a good friend.”

I took my first step down the staircase, then noticed Ben’s silence. I turned back to face him, “Ben?”

He was staring up at the ceiling over the stairwell. I stepped back to see what he was looking at. There, hanging upside down from the ceiling, was a god damn vampire.

“Maybe we can share a padded cell.” Mumbled Ben.

I hushed him and sat down the toolbox. Opening it and removing a large hunting knife, a crucifix and some garlic oil. “Got your rope?”

Ben nodded out of his stupor and sat down the toolbox he had been carrying. Removing his handgun and lasso. He shakily checked the chamber of his pistol and slipped it into his back pocket.

I stepped to the back of the room and pulled down a large westward facing tarp that was covering an unfinished wall, revealing the lowering evening sun.

“What's the plan here?” Asked Ben.

I came back and stood beside him, pouring the garlic oil onto the knife blade. “Well, you just rope him and then we pull him to the sunlight, and I stab him with this. If that doesn't work, shoot him in the head until he stops moving.”

“This is fucking insane!” Said ben in a panicked whisper.

“I know, but here we are, and we are running out of time.” I said, motioning to the setting sun.

“Shit. Alright let's do this.” He said as he prepared his rope. Mumbling  under his breath, “Son of a bitch got me out her after a god damn vampire.”

Ben twirled the lasso overhead three times, and then let it fly. The vampire's eyes sprung open just as he cinched the rope tight around his chest. I grabbed the rope and we both ran backwards, dragging the flailing creature into the setting sunlight. The vampire immediately burst into flames and began shrieking in an awful high and low pitch at the same time. He flailed and flopped, kicking out and trying to get loose. But we held tight and in the next moment, the vampire withered to an ashy corpse.

“People were sure to have heard that.” Said Ben, breathing heavily.

I nodded, “Yeah, we should go.”

“What about the body?”

I looked around the room, “There, the tarp.”

As fast as we could, we wrapped the smoldering body in the tarp and made a dash for the car, stowing the remains in the trunk. Neither of us spoke on the drive home.

I dropped a sick looking Ben off at his house without saying a word and headed home. When I pulled into the driveway, Grace and Shawn were already home. I got out and met them in the driveway. “What are you doing home? I thought you were staying at your moms.”

“I was, but there was an emergency at work. I would have left Shawn with mom, but she had the flu. I've been trying to call you.” she said, then after looking me over she asked, “Are you alright?”

I tried to smile, “Yeah, I think I'm alright. But we should talk.”

She touched my arm "Of course, honey. But can it wait till I get home? I really have to go.”

I looked back at the trunk of my car and nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled, “Shawn’s had dinner, but he still needs a bath. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Me too.” I smiled then kissed her before she left.

Shawn and I went inside and sat on the couch watching Scooby doo for the next hour or so. I had just put Shawn to bed, when my phone went off. It was a text from Ben, “Need to talk. Come over, now.”

He was shaken up, so was I. Finding out vampires exist just minutes before you kill one would send anyone over the edge. I text back, “Okay, just put Shawn to bed. Be over in a bit.”

We still keep a baby monitor in Shawn’s' room since my office is downstairs and across the house, so I slipped the receiver into my back pocket before heading over to Ben's house.

When I got there, I saw that his shop lights were on. Ben had converted his backyard work shop into a dive bar. I pushed the door open to see Ben slumped in his barstool, his back to me.

“Hey.” I said approaching him, “You okay, pal?”

He didn't answer.

“Ben?” I said as I reached out and spun the barstool around.

 Ben's head swung loosely as he spun, revealing his torn open throat and shattered spine.

I stumbled back in shock, falling to the floor. Ben's head dangled there until the remaining flap of skin stretched and snapped. His head fell to the floor with a wet thud.

Suddenly the jukebox blared to life. I turned to see him. His back to me as he leaned over the jukebox. His burnt clothes hanging on him like rags. His sickly gray skin covered in fresh burn scars.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.” He smiled, turning to face me, “My how you've grown.”

I tried to move but I was paralyzed with fear, struggling to even drag in a breath.

“You didn't see me back then, did you?.” He laughed, “But I saw you.”

I leapt to my feet and ran for the door; the vampires laugh following me all the way. “Where ya runnin to boy?”

I hit the door as I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing the sheriff's office as I ran. After 5 long rings the dispatcher answered, “Sherrif's department this is...”

“I need someone here now!” I screamed, cutting her off, “He killed him! God, he killed Ben!”

“Slow down, who killed who? What's going on?”

I told her the address as I ran but didn’t listen to whatever else she was saying. I slammed through my front door and started up the stairs when I remembered the garlic oil and the knife, still in my car. I turned and ran back downstairs and out to the car, grabbing the knife and stuffing the small bottle of garlic oil into my pocket before bolting back through the front door.

I ran to my room and grabbed my shotgun, ejecting the shells and prying them open with the knife before pouring some of the oil over the pellets inside. I slapped a piece of tape over the tip if each shell, hoping it would be enough to hold them closed and reloaded the shotgun.

 Suddenly there came a heavy thud on the roof, followed by footsteps. I ran to Shawn’s room and scooped him up.

“Dad? What's going on? Where are we going?” He asked sleepily.

“Don't worry buddy, we’re gonna go get momma then we are all going on a trip. But right now, I need you to hold on tight to me and keep quiet, can you do that?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me, “Is this like a game or something?”

“Yeah.” I said. Holding him tight and heading down the stairs. “It's just like a game, you gotta keep quiet, hold on to me and keep your eyes closed tight, got it?”

“Okay.” He said, burying his head in my shoulder.

“I love you, Shawn.” I said, tears rolling down my face.

“Love you dad.” He said, his little voice muffled by my shoulder.

I was at the front door, wondering if I could make it to my car when flashing red and blue came around the corner. I flung the door open and stepped outside to meet them.

“Jim.” Said Sheriff Ward stepping out of his patrol car, “What the hell's going on? What are you doing with that gun?”

Another patrol car pulled up next to him, and a deputy stepped out, meeting the Sheriff as they walked up the driveway.

“Sheriff it's the intruder from the other night he’s...”

“Is that what is this about? Dammit Jim.” Groaned the Sheriff, “You have got to stop...”

He cut off as he was suddenly hit by a lightning-fast blur of movement from the side yard. He didn't even have time to scream. The blur, along with the sheriff, disappeared through a tall hedge next to the house. The deputy froze, a splash of blood across his face.

“Sh... Sheriff?” The deputy muttered.

I slowly began to back up to the house, when the blur of motion came again. When it passed, the hand the deputy had been reaching for his weapon with, was gone. He looked down at the ragged, bleeding stump in confusion for a moment, then started screaming. The screaming came to a sudden stop when the vampire shot up behind him, digging his fingers into the man’s hair and biting a ragged chunk out of his neck.

I raised the shotgun and fired one of the garlic-coated rounds. This time, I hit him full in the chest. He screeched in pain, falling to the ground and writhing on all fours. Shawn still had his head buried in my shoulder but was now screaming as I ran to the deputy’s car and jumped inside. I put Shawn in the passenger seat and told him, “Keep your eyes shut, no matter what!”

I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but the car didn't move. I turned back around to see the vampire holding onto the brush guard. I gritted my teeth and shifted into drive, pressing the pedal to the floor.

His eyes widened in the brief moment before he disappeared under the hood of the car. His body crunched under the tires as I plowed forward, smashing the car through the front of my house. Bricks and sheetrock showered down over the car. I glanced at the rear-view mirror and could already see him, jerkily rising to his feet. His body, broken and misshapen. I put the car in reverse and hit the gas, but it didn’t move.

The windshield was cracked, so I threw the deputy's jacket over Shawn and used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass. We climbed out and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Opening the closet, I pushed Shawn inside.

“Daddy?” He cried. “What's happening.”

I hugged him tight and told him I loved him, “Stay in here, please Shawn. Close your eyes, cover your head, and keep quiet. Remember the game? I want you to win, okay?”

He nodded tears pouring down his face. I closed the closet door as I heard the sound of footsteps and whistling coming up the stairs.

I turned to face him as he stepped through the doorway. I raised the shotgun, but he dashed forward before I could react. Knocking the gun to the floor and lifting me up by my throat.

“You have given me quite the fight, Jim. Quite a fight indeed.” He said, speaking through gritted teeth.

I tried to speak but with his grasp on my throat, all I could do was wheeze.

“What's that?” He asked mockingly, “I couldn't quite hear you.”

He loosened his grip and I drug in a ragged breath, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Neither did my son.”

“What do you know about what happened to me?” He snarled.

“I know,” I coughed, “they were taken from you. They wouldn’t want this.”

He squeezed tighter, “What do you know about what they would have wanted? You think they’d want mercy for you?! Or them?!” He shouted, bloody spit flying from his lips. “The ones who raped and murdered my wife?! Burned my son alive! Should I have shown them mercy?!”

“Please.” I wheezed, “Just stop.”

He shook his head, “Times up.” Then he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into my neck.

The pain was unlike anything I ever felt. My throat felt like it was filled with hot coals, as I felt my life quickly draining away. I prayed it would be over soon and he would just leave. That he wouldn't find Shawn. I felt cold rising from my feet, up my legs, and in my arms. I was dying, and then suddenly, I was free. I fell to the floor in a heap as the vampire stumbled back. The garlic coated knife stuck in his side.

“Get away from my dad!” Yelled Shawn.

The vampire stared down at the knife then at Shawn. I somehow found enough strength to climb to my knees and crawled over to put myself between my son and the monster.

He stared down at me, then back to my son. With a hiss, he pulled the blade from his side and stepped back. He could have killed us; there was nothing we could have done to stop him. Instead, he left. Just like that, it was over.

I told the investigators that I didn't know what had happened to the sheriff and deputy. I said that after I found Ben’s body and called the Sheriff's department, went home and holed up in my room with Shawn. I didn't see what had happened downstairs.

 I told Grace the truth; I think she believes me; she says she does. I know how it sounds though; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. There has been no sign of, him, since we moved into the new house. No, we won't be moving around like we did when I was a kid, just needed a change of scenery. I recovered from the bite surprisingly fast. What had been a row of ragged puncture wounds is now barely even a scar. I feel different too, more aware of things, stronger. Maybe I'm finally beginning to heal some of my old trauma. The sun feels hotter now too, I'm sure its fine though.

The mid autumn breeze blew at the back of my neck as I pushed through the door of my apartment building. Sam, the night guard looked up from his desk and gave me a wave, “Late night, huh?”

I nodded and hurried to the elevator, feeling the grocery bags I was carrying staining at the seams.

“Oh, hey let me get that for you.” He said, standing up and getting the button.

“Thanks, Sam.” I said, hoping that bags held at least until I got to my floor.

He smiled, turning up the edges of his white mustache, “No problem, Josh.”

We stood there in the lobby in silence, waiting for the elevator. I watched as the numbers began counting down from 15.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Said Sam.

I nodded watching the oh so slowly descending elevator numbers. “Yeah. It’s uh… getting cool out there.”

Sam nodded and smiled.

God, I wished the elevator would hurry. Sam was a good guy but it was late and I was in no mood for small talk.

I looked back at the numbers, it was at the 8th floor now. I sighed.

“Tough week?”

I forced a smile and cleared my throat, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a long one.”

The florescent lights of the lobby hummed overhead as the numbers descended.

I felt Sam turn to me, about to say something else. When suddenly the quiet of the lobby was interrupted by someone pushing through the door from the street.

The man stepped into the lobby, coughing violently. He stepped over to a wooden bench that sat next to the rows of mailboxes and plopped down, continuing to cough.

Sam and I had both turned to look at the man, he was thin, maybe mid forties with thinning greasy dark hair and a long gray overcoat that was stained with… I didn’t want I guess with what.

The man looked up as Sam started towards him.

“Geez pal, you sound pretty rough.” Said Sam.

The man nodded and continued coughing as the elevator dinged open.

Sam turned back to me apologetically, “Shoot, Josh. I was gonna help you up, but…” He said, tilting his head toward the ill man.

I shook my head, “Oh no, I’m fine.” I said, feeling a bit relieved, “I think he needs help more than I do.”

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button with the toe of my shoe. He nodded and turned away to face the man. I heard him ask the coughing man. “Buddy, is there someone I can call for you?” But the doors closed before I could hear the mans answer.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open on the 7th floor and I stepped out to see a man in a baggy sweatshirt shouting and banging on a door down the hall. “Shit.” I sighed.

I walked down the long hallway trying to avoid the situation. Unfortunately the situation was happening at the door across from mine. The man turned to look at me as I approached.

“What?” He shouted. “You got a fucking problem?”

The door he had been pounding on swung open and a woman stepped out into the hall, throwing a duffle bag at his chest. “Take your shit and go!” She shouted.

And that was when the grocery bags decided to rip. Cans of knock off spaghetti o’s, spam, ramen noodles, a jug of lactose free milk and other pathetic food stuff spilled out onto the floor.

The fighting couple turned to look at me as silence filled the hall.

I made my Jim Halpert face as I looked from them to my fallen groceries.

The man shook his head, “Whatever, I’m out of here.” Before storming off down the hall.

I sighed and bent to start picking up my things.

“Here, let me help.” Said the woman as she bent to pick up a can of beans that had rolled over by her door.

“Thanks, I’m Josh by the way.” I said with a smile. “I live across the hall.”

She nodded and smiled back, “I’m Rosa. We just moved in… well, I guess it’s just me now.”

“Yeah, I uh… I saw. Sorry.” I said, feeling awkward.

Rosa shook her head, “Don’t be, he’s a pendejo.”

I stood and unlocked my door. Rosa helped me bring in my groceries and looked around at my messy apartment.

“Sorry about the mess.” I said, “I haven’t entertained in a while.”

She shrugged, “Its fine, you should see mine. Still full of moving boxes, and only half of its mine.”

“Well, thanks for the help.” I said as she turned to leave, “And sorry about the uh… pendejo.”

She laughed, “His name is Steve.”

“Think I prefer pendejo.” I said with a smile.

“I’ll see you around Josh.” Said Rosa as she smiled back and closed the door.

I turned away from the door, and began putting my groceries away. I went to bed that night thinking I might like to get to know Rosa better.

The next morning when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, I was greeted by what was essentially an angry mob. The building tenants were in an uproar. I pushed through the crowd to get to my mailbox, only to find it empty.

“No mail today!” Someone shouted.

I turned to see Frank, the grumpy old Vietnam vet who lived on the floor above mine, standing by the security desk.

“What’s going on?” I shouted.

He pointed to the door, “See for yourself.”

Instead of pushing through the crowd, I stepped up onto a bench to see over the bobbing heads.

There were chains on the outside of the lobby doors. And what looked like heavy gage chain link fencing across the entire front of the building.

“What’s happening?” Asked Rosa as she stepped onto the bench next to me.

I shook my head, “I don’t know. It looks like the building as been locked down.”

“What? Why?” she asked, “I have to be at work in two hours.”

I was about to say something else when the building intercom squealed to life. “Attention residents of Pine Hills Apartments. Due to a potentially contagious viral outbreak, the building is now under quarantine.”

The tenants quieted, listening to the speaker, some backed away from the crowd, looking weary.

Immediately, I thought of the coughing man from last night and wondered if Sam was okay.

“How long are we stuck here?” Someone shouted.

I couldn’t tell where the person speaking was, but I assumed they were tapped into the intercom from outside. That had to be listening though, because the next thing they said was, “We are working on a time table right now. But due to the severity of the situation, we can’t give any more details. We advise you all to return to your apartments and self isolate for the time being.”

The people shouted more protests about civil rights, their jobs, and other such concerns. But the intercom stayed silent.

Eventually the residents started to trickle back to the elevators and stairwells. Eyeing anyone who so much as sniffed with a cold suspicion.

“Great. Now I have to go call work and tell them I’m stuck in a petri dish.” Said Rosa as she hopped down from the bench and headed for the elevator. “See ya.” She said with a half wave over her shoulder, already looking at her phone.

“Bye.” I mumbled as she left.

I noticed Frank, watching me from the other side of the slowly emptying lobby. I made my way over to stand next to him.

“You believe this shit?” He asked with a nod to the door.

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you?”

He shook his head adjusted the green ball cap he wore. “Not for a God damn second.”

“You don’t think there is a virus?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” He said in his gravely voice. “But I think they know a whole lot more about it than they’re letting on. Working on a time table, my ass. Hell, kid, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put the shit in here their selves.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how paranoid that sounds?”

He smiled, “Hey, just because I’m paranoid, don’t mean they ain’t out to get me.”

I smiled back, “Right.”

Frank was known to be a hateful old grouch to most people in the building. But for some reason we had hit it off. I chalked it up to us both being relatively unsociable and reclusive.

“By the way,” He said, “Whose your new lady friend.”

I rolled my eyes at his use of “lady friend.” “Her name is Rosa. She’s my new neighbor.”

Frank nodded and winked. “I could think of worse neighbors to have.”

I shook my head and I patted the old dog on the shoulder, “Good talking with you, Frank. I think I’m gonna head up now.”

He nodded, “Sure, but hey, Josh.” 

I turned back to face him.

“You be careful, alright.” He said seriously. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

I nodded my thanks and headed for the elevator.

When I stepped onto my floor. The first thing that struck me was the silence. It stood in stark contrast to the uproar that had been going on down in the lobby.

As I walked down the long gray carpeted hall, a sound caught my ear. I stopped just outside Mrs. Johnson’s door and listened to the coughing that came from within. “Damn.” I thought. She sounded terrible. Part of me wanted to reach out and knock on her door to ask if she needed anything. But after a moment of hesitation, I listened to the voice of caution in my head and walked away.

The rest of the day passed without much event. I sat on the couch, ate junk food, played video games and watched TV. I thought about going across the hall and asking Rosa if she wanted to watch a movie or something, but decided against it. They had said to self isolate after all.

It was around 9:30 PM when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peep hole to see Rosa standing there, a concerned look on her face.

I brushed crumbs off my shirt and gave a glance around to the apartment that I still hadn’t cleaned and opened the door.

“Hey.” I said.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, pointing down the hall to Mrs. Johnson’s door.

From out in the hall, I could hear that the coughing had gotten significantly worse. I grimaced, “Holy shit. I heard her coughing earlier but it was nowhere near that bad.”

“Should we do something?” She asked.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess we could call 911 but with the lockdown, I don’t know if they would even come.”

“That’s the other thing.” Said Rosa turning to face me, “Do you have any service?”

I turned and picked up my phone from the counter, no signal. “Huh.” I muttered, “No, I got nothing.”

“I don’t either.” She said, coming in and sitting at my table. “I’ve been trying to call work all day but I can’t get any reception.”

I sat down at the table across from her, “That’s weird. Maybe a tower is down or something?”

She shrugged, “Maybe. Odd timing though.”

I was thinking the same thing, Frank’s paranoid mentality had began to rub off on me.

“So what do you do for work?” I asked, changing the subject.

“ER nurse.” She said, “That is, if I still have a job. I’m way late for my shift.”

“Well that sounds exciting.” I Said.

“It can be.” She said with a nod, “What about you?”

“Nothing exciting at all, I’m a writer. Well, a journalist actually.” I said.

“Oh, anything I might have read?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Not unless you make a habit of reading about local dog shows or the new flag pole at City Hall.”

Suddenly we heard the sound of a door flinging open down the hall, accompanied by violent, racking, wet coughs.

Rosa and I stood slowly and stepped over to my still open door. Peeking around the door jam, we saw Mrs. Johnson stumbling down the hall. She was bent over, hacking up dark chunks of viscous fluid. She looked up at us, tears running down her face, the same dark ooze dripped from her nose. And then she broke into a dead sprint down the hall, straight at us.

I grabbed Rosa, who had been stepping out into the hall, and pulled her back into my apartment, I slammed to door shut and turned the dead bolt. Mrs. Johnson began pounding violently on the heavy door, coughing and screaming.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed, stepping back from the door.

Rosa didn’t speak, her eyes were fixed on the door as it shook from the battering of an 82 year old woman.

We stood there in shocked silence as the banging on the door slowly stopped. After a moment more, we heard footsteps receding down the hallway.

When Rosa finally did speak, all she said was, “Can I stay here tonight?”

I nodded wordlessly.

The building intercom sounded. “Attention residents of Pine Hills. Do not open your doors. Do not check on your neighbors. Do not leave your apartments. There is a biological vector inside the building.”

We looked at each other in shocked disbelief.  What the hell was going on?

I offered Rosa my bed but she refused, opting to sleep on the couch instead. The next morning we ate cereal and flicked through the local news stations, hoping to see something about our building and what was going on. But there was no coverage of our situation at all. I was sure Frank would have something to say about that.

I turned to Rosa on the couch and asked, “You work at the hospital right? Do you have any idea what’s going on? What contagion that could have been?.”

She sat down her bowl and shook her head, “I mostly deal with cuts and broken bones, stomach flu at the worst. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I don’t understand how she was so fast. And her strength? I mean, I was worried for a minute that she would knock the door down.” I said.

Rosa nodded, “And did you see the look in her eyes? She looked more like a rabid animal than a person.”

We sat there in silence for a moment.

“Is there another way out of the building?” She asked after a moment. “I just… I have a really bad feeling about all this.”

I thought about it,  “Maybe the fire escape?”

She nodded, stepping over to the window. “Holy shit.” She muttered.

“What?” I asked, getting up to go see out the window.

We realized then that the fire escape wouldn’t work. On the building rooftop across the street was a man with a scoped rifle. I moved to another window and saw the same thing on the next building.

“Surely they wouldn’t…” She began.

“Yeah.” I said cutting her off. The image of Mrs. Johnson flashing in my mind. “I think they would.”

We spent the rest of the day sitting around, talking, eating more junk food and wondering when this would all end. Every once in a while, I could have sworn I heard movement from out in the hall. But when I looked out of the peephole, I saw nothing but the dark stains on the carpet, left behind my Mrs. Johnson.

That night we ate a frozen pizza and watched old reruns of the Twilight zone. If the situation had been different, it actually might have been sort of romantic. As it was, we were both jumping at ever sound from within the building. At some point, we had both dozed off there on the couch.

Sometime later, my eyes blinked open to the sound of something thumping around from somewhere inside my apartment. I sat up and looked around. Rosa was still asleep, curled up on the other side of the couch. I stood and was about to search the apartment when the sound stopped. I scratched my head and headed for my bedroom when the sound came again. Something fleshy, sliding against something metallic. I glanced up to the oversized air duct on the ceiling. Something was up there.

It moved through the duct, slowly and clumsily. I stepped over to the couch, tapping Rosa on the shoulder, “Rosa. Rosa, wake up.”

She turned over and stretched, mumbling something sleepily.

Whatever was in the duct reached the vent over the kitchen and dark oozing fluid began to drip down onto the tile floor.

I leaned over and shook Rosa hard, “Rosa, wake the fuck up. Something is here.”

Her eyes shot open and she leapt up, just as the vent collapsed and the thing fell to the floor with a wet slap.

We stood in the front room, looking into the kitchen as it crawled across the floor. It was Yan, the yoga instructor from down the hall, or at least it used to be. I only recognized him from the mess of curly blond hair he still had. His body was stretched, smashed, and bleeding. Bones and joints had snapped and relocated until he was compact enough to worm his way through the tight ducting. His head rotated around to look at us, a hungry leer on his bearded face.

“What the shit!” Rosa screamed.

The sound of wet bones creaking and popping began as his arms and legs tried to move back to their original positions. I grabbed Rosa’s hand and ran for the apartment door.

We stepped out into the hall, shutting my door behind us. “Where do we go?” She asked. “I left my keys on your coffee table.”

“Shit.” I breathed. “Come on.” 

We started down the hall, knocking on every apartment door we came to, but no one answered.

Suddenly Rosa’s door flung open and Steve stepped out. Apparently he had never actually left the building. “Hey what’s…” He started.

My door opened and Yan stumbled out into the hall. Both his arms were somehow contorted to the same side of his body. His torso looked twisted halfway at his midsection and his legs hadn’t taken their correct shape.

Steve shouted and tried to back away from the misshapen man but Yan was too close and too quick. He grabbed onto the shocked man’s face and bit into it.

We watched in horror as they fell to the floor in a heap of thrashing limbs. Steve screamed as Yan tore at him with his hands and teeth until he went silent, a pool of blood slowly spreading on the floor.

I couldn’t understand what was happening, what the hell kind of virus did this?

Yan looked up at us from Steve’s mangled body, he smiled a wet toothy smile and then plunged his arms and then his head into Steve’s chest cavity.

I bent over and puked on the gray carpet as the two bodies began to roll across the floor, slamming into the walls with the wet sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones. Then the fucking thing stood up. Yan had contorted himself inside Steve’s body, biting and ripping holes for his head and twisted limbs. Somehow the flesh combined to form an amalgamation of the two men that crawled toward us. At first it was unsteady on its eight twisted and broken limbs, but the thing soon picked up it’s pace as it skittered down the hall after us, it’s two sets of teeth chattering loudly.

“Josh!” said Rosa, looking at the Yan/Steve thing as it rushed towards us.

“I know, keep trying!” I said pounding on the next door, then the next, “Help us!” I shouted.

“Somebody, please!” shouted Rosa as she kept knocking.

Yan/Steve let out creaking gasps as it hobbled after us, dark fluid pouring from its mouths.

Then the elevator on our end of the hall dinged. We turned as the doors opened and a man stepped out wearing a gas mask and holding a pistol. He fired at the thing over and over, until one then the other of its deformed heads blew off in chunks. “Move your asses!” Shouted the muffled yet familiar voice of Frank.

We ran for the elevator as we heard something large moving at the other end of the hall. We turned to look once we were inside. There, coming around the corner of the long hallway was something I had no room for in my mind. It was a conglomeration of flesh.

The doors slid closed and Frank hit the button for the top floor.

“What the fuck is going on, Frank?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at us for a moment before peeling off the gas mask, “Guess it ain’t airborne then. Seein as how you two ain’t infected.” He said, reloading his pistol and tucking it into his belt.

“What kind of virus does that?” Rosa asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. My contact on the outside wouldn’t tell me.”

“Contact? What contact?” I asked.

“The one that owed me a favor for some sketchy shit that went down back in ‘Nam.” He said meeting my eyes, “and that’s all I’m saying about that for now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rosa.

Frank smiled, “We are getting the hell out of here, little lady. Part of that favor I mentioned, includes a helo ride out of this shit show.”

Rosa and I both signed in relief. Thinking that this was almost over. And then the power went out.

“Fuck.” Said Frank as the lights went out and the elevator screeched to a stop.

“What are we gonna do?” Asked Rosa, her voice panicked.

“Elevator hatch.” I said. “We can climb to the roof from there.”

Frank clicked on a small flashlight, illuminating the elevator, “Good call, kid. Now give me a boost.”

I knelt and let him stand on my knee to reach the hatch. It swung open with a clang and the old vet scrambled up through. Before turning and reaching down for us.

“Alright.” I said to Rosa, “Up you get.” Then boosted her up into Franks waiting arms.

The elevator suddenly jolted as I was about to jump up. The impact knocked me to the floor, as the doors began to be pulled open by too many hands.

I screamed when I saw it. I don’t know how many people were bound up in that horrific knot of pulsing flesh but they all looked at me at once and let out a howl of dozens of voices. Luckily the elevator had only partially reached the floor below, leaving a 2 foot gap between the interior floor and exterior ceiling.

“Here!” Yelled Frank.

The pistol clattered to the floor in front of me. I grabbed it up and fired into the creature as fast as I could. The voices screamed but it didn’t relent. One of the longer of its arms managed to grasp onto my leg as I scrambled back against the elevator wall. Slowly I was being pulled toward the other grasping hands and chomping mouths. I saw Sam there in its horrible face, and Mrs. Johnson, and several other of the tenants I had come to know since moving in.

“Josh!” Shouted Rosa. “When I tell you, shoot the arm!”

The elevator jolted again, I looked up to see Frank and Rosa jumping on the roof. I heard them counting and jumping in sync.

The thing yanked again, pulling my left leg completely through the door.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted. “Wait, my leg is…!

The elevator dropped, Rosa and Frank shouted, “Now!”

I leaned forward, the drop making it feel like I was floating for a moment. I fired the pistol into the things arm as I kicked out at the door with my other leg. The shot was good and the arm released. I fell back against the wall as the elevator dropped to the floor below.

I looked down at my throbbing leg to see that the arm hadn’t let go. It was sliced off at the elbow, still clinging to my leg and trying to worm it’s way up. I jumped up pushing the appendage off of me. It flopped wildly on the floor, before righting itself and crawling across the floor after me. I kicked it away and jumped up to the hatch.

Frank and Rosa were already making their way up the ladder on the other side of the shaft. I tossed the empty pistol away and climbed after them as the huge mass of flesh began pushing the door back open and  squeezing its way through. It got stuck and began ripping chunks off of itself to get at us.

When I looked back down, in the red emergency lighting, the thing looked like it was crawling out of the pits of hell itself. “Guys, we need to hurry!” I shouted as the thing wetly popped loose, and into the shaft.

Rosa looked back and screamed.

“Keep going!” Yelled Frank!

We did, we climbed and climbed, hearing the countless slap of hands and feet against the elevator shaft walls accompanied by the moans of dozens of voices just below us.

When we finally reached the rooftop, the helicopter was waiting, just like Frank had said. Two armed men ushered us aboard and we took off into the night.

45 minutes later, we were debriefed by a Mr. Neilan. He was the director of some obscure government agency I had never heard of. Apparently Frank had helped them out years ago with some kind of problem in Vietnam. It was all very hush hush.

Neilan told us that we were among a lucky few who had survived similar events as this. When I asked him what actually happened all he would say was that it was “An unfortunate series of events that led to an outbreak of an unknown origin.”

“You know I’m gonna tell people about this right?” I said meeting his eyes. “This is bullshit and the people deserve to know what’s happening.”

Neilan studied me for a moment from behind his round wire rim glasses. “Who do you think will believe you?”

I don’t know who will believe this. Hell, I’m not sure I want to believe it. But I have to try, I am a reporter after all.

The mid autumn breeze blew at the back of my neck as I pushed through the door of my apartment building. Sam, the night guard looked up from his desk and gave me a wave, “Late night, huh?”

I nodded and hurried to the elevator, feeling the grocery bags I was carrying staining at the seams.

“Oh, hey let me get that for you.” He said, standing up and getting the button.

“Thanks, Sam.” I said, hoping that bags held at least until I got to my floor.

He smiled, turning up the edges of his white mustache, “No problem, Josh.”

We stood there in the lobby in silence, waiting for the elevator. I watched as the numbers began counting down from 15.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Said Sam.

I nodded watching the oh so slowly descending elevator numbers. “Yeah. It’s uh… getting cool out there.”

Sam nodded and smiled.

God, I wished the elevator would hurry. Sam was a good guy but it was late and I was in no mood for small talk.

I looked back at the numbers, it was at the 8th floor now. I sighed.

“Tough week?”

I forced a smile and cleared my throat, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a long one.”

The florescent lights of the lobby hummed overhead as the numbers descended.

I felt Sam turn to me, about to say something else. When suddenly the quiet of the lobby was interrupted by someone pushing through the door from the street.

The man stepped into the lobby, coughing violently. He stepped over to a wooden bench that sat next to the rows of mailboxes and plopped down, continuing to cough.

Sam and I had both turned to look at the man, he was thin, maybe mid forties with thinning greasy dark hair and a long gray overcoat that was stained with… I didn’t want I guess with what.

The man looked up as Sam started towards him.

“Geez pal, you sound pretty rough.” Said Sam.

The man nodded and continued coughing as the elevator dinged open.

Sam turned back to me apologetically, “Shoot, Josh. I was gonna help you up, but…” He said, tilting his head toward the ill man.

I shook my head, “Oh no, I’m fine.” I said, feeling a bit relieved, “I think he needs help more than I do.”

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button with the toe of my shoe. He nodded and turned away to face the man. I heard him ask the coughing man. “Buddy, is there someone I can call for you?” But the doors closed before I could hear the mans answer.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open on the 7th floor and I stepped out to see a man in a baggy sweatshirt shouting and banging on a door down the hall. “Shit.” I sighed.

I walked down the long hallway trying to avoid the situation. Unfortunately the situation was happening at the door across from mine. The man turned to look at me as I approached.

“What?” He shouted. “You got a fucking problem?”

The door he had been pounding on swung open and a woman stepped out into the hall, throwing a duffle bag at his chest. “Take your shit and go!” She shouted.

And that was when the grocery bags decided to rip. Cans of knock off spaghetti o’s, spam, ramen noodles, a jug of lactose free milk and other pathetic food stuff spilled out onto the floor.

The fighting couple turned to look at me as silence filled the hall.

I made my Jim Halpert face as I looked from them to my fallen groceries.

The man shook his head, “Whatever, I’m out of here.” Before storming off down the hall.

I sighed and bent to start picking up my things.

“Here, let me help.” Said the woman as she bent to pick up a can of beans that had rolled over by her door.

“Thanks, I’m Josh by the way.” I said with a smile. “I live across the hall.”

She nodded and smiled back, “I’m Rosa. We just moved in… well, I guess it’s just me now.”

“Yeah, I uh… I saw. Sorry.” I said, feeling awkward.

Rosa shook her head, “Don’t be, he’s a pendejo.”

I stood and unlocked my door. Rosa helped me bring in my groceries and looked around at my messy apartment.

“Sorry about the mess.” I said, “I haven’t entertained in a while.”

She shrugged, “Its fine, you should see mine. Still full of moving boxes, and only half of its mine.”

“Well, thanks for the help.” I said as she turned to leave, “And sorry about the uh… pendejo.”

She laughed, “His name is Steve.”

“Think I prefer pendejo.” I said with a smile.

“I’ll see you around Josh.” Said Rosa as she smiled back and closed the door.

I turned away from the door, and began putting my groceries away. I went to bed that night thinking I might like to get to know Rosa better.

The next morning when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, I was greeted by what was essentially an angry mob. The building tenants were in an uproar. I pushed through the crowd to get to my mailbox, only to find it empty.

“No mail today!” Someone shouted.

I turned to see Frank, the grumpy old Vietnam vet who lived on the floor above mine, standing by the security desk.

“What’s going on?” I shouted.

He pointed to the door, “See for yourself.”

Instead of pushing through the crowd, I stepped up onto a bench to see over the bobbing heads.

There were chains on the outside of the lobby doors. And what looked like heavy gage chain link fencing across the entire front of the building.

“What’s happening?” Asked Rosa as she stepped onto the bench next to me.

I shook my head, “I don’t know. It looks like the building as been locked down.”

“What? Why?” she asked, “I have to be at work in two hours.”

I was about to say something else when the building intercom squealed to life. “Attention residents of Pine Hills Apartments. Due to a potentially contagious viral outbreak, the building is now under quarantine.”

The tenants quieted, listening to the speaker, some backed away from the crowd, looking weary.

Immediately, I thought of the coughing man from last night and wondered if Sam was okay.

“How long are we stuck here?” Someone shouted.

I couldn’t tell where the person speaking was, but I assumed they were tapped into the intercom from outside. That had to be listening though, because the next thing they said was, “We are working on a time table right now. But due to the severity of the situation, we can’t give any more details. We advise you all to return to your apartments and self isolate for the time being.”

The people shouted more protests about civil rights, their jobs, and other such concerns. But the intercom stayed silent.

Eventually the residents started to trickle back to the elevators and stairwells. Eyeing anyone who so much as sniffed with a cold suspicion.

“Great. Now I have to go call work and tell them I’m stuck in a petri dish.” Said Rosa as she hopped down from the bench and headed for the elevator. “See ya.” She said with a half wave over her shoulder, already looking at her phone.

“Bye.” I mumbled as she left.

I noticed Frank, watching me from the other side of the slowly emptying lobby. I made my way over to stand next to him.

“You believe this shit?” He asked with a nod to the door.

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you?”

He shook his head adjusted the green ball cap he wore. “Not for a God damn second.”

“You don’t think there is a virus?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” He said in his gravely voice. “But I think they know a whole lot more about it than they’re letting on. Working on a time table, my ass. Hell, kid, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put the shit in here their selves.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how paranoid that sounds?”

He smiled, “Hey, just because I’m paranoid, don’t mean they ain’t out to get me.”

I smiled back, “Right.”

Frank was known to be a hateful old grouch to most people in the building. But for some reason we had hit it off. I chalked it up to us both being relatively unsociable and reclusive.

“By the way,” He said, “Whose your new lady friend.”

I rolled my eyes at his use of “lady friend.” “Her name is Rosa. She’s my new neighbor.”

Frank nodded and winked. “I could think of worse neighbors to have.”

I shook my head and I patted the old dog on the shoulder, “Good talking with you, Frank. I think I’m gonna head up now.”

He nodded, “Sure, but hey, Josh.” 

I turned back to face him.

“You be careful, alright.” He said seriously. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

I nodded my thanks and headed for the elevator.

When I stepped onto my floor. The first thing that struck me was the silence. It stood in stark contrast to the uproar that had been going on down in the lobby.

As I walked down the long gray carpeted hall, a sound caught my ear. I stopped just outside Mrs. Johnson’s door and listened to the coughing that came from within. “Damn.” I thought. She sounded terrible. Part of me wanted to reach out and knock on her door to ask if she needed anything. But after a moment of hesitation, I listened to the voice of caution in my head and walked away.

The rest of the day passed without much event. I sat on the couch, ate junk food, played video games and watched TV. I thought about going across the hall and asking Rosa if she wanted to watch a movie or something, but decided against it. They had said to self isolate after all.

It was around 9:30 PM when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peep hole to see Rosa standing there, a concerned look on her face.

I brushed crumbs off my shirt and gave a glance around to the apartment that I still hadn’t cleaned and opened the door.

“Hey.” I said.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, pointing down the hall to Mrs. Johnson’s door.

From out in the hall, I could hear that the coughing had gotten significantly worse. I grimaced, “Holy shit. I heard her coughing earlier but it was nowhere near that bad.”

“Should we do something?” She asked.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess we could call 911 but with the lockdown, I don’t know if they would even come.”

“That’s the other thing.” Said Rosa turning to face me, “Do you have any service?”

I turned and picked up my phone from the counter, no signal. “Huh.” I muttered, “No, I got nothing.”

“I don’t either.” She said, coming in and sitting at my table. “I’ve been trying to call work all day but I can’t get any reception.”

I sat down at the table across from her, “That’s weird. Maybe a tower is down or something?”

She shrugged, “Maybe. Odd timing though.”

I was thinking the same thing, Frank’s paranoid mentality had began to rub off on me.

“So what do you do for work?” I asked, changing the subject.

“ER nurse.” She said, “That is, if I still have a job. I’m way late for my shift.”

“Well that sounds exciting.” I Said.

“It can be.” She said with a nod, “What about you?”

“Nothing exciting at all, I’m a writer. Well, a journalist actually.” I said.

“Oh, anything I might have read?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Not unless you make a habit of reading about local dog shows or the new flag pole at City Hall.”

Suddenly we heard the sound of a door flinging open down the hall, accompanied by violent, racking, wet coughs.

Rosa and I stood slowly and stepped over to my still open door. Peeking around the door jam, we saw Mrs. Johnson stumbling down the hall. She was bent over, hacking up dark chunks of viscous fluid. She looked up at us, tears running down her face, the same dark ooze dripped from her nose. And then she broke into a dead sprint down the hall, straight at us.

I grabbed Rosa, who had been stepping out into the hall, and pulled her back into my apartment, I slammed to door shut and turned the dead bolt. Mrs. Johnson began pounding violently on the heavy door, coughing and screaming.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed, stepping back from the door.

Rosa didn’t speak, her eyes were fixed on the door as it shook from the battering of an 82 year old woman.

We stood there in shocked silence as the banging on the door slowly stopped. After a moment more, we heard footsteps receding down the hallway.

When Rosa finally did speak, all she said was, “Can I stay here tonight?”

I nodded wordlessly.

The building intercom sounded. “Attention residents of Pine Hills. Do not open your doors. Do not check on your neighbors. Do not leave your apartments. There is a biological vector inside the building.”

We looked at each other in shocked disbelief.  What the hell was going on?

I offered Rosa my bed but she refused, opting to sleep on the couch instead. The next morning we ate cereal and flicked through the local news stations, hoping to see something about our building and what was going on. But there was no coverage of our situation at all. I was sure Frank would have something to say about that.

I turned to Rosa on the couch and asked, “You work at the hospital right? Do you have any idea what’s going on? What contagion that could have been?.”

She sat down her bowl and shook her head, “I mostly deal with cuts and broken bones, stomach flu at the worst. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I don’t understand how she was so fast. And her strength? I mean, I was worried for a minute that she would knock the door down.” I said.

Rosa nodded, “And did you see the look in her eyes? She looked more like a rabid animal than a person.”

We sat there in silence for a moment.

“Is there another way out of the building?” She asked after a moment. “I just… I have a really bad feeling about all this.”

I thought about it,  “Maybe the fire escape?”

She nodded, stepping over to the window. “Holy shit.” She muttered.

“What?” I asked, getting up to go see out the window.

We realized then that the fire escape wouldn’t work. On the building rooftop across the street was a man with a scoped rifle. I moved to another window and saw the same thing on the next building.

“Surely they wouldn’t…” She began.

“Yeah.” I said cutting her off. The image of Mrs. Johnson flashing in my mind. “I think they would.”

We spent the rest of the day sitting around, talking, eating more junk food and wondering when this would all end. Every once in a while, I could have sworn I heard movement from out in the hall. But when I looked out of the peephole, I saw nothing but the dark stains on the carpet, left behind my Mrs. Johnson.

That night we ate a frozen pizza and watched old reruns of the Twilight zone. If the situation had been different, it actually might have been sort of romantic. As it was, we were both jumping at ever sound from within the building. At some point, we had both dozed off there on the couch.

Sometime later, my eyes blinked open to the sound of something thumping around from somewhere inside my apartment. I sat up and looked around. Rosa was still asleep, curled up on the other side of the couch. I stood and was about to search the apartment when the sound stopped. I scratched my head and headed for my bedroom when the sound came again. Something fleshy, sliding against something metallic. I glanced up to the oversized air duct on the ceiling. Something was up there.

It moved through the duct, slowly and clumsily. I stepped over to the couch, tapping Rosa on the shoulder, “Rosa. Rosa, wake up.”

She turned over and stretched, mumbling something sleepily.

Whatever was in the duct reached the vent over the kitchen and dark oozing fluid began to drip down onto the tile floor.

I leaned over and shook Rosa hard, “Rosa, wake the fuck up. Something is here.”

Her eyes shot open and she leapt up, just as the vent collapsed and the thing fell to the floor with a wet slap.

We stood in the front room, looking into the kitchen as it crawled across the floor. It was Yan, the yoga instructor from down the hall, or at least it used to be. I only recognized him from the mess of curly blond hair he still had. His body was stretched, smashed, and bleeding. Bones and joints had snapped and relocated until he was compact enough to worm his way through the tight ducting. His head rotated around to look at us, a hungry leer on his bearded face.

“What the shit!” Rosa screamed.

The sound of wet bones creaking and popping began as his arms and legs tried to move back to their original positions. I grabbed Rosa’s hand and ran for the apartment door.

We stepped out into the hall, shutting my door behind us. “Where do we go?” She asked. “I left my keys on your coffee table.”

“Shit.” I breathed. “Come on.” 

We started down the hall, knocking on every apartment door we came to, but no one answered.

Suddenly Rosa’s door flung open and Steve stepped out. Apparently he had never actually left the building. “Hey what’s…” He started.

My door opened and Yan stumbled out into the hall. Both his arms were somehow contorted to the same side of his body. His torso looked twisted halfway at his midsection and his legs hadn’t taken their correct shape.

Steve shouted and tried to back away from the misshapen man but Yan was too close and too quick. He grabbed onto the shocked man’s face and bit into it.

We watched in horror as they fell to the floor in a heap of thrashing limbs. Steve screamed as Yan tore at him with his hands and teeth until he went silent, a pool of blood slowly spreading on the floor.

I couldn’t understand what was happening, what the hell kind of virus did this?

Yan looked up at us from Steve’s mangled body, he smiled a wet toothy smile and then plunged his arms and then his head into Steve’s chest cavity.

I bent over and puked on the gray carpet as the two bodies began to roll across the floor, slamming into the walls with the wet sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones. Then the fucking thing stood up. Yan had contorted himself inside Steve’s body, biting and ripping holes for his head and twisted limbs. Somehow the flesh combined to form an amalgamation of the two men that crawled toward us. At first it was unsteady on its eight twisted and broken limbs, but the thing soon picked up it’s pace as it skittered down the hall after us, it’s two sets of teeth chattering loudly.

“Josh!” said Rosa, looking at the Yan/Steve thing as it rushed towards us.

“I know, keep trying!” I said pounding on the next door, then the next, “Help us!” I shouted.

“Somebody, please!” shouted Rosa as she kept knocking.

Yan/Steve let out creaking gasps as it hobbled after us, dark fluid pouring from its mouths.

Then the elevator on our end of the hall dinged. We turned as the doors opened and a man stepped out wearing a gas mask and holding a pistol. He fired at the thing over and over, until one then the other of its deformed heads blew off in chunks. “Move your asses!” Shouted the muffled yet familiar voice of Frank.

We ran for the elevator as we heard something large moving at the other end of the hall. We turned to look once we were inside. There, coming around the corner of the long hallway was something I had no room for in my mind. It was a conglomeration of flesh.

The doors slid closed and Frank hit the button for the top floor.

“What the fuck is going on, Frank?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at us for a moment before peeling off the gas mask, “Guess it ain’t airborne then. Seein as how you two ain’t infected.” He said, reloading his pistol and tucking it into his belt.

“What kind of virus does that?” Rosa asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. My contact on the outside wouldn’t tell me.”

“Contact? What contact?” I asked.

“The one that owed me a favor for some sketchy shit that went down back in ‘Nam.” He said meeting my eyes, “and that’s all I’m saying about that for now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rosa.

Frank smiled, “We are getting the hell out of here, little lady. Part of that favor I mentioned, includes a helo ride out of this shit show.”

Rosa and I both signed in relief. Thinking that this was almost over. And then the power went out.

“Fuck.” Said Frank as the lights went out and the elevator screeched to a stop.

“What are we gonna do?” Asked Rosa, her voice panicked.

“Elevator hatch.” I said. “We can climb to the roof from there.”

Frank clicked on a small flashlight, illuminating the elevator, “Good call, kid. Now give me a boost.”

I knelt and let him stand on my knee to reach the hatch. It swung open with a clang and the old vet scrambled up through. Before turning and reaching down for us.

“Alright.” I said to Rosa, “Up you get.” Then boosted her up into Franks waiting arms.

The elevator suddenly jolted as I was about to jump up. The impact knocked me to the floor, as the doors began to be pulled open by too many hands.

I screamed when I saw it. I don’t know how many people were bound up in that horrific knot of pulsing flesh but they all looked at me at once and let out a howl of dozens of voices. Luckily the elevator had only partially reached the floor below, leaving a 2 foot gap between the interior floor and exterior ceiling.

“Here!” Yelled Frank.

The pistol clattered to the floor in front of me. I grabbed it up and fired into the creature as fast as I could. The voices screamed but it didn’t relent. One of the longer of its arms managed to grasp onto my leg as I scrambled back against the elevator wall. Slowly I was being pulled toward the other grasping hands and chomping mouths. I saw Sam there in its horrible face, and Mrs. Johnson, and several other of the tenants I had come to know since moving in.

“Josh!” Shouted Rosa. “When I tell you, shoot the arm!”

The elevator jolted again, I looked up to see Frank and Rosa jumping on the roof. I heard them counting and jumping in sync.

The thing yanked again, pulling my left leg completely through the door.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted. “Wait, my leg is…!

The elevator dropped, Rosa and Frank shouted, “Now!”

I leaned forward, the drop making it feel like I was floating for a moment. I fired the pistol into the things arm as I kicked out at the door with my other leg. The shot was good and the arm released. I fell back against the wall as the elevator dropped to the floor below.

I looked down at my throbbing leg to see that the arm hadn’t let go. It was sliced off at the elbow, still clinging to my leg and trying to worm it’s way up. I jumped up pushing the appendage off of me. It flopped wildly on the floor, before righting itself and crawling across the floor after me. I kicked it away and jumped up to the hatch.

Frank and Rosa were already making their way up the ladder on the other side of the shaft. I tossed the empty pistol away and climbed after them as the huge mass of flesh began pushing the door back open and  squeezing its way through. It got stuck and began ripping chunks off of itself to get at us.

When I looked back down, in the red emergency lighting, the thing looked like it was crawling out of the pits of hell itself. “Guys, we need to hurry!” I shouted as the thing wetly popped loose, and into the shaft.

Rosa looked back and screamed.

“Keep going!” Yelled Frank!

We did, we climbed and climbed, hearing the countless slap of hands and feet against the elevator shaft walls accompanied by the moans of dozens of voices just below us.

When we finally reached the rooftop, the helicopter was waiting, just like Frank had said. Two armed men ushered us aboard and we took off into the night.

45 minutes later, we were debriefed by a Mr. Neilan. He was the director of some obscure government agency I had never heard of. Apparently Frank had helped them out years ago with some kind of problem in Vietnam. It was all very hush hush.

Neilan told us that we were among a lucky few who had survived similar events as this. When I asked him what actually happened all he would say was that it was “An unfortunate series of events that led to an outbreak of an unknown origin.”

“You know I’m gonna tell people about this right?” I said meeting his eyes. “This is bullshit and the people deserve to know what’s happening.”

Neilan studied me for a moment from behind his round wire rim glasses. “Who do you think will believe you?”

I don’t know who will believe this. Hell, I’m not sure I want to believe it. But I have to try, I am a reporter after all.

The mid autumn breeze blew at the back of my neck as I pushed through the door of my apartment building. Sam, the night guard looked up from his desk and gave me a wave, “Late night, huh?”

I nodded and hurried to the elevator, feeling the grocery bags I was carrying staining at the seams.

“Oh, hey let me get that for you.” He said, standing up and getting the button.

“Thanks, Sam.” I said, hoping that bags held at least until I got to my floor.

He smiled, turning up the edges of his white mustache, “No problem, Josh.”

We stood there in the lobby in silence, waiting for the elevator. I watched as the numbers began counting down from 15.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Said Sam.

I nodded watching the oh so slowly descending elevator numbers. “Yeah. It’s uh… getting cool out there.”

Sam nodded and smiled.

God, I wished the elevator would hurry. Sam was a good guy but it was late and I was in no mood for small talk.

I looked back at the numbers, it was at the 8th floor now. I sighed.

“Tough week?”

I forced a smile and cleared my throat, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a long one.”

The florescent lights of the lobby hummed overhead as the numbers descended.

I felt Sam turn to me, about to say something else. When suddenly the quiet of the lobby was interrupted by someone pushing through the door from the street.

The man stepped into the lobby, coughing violently. He stepped over to a wooden bench that sat next to the rows of mailboxes and plopped down, continuing to cough.

Sam and I had both turned to look at the man, he was thin, maybe mid forties with thinning greasy dark hair and a long gray overcoat that was stained with… I didn’t want I guess with what.

The man looked up as Sam started towards him.

“Geez pal, you sound pretty rough.” Said Sam.

The man nodded and continued coughing as the elevator dinged open.

Sam turned back to me apologetically, “Shoot, Josh. I was gonna help you up, but…” He said, tilting his head toward the ill man.

I shook my head, “Oh no, I’m fine.” I said, feeling a bit relieved, “I think he needs help more than I do.”

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button with the toe of my shoe. He nodded and turned away to face the man. I heard him ask the coughing man. “Buddy, is there someone I can call for you?” But the doors closed before I could hear the mans answer.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open on the 7th floor and I stepped out to see a man in a baggy sweatshirt shouting and banging on a door down the hall. “Shit.” I sighed.

I walked down the long hallway trying to avoid the situation. Unfortunately the situation was happening at the door across from mine. The man turned to look at me as I approached.

“What?” He shouted. “You got a fucking problem?”

The door he had been pounding on swung open and a woman stepped out into the hall, throwing a duffle bag at his chest. “Take your shit and go!” She shouted.

And that was when the grocery bags decided to rip. Cans of knock off spaghetti o’s, spam, ramen noodles, a jug of lactose free milk and other pathetic food stuff spilled out onto the floor.

The fighting couple turned to look at me as silence filled the hall.

I made my Jim Halpert face as I looked from them to my fallen groceries.

The man shook his head, “Whatever, I’m out of here.” Before storming off down the hall.

I sighed and bent to start picking up my things.

“Here, let me help.” Said the woman as she bent to pick up a can of beans that had rolled over by her door.

“Thanks, I’m Josh by the way.” I said with a smile. “I live across the hall.”

She nodded and smiled back, “I’m Rosa. We just moved in… well, I guess it’s just me now.”

“Yeah, I uh… I saw. Sorry.” I said, feeling awkward.

Rosa shook her head, “Don’t be, he’s a pendejo.”

I stood and unlocked my door. Rosa helped me bring in my groceries and looked around at my messy apartment.

“Sorry about the mess.” I said, “I haven’t entertained in a while.”

She shrugged, “Its fine, you should see mine. Still full of moving boxes, and only half of its mine.”

“Well, thanks for the help.” I said as she turned to leave, “And sorry about the uh… pendejo.”

She laughed, “His name is Steve.”

“Think I prefer pendejo.” I said with a smile.

“I’ll see you around Josh.” Said Rosa as she smiled back and closed the door.

I turned away from the door, and began putting my groceries away. I went to bed that night thinking I might like to get to know Rosa better.

The next morning when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, I was greeted by what was essentially an angry mob. The building tenants were in an uproar. I pushed through the crowd to get to my mailbox, only to find it empty.

“No mail today!” Someone shouted.

I turned to see Frank, the grumpy old Vietnam vet who lived on the floor above mine, standing by the security desk.

“What’s going on?” I shouted.

He pointed to the door, “See for yourself.”

Instead of pushing through the crowd, I stepped up onto a bench to see over the bobbing heads.

There were chains on the outside of the lobby doors. And what looked like heavy gage chain link fencing across the entire front of the building.

“What’s happening?” Asked Rosa as she stepped onto the bench next to me.

I shook my head, “I don’t know. It looks like the building as been locked down.”

“What? Why?” she asked, “I have to be at work in two hours.”

I was about to say something else when the building intercom squealed to life. “Attention residents of Pine Hills Apartments. Due to a potentially contagious viral outbreak, the building is now under quarantine.”

The tenants quieted, listening to the speaker, some backed away from the crowd, looking weary.

Immediately, I thought of the coughing man from last night and wondered if Sam was okay.

“How long are we stuck here?” Someone shouted.

I couldn’t tell where the person speaking was, but I assumed they were tapped into the intercom from outside. That had to be listening though, because the next thing they said was, “We are working on a time table right now. But due to the severity of the situation, we can’t give any more details. We advise you all to return to your apartments and self isolate for the time being.”

The people shouted more protests about civil rights, their jobs, and other such concerns. But the intercom stayed silent.

Eventually the residents started to trickle back to the elevators and stairwells. Eyeing anyone who so much as sniffed with a cold suspicion.

“Great. Now I have to go call work and tell them I’m stuck in a petri dish.” Said Rosa as she hopped down from the bench and headed for the elevator. “See ya.” She said with a half wave over her shoulder, already looking at her phone.

“Bye.” I mumbled as she left.

I noticed Frank, watching me from the other side of the slowly emptying lobby. I made my way over to stand next to him.

“You believe this shit?” He asked with a nod to the door.

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you?”

He shook his head adjusted the green ball cap he wore. “Not for a God damn second.”

“You don’t think there is a virus?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” He said in his gravely voice. “But I think they know a whole lot more about it than they’re letting on. Working on a time table, my ass. Hell, kid, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put the shit in here their selves.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how paranoid that sounds?”

He smiled, “Hey, just because I’m paranoid, don’t mean they ain’t out to get me.”

I smiled back, “Right.”

Frank was known to be a hateful old grouch to most people in the building. But for some reason we had hit it off. I chalked it up to us both being relatively unsociable and reclusive.

“By the way,” He said, “Whose your new lady friend.”

I rolled my eyes at his use of “lady friend.” “Her name is Rosa. She’s my new neighbor.”

Frank nodded and winked. “I could think of worse neighbors to have.”

I shook my head and I patted the old dog on the shoulder, “Good talking with you, Frank. I think I’m gonna head up now.”

He nodded, “Sure, but hey, Josh.” 

I turned back to face him.

“You be careful, alright.” He said seriously. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

I nodded my thanks and headed for the elevator.

When I stepped onto my floor. The first thing that struck me was the silence. It stood in stark contrast to the uproar that had been going on down in the lobby.

As I walked down the long gray carpeted hall, a sound caught my ear. I stopped just outside Mrs. Johnson’s door and listened to the coughing that came from within. “Damn.” I thought. She sounded terrible. Part of me wanted to reach out and knock on her door to ask if she needed anything. But after a moment of hesitation, I listened to the voice of caution in my head and walked away.

The rest of the day passed without much event. I sat on the couch, ate junk food, played video games and watched TV. I thought about going across the hall and asking Rosa if she wanted to watch a movie or something, but decided against it. They had said to self isolate after all.

It was around 9:30 PM when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peep hole to see Rosa standing there, a concerned look on her face.

I brushed crumbs off my shirt and gave a glance around to the apartment that I still hadn’t cleaned and opened the door.

“Hey.” I said.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, pointing down the hall to Mrs. Johnson’s door.

From out in the hall, I could hear that the coughing had gotten significantly worse. I grimaced, “Holy shit. I heard her coughing earlier but it was nowhere near that bad.”

“Should we do something?” She asked.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess we could call 911 but with the lockdown, I don’t know if they would even come.”

“That’s the other thing.” Said Rosa turning to face me, “Do you have any service?”

I turned and picked up my phone from the counter, no signal. “Huh.” I muttered, “No, I got nothing.”

“I don’t either.” She said, coming in and sitting at my table. “I’ve been trying to call work all day but I can’t get any reception.”

I sat down at the table across from her, “That’s weird. Maybe a tower is down or something?”

She shrugged, “Maybe. Odd timing though.”

I was thinking the same thing, Frank’s paranoid mentality had began to rub off on me.

“So what do you do for work?” I asked, changing the subject.

“ER nurse.” She said, “That is, if I still have a job. I’m way late for my shift.”

“Well that sounds exciting.” I Said.

“It can be.” She said with a nod, “What about you?”

“Nothing exciting at all, I’m a writer. Well, a journalist actually.” I said.

“Oh, anything I might have read?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Not unless you make a habit of reading about local dog shows or the new flag pole at City Hall.”

Suddenly we heard the sound of a door flinging open down the hall, accompanied by violent, racking, wet coughs.

Rosa and I stood slowly and stepped over to my still open door. Peeking around the door jam, we saw Mrs. Johnson stumbling down the hall. She was bent over, hacking up dark chunks of viscous fluid. She looked up at us, tears running down her face, the same dark ooze dripped from her nose. And then she broke into a dead sprint down the hall, straight at us.

I grabbed Rosa, who had been stepping out into the hall, and pulled her back into my apartment, I slammed to door shut and turned the dead bolt. Mrs. Johnson began pounding violently on the heavy door, coughing and screaming.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed, stepping back from the door.

Rosa didn’t speak, her eyes were fixed on the door as it shook from the battering of an 82 year old woman.

We stood there in shocked silence as the banging on the door slowly stopped. After a moment more, we heard footsteps receding down the hallway.

When Rosa finally did speak, all she said was, “Can I stay here tonight?”

I nodded wordlessly.

The building intercom sounded. “Attention residents of Pine Hills. Do not open your doors. Do not check on your neighbors. Do not leave your apartments. There is a biological vector inside the building.”

We looked at each other in shocked disbelief.  What the hell was going on?

I offered Rosa my bed but she refused, opting to sleep on the couch instead. The next morning we ate cereal and flicked through the local news stations, hoping to see something about our building and what was going on. But there was no coverage of our situation at all. I was sure Frank would have something to say about that.

I turned to Rosa on the couch and asked, “You work at the hospital right? Do you have any idea what’s going on? What contagion that could have been?.”

She sat down her bowl and shook her head, “I mostly deal with cuts and broken bones, stomach flu at the worst. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I don’t understand how she was so fast. And her strength? I mean, I was worried for a minute that she would knock the door down.” I said.

Rosa nodded, “And did you see the look in her eyes? She looked more like a rabid animal than a person.”

We sat there in silence for a moment.

“Is there another way out of the building?” She asked after a moment. “I just… I have a really bad feeling about all this.”

I thought about it,  “Maybe the fire escape?”

She nodded, stepping over to the window. “Holy shit.” She muttered.

“What?” I asked, getting up to go see out the window.

We realized then that the fire escape wouldn’t work. On the building rooftop across the street was a man with a scoped rifle. I moved to another window and saw the same thing on the next building.

“Surely they wouldn’t…” She began.

“Yeah.” I said cutting her off. The image of Mrs. Johnson flashing in my mind. “I think they would.”

We spent the rest of the day sitting around, talking, eating more junk food and wondering when this would all end. Every once in a while, I could have sworn I heard movement from out in the hall. But when I looked out of the peephole, I saw nothing but the dark stains on the carpet, left behind my Mrs. Johnson.

That night we ate a frozen pizza and watched old reruns of the Twilight zone. If the situation had been different, it actually might have been sort of romantic. As it was, we were both jumping at ever sound from within the building. At some point, we had both dozed off there on the couch.

Sometime later, my eyes blinked open to the sound of something thumping around from somewhere inside my apartment. I sat up and looked around. Rosa was still asleep, curled up on the other side of the couch. I stood and was about to search the apartment when the sound stopped. I scratched my head and headed for my bedroom when the sound came again. Something fleshy, sliding against something metallic. I glanced up to the oversized air duct on the ceiling. Something was up there.

It moved through the duct, slowly and clumsily. I stepped over to the couch, tapping Rosa on the shoulder, “Rosa. Rosa, wake up.”

She turned over and stretched, mumbling something sleepily.

Whatever was in the duct reached the vent over the kitchen and dark oozing fluid began to drip down onto the tile floor.

I leaned over and shook Rosa hard, “Rosa, wake the fuck up. Something is here.”

Her eyes shot open and she leapt up, just as the vent collapsed and the thing fell to the floor with a wet slap.

We stood in the front room, looking into the kitchen as it crawled across the floor. It was Yan, the yoga instructor from down the hall, or at least it used to be. I only recognized him from the mess of curly blond hair he still had. His body was stretched, smashed, and bleeding. Bones and joints had snapped and relocated until he was compact enough to worm his way through the tight ducting. His head rotated around to look at us, a hungry leer on his bearded face.

“What the shit!” Rosa screamed.

The sound of wet bones creaking and popping began as his arms and legs tried to move back to their original positions. I grabbed Rosa’s hand and ran for the apartment door.

We stepped out into the hall, shutting my door behind us. “Where do we go?” She asked. “I left my keys on your coffee table.”

“Shit.” I breathed. “Come on.” 

We started down the hall, knocking on every apartment door we came to, but no one answered.

Suddenly Rosa’s door flung open and Steve stepped out. Apparently he had never actually left the building. “Hey what’s…” He started.

My door opened and Yan stumbled out into the hall. Both his arms were somehow contorted to the same side of his body. His torso looked twisted halfway at his midsection and his legs hadn’t taken their correct shape.

Steve shouted and tried to back away from the misshapen man but Yan was too close and too quick. He grabbed onto the shocked man’s face and bit into it.

We watched in horror as they fell to the floor in a heap of thrashing limbs. Steve screamed as Yan tore at him with his hands and teeth until he went silent, a pool of blood slowly spreading on the floor.

I couldn’t understand what was happening, what the hell kind of virus did this?

Yan looked up at us from Steve’s mangled body, he smiled a wet toothy smile and then plunged his arms and then his head into Steve’s chest cavity.

I bent over and puked on the gray carpet as the two bodies began to roll across the floor, slamming into the walls with the wet sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones. Then the fucking thing stood up. Yan had contorted himself inside Steve’s body, biting and ripping holes for his head and twisted limbs. Somehow the flesh combined to form an amalgamation of the two men that crawled toward us. At first it was unsteady on its eight twisted and broken limbs, but the thing soon picked up it’s pace as it skittered down the hall after us, it’s two sets of teeth chattering loudly.

“Josh!” said Rosa, looking at the Yan/Steve thing as it rushed towards us.

“I know, keep trying!” I said pounding on the next door, then the next, “Help us!” I shouted.

“Somebody, please!” shouted Rosa as she kept knocking.

Yan/Steve let out creaking gasps as it hobbled after us, dark fluid pouring from its mouths.

Then the elevator on our end of the hall dinged. We turned as the doors opened and a man stepped out wearing a gas mask and holding a pistol. He fired at the thing over and over, until one then the other of its deformed heads blew off in chunks. “Move your asses!” Shouted the muffled yet familiar voice of Frank.

We ran for the elevator as we heard something large moving at the other end of the hall. We turned to look once we were inside. There, coming around the corner of the long hallway was something I had no room for in my mind. It was a conglomeration of flesh.

The doors slid closed and Frank hit the button for the top floor.

“What the fuck is going on, Frank?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at us for a moment before peeling off the gas mask, “Guess it ain’t airborne then. Seein as how you two ain’t infected.” He said, reloading his pistol and tucking it into his belt.

“What kind of virus does that?” Rosa asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. My contact on the outside wouldn’t tell me.”

“Contact? What contact?” I asked.

“The one that owed me a favor for some sketchy shit that went down back in ‘Nam.” He said meeting my eyes, “and that’s all I’m saying about that for now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rosa.

Frank smiled, “We are getting the hell out of here, little lady. Part of that favor I mentioned, includes a helo ride out of this shit show.”

Rosa and I both signed in relief. Thinking that this was almost over. And then the power went out.

“Fuck.” Said Frank as the lights went out and the elevator screeched to a stop.

“What are we gonna do?” Asked Rosa, her voice panicked.

“Elevator hatch.” I said. “We can climb to the roof from there.”

Frank clicked on a small flashlight, illuminating the elevator, “Good call, kid. Now give me a boost.”

I knelt and let him stand on my knee to reach the hatch. It swung open with a clang and the old vet scrambled up through. Before turning and reaching down for us.

“Alright.” I said to Rosa, “Up you get.” Then boosted her up into Franks waiting arms.

The elevator suddenly jolted as I was about to jump up. The impact knocked me to the floor, as the doors began to be pulled open by too many hands.

I screamed when I saw it. I don’t know how many people were bound up in that horrific knot of pulsing flesh but they all looked at me at once and let out a howl of dozens of voices. Luckily the elevator had only partially reached the floor below, leaving a 2 foot gap between the interior floor and exterior ceiling.

“Here!” Yelled Frank.

The pistol clattered to the floor in front of me. I grabbed it up and fired into the creature as fast as I could. The voices screamed but it didn’t relent. One of the longer of its arms managed to grasp onto my leg as I scrambled back against the elevator wall. Slowly I was being pulled toward the other grasping hands and chomping mouths. I saw Sam there in its horrible face, and Mrs. Johnson, and several other of the tenants I had come to know since moving in.

“Josh!” Shouted Rosa. “When I tell you, shoot the arm!”

The elevator jolted again, I looked up to see Frank and Rosa jumping on the roof. I heard them counting and jumping in sync.

The thing yanked again, pulling my left leg completely through the door.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted. “Wait, my leg is…!

The elevator dropped, Rosa and Frank shouted, “Now!”

I leaned forward, the drop making it feel like I was floating for a moment. I fired the pistol into the things arm as I kicked out at the door with my other leg. The shot was good and the arm released. I fell back against the wall as the elevator dropped to the floor below.

I looked down at my throbbing leg to see that the arm hadn’t let go. It was sliced off at the elbow, still clinging to my leg and trying to worm it’s way up. I jumped up pushing the appendage off of me. It flopped wildly on the floor, before righting itself and crawling across the floor after me. I kicked it away and jumped up to the hatch.

Frank and Rosa were already making their way up the ladder on the other side of the shaft. I tossed the empty pistol away and climbed after them as the huge mass of flesh began pushing the door back open and  squeezing its way through. It got stuck and began ripping chunks off of itself to get at us.

When I looked back down, in the red emergency lighting, the thing looked like it was crawling out of the pits of hell itself. “Guys, we need to hurry!” I shouted as the thing wetly popped loose, and into the shaft.

Rosa looked back and screamed.

“Keep going!” Yelled Frank!

We did, we climbed and climbed, hearing the countless slap of hands and feet against the elevator shaft walls accompanied by the moans of dozens of voices just below us.

When we finally reached the rooftop, the helicopter was waiting, just like Frank had said. Two armed men ushered us aboard and we took off into the night.

45 minutes later, we were debriefed by a Mr. Neilan. He was the director of some obscure government agency I had never heard of. Apparently Frank had helped them out years ago with some kind of problem in Vietnam. It was all very hush hush.

Neilan told us that we were among a lucky few who had survived similar events as this. When I asked him what actually happened all he would say was that it was “An unfortunate series of events that led to an outbreak of an unknown origin.”

“You know I’m gonna tell people about this right?” I said meeting his eyes. “This is bullshit and the people deserve to know what’s happening.”

Neilan studied me for a moment from behind his round wire rim glasses. “Who do you think will believe you?”

I don’t know who will believe this. Hell, I’m not sure I want to believe it. But I have to try, I am a reporter after all.

The mid autumn breeze blew at the back of my neck as I pushed through the door of my apartment building. Sam, the night guard looked up from his desk and gave me a wave, “Late night, huh?”

I nodded and hurried to the elevator, feeling the grocery bags I was carrying staining at the seams.

“Oh, hey let me get that for you.” He said, standing up and getting the button.

“Thanks, Sam.” I said, hoping that bags held at least until I got to my floor.

He smiled, turning up the edges of his white mustache, “No problem, Josh.”

We stood there in the lobby in silence, waiting for the elevator. I watched as the numbers began counting down from 15.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Said Sam.

I nodded watching the oh so slowly descending elevator numbers. “Yeah. It’s uh… getting cool out there.”

Sam nodded and smiled.

God, I wished the elevator would hurry. Sam was a good guy but it was late and I was in no mood for small talk.

I looked back at the numbers, it was at the 8th floor now. I sighed.

“Tough week?”

I forced a smile and cleared my throat, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a long one.”

The florescent lights of the lobby hummed overhead as the numbers descended.

I felt Sam turn to me, about to say something else. When suddenly the quiet of the lobby was interrupted by someone pushing through the door from the street.

The man stepped into the lobby, coughing violently. He stepped over to a wooden bench that sat next to the rows of mailboxes and plopped down, continuing to cough.

Sam and I had both turned to look at the man, he was thin, maybe mid forties with thinning greasy dark hair and a long gray overcoat that was stained with… I didn’t want I guess with what.

The man looked up as Sam started towards him.

“Geez pal, you sound pretty rough.” Said Sam.

The man nodded and continued coughing as the elevator dinged open.

Sam turned back to me apologetically, “Shoot, Josh. I was gonna help you up, but…” He said, tilting his head toward the ill man.

I shook my head, “Oh no, I’m fine.” I said, feeling a bit relieved, “I think he needs help more than I do.”

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button with the toe of my shoe. He nodded and turned away to face the man. I heard him ask the coughing man. “Buddy, is there someone I can call for you?” But the doors closed before I could hear the mans answer.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open on the 7th floor and I stepped out to see a man in a baggy sweatshirt shouting and banging on a door down the hall. “Shit.” I sighed.

I walked down the long hallway trying to avoid the situation. Unfortunately the situation was happening at the door across from mine. The man turned to look at me as I approached.

“What?” He shouted. “You got a fucking problem?”

The door he had been pounding on swung open and a woman stepped out into the hall, throwing a duffle bag at his chest. “Take your shit and go!” She shouted.

And that was when the grocery bags decided to rip. Cans of knock off spaghetti o’s, spam, ramen noodles, a jug of lactose free milk and other pathetic food stuff spilled out onto the floor.

The fighting couple turned to look at me as silence filled the hall.

I made my Jim Halpert face as I looked from them to my fallen groceries.

The man shook his head, “Whatever, I’m out of here.” Before storming off down the hall.

I sighed and bent to start picking up my things.

“Here, let me help.” Said the woman as she bent to pick up a can of beans that had rolled over by her door.

“Thanks, I’m Josh by the way.” I said with a smile. “I live across the hall.”

She nodded and smiled back, “I’m Rosa. We just moved in… well, I guess it’s just me now.”

“Yeah, I uh… I saw. Sorry.” I said, feeling awkward.

Rosa shook her head, “Don’t be, he’s a pendejo.”

I stood and unlocked my door. Rosa helped me bring in my groceries and looked around at my messy apartment.

“Sorry about the mess.” I said, “I haven’t entertained in a while.”

She shrugged, “Its fine, you should see mine. Still full of moving boxes, and only half of its mine.”

“Well, thanks for the help.” I said as she turned to leave, “And sorry about the uh… pendejo.”

She laughed, “His name is Steve.”

“Think I prefer pendejo.” I said with a smile.

“I’ll see you around Josh.” Said Rosa as she smiled back and closed the door.

I turned away from the door, and began putting my groceries away. I went to bed that night thinking I might like to get to know Rosa better.

The next morning when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, I was greeted by what was essentially an angry mob. The building tenants were in an uproar. I pushed through the crowd to get to my mailbox, only to find it empty.

“No mail today!” Someone shouted.

I turned to see Frank, the grumpy old Vietnam vet who lived on the floor above mine, standing by the security desk.

“What’s going on?” I shouted.

He pointed to the door, “See for yourself.”

Instead of pushing through the crowd, I stepped up onto a bench to see over the bobbing heads.

There were chains on the outside of the lobby doors. And what looked like heavy gage chain link fencing across the entire front of the building.

“What’s happening?” Asked Rosa as she stepped onto the bench next to me.

I shook my head, “I don’t know. It looks like the building as been locked down.”

“What? Why?” she asked, “I have to be at work in two hours.”

I was about to say something else when the building intercom squealed to life. “Attention residents of Pine Hills Apartments. Due to a potentially contagious viral outbreak, the building is now under quarantine.”

The tenants quieted, listening to the speaker, some backed away from the crowd, looking weary.

Immediately, I thought of the coughing man from last night and wondered if Sam was okay.

“How long are we stuck here?” Someone shouted.

I couldn’t tell where the person speaking was, but I assumed they were tapped into the intercom from outside. That had to be listening though, because the next thing they said was, “We are working on a time table right now. But due to the severity of the situation, we can’t give any more details. We advise you all to return to your apartments and self isolate for the time being.”

The people shouted more protests about civil rights, their jobs, and other such concerns. But the intercom stayed silent.

Eventually the residents started to trickle back to the elevators and stairwells. Eyeing anyone who so much as sniffed with a cold suspicion.

“Great. Now I have to go call work and tell them I’m stuck in a petri dish.” Said Rosa as she hopped down from the bench and headed for the elevator. “See ya.” She said with a half wave over her shoulder, already looking at her phone.

“Bye.” I mumbled as she left.

I noticed Frank, watching me from the other side of the slowly emptying lobby. I made my way over to stand next to him.

“You believe this shit?” He asked with a nod to the door.

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you?”

He shook his head adjusted the green ball cap he wore. “Not for a God damn second.”

“You don’t think there is a virus?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” He said in his gravely voice. “But I think they know a whole lot more about it than they’re letting on. Working on a time table, my ass. Hell, kid, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put the shit in here their selves.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how paranoid that sounds?”

He smiled, “Hey, just because I’m paranoid, don’t mean they ain’t out to get me.”

I smiled back, “Right.”

Frank was known to be a hateful old grouch to most people in the building. But for some reason we had hit it off. I chalked it up to us both being relatively unsociable and reclusive.

“By the way,” He said, “Whose your new lady friend.”

I rolled my eyes at his use of “lady friend.” “Her name is Rosa. She’s my new neighbor.”

Frank nodded and winked. “I could think of worse neighbors to have.”

I shook my head and I patted the old dog on the shoulder, “Good talking with you, Frank. I think I’m gonna head up now.”

He nodded, “Sure, but hey, Josh.” 

I turned back to face him.

“You be careful, alright.” He said seriously. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

I nodded my thanks and headed for the elevator.

When I stepped onto my floor. The first thing that struck me was the silence. It stood in stark contrast to the uproar that had been going on down in the lobby.

As I walked down the long gray carpeted hall, a sound caught my ear. I stopped just outside Mrs. Johnson’s door and listened to the coughing that came from within. “Damn.” I thought. She sounded terrible. Part of me wanted to reach out and knock on her door to ask if she needed anything. But after a moment of hesitation, I listened to the voice of caution in my head and walked away.

The rest of the day passed without much event. I sat on the couch, ate junk food, played video games and watched TV. I thought about going across the hall and asking Rosa if she wanted to watch a movie or something, but decided against it. They had said to self isolate after all.

It was around 9:30 PM when I heard a knock on my door. I looked through the peep hole to see Rosa standing there, a concerned look on her face.

I brushed crumbs off my shirt and gave a glance around to the apartment that I still hadn’t cleaned and opened the door.

“Hey.” I said.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, pointing down the hall to Mrs. Johnson’s door.

From out in the hall, I could hear that the coughing had gotten significantly worse. I grimaced, “Holy shit. I heard her coughing earlier but it was nowhere near that bad.”

“Should we do something?” She asked.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess we could call 911 but with the lockdown, I don’t know if they would even come.”

“That’s the other thing.” Said Rosa turning to face me, “Do you have any service?”

I turned and picked up my phone from the counter, no signal. “Huh.” I muttered, “No, I got nothing.”

“I don’t either.” She said, coming in and sitting at my table. “I’ve been trying to call work all day but I can’t get any reception.”

I sat down at the table across from her, “That’s weird. Maybe a tower is down or something?”

She shrugged, “Maybe. Odd timing though.”

I was thinking the same thing, Frank’s paranoid mentality had began to rub off on me.

“So what do you do for work?” I asked, changing the subject.

“ER nurse.” She said, “That is, if I still have a job. I’m way late for my shift.”

“Well that sounds exciting.” I Said.

“It can be.” She said with a nod, “What about you?”

“Nothing exciting at all, I’m a writer. Well, a journalist actually.” I said.

“Oh, anything I might have read?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Not unless you make a habit of reading about local dog shows or the new flag pole at City Hall.”

Suddenly we heard the sound of a door flinging open down the hall, accompanied by violent, racking, wet coughs.

Rosa and I stood slowly and stepped over to my still open door. Peeking around the door jam, we saw Mrs. Johnson stumbling down the hall. She was bent over, hacking up dark chunks of viscous fluid. She looked up at us, tears running down her face, the same dark ooze dripped from her nose. And then she broke into a dead sprint down the hall, straight at us.

I grabbed Rosa, who had been stepping out into the hall, and pulled her back into my apartment, I slammed to door shut and turned the dead bolt. Mrs. Johnson began pounding violently on the heavy door, coughing and screaming.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed, stepping back from the door.

Rosa didn’t speak, her eyes were fixed on the door as it shook from the battering of an 82 year old woman.

We stood there in shocked silence as the banging on the door slowly stopped. After a moment more, we heard footsteps receding down the hallway.

When Rosa finally did speak, all she said was, “Can I stay here tonight?”

I nodded wordlessly.

The building intercom sounded. “Attention residents of Pine Hills. Do not open your doors. Do not check on your neighbors. Do not leave your apartments. There is a biological vector inside the building.”

We looked at each other in shocked disbelief.  What the hell was going on?

I offered Rosa my bed but she refused, opting to sleep on the couch instead. The next morning we ate cereal and flicked through the local news stations, hoping to see something about our building and what was going on. But there was no coverage of our situation at all. I was sure Frank would have something to say about that.

I turned to Rosa on the couch and asked, “You work at the hospital right? Do you have any idea what’s going on? What contagion that could have been?.”

She sat down her bowl and shook her head, “I mostly deal with cuts and broken bones, stomach flu at the worst. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I don’t understand how she was so fast. And her strength? I mean, I was worried for a minute that she would knock the door down.” I said.

Rosa nodded, “And did you see the look in her eyes? She looked more like a rabid animal than a person.”

We sat there in silence for a moment.

“Is there another way out of the building?” She asked after a moment. “I just… I have a really bad feeling about all this.”

I thought about it,  “Maybe the fire escape?”

She nodded, stepping over to the window. “Holy shit.” She muttered.

“What?” I asked, getting up to go see out the window.

We realized then that the fire escape wouldn’t work. On the building rooftop across the street was a man with a scoped rifle. I moved to another window and saw the same thing on the next building.

“Surely they wouldn’t…” She began.

“Yeah.” I said cutting her off. The image of Mrs. Johnson flashing in my mind. “I think they would.”

We spent the rest of the day sitting around, talking, eating more junk food and wondering when this would all end. Every once in a while, I could have sworn I heard movement from out in the hall. But when I looked out of the peephole, I saw nothing but the dark stains on the carpet, left behind my Mrs. Johnson.

That night we ate a frozen pizza and watched old reruns of the Twilight zone. If the situation had been different, it actually might have been sort of romantic. As it was, we were both jumping at ever sound from within the building. At some point, we had both dozed off there on the couch.

Sometime later, my eyes blinked open to the sound of something thumping around from somewhere inside my apartment. I sat up and looked around. Rosa was still asleep, curled up on the other side of the couch. I stood and was about to search the apartment when the sound stopped. I scratched my head and headed for my bedroom when the sound came again. Something fleshy, sliding against something metallic. I glanced up to the oversized air duct on the ceiling. Something was up there.

It moved through the duct, slowly and clumsily. I stepped over to the couch, tapping Rosa on the shoulder, “Rosa. Rosa, wake up.”

She turned over and stretched, mumbling something sleepily.

Whatever was in the duct reached the vent over the kitchen and dark oozing fluid began to drip down onto the tile floor.

I leaned over and shook Rosa hard, “Rosa, wake the fuck up. Something is here.”

Her eyes shot open and she leapt up, just as the vent collapsed and the thing fell to the floor with a wet slap.

We stood in the front room, looking into the kitchen as it crawled across the floor. It was Yan, the yoga instructor from down the hall, or at least it used to be. I only recognized him from the mess of curly blond hair he still had. His body was stretched, smashed, and bleeding. Bones and joints had snapped and relocated until he was compact enough to worm his way through the tight ducting. His head rotated around to look at us, a hungry leer on his bearded face.

“What the shit!” Rosa screamed.

The sound of wet bones creaking and popping began as his arms and legs tried to move back to their original positions. I grabbed Rosa’s hand and ran for the apartment door.

We stepped out into the hall, shutting my door behind us. “Where do we go?” She asked. “I left my keys on your coffee table.”

“Shit.” I breathed. “Come on.” 

We started down the hall, knocking on every apartment door we came to, but no one answered.

Suddenly Rosa’s door flung open and Steve stepped out. Apparently he had never actually left the building. “Hey what’s…” He started.

My door opened and Yan stumbled out into the hall. Both his arms were somehow contorted to the same side of his body. His torso looked twisted halfway at his midsection and his legs hadn’t taken their correct shape.

Steve shouted and tried to back away from the misshapen man but Yan was too close and too quick. He grabbed onto the shocked man’s face and bit into it.

We watched in horror as they fell to the floor in a heap of thrashing limbs. Steve screamed as Yan tore at him with his hands and teeth until he went silent, a pool of blood slowly spreading on the floor.

I couldn’t understand what was happening, what the hell kind of virus did this?

Yan looked up at us from Steve’s mangled body, he smiled a wet toothy smile and then plunged his arms and then his head into Steve’s chest cavity.

I bent over and puked on the gray carpet as the two bodies began to roll across the floor, slamming into the walls with the wet sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones. Then the fucking thing stood up. Yan had contorted himself inside Steve’s body, biting and ripping holes for his head and twisted limbs. Somehow the flesh combined to form an amalgamation of the two men that crawled toward us. At first it was unsteady on its eight twisted and broken limbs, but the thing soon picked up it’s pace as it skittered down the hall after us, it’s two sets of teeth chattering loudly.

“Josh!” said Rosa, looking at the Yan/Steve thing as it rushed towards us.

“I know, keep trying!” I said pounding on the next door, then the next, “Help us!” I shouted.

“Somebody, please!” shouted Rosa as she kept knocking.

Yan/Steve let out creaking gasps as it hobbled after us, dark fluid pouring from its mouths.

Then the elevator on our end of the hall dinged. We turned as the doors opened and a man stepped out wearing a gas mask and holding a pistol. He fired at the thing over and over, until one then the other of its deformed heads blew off in chunks. “Move your asses!” Shouted the muffled yet familiar voice of Frank.

We ran for the elevator as we heard something large moving at the other end of the hall. We turned to look once we were inside. There, coming around the corner of the long hallway was something I had no room for in my mind. It was a conglomeration of flesh.

The doors slid closed and Frank hit the button for the top floor.

“What the fuck is going on, Frank?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at us for a moment before peeling off the gas mask, “Guess it ain’t airborne then. Seein as how you two ain’t infected.” He said, reloading his pistol and tucking it into his belt.

“What kind of virus does that?” Rosa asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. My contact on the outside wouldn’t tell me.”

“Contact? What contact?” I asked.

“The one that owed me a favor for some sketchy shit that went down back in ‘Nam.” He said meeting my eyes, “and that’s all I’m saying about that for now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rosa.

Frank smiled, “We are getting the hell out of here, little lady. Part of that favor I mentioned, includes a helo ride out of this shit show.”

Rosa and I both signed in relief. Thinking that this was almost over. And then the power went out.

“Fuck.” Said Frank as the lights went out and the elevator screeched to a stop.

“What are we gonna do?” Asked Rosa, her voice panicked.

“Elevator hatch.” I said. “We can climb to the roof from there.”

Frank clicked on a small flashlight, illuminating the elevator, “Good call, kid. Now give me a boost.”

I knelt and let him stand on my knee to reach the hatch. It swung open with a clang and the old vet scrambled up through. Before turning and reaching down for us.

“Alright.” I said to Rosa, “Up you get.” Then boosted her up into Franks waiting arms.

The elevator suddenly jolted as I was about to jump up. The impact knocked me to the floor, as the doors began to be pulled open by too many hands.

I screamed when I saw it. I don’t know how many people were bound up in that horrific knot of pulsing flesh but they all looked at me at once and let out a howl of dozens of voices. Luckily the elevator had only partially reached the floor below, leaving a 2 foot gap between the interior floor and exterior ceiling.

“Here!” Yelled Frank.

The pistol clattered to the floor in front of me. I grabbed it up and fired into the creature as fast as I could. The voices screamed but it didn’t relent. One of the longer of its arms managed to grasp onto my leg as I scrambled back against the elevator wall. Slowly I was being pulled toward the other grasping hands and chomping mouths. I saw Sam there in its horrible face, and Mrs. Johnson, and several other of the tenants I had come to know since moving in.

“Josh!” Shouted Rosa. “When I tell you, shoot the arm!”

The elevator jolted again, I looked up to see Frank and Rosa jumping on the roof. I heard them counting and jumping in sync.

The thing yanked again, pulling my left leg completely through the door.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shouted. “Wait, my leg is…!

The elevator dropped, Rosa and Frank shouted, “Now!”

I leaned forward, the drop making it feel like I was floating for a moment. I fired the pistol into the things arm as I kicked out at the door with my other leg. The shot was good and the arm released. I fell back against the wall as the elevator dropped to the floor below.

I looked down at my throbbing leg to see that the arm hadn’t let go. It was sliced off at the elbow, still clinging to my leg and trying to worm it’s way up. I jumped up pushing the appendage off of me. It flopped wildly on the floor, before righting itself and crawling across the floor after me. I kicked it away and jumped up to the hatch.

Frank and Rosa were already making their way up the ladder on the other side of the shaft. I tossed the empty pistol away and climbed after them as the huge mass of flesh began pushing the door back open and  squeezing its way through. It got stuck and began ripping chunks off of itself to get at us.

When I looked back down, in the red emergency lighting, the thing looked like it was crawling out of the pits of hell itself. “Guys, we need to hurry!” I shouted as the thing wetly popped loose, and into the shaft.

Rosa looked back and screamed.

“Keep going!” Yelled Frank!

We did, we climbed and climbed, hearing the countless slap of hands and feet against the elevator shaft walls accompanied by the moans of dozens of voices just below us.

When we finally reached the rooftop, the helicopter was waiting, just like Frank had said. Two armed men ushered us aboard and we took off into the night.

45 minutes later, we were debriefed by a Mr. Neilan. He was the director of some obscure government agency I had never heard of. Apparently Frank had helped them out years ago with some kind of problem in Vietnam. It was all very hush hush.

Neilan told us that we were among a lucky few who had survived similar events as this. When I asked him what actually happened all he would say was that it was “An unfortunate series of events that led to an outbreak of an unknown origin.”

“You know I’m gonna tell people about this right?” I said meeting his eyes. “This is bullshit and the people deserve to know what’s happening.”

Neilan studied me for a moment from behind his round wire rim glasses. “Who do you think will believe you?”

I don’t know who will believe this. Hell, I’m not sure I want to believe it. But I have to try, I am a reporter after all.

When I was a kid, I didn’t have the best home life. My parents were always busy and when they weren’t, they seemed to never have much interest in spending time with me. They were never abusive, just emotionally unavailable. So eventually I just stopped trying to get their attention and made peace with how it was.

The summers I spent at my grandparents house was where I felt the happiest and the most at home. They lived out in the country on a large piece of land, filled with woods and fields. I’d spend my days wandering the game trails and exploring the property with my dog, Rusty, always finding something new and interesting. Like the old stone wall in the middle of the woods that stretched across a small creek, or the rotting remains of an old wooden shed long forgotten. Then, on cooler nights, I would put up my small tent in the yard and sleep under the stars. My grandparents were the best and kindest people I ever knew. Any time I got hurt or felt bad about something, Grandma was there to pick me up and fix me a meal. Grandpa was an amazing storyteller, many late nights he stayed up telling the tales of hero’s, cowboys, and frontier times. They gave me free range of the entire property and the house. Except for one place. I was never allowed to go in or near the basement. Even straying too close to the basement door was discouraged.

“There is nothing down there for you.” My grandmother would say.

On the rare occasion I got up the courage to ask my grandfather about it, he only smiled and said, “We keep a lot of old things in the basement.”

“Like old tools or something?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It isn’t safe to go down there, Tommy. Besides, you have the whole property as your playground.”

And for years I was satisfied with that answer, happy enough to leave the basement alone. Until I wasn’t.

By the time I was fourteen, I had explored the property in its entirety. Seen all it had to offer. I found though, that there was a nagging curiosity that pulled at my mind. One that I had come back to more than once. What was in the basement?

One night after supper, fried chicken and Mac n cheese. I waited up in my tent until late into the night, long after the lights in the house had gone out. I got up and made for the tent zipper, waking Rusty as I stepped across the crackling plastic of the tent floor. The red heeler sat up and looked at me sideways as if to ask what I was doing.

“Stay here, boy.” I said patting his head.

He let out a soft woof, as I climbed out of the tent and made my way to the house.

The old wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. I paused in the doorway, listening for signs of movement from upstairs. After about a minute of silence, I let out the breath I had been holding and made my way through the front room to the kitchen. Grandpa always kept the basement locked with a heavy padlock. If I wanted to see what was down there, I would need his keys.

I knew that sometimes he took his keys to his room with him, but luckily they were hanging in their place on the key hooks by the back door. I reached up and took the keys, doing my best to prevent them from jangling, then made my way over to the basement door.

Wood creaked from somewhere within the old farm house as I reached for the lock. I ran through half of the keys on the ring, before the lock finally snapped open audibly. My heart pounded with anticipation as I turned the old iron knob and pulled open the door. The hinges squeaked with disuse and again I held my breath, waiting to see the lights flicking on from upstairs.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped through the dark doorway, flicking on the old Maglite I used when camping out in the yard. The old wooden steps seemed to go down far deeper than they should have. I kept watching for a pull string for the lights, but there was only thick layers of ancient looking cobwebs illuminated in the dim yellow of my old flashlight. The smell of dirt any musty wood rot filled my nose as I made my way down.

After what felt like 20 yards of rickety steps, I found myself standing on a dirt floor. I shined the flashlight around to see dirt walls and roof. There was no basement, just a rough hole dug into the ground. And there at the back of the hole was a wall. The back wall was not made of dirt but stacked cinder blocks, and in the center of the wall stood another locked wooden door.

 This one was different, heavy chains ran across the door to large steel bolts drilled into the wall and the door itself had heavy padlocks at the top and bottom.

I stepped up to the wall, grandpas keys in my hand.  Examining the chained door, wondering what my grandparents could be hiding down here, when I heard the sound of movement. Only it wasn’t  coming from upstairs. It was from behind the door. I stepped back, shining my light on the door. Were they keeping something in there? Some kind of animal? And then I heard it speak.

“Hello?” The voice sounded small and pained. Muffled by the heavy door.

I began to back away, goosebumps rising on my arms.

“Please, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just let me go home.” they said with a sob.

My heart pounded as I asked. “Who are you?”

The voice was silent for a solid minute before it spoke again.

“You’re not the ones who put me here. How did you get down here?”

“I… I was curious. I’m not supposed to…”

“Can you let me out?” asked the voice.

“I, I probably shouldn’t.” I said backing away.

They let out another sob, “Please, I just want to go home.”

I noticed that there was a sliding peep hole on the door. Curiosity itched at the back of my mind, as I stepped back up to the door.

“Who put you down here?” I asked. “And why?”

I reached up and slid the peep hole open, trying to see in, but the hole was too small to use my light and look through very well. I the faint rays of light that managed to shine into the locked room I could make out a figure, crouched there in the dark.

“Please let me out.” It sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“I can’t see you.” I said trying to shift my light.

In the gloom, the figures head rose slightly. “You want to see me?” it asked as it slowly stood to its full height. I couldn’t see it clearly but its rail thin frame seemed to have to hunch over as to not hit the roof. Suddenly it broke into a dead sprint at the door.

I fell back as it slammed against the heavy wood and began screaming, “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” The once small voice, huge and filled with rage.

The door shook as I climbed to my feet and turned away. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. When I got to the basement door, I did my best to close it as quietly as I could and snap the padlock back into place.

I ran back out of the house to my tent and climbed into my sleeping bag. Rusty, seeing my panic, curled up next to me, licking the tears from my face. I turned back to look out the mesh tent window at the house to see my grandparents bedroom light turn on, followed by the rest of the house lights. They had heard me. I turned away, pretending to be asleep. I heard the front door opened and waited for one of them to call out to me, but they never did. After a moment I turned back to see grandpa standing in the front porch light, staring at my tent. I turned back and pinched my eyes shut and didn’t sleep at all.

Eventually, the sun rose and I heard the door open again. “Tommy, come eat breakfast!” grandma called.

I left my tent and went inside, waiting to be scolded for what I had done. But the scolding never came. Grandma smiled as she sat a large plate of pancakes in front of me. I smiled back and dug in. Maybe they didn’t know I had gone down there. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.

“Linda, have you seen my keys?” asked grandpa as he stepped into the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat. The keys. I forgot to put them back.

Grandma shook her head, “No, did you leave them in your pants again? Check the laundry.”

He nodded and headed off to check.

After a moment, he called out, “No, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“That man.” Said grandma shaking her head, she then called out, “Well, I’m sure they will turn up.” She then went to start washing the dishes.

I hurriedly finished my pancakes and stood, preparing to leave the room and patting my pants pockets for the keys. “oh no.” I thought, hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Finished already?” called grandma behind me.

“Yeah, thanks grandma. They were great.” I said over my shoulder as I pushed through the screen door.

I searched the tent over and over, but the keys were gone. “Where are they?” I muttered over and over. Then it hit me, could I have dropped them last night? Were they down there, in the basement? I felt sick just thinking about it.

I stepped out of the tent and saw Rusty standing on the grass. He was staring at the house, his head cocked to one side as if listening. I stepped over to him and put my hand on his back. I guess the sudden touch startled him because he turned, snapping and growling before realizing it was me.

“Whoa, easy boy. It’s just me.” I said pulling my hand back.

He wined and lowered his head, nuzzling against me as if to say “I’m sorry.” I petted him and whispered to him that he was a good boy.

“Thomas.” Grandpa called.

I stood, feeling my heart pounding. They only ever called my Thomas when I was in trouble

He was standing next to his pickup in the driveway and motioned me over. As I approached, he said, “Get in. Let’s go for a drive.”

I numbly walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Grandpa got in and started the truck, eyeing the house.

We drove in silence out to the pasture. He didn’t speak or look at me. The old suspension of the farm truck squeaked as we drove over bumps and through ruts. Eventually we came to a stop overlooking a wheat meadow. Grandpa killed the truck and stared through the window for a moment in silence.

Without turning to me, he said, “I’m gonna ask you a question now. And whatever your answer, I’m going to trust you.” He turned to face me, “Okay?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

His pale blue eyes started into mine for a moment, “Did you go into the basement last night?”

My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to cry. I thought about lying to him but I couldn’t. “Yes.” I said, my voice trembling.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked back, there was anger in them.

“Grandpa?”

But he held up his hand stopping me, “What did you see?”

I swallowed, “There were stairs, a lot of them and another door. A… a locked door. With someone behind it.”

He leaned in close, his eyes drilling into mine, his next words were spoken slowly and with great care, “Did you speak to it?”

I nodded, feeling tears building up in my eyes, “Y…Yes.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, “Okay, Tommy. It’s okay. Just tell me everything.”

I told him.

He listened and nodded, “But you didn’t open the door? You didn’t let it out?”

“No.” I shook my head, “But I almost did. I thought it was someone in trouble.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s okay, the important thing is that you didn’t.”

I sniffed, “What is it?”

He sighed, and looked out over the meadow. “I don’t know. But it came from the woods.” He nodded to a thicket of trees on the other side of the meadow, “From those trees, right there.”

“Years ago I was out hunting in this very spot.  Sat right here as the sun sat, no deer in sight. But then I heard leaves crunching just ahead in the trees. I sat up and readied my rifle. Thinking this was it, here comes a big one.”  He turned to face me, “And then your grandma walked out of the woods. She stood there in the dusk light, looking around until she saw me. I almost believed it was her. It looked just like her, moved like her, sounded like her when she called out to me. I would have sworn it was her, only she was sitting right next to me in the deer stand.” He shook his head, “Back then she liked to go with me every once in a while. Neither of us has been hunting since.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I shot it.” He said bluntly. “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what it was trying to be.” He shook his head before continuing. “The thing fell to the ground and we left. Thinking it was over. It wasn’t until the next night when I realized, it wasn’t. She… It was calling my name out by the fence, “Bill, I’m hurt.” Or “Honey I need you.” We tried to ignore it, tried to kill it, tried everything but it just kept coming back.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

He laughed, “The only thing I could think of, trapped it.”

“How?”

He sighed, “I dug the tunnel in the basement and I let it inside. Let it believe I fell for it’s deception. I called her, it, to come in and see what I had been working on. Led it down to the basement and shut the door behind it.”

“That worked?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said with a chuckle. “It screamed and raged, banging on the door when it realized, but as long as we keep it locked up down  there ,it can’t hurt us.”

“What does it want?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, “You know what a cuckoo bird is, right?”

I nodded.

“I think maybe it’s something similar. I don’t know for sure, but I think it wants to take the place of someone.”

I swallowed, “Like grandma?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.” He said turning to face me, “Now, where are my keys.”

“I think I dropped them last night.” I said.

His face fell, “Where?”

“I… I think…” I stuttered.

“Dammit , where, Tommy?!” He shouted.

“In the basement, I think.” I finally said.

“Oh my God.” He breathed.

Grandpa started the he truck and slammed it into drive, throwing dirt and grass as he peeled out and headed back for the house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought it couldn’t get out.”

He didn’t answer until we slid to a halt back at the house.

“Thomas, take Rusty and get away from here.” He said, flinging the door open.

“What? Where do we go?”

He shook his head, “Go to the woods, to the old shed. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

I nodded and whistled for Rusty to come. Grandpa was heading for the house as we headed for the trees.

15 minutes later, we arrived at the shed, Rusty was running all over, sniffing and peeing on everything he could. We had been out to the old shed in a quite a while and he had lots of territory to remark.

We sat there waiting for most of the day. I wondered what happened at the house. Could that thing have gotten out? Were they okay? I felt sick worrying about them. About what was happening.

Eventually I heard the sound of grandpas truck coming down one of the trails. I stood and made my way out to see the truck coming along, grandma behind the wheel.

She smiled when she saw me, “Come along, Thomas. Dinner is almost done.”

I slowly stepped forward. “Where’s grandpa? I thought he was gonna come get me.”

She smiled again, “Oh he had to run to the store to pick something up, he should be back soon.”

I nodded and headed for the truck, “Okay.”

Rusty suddenly came up behind me and started barking at the truck, I turned to face him, “What is it, boy?”

He continued barking and growling, and bearing his teeth. I turned back to grandma who was still smiling. “Silly dog.” She said, looking at him, “I visited with the neighbors earlier, he probably smells their cat on me.”

I nodded and climbed into the truck. But Rusty refused to get in, he just kept barking and snarling at grandma.

Grandma drove us back to the house with my dog following at a distance.

“Grandpa mentioned some stuff earlier.” I said as we drove. “Stuff about the basement.”

Grandma sighed, “Is he telling you stories again?”

I shook my head, “No, he seemed serious. He said you guys saw something strange a long time ago. And that you had it locked up in the basement.”  

She pulled the truck to a stop in the driveway. “I don’t  want to talk about that anymore.” She said, getting out. “Now come on, dinner is waiting.”

I climbed out of the truck to see Rusty sitting out in the yard. No matter how I called to him, he wouldn’t come any closer. Eventually, I turned and followed grandma into the house, leaving him outside.

As I stepped into the house, I immediately caught a whiff of burning meat. Stepping into the kitchen, I saw the dinner she had laid out. Meatloaf that had been burnt so badly it looked like a piece of charred tree bark.

“Sit down.” She said pointing to the dining room table. As I sat, my eyes tracked along the wall to the basement door. The wide open basement door.

My heart pounded as she lay the plate of food on the table in front of me. She then sat down and smiled wide at me, waiting for me to eat.

“I’m… not that hungry.” I said with a glance down at the plate.

She sat there, unblinking as a fly landed on her open eyeball. Her smile never wavering. “But you love my cooking.” She said after a moment.

I nodded, “I do.” My voice trembled, “I’m just not hung…”

She slammed her hand on the table and screamed, “Eat the fucking food!”  Her face contorted in rage.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reached for the fork.

Rusty began barking outside again. Grandmas smile slammed back into place, “My goodness, did you forget to feed that dog again?”

I tried to stand, “Yes, I’ll go…”

But she stood and slammed her own fork down through my hand, pinning it to the dining room table.

I gasped in the sudden pain as blood oozed up from around the utensil.

“You stay here and eat.” She said still smiling. “I’ll take care of the dog.”

Tears of pain and shock and fear rolled down my face as she turned and walked out the back door.

Rusty barked like a feral beast outside and I realized now was my chance to get away. I didn’t know what happened to Grandpa but right then there was nothing for me to do but get out of there. I reached to the fork and felt a shock of pain as I grasped it. With all the effort I could manage, I gave it a solid yank. I tried not to scream, I tried. But the pain was more than I could bear and I screamed anyway. Rusty let out even more furious barks and growls, then my dog let out one pain filled yelp before falling silent.

Silent sobs racked my chest as I reached for the truck keys on the counter. Then the back door creaked open. I turned to see the imposter, standing in the doorway. Her fingernails coated in wet blood.

“Rusty isn’t feeling well.” She said, still smiling. “Did you eat?” she asked.

I nodded shakily, “It was good. Can I have more?”

She smiled all the wider and stepped up to me, placing one bloody hand on my cheek, “Of course you can, you’re a growing boy. And I’m going to take care of you, forever.”

When she stepped over to the stove and began filling another plate, I ran for the door. I pushed through it, slamming it back against the house and running for the truck. I leapt inside and fumbled the keys with my injured hand. Looking back to the house I saw the door open and the imposter step outside, looking around for where I had gone.

When her eyes locked on me she tilted her head, just like Rusty had. She suddenly dropped to all fours and ran at the truck, her limbs contorting and bending at extra joints like a huge spider.

The engine roared to life just as she kept into the hood and started beating on the windshield. “Stay! Stay! She screamed, over and over in a voice that sounded like too many voices scrambled up together. I floored the truck in reverse, then spun the wheel, flinging her off and turning the truck around before slamming it into drive and tearing off down the road.

I watched in the rearview mirror as I drove. She stood and looking like nothing in the world was wrong, turned and headed back to the house.

When I finally made it home, neither of my parents were there. I called the police and told them that an intruder was in my grandparents house and that I had gotten away. They said they would send a car out and let me know what they found. Then I called my parents and told them the same thing.

They found both of my grandparents in the basement. They never told me how they died, but we had closed casket funerals. They never found the intruder. The police and my parents didn’t believe me about the imposter. Said something about traumatic memories or something, I don’t know. I know what I saw though, and I know what I heard in the following nights. What I still hear, just outside my bedroom window. She wants to come inside. Maybe I should dig a tunnel.

I wasn't allowed near the basement of my grandparents house.

When I was a kid, I didn’t have the best home life. My parents were always busy and when they weren’t, they seemed to never have much interest in spending time with me. They were never abusive, just emotionally unavailable. So eventually I just stopped trying to get their attention and made peace with how it was.

The summers I spent at my grandparents house was where I felt the happiest and the most at home. They lived out in the country on a large piece of land, filled with woods and fields. I’d spend my days wandering the game trails and exploring the property with my dog, Rusty, always finding something new and interesting. Like the old stone wall in the middle of the woods that stretched across a small creek, or the rotting remains of an old wooden shed long forgotten. Then, on cooler nights, I would put up my small tent in the yard and sleep under the stars. My grandparents were the best and kindest people I ever knew. Any time I got hurt or felt bad about something, Grandma was there to pick me up and fix me a meal. Grandpa was an amazing storyteller, many late nights he stayed up telling the tales of hero’s, cowboys, and frontier times. They gave me free range of the entire property and the house. Except for one place. I was never allowed to go in or near the basement. Even straying too close to the basement door was discouraged.

“There is nothing down there for you.” My grandmother would say.

On the rare occasion I got up the courage to ask my grandfather about it, he only smiled and said, “We keep a lot of old things in the basement.”

“Like old tools or something?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It isn’t safe to go down there, Tommy. Besides, you have the whole property as your playground.”

And for years I was satisfied with that answer, happy enough to leave the basement alone. Until I wasn’t.

By the time I was fourteen, I had explored the property in its entirety. Seen all it had to offer. I found though, that there was a nagging curiosity that pulled at my mind. One that I had come back to more than once. What was in the basement?

One night after supper, fried chicken and Mac n cheese. I waited up in my tent until late into the night, long after the lights in the house had gone out. I got up and made for the tent zipper, waking Rusty as I stepped across the crackling plastic of the tent floor. The red heeler sat up and looked at me sideways as if to ask what I was doing.

“Stay here, boy.” I said patting his head.

He let out a soft woof, as I climbed out of the tent and made my way to the house.

The old wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. I paused in the doorway, listening for signs of movement from upstairs. After about a minute of silence, I let out the breath I had been holding and made my way through the front room to the kitchen. Grandpa always kept the basement locked with a heavy padlock. If I wanted to see what was down there, I would need his keys.

I knew that sometimes he took his keys to his room with him, but luckily they were hanging in their place on the key hooks by the back door. I reached up and took the keys, doing my best to prevent them from jangling, then made my way over to the basement door.

Wood creaked from somewhere within the old farm house as I reached for the lock. I ran through half of the keys on the ring, before the lock finally snapped open audibly. My heart pounded with anticipation as I turned the old iron knob and pulled open the door. The hinges squeaked with disuse and again I held my breath, waiting to see the lights flicking on from upstairs.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped through the dark doorway, flicking on the old Maglite I used when camping out in the yard. The old wooden steps seemed to go down far deeper than they should have. I kept watching for a pull string for the lights, but there was only thick layers of ancient looking cobwebs illuminated in the dim yellow of my old flashlight. The smell of dirt any musty wood rot filled my nose as I made my way down.

After what felt like 20 yards of rickety steps, I found myself standing on a dirt floor. I shined the flashlight around to see dirt walls and roof. There was no basement, just a rough hole dug into the ground. And there at the back of the hole was a wall. The back wall was not made of dirt but stacked cinder blocks, and in the center of the wall stood another locked wooden door.

 This one was different, heavy chains ran across the door to large steel bolts drilled into the wall and the door itself had heavy padlocks at the top and bottom.

I stepped up to the wall, grandpas keys in my hand.  Examining the chained door, wondering what my grandparents could be hiding down here, when I heard the sound of movement. Only it wasn’t  coming from upstairs. It was from behind the door. I stepped back, shining my light on the door. Were they keeping something in there? Some kind of animal? And then I heard it speak.

“Hello?” The voice sounded small and pained. Muffled by the heavy door.

I began to back away, goosebumps rising on my arms.

“Please, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just let me go home.” they said with a sob.

My heart pounded as I asked. “Who are you?”

The voice was silent for a solid minute before it spoke again.

“You’re not the ones who put me here. How did you get down here?”

“I… I was curious. I’m not supposed to…”

“Can you let me out?” asked the voice.

“I, I probably shouldn’t.” I said backing away.

They let out another sob, “Please, I just want to go home.”

I noticed that there was a sliding peep hole on the door. Curiosity itched at the back of my mind, as I stepped back up to the door.

“Who put you down here?” I asked. “And why?”

I reached up and slid the peep hole open, trying to see in, but the hole was too small to use my light and look through very well. I the faint rays of light that managed to shine into the locked room I could make out a figure, crouched there in the dark.

“Please let me out.” It sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“I can’t see you.” I said trying to shift my light.

In the gloom, the figures head rose slightly. “You want to see me?” it asked as it slowly stood to its full height. I couldn’t see it clearly but its rail thin frame seemed to have to hunch over as to not hit the roof. Suddenly it broke into a dead sprint at the door.

I fell back as it slammed against the heavy wood and began screaming, “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” The once small voice, huge and filled with rage.

The door shook as I climbed to my feet and turned away. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. When I got to the basement door, I did my best to close it as quietly as I could and snap the padlock back into place.

I ran back out of the house to my tent and climbed into my sleeping bag. Rusty, seeing my panic, curled up next to me, licking the tears from my face. I turned back to look out the mesh tent window at the house to see my grandparents bedroom light turn on, followed by the rest of the house lights. They had heard me. I turned away, pretending to be asleep. I heard the front door opened and waited for one of them to call out to me, but they never did. After a moment I turned back to see grandpa standing in the front porch light, staring at my tent. I turned back and pinched my eyes shut and didn’t sleep at all.

Eventually, the sun rose and I heard the door open again. “Tommy, come eat breakfast!” grandma called.

I left my tent and went inside, waiting to be scolded for what I had done. But the scolding never came. Grandma smiled as she sat a large plate of pancakes in front of me. I smiled back and dug in. Maybe they didn’t know I had gone down there. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.

“Linda, have you seen my keys?” asked grandpa as he stepped into the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat. The keys. I forgot to put them back.

Grandma shook her head, “No, did you leave them in your pants again? Check the laundry.”

He nodded and headed off to check.

After a moment, he called out, “No, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“That man.” Said grandma shaking her head, she then called out, “Well, I’m sure they will turn up.” She then went to start washing the dishes.

I hurriedly finished my pancakes and stood, preparing to leave the room and patting my pants pockets for the keys. “oh no.” I thought, hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Finished already?” called grandma behind me.

“Yeah, thanks grandma. They were great.” I said over my shoulder as I pushed through the screen door.

I searched the tent over and over, but the keys were gone. “Where are they?” I muttered over and over. Then it hit me, could I have dropped them last night? Were they down there, in the basement? I felt sick just thinking about it.

I stepped out of the tent and saw Rusty standing on the grass. He was staring at the house, his head cocked to one side as if listening. I stepped over to him and put my hand on his back. I guess the sudden touch startled him because he turned, snapping and growling before realizing it was me.

“Whoa, easy boy. It’s just me.” I said pulling my hand back.

He wined and lowered his head, nuzzling against me as if to say “I’m sorry.” I petted him and whispered to him that he was a good boy.

“Thomas.” Grandpa called.

I stood, feeling my heart pounding. They only ever called me Thomas when I was in trouble

He was standing next to his pickup in the driveway and motioned me over. As I approached, he said, “Get in. Let’s go for a drive.”

I numbly walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Grandpa got in and started the truck, eyeing the house.

We drove in silence out to the pasture. He didn’t speak or look at me. The old suspension of the farm truck squeaked as we drove over bumps and through ruts. Eventually we came to a stop overlooking a wheat meadow. Grandpa killed the truck and stared through the window for a moment in silence.

Without turning to me, he said, “I’m gonna ask you a question now. And whatever your answer, I’m going to trust you.” He turned to face me, “Okay?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

His pale blue eyes started into mine for a moment, “Did you go into the basement last night?”

My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to cry. I thought about lying to him but I couldn’t. “Yes.” I said, my voice trembling.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked back, there was anger in them.

“Grandpa?”

But he held up his hand stopping me, “What did you see?”

I swallowed, “There were stairs, a lot of them and another door. A… a locked door. With someone behind it.”

He leaned in close, his eyes drilling into mine, his next words were spoken slowly and with great care, “Did you speak to it?”

I nodded, feeling tears building up in my eyes, “Y…Yes.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, “Okay, Tommy. It’s okay. Just tell me everything.”

I told him.

He listened and nodded, “But you didn’t open the door? You didn’t let it out?”

“No.” I shook my head, “But I almost did. I thought it was someone in trouble.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s okay, the important thing is that you didn’t.”

I sniffed, “What is it?”

He sighed, and looked out over the meadow. “I don’t know. But it came from the woods.” He nodded to a thicket of trees on the other side of the meadow, “From those trees, right there.”

“Years ago I was out hunting in this very spot.  Sat right here as the sun sat, no deer in sight. But then I heard leaves crunching just ahead in the trees. I sat up and readied my rifle. Thinking this was it, here comes a big one.”  He turned to face me, “And then your grandma walked out of the woods. She stood there in the dusk light, looking around until she saw me. I almost believed it was her. It looked just like her, moved like her, sounded like her when she called out to me. I would have sworn it was her, only she was sitting right next to me in the deer stand.” He shook his head, “Back then she liked to go with me every once in a while. Neither of us has been hunting since.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I shot it.” He said bluntly. “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what it was trying to be.” He shook his head before continuing. “The thing fell to the ground and we left. Thinking it was over. It wasn’t until the next night when I realized, it wasn’t. She… It was calling my name out by the fence, “Bill, I’m hurt.” Or “Honey I need you.” We tried to ignore it, tried to kill it, tried everything but it just kept coming back.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

He laughed, “The only thing I could think of, trapped it.”

“How?”

He sighed, “I dug the tunnel in the basement and I let it inside. Let it believe I fell for it’s deception. I called her, it, to come in and see what I had been working on. Led it down to the basement and shut the door behind it.”

“That worked?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said with a chuckle. “It screamed and raged, banging on the door when it realized, but as long as we keep it locked up down  there ,it can’t hurt us.”

“What does it want?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, “You know what a cuckoo bird is, right?”

I nodded.

“I think maybe it’s something similar. I don’t know for sure, but I think it wants to take the place of someone.”

I swallowed, “Like grandma?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.” He said turning to face me, “Now, where are my keys.”

“I think I dropped them last night.” I said.

His face fell, “Where?”

“I… I think…” I stuttered.

“Dammit , where, Tommy?!” He shouted.

“In the basement, I think.” I finally said.

“Oh my God.” He breathed.

Grandpa started the he truck and slammed it into drive, throwing dirt and grass as he peeled out and headed back for the house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought it couldn’t get out.”

He didn’t answer until we slid to a halt back at the house.

“Thomas, take Rusty and get away from here.” He said, flinging the door open.

“What? Where do we go?”

He shook his head, “Go to the woods, to the old shed. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

I nodded and whistled for Rusty to come. Grandpa was heading for the house as we headed for the trees.

15 minutes later, we arrived at the shed, Rusty was running all over, sniffing and peeing on everything he could. We had been out to the old shed in a quite a while and he had lots of territory to remark.

We sat there waiting for most of the day. I wondered what happened at the house. Could that thing have gotten out? Were they okay? I felt sick worrying about them. About what was happening.

Eventually I heard the sound of grandpas truck coming down one of the trails. I stood and made my way out to see the truck coming along, grandma behind the wheel.

She smiled when she saw me, “Come along, Thomas. Dinner is almost done.”

I slowly stepped forward. “Where’s grandpa? I thought he was gonna come get me.”

She smiled again, “Oh he had to run to the store to pick something up, he should be back soon.”

I nodded and headed for the truck, “Okay.”

Rusty suddenly came up behind me and started barking at the truck, I turned to face him, “What is it, boy?”

He continued barking and growling, and bearing his teeth. I turned back to grandma who was still smiling. “Silly dog.” She said, looking at him, “I visited with the neighbors earlier, he probably smells their cat on me.”

I nodded and climbed into the truck. But Rusty refused to get in, he just kept barking and snarling at grandma.

Grandma drove us back to the house with my dog following at a distance.

“Grandpa mentioned some stuff earlier.” I said as we drove. “Stuff about the basement.”

Grandma sighed, “Is he telling you stories again?”

I shook my head, “No, he seemed serious. He said you guys saw something strange a long time ago. And that you had it locked up in the basement.”  

She pulled the truck to a stop in the driveway. “I don’t  want to talk about that anymore.” She said, getting out. “Now come on, dinner is waiting.”

I climbed out of the truck to see Rusty sitting out in the yard. No matter how I called to him, he wouldn’t come any closer. Eventually, I turned and followed grandma into the house, leaving him outside.

As I stepped into the house, I immediately caught a whiff of burning meat. Stepping into the kitchen, I saw the dinner she had laid out. I think it was supposed to be meatloaf but it had been burnt so badly it looked like a piece of charred tree bark.

“Sit down.” She said pointing to the dining room table. As I sat, my eyes tracked along the wall to the basement door. The wide open basement door.

My heart pounded as she lay the plate of food on the table in front of me. She then sat down and smiled wide at me, waiting for me to eat.

“I’m… not that hungry.” I said with a glance down at the plate.

She sat there, unblinking as a fly landed on her open eyeball. Her smile never wavering. “But you love my cooking.” She said after a moment.

I nodded, “I do.” My voice trembled, “I’m just not hung…”

She slammed her hand on the table and screamed, “Eat the fucking food!”  Her face contorted in rage.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reached for the fork.

Rusty began barking outside again. Grandmas smile slammed back into place, “My goodness, did you forget to feed that dog again?”

I tried to stand, “Yes, I’ll go…”

But she stood and slammed her own fork down through my hand, pinning it to the dining room table.

I gasped in the sudden pain as blood oozed up from around the utensil.

“You stay here and eat.” She said still smiling. “I’ll take care of the dog.”

Tears of pain and shock and fear rolled down my face as she turned and walked out the back door.

Rusty barked like a feral beast outside and I realized now was my chance to get away. I didn’t know what happened to Grandpa but right then there was nothing for me to do but get out of there. I reached to the fork and felt a shock of pain as I grasped it. With all the effort I could manage, I gave it a solid yank. I tried not to scream, I tried. But the pain was more than I could bear and I screamed anyway. Rusty let out even more furious barks and growls, then my dog let out one pain filled yelp before falling silent.

Silent sobs racked my chest as I reached for the truck keys on the counter. Then the back door creaked open. I turned to see the imposter, standing in the doorway. Her fingernails coated in wet blood.

“Rusty isn’t feeling well.” She said, still smiling. “Did you eat?” she asked.

I nodded shakily, “It was good. Can I have more?”

She smiled all the wider and stepped up to me, placing one bloody hand on my cheek, “Of course you can, you’re a growing boy. And I’m going to take care of you, forever.”

When she stepped over to the stove and began filling another plate, I ran for the door. I pushed through it, slamming it back against the house and running for the truck. I leapt inside and fumbled the keys with my injured hand. Looking back to the house I saw the door open and the imposter step outside, looking around for where I had gone.

When her eyes locked on me she tilted her head, just like Rusty had. She suddenly dropped to all fours and ran at the truck, her limbs contorting and bending at extra joints like a huge spider.

The engine roared to life just as she kept into the hood and started beating on the windshield. “Stay! Stay! She screamed, over and over in a voice that sounded like too many voices scrambled up together. I floored the truck in reverse, then spun the wheel, flinging her off and turning the truck around before slamming it into drive and tearing off down the road.

I watched in the rearview mirror as I drove. She stood and looking like nothing in the world was wrong, turned and headed back to the house.

When I finally made it home, neither of my parents were there. I called the police and told them that an intruder was in my grandparents house and that I had gotten away. They said they would send a car out and let me know what they found. Then I called my parents and told them the same thing.

They found both of my grandparents in the basement. They never told me how they died, but we had closed casket funerals. They never found the intruder. The police and my parents didn’t believe me about the imposter. Said something about traumatic memories or something, I don’t know. I know what I saw though, and I know what I heard in the following nights. What I still hear, just outside my bedroom window. She wants to come inside. Maybe I should dig a tunnel.

When I was a kid, I didn’t have the best home life. My parents were always busy and when they weren’t, they seemed to never have much interest in spending time with me. They were never abusive, just emotionally unavailable. So eventually I just stopped trying to get their attention and made peace with how it was.

The summers I spent at my grandparents house was where I felt the happiest and the most at home. They lived out in the country on a large piece of land, filled with woods and fields. I’d spend my days wandering the game trails and exploring the property with my dog, Rusty, always finding something new and interesting. Like the old stone wall in the middle of the woods that stretched across a small creek, or the rotting remains of an old wooden shed long forgotten. Then, on cooler nights, I would put up my small tent in the yard and sleep under the stars. My grandparents were the best and kindest people I ever knew. Any time I got hurt or felt bad about something, Grandma was there to pick me up and fix me a meal. Grandpa was an amazing storyteller, many late nights he stayed up telling the tales of hero’s, cowboys, and frontier times. They gave me free range of the entire property and the house. Except for one place. I was never allowed to go in or near the basement. Even straying too close to the basement door was discouraged.

“There is nothing down there for you.” My grandmother would say.

On the rare occasion I got up the courage to ask my grandfather about it, he only smiled and said, “We keep a lot of old things in the basement.”

“Like old tools or something?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It isn’t safe to go down there, Tommy. Besides, you have the whole property as your playground.”

And for years I was satisfied with that answer, happy enough to leave the basement alone. Until I wasn’t.

By the time I was fourteen, I had explored the property in its entirety. Seen all it had to offer. I found though, that there was a nagging curiosity that pulled at my mind. One that I had come back to more than once. What was in the basement?

One night after supper, fried chicken and Mac n cheese. I waited up in my tent until late into the night, long after the lights in the house had gone out. I got up and made for the tent zipper, waking Rusty as I stepped across the crackling plastic of the tent floor. The red heeler sat up and looked at me sideways as if to ask what I was doing.

“Stay here, boy.” I said patting his head.

He let out a soft woof, as I climbed out of the tent and made my way to the house.

The old wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. I paused in the doorway, listening for signs of movement from upstairs. After about a minute of silence, I let out the breath I had been holding and made my way through the front room to the kitchen. Grandpa always kept the basement locked with a heavy padlock. If I wanted to see what was down there, I would need his keys.

I knew that sometimes he took his keys to his room with him, but luckily they were hanging in their place on the key hooks by the back door. I reached up and took the keys, doing my best to prevent them from jangling, then made my way over to the basement door.

Wood creaked from somewhere within the old farm house as I reached for the lock. I ran through half of the keys on the ring, before the lock finally snapped open audibly. My heart pounded with anticipation as I turned the old iron knob and pulled open the door. The hinges squeaked with disuse and again I held my breath, waiting to see the lights flicking on from upstairs.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped through the dark doorway, flicking on the old Maglite I used when camping out in the yard. The old wooden steps seemed to go down far deeper than they should have. I kept watching for a pull string for the lights, but there was only thick layers of ancient looking cobwebs illuminated in the dim yellow of my old flashlight. The smell of dirt any musty wood rot filled my nose as I made my way down.

After what felt like 20 yards of rickety steps, I found myself standing on a dirt floor. I shined the flashlight around to see dirt walls and roof. There was no basement, just a rough hole dug into the ground. And there at the back of the hole was a wall. The back wall was not made of dirt but stacked cinder blocks, and in the center of the wall stood another locked wooden door.

 This one was different, heavy chains ran across the door to large steel bolts drilled into the wall and the door itself had heavy padlocks at the top and bottom.

I stepped up to the wall, grandpas keys in my hand.  Examining the chained door, wondering what my grandparents could be hiding down here, when I heard the sound of movement. Only it wasn’t  coming from upstairs. It was from behind the door. I stepped back, shining my light on the door. Were they keeping something in there? Some kind of animal? And then I heard it speak.

“Hello?” The voice sounded small and pained. Muffled by the heavy door.

I began to back away, goosebumps rising on my arms.

“Please, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just let me go home.” they said with a sob.

My heart pounded as I asked. “Who are you?”

The voice was silent for a solid minute before it spoke again.

“You’re not the ones who put me here. How did you get down here?”

“I… I was curious. I’m not supposed to…”

“Can you let me out?” asked the voice.

“I, I probably shouldn’t.” I said backing away.

They let out another sob, “Please, I just want to go home.”

I noticed that there was a sliding peep hole on the door. Curiosity itched at the back of my mind, as I stepped back up to the door.

“Who put you down here?” I asked. “And why?”

I reached up and slid the peep hole open, trying to see in, but the hole was too small to use my light and look through very well. I the faint rays of light that managed to shine into the locked room I could make out a figure, crouched there in the dark.

“Please let me out.” It sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“I can’t see you.” I said trying to shift my light.

In the gloom, the figures head rose slightly. “You want to see me?” it asked as it slowly stood to its full height. I couldn’t see it clearly but its rail thin frame seemed to have to hunch over as to not hit the roof. Suddenly it broke into a dead sprint at the door.

I fell back as it slammed against the heavy wood and began screaming, “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” The once small voice, huge and filled with rage.

The door shook as I climbed to my feet and turned away. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. When I got to the basement door, I did my best to close it as quietly as I could and snap the padlock back into place.

I ran back out of the house to my tent and climbed into my sleeping bag. Rusty, seeing my panic, curled up next to me, licking the tears from my face. I turned back to look out the mesh tent window at the house to see my grandparents bedroom light turn on, followed by the rest of the house lights. They had heard me. I turned away, pretending to be asleep. I heard the front door opened and waited for one of them to call out to me, but they never did. After a moment I turned back to see grandpa standing in the front porch light, staring at my tent. I turned back and pinched my eyes shut and didn’t sleep at all.

Eventually, the sun rose and I heard the door open again. “Tommy, come eat breakfast!” grandma called.

I left my tent and went inside, waiting to be scolded for what I had done. But the scolding never came. Grandma smiled as she sat a large plate of pancakes in front of me. I smiled back and dug in. Maybe they didn’t know I had gone down there. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.

“Linda, have you seen my keys?” asked grandpa as he stepped into the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat. The keys. I forgot to put them back.

Grandma shook her head, “No, did you leave them in your pants again? Check the laundry.”

He nodded and headed off to check.

After a moment, he called out, “No, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“That man.” Said grandma shaking her head, she then called out, “Well, I’m sure they will turn up.” She then went to start washing the dishes.

I hurriedly finished my pancakes and stood, preparing to leave the room and patting my pants pockets for the keys. “oh no.” I thought, hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Finished already?” called grandma behind me.

“Yeah, thanks grandma. They were great.” I said over my shoulder as I pushed through the screen door.

I searched the tent over and over, but the keys were gone. “Where are they?” I muttered over and over. Then it hit me, could I have dropped them last night? Were they down there, in the basement? I felt sick just thinking about it.

I stepped out of the tent and saw Rusty standing on the grass. He was staring at the house, his head cocked to one side as if listening. I stepped over to him and put my hand on his back. I guess the sudden touch startled him because he turned, snapping and growling before realizing it was me.

“Whoa, easy boy. It’s just me.” I said pulling my hand back.

He wined and lowered his head, nuzzling against me as if to say “I’m sorry.” I petted him and whispered to him that he was a good boy.

“Thomas.” Grandpa called.

I stood, feeling my heart pounding. They only ever called me Thomas when I was in trouble

He was standing next to his pickup in the driveway and motioned me over. As I approached, he said, “Get in. Let’s go for a drive.”

I numbly walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Grandpa got in and started the truck, eyeing the house.

We drove in silence out to the pasture. He didn’t speak or look at me. The old suspension of the farm truck squeaked as we drove over bumps and through ruts. Eventually we came to a stop overlooking a wheat meadow. Grandpa killed the truck and stared through the window for a moment in silence.

Without turning to me, he said, “I’m gonna ask you a question now. And whatever your answer, I’m going to trust you.” He turned to face me, “Okay?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

His pale blue eyes started into mine for a moment, “Did you go into the basement last night?”

My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to cry. I thought about lying to him but I couldn’t. “Yes.” I said, my voice trembling.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked back, there was anger in them.

“Grandpa?”

But he held up his hand stopping me, “What did you see?”

I swallowed, “There were stairs, a lot of them and another door. A… a locked door. With someone behind it.”

He leaned in close, his eyes drilling into mine, his next words were spoken slowly and with great care, “Did you speak to it?”

I nodded, feeling tears building up in my eyes, “Y…Yes.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, “Okay, Tommy. It’s okay. Just tell me everything.”

I told him.

He listened and nodded, “But you didn’t open the door? You didn’t let it out?”

“No.” I shook my head, “But I almost did. I thought it was someone in trouble.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s okay, the important thing is that you didn’t.”

I sniffed, “What is it?”

He sighed, and looked out over the meadow. “I don’t know. But it came from the woods.” He nodded to a thicket of trees on the other side of the meadow, “From those trees, right there.”

“Years ago I was out hunting in this very spot.  Sat right here as the sun sat, no deer in sight. But then I heard leaves crunching just ahead in the trees. I sat up and readied my rifle. Thinking this was it, here comes a big one.”  He turned to face me, “And then your grandma walked out of the woods. She stood there in the dusk light, looking around until she saw me. I almost believed it was her. It looked just like her, moved like her, sounded like her when she called out to me. I would have sworn it was her, only she was sitting right next to me in the deer stand.” He shook his head, “Back then she liked to go with me every once in a while. Neither of us has been hunting since.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I shot it.” He said bluntly. “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what it was trying to be.” He shook his head before continuing. “The thing fell to the ground and we left. Thinking it was over. It wasn’t until the next night when I realized, it wasn’t. She… It was calling my name out by the fence, “Bill, I’m hurt.” Or “Honey I need you.” We tried to ignore it, tried to kill it, tried everything but it just kept coming back.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

He laughed, “The only thing I could think of, trapped it.”

“How?”

He sighed, “I dug the tunnel in the basement and I let it inside. Let it believe I fell for it’s deception. I called her, it, to come in and see what I had been working on. Led it down to the basement and shut the door behind it.”

“That worked?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said with a chuckle. “It screamed and raged, banging on the door when it realized, but as long as we keep it locked up down  there ,it can’t hurt us.”

“What does it want?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, “You know what a cuckoo bird is, right?”

I nodded.

“I think maybe it’s something similar. I don’t know for sure, but I think it wants to take the place of someone.”

I swallowed, “Like grandma?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.” He said turning to face me, “Now, where are my keys.”

“I think I dropped them last night.” I said.

His face fell, “Where?”

“I… I think…” I stuttered.

“Dammit , where, Tommy?!” He shouted.

“In the basement, I think.” I finally said.

“Oh my God.” He breathed.

Grandpa started the he truck and slammed it into drive, throwing dirt and grass as he peeled out and headed back for the house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought it couldn’t get out.”

He didn’t answer until we slid to a halt back at the house.

“Thomas, take Rusty and get away from here.” He said, flinging the door open.

“What? Where do we go?”

He shook his head, “Go to the woods, to the old shed. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

I nodded and whistled for Rusty to come. Grandpa was heading for the house as we headed for the trees.

15 minutes later, we arrived at the shed, Rusty was running all over, sniffing and peeing on everything he could. We had been out to the old shed in a quite a while and he had lots of territory to remark.

We sat there waiting for most of the day. I wondered what happened at the house. Could that thing have gotten out? Were they okay? I felt sick worrying about them. About what was happening.

Eventually I heard the sound of grandpas truck coming down one of the trails. I stood and made my way out to see the truck coming along, grandma behind the wheel.

She smiled when she saw me, “Come along, Thomas. Dinner is almost done.”

I slowly stepped forward. “Where’s grandpa? I thought he was gonna come get me.”

She smiled again, “Oh he had to run to the store to pick something up, he should be back soon.”

I nodded and headed for the truck, “Okay.”

Rusty suddenly came up behind me and started barking at the truck, I turned to face him, “What is it, boy?”

He continued barking and growling, and bearing his teeth. I turned back to grandma who was still smiling. “Silly dog.” She said, looking at him, “I visited with the neighbors earlier, he probably smells their cat on me.”

I nodded and climbed into the truck. But Rusty refused to get in, he just kept barking and snarling at grandma.

Grandma drove us back to the house with my dog following at a distance.

“Grandpa mentioned some stuff earlier.” I said as we drove. “Stuff about the basement.”

Grandma sighed, “Is he telling you stories again?”

I shook my head, “No, he seemed serious. He said you guys saw something strange a long time ago. And that you had it locked up in the basement.”  

She pulled the truck to a stop in the driveway. “I don’t  want to talk about that anymore.” She said, getting out. “Now come on, dinner is waiting.”

I climbed out of the truck to see Rusty sitting out in the yard. No matter how I called to him, he wouldn’t come any closer. Eventually, I turned and followed grandma into the house, leaving him outside.

As I stepped into the house, I immediately caught a whiff of burning meat. Stepping into the kitchen, I saw the dinner she had laid out. I think it was supposed to be meatloaf but it had been burnt so badly it looked like a piece of charred tree bark.

“Sit down.” She said pointing to the dining room table. As I sat, my eyes tracked along the wall to the basement door. The wide open basement door.

My heart pounded as she lay the plate of food on the table in front of me. She then sat down and smiled wide at me, waiting for me to eat.

“I’m… not that hungry.” I said with a glance down at the plate.

She sat there, unblinking as a fly landed on her open eyeball. Her smile never wavering. “But you love my cooking.” She said after a moment.

I nodded, “I do.” My voice trembled, “I’m just not hung…”

She slammed her hand on the table and screamed, “Eat the fucking food!”  Her face contorted in rage.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reached for the fork.

Rusty began barking outside again. Grandmas smile slammed back into place, “My goodness, did you forget to feed that dog again?”

I tried to stand, “Yes, I’ll go…”

But she stood and slammed her own fork down through my hand, pinning it to the dining room table.

I gasped in the sudden pain as blood oozed up from around the utensil.

“You stay here and eat.” She said still smiling. “I’ll take care of the dog.”

Tears of pain and shock and fear rolled down my face as she turned and walked out the back door.

Rusty barked like a feral beast outside and I realized now was my chance to get away. I didn’t know what happened to Grandpa but right then there was nothing for me to do but get out of there. I reached to the fork and felt a shock of pain as I grasped it. With all the effort I could manage, I gave it a solid yank. I tried not to scream, I tried. But the pain was more than I could bear and I screamed anyway. Rusty let out even more furious barks and growls, then my dog let out one pain filled yelp before falling silent.

Silent sobs racked my chest as I reached for the truck keys on the counter. Then the back door creaked open. I turned to see the imposter, standing in the doorway. Her fingernails coated in wet blood.

“Rusty isn’t feeling well.” She said, still smiling. “Did you eat?” she asked.

I nodded shakily, “It was good. Can I have more?”

She smiled all the wider and stepped up to me, placing one bloody hand on my cheek, “Of course you can, you’re a growing boy. And I’m going to take care of you, forever.”

When she stepped over to the stove and began filling another plate, I ran for the door. I pushed through it, slamming it back against the house and running for the truck. I leapt inside and fumbled the keys with my injured hand. Looking back to the house I saw the door open and the imposter step outside, looking around for where I had gone.

When her eyes locked on me she tilted her head, just like Rusty had. She suddenly dropped to all fours and ran at the truck, her limbs contorting and bending at extra joints like a huge spider.

The engine roared to life just as she kept into the hood and started beating on the windshield. “Stay! Stay! She screamed, over and over in a voice that sounded like too many voices scrambled up together. I floored the truck in reverse, then spun the wheel, flinging her off and turning the truck around before slamming it into drive and tearing off down the road.

I watched in the rearview mirror as I drove. She stood and looking like nothing in the world was wrong, turned and headed back to the house.

When I finally made it home, neither of my parents were there. I called the police and told them that an intruder was in my grandparents house and that I had gotten away. They said they would send a car out and let me know what they found. Then I called my parents and told them the same thing.

They found both of my grandparents in the basement. They never told me how they died, but we had closed casket funerals. They never found the intruder. The police and my parents didn’t believe me about the imposter. Said something about traumatic memories or something, I don’t know. I know what I saw though, and I know what I heard in the following nights. What I still hear, just outside my bedroom window. She wants to come inside. Maybe I should dig a tunnel.