A bloody, nude guy was running down the street, yelling, zigzagging crazily, glancing back over his shoulder.
He yelled, “Please, oh God, help me!” as he fled. Suddenly, an unnaturally long arm grabbed him by the throat and dragged him into an alleyway. The arm appeared malnourished and ill.
Did you see that, my wife yelled to my right, staring out the window, “Oh my God? I estimate that arm to be 10 feet long. I hurriedly closed the drapes.
I told our only kid, Sarah, to get ready and to head downstairs to the basement. Take as many water bottles and canned goods as you can. I threw some boxes of slugs and buckshot in a canvas bag before rushing upstairs to retrieve my shotgun.
Outside, police and ambulance sirens blared, but I didn’t pay them any attention. They would be of little, if any, assistance. A few minutes ago, we attempted to call, but the line was busy. I have never heard of 911 emitting a busy signal before.
I discovered an old radio I had had down here in storage while we all got comfortable in the basement with a few cartons of food and drink nearby on a table. It was coated in dust, yet when I blew on it, a gray cloud of dust was released into the atmosphere. My wife began to sneeze. I plugged in the radio and apologized sheepishly before starting it.
A robotic female voice said, “…civil broadcast from the United States government.” “Martial law has been declared in your neighborhood as of 9 AM Eastern Standard Time. Until further notice, all emergency services have been halted. Please wait for additional instructions while remaining in your homes. Aid is on its way. It’s not an exam, though. The message then began to repeat while a loud beeping noise came from the radio. I attempted to change the channel, but it continued to play on all of them.
I heard someone breaking the kitchen glass immediately above us as they began hammering on the upstairs door.
I said to my wife and daughter, “Be quiet.” In the gloom of the cellar, they quavered like pallid statues. Above us, I overheard someone dragging something and loud footsteps.
I heard screams and the sound of shattered wood farther down the street, as if someone were kicking in a door. A car had crashed into the home next door, according to the noise. After hearing a car hit a building and cause glass to shatter and metal to rip, I then heard a lady scream sharply. The air in the evening started to smell like smoke.
Additionally, I overheard what I believe to be children screaming in our front yard as well as what sounds like their mother yelling at them.
She said, “Run!” “Leave this place,” Then a loud gurgling, choking sound interrupted her, cutting short her speech. The sounds of her children quickly stopped. In the basement, I had a little window through which I could see the dense, dreary smoke clouds outside. It made it difficult for me to see what was happening further down the street.
My wife asked, “Should we go help them?” She instinctively reached for my hand. I could feel her pulse through her skin, and her hand felt chilly. I gave a headshake.
We have our own child to consider, Beth, I added. “Martial law has been declared, so we just need to wait for the military to show up,” the radio announcer said. I kept listening for activity upstairs, but I couldn’t hear anything else. I re-started the radio. A deep man’s voice had replaced the robotic one that had ceased its repetitive repetition. He made a relaxed, leisurely sound. I just heard the last few words he spoke.
“The situation is under control,” he declared. “I reiterate: The US military is in charge of the situation. Please refrain from drinking the water, fellow residents of our beautiful nation. Don’t take a bath in the water. Do not use water during cooking. Don’t even use water to wash your hands. Drink only water or other beverages that have been previously packaged. We think that a localized contamination of the town’s water supply is what caused this epidemic. The situation is being evacuated. Stay inside your houses, please. Calls, texts, and internet access will be restricted for your protection. When new information becomes available, we will update you. The voice quickly came to a stop, and then it began speaking once more.
“This is a public service announcement from the American government. Martial law is in effect as of 9:15 AM Eastern Standard Time. I again switched the radio off. My wife caught my gaze. She was frightened.
Have any of you recently consumed any tap water? I questioned Beth and Sarah. They all simultaneously shook their heads. Fortunately, we all drank a lot of milk and juice. I used to complain about how costly it was to have to purchase a carton of orange juice and a whole gallon of whole milk every other day, but now I was giving thanks for how good they tasted.
We heard shattering and smashing from the second level of our home, followed by a loud voice screaming. A corpse seemed to be being dragged down the stairs by someone. A woman began to cry, but her voice was interrupted.
My youngest daughter questioned, staring up at me with her huge blue eyes, “What’s going on up there, Daddy?” In the weak cellar light, she appeared so little and helpless. She had dubbed the brown stuffed animal bunny I had given her when she was a newborn Dr. Hoppy. I don’t know where he received his medical degree, but I liked his bedside manner; he seemed to be doing a wonderful job of keeping her calm.
“Sarah,” I whispered, crouching down so that I was at her level and placing my hand on her shoulder, “I suppose there are sick people all around us. But assistance is on the way. She presented me with her little bunny.
Is Dr. Hoppy likely to become ill as well? She whispered her question.
No, Dr. Hoppy is a physician. He is more knowledgeable than we are about maintaining good health,” I grinned at her. All of us jumped when something started banging at the basement door.
The 12-gauge in my Benelli made a nice ringing noise when I chambered a cartridge. I waited and peered up the shaky stairs. I could easily send a slug through the cellar door from this distance, but I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a police officer, member of the military, or even a neighbor seeking assistance. I hoped my home was equipped with cameras.
However, something came crashing through the little basement window as I was staring up the stairs. My wife and daughter shouted and leaped.
“Get behind me!” I said. As I said, I turned the rifle toward the commotion. I noticed what appeared to be a toddler who was still sporting cartoon-themed clothing. But his body had a serious malfunction, and face.
Roots in shades of gray and crimson appeared to sprout from his torso and crisscross across his flesh. He gazed at me with one eye crying blood, while the other had little gray worms crawling out of it. However, I could still make out his pupils, and it was clear that he could see me because he started to move in my direction at a superhuman rate of speed.
He opened his lips, sending spiked, blood-red tendrils flying in my way. My instincts still kicked in enough while I was gaping in shock at the scene to realize that I had to kill him. I shot him in the head without even thinking.
He was so little that the slug’s exit wound completely destroyed the back of his head. He retreated, almost in slow motion. As he passed away, I observed irregular strands of gray and red flowing much more quickly. Some of them changed more quickly, firing thorns and spikes out, while others wrapped their bodies around the child’s, seemingly trying to shield him from more harm. It was too late, though.
The force behind the tendrils seemed to wane moments after he fell to the ground. The spikes stopped moving as they retreated back inside and started to fall haphazardly around and on top of his body. From the bullet wound, a few fresh, smaller tendrils emerged, but they rapidly ran out of strength and retreated back into the blood and carnage of his face.
Sarah and Beth were still sobbing behind me. Sarah was hiding her face in Dr. Hoppy as I turned around to look at her. Beth gave me a wide-eyed, unseen look. She brought to mind images I had seen of troops who had just returned from a horrible battle, shell-shocked.
I had overlooked the basement door in the frenzy. The lock slowly turned when I heard metal clattering coming from the door’s direction. The entryway opened. And contrary to what I had anticipated, I did not see another individual enslaved by the vines there.
I was being watched by a figure in robes who had an ivory-white face. His eyes were completely black, and his hands were skeletal, almost like distorted claws. He grinned at me with an unnaturally large smile that revealed several blood-red tongues flashing in all directions.
He spoke with a voice that sounded like hundreds of voices echoing and swarming on top of one another, “I have seen you,” he added. “You’ll succeed, Jason. At the conclusion of your adventure, I shall see you again. The only person who has the capacity to escape from here is you.
I’m worried about my family. I pointed towards my wife and daughter while speaking while being overcome with emotions. The man in the hood shrugged.
That is dependent upon your behavior, he replied. “I’m not worried about it. That you survive is what I’m worried about. Your continued existence is crucial. But I don’t get involved in grave matters often. I was merely intending to warn you.
What caution? I questioned in a panic.
The man in white should not be trusted. After saying that, he gently turned around and started to leave. He was dressed in a black robe that shimmered and rippled as though it were silk.
“Wait! Tell me your name. He ignored my query when I asked it. I turned to face my Beth and Sarah, who were gaping at me. The man’s footsteps quickly stopped and vanished into nothing.
I told them, “I believe it’s time we left here.” “Pack some food and water in a couple bags. Whatever we can carry will have to be divided among the three of us. But before we depart, I have to go collect a few items from upstairs. We may have a protracted trip ahead of us, I believe. My wife found a couple bags while searching the storage supplies and nodded. I stayed with them as she packed since I didn’t want to leave them alone for even a second. We handed Sarah a little bag including some food and drink cans. Sarah added Dr. Hoppy to it as well.
Sarah zipped up the backpack and apologised to Dr. Hoppy. I am aware that you dislike cramped quarters, but it will only be temporary.
I divided the larger packs between Beth and myself and added additional food and drink, but we didn’t overpack them because I thought we would have to sprint.
We prepared in the basement and then headed upstairs. I noticed bodies lying around our kitchen. The bodies of our neighbors and a few other local residents were ones I knew. They all had immobile gray and crimson tendrils protruding from their skin. While some had fairly clean features, several of them had blood oozing from both of their eyes.
Whatever, they appeared to have been ripped apart by the robed guy. There were additional atrocities that I don’t want to discuss here, such as limbs with crimson vines growing out of the bones and severed heads with gray tendrils dangling loosely from their mouths. As we carried Sarah upstairs and passed the bloodshed, I shielded her eyes.
There, I discovered a special phone that I had kept around for emergencies that had encryption and VPNs installed. I had received it from a tech-savvy buddy, and now I was trying to connect and turn it on. I was able to connect to a shaky internet connection and get around certain government limitations. However, no calls or texts would connect.
However, I wanted to at least write up my account so that others would know what was going on. It is nearly probable that the administration will try to hide what is taking place in our community. But no matter the cost, I intend to evacuate my family and tell everyone the truth.
