Collapsing
on the dew saturated lawn of neatly trimmed grass, panting in want of clean,
undefiled air, I looked up and wiped the mud from my brow. Home. By car the
trek from my house to school only took half an hour; by foot it was another
matter. I absconded from my SOK imprisonment around noon and had been racing
home via the dense county woods ever since, not daring to stop lest any
potential pursuers got a chance to close the gap between fox and hound.
Apparently, no one had bothered tracking me.
My
skin was chaffed and bruised from the botanical wrath of abrassive thorn
bushes, and I was pasted over with swamp muck and bug bites. One could say I
had paid the price for taking many a detour through unspeakable mires and
bristle patches -- dearly.
It
was well past nightfall when I emerged from the forest and onto my back yard,
much resembling a demon escaped from hell, so tattered and soiled was my
apparel from the harsh jaunt. The windows of my vacant house stared back at me
like the caliginous eye sockets of a skull, and my residence was enfolded by
the equally dark and forlorn dwellings that made up my dismal neighborhood.
"This
aint right..." I said aloud, a premonition from deep within shrieking for
me to be cautious. Leaves crunched nearby, and I reeled to confront the unknown
danger. Silhouetted by the moon's pallid radiance, two dusky phantoms rose up
from my driveway -- only to take on a more solid stance and remain fixed in
place like stone pillars.
"Oh
shit! It must be those door-to-door Jehova's Witnesses again!" I gasped,
raising my fists.
"Son:
it is us," said a very familiar woman's voice. I took a step forward and
strained my eyes trying to distinguish the two dark figures who, to my great
relief, turned out to be my parents.
"Mom...dad!"
I shouted as I ran up and embraced them, the dam shattering to release my flood
of emotions. "We need to get out of here!" I said frantically.
"Some kind of plague is going around and no one is safe--" Abruptly I
went silent and took a step back. My parents hadn't returned the hug whatsoever
or even flexed a muscle for that matter. Looking up at their imperturable
faces, I recognized a now painfully familiar expression: no expression.
"Son:
you should have stayed with Mr. Graeny," said my father stoically.
"No..."
I whimpered, voice cracking as my eyes misted over and my lip began to twitch
uncontrollably. I shook my head violenty, backing away in horror. "Not you
too!?"
Still
facing my interloper-victim parents, something tall and inhospitable loomed up
from behind and halted my retreat, impelling me to tear my eyes away from my
unfortunate folks and confront it. Lo and behold, it was Mr. Graeny. Flanking
the insidious SOK campus president to either side were Dr. Fuach the religion
teacher, and Mr. Pecker the disciplinarian.
"Excellent!"
said Mr. Graeny. "It's quite a coincidence we both came here, but as you
can see, I had the grace of arriving first." He gestured to my parents,
then motioned for Mr. Pecker and Dr. Fuach to apprehend me. At that moment, I
snapped.
"Deaaaeah!!!"
I roared, dodging Graeny's henchmen. I lifted a proportiante chunk of concrete
off the ground and flung it at the interloper ruler's head; it was briefly
gratifying to see the projectile slam into Mr. Graeny's wrinkled temple and
send him sprawling.
"Eaaaeeeweah!"
the other four interloper's screamed in unison.
Simultaneously,
an army of wraithlike figures rose up from every nebulous patch of shadow in
the entire neighborhood. That was enough for me. With a parting snarl at my
foes, I turned and sprinted for the garage.
Once
within, I secured the bolt lock on the door a brief second before an
indefatigable set of fingers from without began wrenching the door knob with dogged
persistance. Flipping the light switch on, I blinked to ward away the
ultraviolet rays of the overhead fluorescent lamps. The Geo! Yes, the petite
family car was still in place, and better yet, the keys rested on the hood.
A
hand shattered a nearby garage window, then proceeded to grope about blindly
until it located and neutralized the lock. Not particularly eager to stick
around and greet the window-breacher, I snatched up the keys and hoped into the
bantam Geo Metro.
"It's
time to bust ass out of here," I said, inserting the ignition key and
reving the modest engine to life. After a quick yank to the clutch, I slammed
my foot on the gas peddle and plowed through the closed garage door, sending
splinters of wood and glass discharging in every direction. Rising out of the
shadows, Dr. Fuach threw her eldery body -- with uncanny agility -- in front of
the car only to be smacked forward and triturated into the gravel driveway by
the Geo's tires.
"Sorry
about that, you senile bitch!" I hollered back in triumph.
Peeling
out of my driveway with a cacaphonus screech, the Metro left a trail of burnt
rubber and smoke as the only evidence to mark my passing.
* * *
Without
a thought as to where I was headed, I drove into the night like a lunatic. Yet,
by some subconscious urge, my hands guided the Geo's steering wheel back to the
high school. Upon entering Aenurdtown, the whistle-stop township that had the
elite privilige of encompassing the SOK campus, my progress was hindered by a
human road block.
They
rose up from the mist without warning. Emplaced across the pavement like pawns
over a chess board, several dozen people -- Terwiledgar and Roderick among
them, I observed darkly -- stood ready to sacrifice their bodies to my car in
order to cut me off. I stomped on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the right
but it was no use; several of the pococurante sentinels were side-swiped by the
Metro nonetheless. Spinning out of control like a dradle, my littler car met
its end seconds later when it wrapped itself about a telephone pole in an
explosive intertwining of wood and metal.
A
simple tap on the driver's side door and it fell off, allowing me to slide out
of the mangled car with it. Lying on my back admist the flaming wreckage, I
caught sight of several shady characters entering the rim of firelight --
marching upsidedown. Rolling over on my hands and knees, I staggered onto my
feet and fled the scene.
"Oh
my! Someone please help me!"
I
started in the direction of the plea, momentarily straying from my path to the
nearby SOK campus, then shielded my eyes as a neon yellow light of wicked
radiance unexpectedly consumed my vision. Bursting into view, his obnoxiously
bright jacket shredded in several places, Bernadette threw himself at my feet.
"Oh
my, please tell me if you're one of them or not!" he whined.
"I'm
not!" I said estatically, unable to mask my exhileration at finding an
interloper-free person. "Bernadette, we have to get out of--"
"Eaaaeeeweah!"
screamed several voices from the nearby woods, bringing the normal nocturnal
activity to a bloodcurdling halt.
"Oh
no!" groaned Bernadette. "They're coming!"
I
dashed away, scaling the final hill on the road to SOK. But halfway up the
massive hump of earth, I became cognizant of the surrounding darkness or, more
specifically, the abscense of the neon yellow beacon at my side. Skidding to a
stop, I reeled around to see Bernadette surrounded by about ten people, his
jacket giving more than adequate lumination to the grisly episode that
followed. Like a small swarm of mosquitoes, the interlopers latched onto the
flambouyant victim with their mouths at any available patch of skin, sucking
relentlessly. Among the parasitic menaces, I distinguished Adimal Scrotum,
Walden, Miller, Gaeron, and several other SOK students.
"Get
off of him!" I shouted, trying to raise my voice above Bernadette's
frenzied squeals for mercy. The suckers, wholly absorbed in this violent and
canabalistic gang rape, gave me no heed.
Ever
so slowly, Bernadette's screams lowered to a desperate moan, then to a soft
wheeze -- then to silence. His chin lowered and rested on his chest; Bernadette
appeared to be asleep. The leech-like interlopers unclamped their jaws from the
victim's body one by one, leaving trailers of nasty green saliva that clung to
Bernadette tenaciously, unwilling to relent on him just yet.
Leaving
Bernadette unfettered by tooth or gum, the interlopers stalked off into the
night. Walden and Gaeron remained a trifle longer than the rest, pausing to
communicate briefly in their ultrasonic mutterings. Judging by the way the two
glowered up at me and pointed once or twice, it seemed I was the subject of
discussion between that pair of stern comrades.
"Bernadette?"
I asked precautiously after Walden and Gaeron had vanished, advancing
deliberately back down the hill. "Are you all right?"
He
still appeared to be sleeping -- on his feet, however odd that was. I edged
forward for a closer look; there were no teeth marks. I saw them sink their
teeth into this fruit! I demanded, arguing with my own anamnesis.
"Do
not be troubled. Report to Mr. Graeny in the fine arts building
immediately."
I
cocked my head up to see Bernadette -- eyes open and vapid -- addressing me in
a stale monitone, the quirky fire in his voice all but extinguished.
"So
that's how they pass it around," I growled, gritting my teeth. "They
feed -- then they breed."
"Eaaaeeeweah!!"
screamed the shell of Bernadette as I raced up the hill towards SOK,
spotlighting me with his resplendent neon yellow jacket. The shrill alarm was
picked up concurrently by dozens of Bernadette's interloper counterparts, all
over Aenurdtown. Not quickly enough, though, for by the time he sliced the
darkness a second time with his fog-light jacket, I had faded into the night
with the efficiency of his brethern.
Shielding
my ears against the strident screams that rose in an ear drum-shattering
crescendo, I pushed onward. When the foremost buildings of the Saint Oliver's
Kloussauhff campus rose into view, I permitted myself a fiendish smile. I was
going to see Mr. Graeny all right, but not before I picked up a few items.
* * *
"I
hope you can forgive me for this, Leroy."
--
KAKIESCH --
Tossing
the metal fence post aside -- the instrument I had used to crack apart the
hapless car's rear window -- I crawled through the jagged opening and sifted
through the shards of glass.
"Wait
a minute, this is Miller's car," I chuckled, clambering up to the front
and exiting through the passenger side coop door. "Silly me, it was
unlocked anyways."
Despite
the SOK student body parking lot being filled to maximum compacity by row after
row of automobiles, the nearby sports fields and Wrascal Hall, the adjacent
school edifice, were left deserted by the interlopers. The environ of the fine
arts building on the far end of the campus was the center of activity; this
neglected sector would be a perfect entrance for my surprise attack.
Strolling
under the warm glow of a lonely parking lot lamp post, I looked up to see a
buzzing throng of night-loving insects massed about the incandescent bulb.
Reflecting for a moment on how much that parodied the rape and possession of
Bernadette, I was jolted awake by a soft scraping sound from the other end of
the parking lot. With my heart caught somewhere up in my throat, I scanned the
ranks of cars obfuscated by inky patches of shadow, yielding nothing.
Got
to stay sharp, I reprimanded myself.
Eventually,
I found the vehicle I sought. It was a redneck's pickup truck, dillapidated and
rusty, the one Leroy called Ol' Red. In back, a wool blanket concealed a good
number of bulky objects. Unveiling the curtain, I ripped the afghan aside; my
jaw dropped at what lay revealed.
"Holy
shit! Where does that redneck get all these toys?!"
At
ten, a twelve, and a sixteen gauge shotgun, several long rifles with scopes, an
oozie, an AK47, an M16, a WWII flame thrower, a huge, mountable gattling gun,
some basic eight millimeter hand guns, a pair of bowe knives and a machete, a
packet of grenades with a launcher, and yards of ammunition glinted under the
moon light.
Not
presuming for a second that I had the strength to carry all these many weapons
of death by myself, I settled on slinging the 12-gauge shotgun and a 22 scoped
rifle over my shoulders, baiting the hand guns and the knives through the belt
loops of my pants, taking the M16 in hand with an extra clip of ammo, and
stuffing my pockets with grenades for good luck. For a final touch, I ripped a
stip of cotton from my shirt and made a headband out of it -- then rubbed some
grease from the truck's exhaust pipe under my eyes.
"Mooo,
mooo."
Armed
to the teeth as I was, no weapon of steel and lead could have given me the
audacity to confront the monstrosity that approached me from behind without
terror. The thing had the body of a cow -- the ears also belonging to the
bovine family, for that matter -- but its face was undeniably human. Leroy's
face, to be precise.
"Mooo,
mooo, Eaaaeeeweah!" the creature finally managed to scream at me.
Dropping
the automatic to the pavement, I keeled over in revulsion. The cow-man thing
clopped its hooves forward, chewing on its cud. Reacting belatedly, I whipped
out a hand gun and sent six bullets into the barn-yard nightmare. It let out a
painful groan and tumbled onto its side.
"Now
that's the way to go a'cow-tipping," I said nervously, trying vainly to
humor myself.
I
snatched up the discarded I automatic and hastened away from the parking lot; I
wanted to get far away from the dead beefy horror and pretend that such a
mutated freak could not possibly have existed in this world. But no sooner had
I abandoned the parking lot in favor of the lush SOK campus woods, then did
that same "mooing" elegy resound for a second time and make my blood
run cold all over again. Whirling about, my finger twitching about the M16's
trigger, I witnessed the cow-man creature that bore Leroy's face woddeling
towards me, seemingly unhurt.
With
an embarassingly girlish shriek, I turned around and ran like hell.
Consumed
by a densely wooded gorge, I fumbled through the dark until I happened upon the
entrance to the cave that had provided me sanctuary on so many different
occasions. Howerver, during this particular incident, the cave provided
anything but soft asylum.
A
ponderous, ferral mass of limbs and stomach sprang up at me from the cavern,
biting and pinching. Too shocked to concoct a more strategic course of action,
I opened fire on the beast with my automatic, blasting it across the cave.
"That
bastard killed Stephan Whory-whory-hosbin-cacka-mosis!"
The
voice belonged to Grover.
"Gro,
is it really you?!" I gasped.
"I
can't believe you killed Hosbin!" said Grover -- evidently not as excited
at reuniting as I was.
"This
is da' fort for the resistance!" said a deep throated voice.
"GTRDR!"
I shouted, slapping the wiry fellow on the back. "I never thought I'd see
you again."
"Those
parasites haven't won yet," said GTRDR, flashing his wolfish grin.
"We're ready to fight them to the death."
"And
I can't believe I'm a part of this," said yet another voice -- one belonging
to a stout, gray haired woman called Ms. Bane.
"Are
you sure she's not one of them?" I whispered to GTRDR.
"Well,
she's stoic and all, but she's one of us," he said.
"What's
all this noise?" said Boeyle, a hefty lad, coming to his feet from a bed
of leaves off to one corner of the cave. "Is it another attack from the
invasion of the facul--"
"Shh!"
GTRDR cut him short. "Do you want get sued?"
"If
it is one of them, don't let it in," said a female at Boeyle's side
tentatively. It was Demi Lee, a short, straw haired girl -- coincidentally a
member of my once rambunctious religion class -- who had somehow evaded
interloper possession.
"Hey
look, Stephan isn't dead afterall!" squealed Grover.
"Yeah,
I think the bullets just glanced off my ribs," mumbled Hosbin from the
cavern floor.
"I've
never been so happy to see you guys in all my life!" I said, not able to
restrain the tears of joy that spewed from my eyes and washed away the grease.
"If
you have such access to weapons as you do," said Ms. Bane dryly,
"then perhaps you can provide us with an armament?"
"Yes,
yes I can" I announced, pulling myself together. "Follow me!"
TO BE CONTINUED
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