A Silent Coming: Descent of Madness

[GoldenKitten]

It was getting late in the Pleasantville Valley, the sun was low and orange and the surrounding mountain ranges made it even darker, the katydids were even winding down from their evening tirade. The valley as its name suggested was a nice enough place, one of the few areas not only untouched by the clutches of industrial progression but also from that of tourist cluttering their way in and destroying the concept of a rural land in the process. The valley was a closed area with high mountains making an almost perfect barrier to the outside world. A single long road running alongside the river that fed the valley to the far northern end was the only entrance and it was a slippery and dangerous chute to take. The river was then dotted with four small villages while countless ranches and agricultural fields filled the wide expansive lowland in between. The area had been rigged with phone cables within the last decade and so was not completely out of touch with the outside world, but it was as close as they came.

One of the many homes that lead to the southernmost village of Grafton stood out. It was on an unnaturally small plot of land, most of these homes were owned by long term families or rich retirees and their lands went on for miles, this plot was barely larger than an average city sanction and the home was small as well. It also tended to be dark most of the time with the lights rarely turned on, this had of course sparked all sorts of rumors amongst the conservative populace. Regardless the Johnson's who owned the land this little cottage was on vouched wholeheartedly for the tenants friendliness and conduct, but his seldom and often unkempt forays into town combined with his non-existent attendance to any local church made him the subject of more than a few nasty uttered sentences. Regardless he made no trouble, paid his bills and acted friendly enough when required and so after a time the locals had found a new spectacle in the form of a rich city family that had brought several pet monkey's with them down the street and now he was left quite alone.

The cottage as usual was dark with what appeared to be a once well cared for crimson El Camino sitting out front in the waning light, however it appeared as if that good care had ceased some time in the last few months as it was no covered in a fine layer of dust. The cottage itself on the other hand was well groomed though any informed local could tell you that was the doing of the Johnson's children earning their allowance from their father and not the actual occupants doing, he on the other hand seemed to have lost the desire to care for anything. The cottage itself was like the Johnson's main plantation, an old Victorian style house with a wraparound porch, high wooden framing and an abundance of windows though on a smaller scale with only four rooms. An ancient patio swing creaked ever so silently and a bird shaped wind chime shimmered and sounded in the light wind as the only sounds, you would truly think the place abandoned had you not known better.

Inside the house was not nearly as nice, dirty clothes were thrown everywhere and countless papers were kept in cluttered piles, it was not the worst mess in the world but it was getting there. One room held an old moth-eaten velvet couch which was also covered in papers as well as a TV that rarely saw use. The kitchen was equally cluttered but also sported a pile of dishes half-way to the ceiling in need of cleaning and the fridge which had been left open was occupied solely by a single bottle of mustard, most of the other rooms were equally messy but otherwise unnoteworthy. The only room that saw regular use and so was semi-clean was the bedroom with a large master desk covered in much neater paper piles, an expensive looking lamp and several writing utensils as well as a laptop that had seen the most use of any electronic in the house lately. Opposite this desk was a large bed where the tenant of this place currently lay asleep and sprawled out half naked on old sheets that matched the color of the couch in the other room.

Nicholas Bryant was that tenant. He was a one time best-selling author for teens with several fantasy which had netted him a small fortune, however he had not since recreated that result and he feared he never would. He would soon be going on his thirtieth birthday and the excessively skinny man, almost to a sickly degree, with ragged blond hair and crystal blue eyes feared for his future. It's why he had moved here, at some point in time he had thought that if he moved to a rural place like those he often used in his stories maybe he could better inspire that old muse of his. But allot had happened since that time and now Nicholas just slept allot, slept and occasionally scribbled things in his notebooks he knew were never even good enough to be published in highschool fare magazines. Right now he was in the sleep portion of that plan and doing so with about the most fervor of just about anything he did these days, flipping from one side to another in a completely restless manner despite being completely under. It should thus have come as no surprise that he practically bolted through the ceiling when the phone next to his bed went off, leading to a string of half-awake profanity shooting through the room as his head once again found the pillow and his eyes drowsily creaked open.

“This is Nicholas Bryant, writing my damned book so leave me alone. Leave a message after the beep if you want the temporary self-satisfaction of thinking I might actually call you back.” The machine said after the fourth ring.

There was a temporary silence after the beep and then a female voice that sounded slightly tearful spoke, “Goddamn you Nick, pick up the phone already I know your there and you certainly couldn't have missed the calls. If you have a problem you talk about it, isn't that what you always told me?”

Nick pushed himself up with one hand and let out a long groan before sitting up. He rubbed his temple slowly while mimicking a mouth with the other hand in a sarcastic fashion, making fun of the girl.

“I'm not going to let you leave me alone forever. Whether you like it or not I'm coming their tomorrow.”

In the middle of taking a sip of water from next to his bed Nick let a nice little spray loose across the room before dropping the glass with a heavy thud and scrambling for the phone. However by the he got it in his hands and turned it on the girl was gone and he let out another groan before smacking the wooden wall next to him with his fist. He set the phone down while leaning against the wall and looking out the small window next to his bed. He had just noticed the Johnson's big 4-door pick-up sitting in the driveway when a knock at the door caused him to jump, still half asleep. He grabbed a white t-shirt that hadn't been washed in a week and tossed it on while walking to the door while mumbling to himself.

“People calling my phone during my naptime. People knocking on my door during my naptime. Why did I come out here again? To be away from people you say? Noooo surely not, what since their fucking everywhere!” He mumbled the last part perhaps a bit to loud given his proximity to the door but if anyone heard they said nothing.

He rolled his head once and his neck cracked several times while he took a deep sigh and then finally reached for the handle. He only cracked it slightly in case it was Mr. Johnson, even if he was paying the rent he had no desire for the man to see just how messy he was making it. However it turned out to be one of the farmhands, the old man Coffin. Of course Coffin wasn't his name, it was his last and he had simply been called by it for so long it was all anyone knew, he was the spitting image of what you'd imagine an old farm worker to be. Nick mused momentarily that when he had first arrived her that he had strongly considered basing one of his characters off this man. That was of course until he found out the man had all the personality of a log which he primely displayed now.

The first part was all grumbles and Nick couldn't make it out but he heard, “Mr. Johnson wants to talk to you.”

Coffin pointed out toward the truck where his employer was stepping out of the front seat and Nick nodded. He walked down the front steps alongside Coffin and was briefly struck by how cold it was already, it was that time of year of course but it was even more so now, it would be close to zero by the time full night set in. They walked up to a finely dressed man with a nicely trimmed beard and graying hair, though he wore a traditional cowboy hat like his farmhands his Sunday best shirt and tie suggested he bothered with the business side of it more than the actual work. Nick wasn't the most outgoing person lately but manners had been drilled in to him since birth and he subconsciously put his hand out to shake.

“Good evening Mr. Johnson.”

Mr. Johnson shook his hand and responded with a smile, “Hello Nicholas. Did you get the word from the sheriff?”, Nick raised his arms in obvious confusion and Mr. Johnson added while making a phone symbol with his hand, “He called on the phone?”

Nick rubbed his face thinking for a moment and then acting slightly surprised he said, “No, no, I was just on the phone with someone else back home though.”, it was sort of a lie but he had no desire to go into details.

“Ah I see well he wants everyone to organize downtown.”

“Everyone?” Nick's implication was clear, he wasn't really a member of this town as far as he or any of the locals were concerned, why should he have to go to one of their get-togethers?

Mr. Johnson shook his head, “Yes sir, everyone. He didn't have time to go into details as he had others to call but he made it obvious something important happened and everyones required downtown.”

Nick grimaced for a moment while running his hand over his face and sighing slightly. What was this? Mayberry? Was Barney going to run out and place him under citizens arrest if he didn't go? And what downtown? Did the locals seriously live under the delusion that they had a downtown? It was more like five shops and a town hall, maybe a few buildings used for local things from time to time. Alright, he had, had his minds say...he was done, he looked toward Mr. Johnson and replied with little enthusiasm.

“Alright. Alright, but I need to get something better than this on. Caught me getting ready to sleep.”

“Ya sure. You do that real quick and then you just ride in to town with us, no reason to go separately when we are already ready.”

Nick wanted to argue but he knew better, especially when he was living on this mans land and simply agreed semi-graciously before turning around and walking back in to the cottage. He wished it was warmer so the fireflies would come out, he loved fireflies, they were one of the few things he still cared about but even they couldn't have pierced his current annoyance. The whole time he threw on a plaid sweater-shirt, a pair of jeans and ran his hands through his hair a few times making it only slightly less messy he couldn't help but wonder why he was still here, but then would anywhere else be any less annoying? He grabbed his keys from the nearest counter and headed for the door, just as he reached it he heard a distinct scratching sound from behind him. He turned around with surprise but found nothing there, he looked around briefly and was convinced he heard something back toward the bathroom scratching around but at that same moment Mr. Johnson honked his horn out front. He decided he would figure it out later and quickly went through the door, closing it and locking it behind him in the process. Nick had never been a paranoid person and so he was struck by the strangeness of the feeling he had that he had been just now and was still being watched, and not by the Johnson's, he tried to push the thought from his mind and attributed it to being woken up during his naptime...dammit.

He jogged over toward the truck and was briefly struck with a slight pain in his chest and a few minor coughs which he ignored. He noted that the entire Johnson family, which included the missus and the two sons were in the front cabin which he subconsciously mused with minor anger was probably well heated before he jumped in to the exposed back which was already cold without going down a road at fifty miles-per-hour. He was greeted by the elder Coffin and the younger farmhand Vincent, this man was just a little younger than him really but your twenties were when you really began forming and so there was a worlds experience difference between them. Regardless Vincent sort of reminded Nick of himself a few years earlier when the world hadn't come crashing down on him yet and on top of it he had apparently read his work and enjoyed it. Of course plenty of teenagers and young adults had liked his work but it was perhaps a pleasant flashback to yesteryear on occasion to see one of them. He was about to greet them when the youngest Johnson boy Tommy stuck his head out the back and said in a rude voice.

“'Bout time you got here, we were about to leave you behind!”

“TOMMY!!!” His mother yelled, “Don't you listen to him Mr. Bryant, he's just being a boy.”

Nick who was close to the window smiled, leaned forward and tussled the boys hair momentarily before he could pull away.

“Don't worry Mrs. Johnson, I was one myself one time. I've got no problem with kids being kids!”

He then turned away as the truck started moving and grimaced, how he hated kids. Within a minute they were on the main road and rushing toward the small town of Grafton and toward a fate they could not possibly imagine. Nick spent the time staring off into the now dark sky, wishing he had brought a thicker sweater and making small talk with Vincent, he could not know it was the last such idle talk he would engage in for quite a while.

[kensei]

Vincent smiled as he watched Mr. Bryant get into the back of the truck. Even though he had known Nick for about eight months he always tried to be respectful to him. He had always been taught to show respect to your elders, and he did so even though Nick was only a few years older then him. “Any new ideas for a book Mr. Bryant?” He said as he moved his face outside of the back of the old pickup truck. He loved the cold air, and the sharp feeling that he got when the cold wind blasted in his face.

Vincent was of average height, standing at five foot ten. He was cleaned shaved and had short hair only about a half of an inch long. It was kept in a “flat top” style, and this was about the only time you saw it. He almost always had a cowboy hat on. He wore a pair of warn out blue jeans, a long sleeved striped shirt and a thick, tan jacket, and some working cowboy boots. Right now one couldn’t see it, but Vincent was caring a revolver on his back. When he was told to come back to the house, he didn’t even have enough time to unsaddle his horse much less remove anything on him.

“I wonder what this meeting is all about.” He said just thinking to himself. Coffin coughed a few times. The old man was well into his sixties, and wore clothing similar to Vincent’s. He had a rough beard and sharp silver eyes that showed wisdom as well as energy that most his aged did not have. “Who cares, I mean really Vincent, he is probably just going to annoyance some new policy or something.”

Vincent rolled his eyes and said. “Don’t you have any imagination Coffin? What if something happened, or something strange is going on?” Even though Coffin was about forty years older then Vincent, Vincent had known him all his life and they had become more like brothers then anything else. “God damnit Vincent, this isn’t one of your books. Get your head out of the clouds son, aint nothing like that going to happen.” Vincent sighed, he knew that Coffin was most likely right, and it annoyed him. Vincent had always been the sort that wanted more in life, more excitement then just chasing off coyotes. He always wished for adventure and excitement. Little did he know that he was about to get all that and much, much more.

[GoldenKitten]

The drive to the town was not pleasant, Nick wasn't built like the two farmhands, he was hardly 130 pounds with not an ounce of meat on his bones. Every single sharp wind cut through his clothes like a knife and every minute that passed saw the air getting cooler, he cursed his lack of forethought in clothing. Worse yet they were one of the furthest homes out from Grafton and it was nearly a twenty-five minute drive. Regardless Nick endured with the same apathetic grace he did everything else, not showing any real weakness or strength in the way he acted and simply nestling into a corner of the truck bed and closing his eyes. When Vincent addressed him about his book he cracked one eye at the young man and shrugged, this was one thing he didn't like about the young man but given the circumstances he supposed he could understand.

“Nothing particularly inspiring. I get ideas all the time, but nothing I'd feel proud of putting to print and I'm not the sort of author who just throws whatever passes through my mind out to make a quick buck. I'll think of something soon enough I suppose, I certainly hope so, my wife is angry enough at me alre...”

He cut off and mentally kicked himself, he had never once spoken of her with any of these people and he had told himself he never would. Regardless the call he had awoken to was fresh in his mind and he had spoken without thinking while she still wondered around back in his subconscious. He hoped they might get the gist of his reaction and not ask any questions but given Vincents naiveté sometimes he wasn't holding his breath. Either way he eventually got it over with and spent the rest of the ride in silence unless asked something directly. He thanked whatever power was in control of this world when he finally spotted the lights of the village through the surrounding trees that lay thick in this particular area, in part so he could get out of the cold and in part so he could dodge any questions they might be thinking to ask.

The town was as small as he remembered it with “Mima's” Diner at the entrance, a series of brick stores on the opposite side of the street and a few more stores even further down. The town hall was a good mile away, it was actually separate the town itself though that was just due to time, at one point long ago it had been set in amongst some old houses that were now either empty or completely gone. They were stopped well before that though, out in front of the diner and blocking the one lane road was a squad car with its light set to constantly flashing though the siren was not on. Mr. Johnson slowed the truck down and came to a stop before the car, nobody was inside it or anywhere around, he could have gone around it easily but of course Mr. Johnson was a good law abiding citizen to a painful degree and would never have considered such a thing. Everyone in the cabin of the truck rolled down their windows and peered out like rubberneckers, as if looking at the car really intently would make it move out of the way on its own.

Eventually Mr. Johnson wised up and said, “Thats Deputy Walters cruiser. We should see whats happening.”

Nick was still sitting in his corner staring at the sky and he said blatantly, “Isn't the message to meet at the town hall?”

“W...w-well yes but we should see if anything is wrong here, I mean this is pretty strange.” Mr. Johnson sputtered a bit at being pointed out to being the one breaking from the norm for once, but in truth Nick was a bit curious or at least ready to get out of the truck so he didn't push the matter.

They pulled right up to the cruiser and then Mr. Johnson set it to park shortly before the entire group began piling out. Nick sighed and this time watched his breath crystallize in the air before he too stood up and jumped off the edge of the truck to the ground below. His eyes once again drifted to the diner and he was struck by how sleepy he was, coffee would do him some good and they might even have bacon. Mmmmmmmm, bacon.

Meanwhile the Johnson's walked up to the cruiser and peered inside its windows as if that was somehow a natural way of investigating a situation and Deputy Walter was going to apparate out of thin air that way. Eventually they decided that wasn't going to work either and it appeared they had a momentary family pow-wow of which Nick was infinitely grateful he was not a part of. Finally seeming to have come to a conclusion Mr. Johnson turned around and addressed the group.

“My wife remembered that Walter knew ol'Jackson that runs the tool shop over yonder pretty well. Jackson has a bit of a rebel streak in him, might be trying to stick it out, figure we can go check over there.” Mr. Johnson nodded to himself as if that was the obvious answer and without waiting for agreement or dissent turned around and walked off down the street followed closely by his sons who ran around him in circles and smacked at each other occasionally.

Nick took one long hard look at the diner sign again and then spoke out, “I'm gonna check the diner. Looks like their still open so maybe they haven't gone either, might be able to tell us more about whatevers going on here too, ya?”

Mr. Johnson momentarily looked over his shoulder and considered the diner with a really serious look as if he was actually going to tell Nick 'no' for a moment before he finally nodded and replied, “Good idea, we'll meet back here in a few ok?”

Nick simply waved and nodded in agreement at the same time before he hungrily set off toward the entrance to the diner. He didn't much care about what the sheriff had to say and if he knew his locals he knew that almost all of them had probably taken off like loyal puppies the moment he had called. He also knew he was likely to be extremely annoyed once he found out the mans reasoning for calling them out like this but at the moment he had one thought and one thought only, coffee....and bacon. Of course somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the diner should have been empty too, and that the squad car being out was strange, and somewhere inside he still felt watched, he had ever since he left the house, but the cold had dulled his sense and a sedate life had left him unprepared for true surprise. So as it was Nick was perhaps in the least capable of all mental positions to deal with what he was about to find.

The diner was a rare construct in the valley and half the reason Nick had accepted a cottage at the far southern end. Every day, two or three semi-trucks would make their way in to the valley to deliver goods, they would hit the three other “big” towns and then hit Grafton whereupon they would turn around and leave. So they would usually stop over in Grafton and spend the night before leaving prompting the creation of this diner to make a buck off these travelers and occasionally the locals as well. Indeed there were two 18-wheelers here tonight and Nick would later kick himself for not noting they too were empty which was strange since there was no reason for them to attend the meeting. At the time though he only found himself wondering how they could dare tempt the road that lead into the valley, he had practically run off the side a few times in his nimble little car, how such a giant and unwieldy thing could be driven through those turns was beyond him.

He didn't bother knocking since it was a restaurant and pushed on the door, apparently someone had to be there or they had allot of trust in the locals because the door was unlocked. Walking in he immediately let out a huge gasp, for the first time realizing just how chilly the cold weather had made him and savoring the warmth inside for a moment before walking all the way in. He looked around at the surroundings he had seen a couple dozen times since he had arrived, it was an average diner with a series of booths on one side and group of stools against a counter directly in front of the where the waitress worked on the other, a pair of double-doors on the far end led to the kitchen. Strangely enough nobody was present but it was late and then there was the matter of the sheriff calling, it wasn't as if they had left the ovens on or any other drastic signs, with the exception of a brewing pot of coffee.

“Hello?” Nick called out, he tried to recall the head waitress name and then remembering called again, “Martha? Anybody here?”

He called a few more times and then when nobody answered he shrugged. He walked around the counter and up to the coffee, he grabbed a glass and quickly poured himself a glass which he downed in an instant before pouring another. He turned around and looked over the counter, though it looked like it had been cooked half an hour ago or more he still found the bacon he was looking for and screw disease, he wanted his bacon. Grabbing a piece he was about to take a bite when he heard an abrupt and loud clanking sound from back in the kitchen that almost had him jumping again had he not steeled himself at the last moment to avoid spilling hot coffee all over himself.

He turned around and called out once again but received no answer, for the first time that night Nick got a really bad feeling in his gut. Until then there had been no real proof of anything but now things were building and he was starting to feel like one of those really stupid people in one of those really poorly acted horror movies, the one who usually dies before all the other horrible but slightly better actors just to prove how serious everything was. Holy crap, great, he was a red shirt. But all the realization in the world couldn't stop his morbid curiosity and of course looking back on it can sway ones opinion, at the time his feelings of foreboding might indeed have been weaker than they seemed upon analyzation. Either way he should have listened to them, but he didn't and as he placed a strip of bacon in his mouth to free one hand he pushed one of the large double doors into the diners kitchen area.

[kensei]

Vincent shook his head and said. “I see. Well I hope you come up with something soon.” He looked back out at all the trees as they passed them before Nick started talking again. He looked at him curiously before saying. “Wi-“ before being stopped by a look given to him by Coffin. He knew the look, it meant and I quote “Shut the fuck Vincent! Learn when people don’t want you to talk any more, for Christ sakes.” He had been told that the first time he asked, “What does that look even mean?” But that was a few years back and occasionally that phrase needed to be restated, but luckily for Nick, today was not such a case.

As they entered the town Vincent smiled, and when the abandon cop car was sitting in the road, his smile grew. “Told you something could be going on!” He said jumping out of the truck before anyone else got out. He walked over to the car and then looked into the dinner window seeing no one. He walked back as the others got out of the car and stared at the car. He made his way over to Nick and said. “Any ideas about whats going on?” He said before Coffin slapped him in the back of the head. “Nothing is going on god damnit it Vincent. Quite with your idiotic ideas!” Vincent sighed as he moved his hand threw his short hair. “Yes sir..”

As Mr. Johnson stated that they should go check out the tool shop. Coffin went along with him, so Vincent figured he should as well. But then Nick said he was going into the dinner. He was about to go with him when Coffin grabbed him by the arm and dragged him with them.

Vincent had never had a heard of anything being so quite. Even when out at night guarding the cattle near 3 am there where still coyotes howling, and his horse neighing, as the cows snored. But there was nothing like this, the howling of the wind seemed like a giant yelling. There quite footsteps made no noise as they walked down the street. It was eerie and it sent a chill down Vincent spin.

As they neared the tool shop the ungodly silence was broken by the buzzing of chainsaw. Vincent put his hand on his back, getting a grip of his revolvers handle. Coffin nodded to him and did the same. Mr. Johnson sighed at the two and knocked on the door. There was no answer. “Hello?” He called out, still no answer. Vincent pulled his revolver out as did Coffin. He walked to the door slowly as the Johnsons moved away. Coffin grabbed the handle off the door as Vincent pointed his gun at the door. Coffin threw the door open and Vincent looked in horror. “Oh my god..” He said looking into the room.

[GoldenKitten]

Nick took a bite of his bacon as he released the door letting it swing closed behind him, shimming on its hinge several times. Had he not been freaking himself out a bit with his own overactive imagination as he looked around the seemingly empty room he might have noticed it was pretty icky tasting really. The kitchen like the diner attached to it was about as common-place as you could get, white walls, gray tile floor, metal shelves and a center island with all sorts of pans and cooking utensils hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Nicks eyes lazily traveled over this rather unimpressive sight and saw nothing particularly out of the ordinary on the first pass. By this time he was figuring the locals had simply left to head down to the meeting but for posterities sake (and just in case, so he didn't get in trouble) he called out once more. As far as he knew there was just a hallway that exited out the buildings back left unexplored but no use taking chances.

“Hey, Martha, you there?”

Again he went unanswered but a distinctive rustling sound responded after several seconds from the other side of the metal island. It was an unobtrusive sound to be sure but it immediately sent chills down his spine, he instinctively knew something was wrong. He began backing up toward the door with speed, any desire to explore quickly drained out of him by a sheer explosion of imagination the sound had created. There was of course irony in the fact that even these reaches of imagination could not match the truth. Of course as was always the case things could not go as smoothly as going through the door and leaving the diner, he had just been about to when he happened to look to the left on the floor. For the first time he spotted the very tips of somebodies shoes protruding from the islands far edge and despite his best efforts otherwise the natural reaction to helping others that is drilled into most everyone since birth took over. He chewed on his free thumbs fingernail for a moment while his eyes shot back and forth between the tips of the shoes and the far side of the island where the noise had come from for several seconds before making a move.

Against all the warning bells shooting off in his head he forced himself to walk forward with conviction toward the edge of the island, the moment he rounded and looked down he regretted this decision. In one fell swoop his night changed and any belief that things were going normally quickly came, went and flew so far out the window they wouldn't be found anytime soon. Laying on the floor was what appeared to be the bottom half of the plump waitress Martha and where the upper half should have been there was only a massive and still spreading blood puddle.

Nick did not react immediately, he simply gawked for a time as his brain tried to shift gears from typical boredom to the fight-or-flight response that most humans rarely get to use to its fullest. When recognition finally did come he backed up right in to the nearest counter causing several utensils to clatter about while he pointed at the remains. Though for whom he was pointing was unsure, and began issuing silent screams though try as he might only air and no actual noise came out. But even in the frenzied state his mind was in he could hardly have missed the much more active rustling sounds that were emanating from the other side of the island followed shortly by several metal like clinks.

Now was when the flight kicked in, Nick certainly didn't understand what was happening but he knew better than to stay where he was. He quickly began walking across the room back toward the double doors and though the horror built inside of him as the clinking sound from the other side followed he tried to ignore it. However it would not ignore him and just as he was about to make his way up to the door the inevitable finally met him face to face. Rounding the corner with supernatural speed the creature quickly put itself between him and the door. Nick stumbled backward once more and he showed no false bravado, this time he had no problem issuing a loud and frenzied scream as he tripped backward just managing not to fall with a quick grab to the nearest counter.

Whatever it was it was not the sort of thing a man puts together when thinking up the monsters for his horror stories. For the ease of understanding it might be best said to resemble an insect, an earwig to be exact. But this earwig was the size of a man, had red-raw and seemingly burned skin for flesh, a multitude of what appeared to be metal or at least hardened implements stuck into its skin at random angles aside from its many sharp tipped legs and mandibles, and a near vertical triple tail that could not be mistaken as anything but the most vicious stinger any person had ever seen. Its manner was obviously aggressive, it was already snapping its mouth-parts at Nick with no provocation though of course only a fool would have needed evidence of this after seeing its form and what was surely the leftovers of a previous aggression on Martha sitting feet away.

Nick looked around frantically and spotted a cleaver, his gut reaction was to go for it but common sense got the better of him. Even a strong man would be a moron to go at something that looked that deadly with a close-range weapon, especially such a small one and of course Nick was not a strong man. Instead he looked around quickly trying to think his way out of this situation, if his life as an author had given him any skills it was the ability to put together creative ideas, in this case “creative ideas” translated to “running away quickly”. The moment he took his first step back the creature began lunging and he needed no more coercion, he broke off backward and slammed around the corner with the creature in close pursuit. His mind was quickly adapting and he knew to take a wide step around the corpse of Martha, he spun around the next corner and thanked his lucky stars when the creature went on for a moment and briefly smacked into the wall next to them though it took no time to recover.

He quickly realized why it had not come at him the moment he went in the room as he had to move around yet another corpse that had been hiding behind the island, this one bore obvious bite signs, perhaps it had been feeding. Either way it was of little consequence, he thought about taking off down the back exit to his left but his brain cut in, he had no way of knowing whether the door was unlocked or not. Instead his thankfully keen brain, though still excessively chaotic, forced him to make a few more corners and jump around the island without pause rushing straight for the double doors. He slammed through them and didn't give a single look back as they swung back and forth, he did think he heard them slam into his pursuer with considerable force but he wasn't taking any chances. He didn't slow down at all as he ran into the glass entry door almost shattering it from the force it wasn't designed for and he continued right out into the cold outside world without a second thought.

They were watching, he knew why he had felt watched now, their was an all-present chattering sound coming from the surrounding bushes and trees. It was like the common sound of the afternoon katydids that had been chirping just earlier but this was a different sound, it was knowing, like it knew a meal when it saw one and it sounded ravenous. Nick risked a look backward and with a certain amount of horror, the sight confirming the reality of what had occurred in the diner he watched the large monster insect slamming against one of the diners windows from the inside as it had clearly failed to get out the door. He could thank his human figure for his temporary survival at the least as the creature seemed to be having trouble getting out, but some deep part of him, perhaps the part that had watched to many horror movies told him that wouldn't last. He made a beeline for the truck and was surprised to see the Johnson's group doing the same from the other direction, happy to see someone else and wrapped up in what was happening he stupidly yelled.

“GET IN THE TRUCK!!!?”

Mr. Johnson noted him and even from here Nick could see his surprised face, “WHAT?!!! WHATS WRONG!!!?? THEY AREN'T THERE TOO ARE THEY?!!!”

Nicks heart sunk, he knew immediately what the old mans words meant, they had run into something as well. There was no denying it anymore, the shit had hit the fan and they had no answers as to how or why but that wasn't stopping them from rapidly becoming involved in it. The Johnson's reached the truck shortly before him and began loading in and starting it up while calling for him to hurry. He hadn't heard the diner glass break but when he saw Mr. Johnson and his sons point over his shoulder while sporting looks of horror he didn't need to look to know what was behind him.

“VINCENT!!!” he heard the older man yell while he pulled the shotgun which was primely mounted in the back window down and pushed it out to the young man who was already in the bed of the truck.

Nick chanced a look over his shoulder and he almost screamed at how quickly the insect monster had covered the distance between them. He flew as fast as he could and hoped that Vincent would soon start shooting, hopefully slowing the thing down in the process...strange how quickly he assumed it wouldn't kill it, though he turned out to be right. Somehow he managed to make it all the way and the moment he flung himself in to the bed of the truck Mr. Johnson floored it, turning to the side but still taking out the back half of Deputy Walters cruiser in the process before they all went flying down the main street. They left their pursuer behind but the chattering in the trees followed them the whole way down the road, and so did a thousand eyes.

[kensei]

Vincent looked at the sight in horror. Blood was spewed everywhere. He slowly walked inside, swallowing a bit of throw up as he did so. On any other day the tool shop would have been quite plain. Five aisle that went to the back of the shop started about five feet from the front of the building. Except the one in the middle which was only half the length of the others, which where only about thirty feet long, because of the square counter that had two cash registers on it, even though only one was ever used.

But that was not today. “ol’Jackson”’s head was sitting on aisles four, with several screwdrivers around it, and one in his eye. Maybe he could have a eye patch now? One of his legs was on the cash register. The jeans where rolled up making it look as if the leg was trying to be a hooker. His other leg was on a dusty ceiling fan that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Next to his head, about a foot away, was his left had whiched gripped a circular saw that was moving in circles along the ground. His left arm was no where to be found, and his right was gripping part of the counter. All that was missing was his torso.

Vincent would have kept staring if it wasn’t for the buzzing sound behind him. He quickly turned, aiming his revolver at it. The beast looked like a gigantic cockroach, its legs looked as if they had needles all the way around it. It’s head was about the size of a humans. The back of the beast looked as if it was made of brass. With the discovery of the huge ass bug, came with it the discovery of Jackson’s torso, which was in it’s mouth. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Vincent yelled as the monster dropped the torso. It spread the two metal like plates on its back, showing four gigantic wings. It flew quickly at Vincent, its wings making a rather nasty screeching sound. Vincent fired at it’s slightly softer under area, after four shots in the same area the beast finally bled a little. It took the other two, as well as four from Coffin who shot him in the back, for it to fall to the ground. It was clear as day that the monster was only slightly injured, as it started to run at Vincent. “FUCK THIS!” He shouted as he jumped threw a nearby window.

His adrenalin had kicked in, numbing the pain of the several cuts across his face. He got up as fast as he could. Which was rather slowly compared to the fact that the Johnsons where already halfway to the car, and old man Coffin was running as well. As he stumbled to his feet Vincent tightened his grip on his revolver. He took off as fast as he could. Within a few seconds he had passed the Johnsons. He jumped all the way into the bed of the truck, sliding along bed until he hit the other side which shook the truck a few inches. He had to give thanks to his life on the ranch for his speed. Between running from coyotes, running from stampedes, and running after Coffin when he left Vincent on the side of the road, he had learned how to sprint and run very fast.

He had barely enough time to catch his breath before Coffin threw him a shotgun. “Yeah this will do such wonders!” He said sarcastically as he jumped out of the truck running at Nick. As he made it about halfway to him he shot at the bug, causing it to trip over itself. He started to walk backwards as he kept shooting at it. Right before Nick jumped into the back Vincent did.

But that didn’t last long.. As Mr.Johnson so wisely tore threw the back of the patrol car, Vincent barely had one foot on the ground, and kudos to lady luck for making him be the one that fall out of the truck. Vincent rolled on the ground screaming. “No!” Before making his way to his feet and running after the truck. He managed to grab onto the back of the truck. His legs started moving on there own as he looked in horror, knowing any second now his face was going to connect with the back bumper. But he had Coffin and Nick to pull him into the truck.

He laid in silence, breathing deeply for about a minute. Before he looked at Coffin and smiled. “Told you something was going on.” Coffin looked at him with anger and kicked him in the face, breaking his nose, which only added to the blood coming from his face. “Shut up Vincent! Two people are dead at least! And you’re going to sit there and laugh about these things. What is wrong with you!” Needless to say Vincent didn’t answer, he only held his shirt to his face trying to stop some of the bleeding.

[GoldenKitten]

Nick had hardly had the strength to do more than sit there breathing hard as the truck took off when suddenly Vincent went off the edge. Instinctively he lunged for the young man though Coffin got to him first and wound up doing most of the work anyhow. When they finally got him in he fell to the floor as quickly as Vincent had, practically hyperventilating while trying to get his breath and allowing his mind to reel from the shock it had been damming up the entire time. Though of course there was no denying it, human nature was to try and discount things that didn't make sense to it and Nick was attempting to override that tendency as to stay alive. He was brought out of it by Vincent and Coffins discussion, he quickly did a tally in his head and raised his hand with four digits extended.

He attempted to speak but wound up coughing a few times, covering his mouth with his extended hand before it finally settled and he managed to say weakly, “Four dead...so far...”, he couldn't help the fatalistic ending he added as it was just his nature and more-over it seemed a realistic thing to say given what they had seen and what was around them.

Speaking of which in the excitement and the conversation that followed it had sort of fallen to the back of his mind, but they were still being watched. Even over the roar of the trucks engine as it passed the last of the stores on the main street and left the small town behind the chatter of whatever was in the trees and bushes, just out of sight, could be heard. It seemed louder than when Nick had been alone, as if all the action and the number of people had drawn even more to come observe. Nick pushed himself up so that his head was peeking over the edge of the truck bed and said aloud.

“Well, thats unnerving.”, Nick looked down, noticed he was still holding a strip of overcooked and long cold bacon, and ate it in one bite.

Despite it though the truck made good time and they ran in to no issues along the way. However once they passed the last building their surroundings became increasingly dark as did the closeness of the trees around them, if it had not been for the trucks headlamps they couldn't have seen a thing. So it should have come as a relief when a dim light began filtering through from the town hall but as soon as Nick lay eyes on it he knew somewhere deep down that he didn't want to go there. Still he figured the more people they had with them the more likely they were to fight...whatever it was off and he could already see a good number of cars parked in the parking lot. Safety in numbers, even if he wasn't particularly fond of people.

The town hall looked like it had once been a church, in fact though Nick did not know it was used as a church on the weekend, he never came out on those days. It had a high steeple and a wide front, it was made of wooden slats which were painted a dull gray. There were a few windows but they were dark, whether that was because the lights were off or if they had already been boarded up from the inside nobody could tell though Nick certainly hoped for the latter. It was a large building, there were probably a dozen or so rooms inside assuming they were of average proportions. The building bore no identification, clearly if you were a local you were supposed to know what the building was and if you weren't a local then you didn't really need to be there.

It came as an abrupt surprise to them all when the surrounding chatter simply ceased, all at once the encompassing noise and the feeling of being watched lifted. Nick wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing but at least it didn't feel like he was going to be eaten the moment he moved. Either way they drove down a small dirt hill to the town hall parking lot and a single street lamp all by its lonesome sitting in the middle of the cars provided some comforting light. At first it appeared everyone must have been inside but then Nick spotted movement over by the door to the hall, his heart lurched for a moment thinking it was another creature when finally it stepped out of the shadowed outcropping above the front door to show it was human. Closer inspection showed that it was Michael Leonov, the town doctor, this man was little more than a family practitioner with no real skill but Nick had gone to get a prescription from him once or twice. The other sort of interesting fact that he was half-Russian, it wasn't that it was particularly interesting, but the locals mispronunciation of his last name despite how long he had been here was endlessly amusing.

The entire truck unloaded as one, nobody meandering about this time and every one of them read to get inside. Nick somehow managed to be the first of these and simply nodded to Michael as he approached the door. He reached out and pushed against them only to find them firmly locked, though they did give in the slightest suggesting nothing was bracing them but the lock.

“Doors locked.” Michael said a few moments to late.

“Ya. I noticed.” Nick said semi-sarcastically before continuing, “We'll need to break-in.”

“WHAT?!!!” Mrs. Johnson said.

Mr. Johnson added, “Yes. If we knock it down we could let those things in!”

Nick held his throbbing temple with one hand, he had no patience to be nice with these people anymore but he tried not to be a jerk, “Listen. First I said break-in, not necessarily knock down though that is an option. However IF we can knock this door down then THEY can knock this door down. Better that we get inside and then brace it more properly. Now does anybody know how to pick a lock? If not then lets start looking for something heavy we can break-in with, but we can't use a car or anything that would break the door and leave us with nothing to brace against them even once we were inside.”, in truth Nick wasn't a leader but his brain was flying a thousand miles a second and he needed to say something before all his conflicting emotions about the last five minutes exploded within him.

[Zhiel]

The day had started like any other for Michael Leonov, as he lazily shuffled out of his old bed with the alarm clock blaring his ears off. With a bang his hand came down on the top of the gray digital clock, pressing the button to shut off the alarm. And then he slumped back down on the bed, with his feet hanging off the side as he fell into a state of drowsiness. Then five minutes later the clock began to blare once again, which this time made Michael bolt right up, swaying slightly back and forth as he came to a sudden halt. Without looking at it the man in his mid-twenties pushed the worn-out alarm button once again, and this time also flipped a switch that shut off the alarm altogether, before he began to slowly walk around the piles of dirty laundry and random objects scattered about on the floor of the small room.

The house Michael had chosen to use as a "clinic" of sorts was fairly small, with just one floor and three rooms, one being the actual clinic where he had all of his medical equipment (which really wasn't that much), the second being where he stored some other things and occasionally cleaned up to let a patient rest, and the third and smallest was his own room, where no one other than him ever set foot. Quite simply because he never really cleaned it, and as a "doctor" it was important to look like you were tidy and proper about everything, or else people would start doubting you.

Michael had lived in the "town" for just about four years now, three of which he had been running this clinic of his, and had throughout the course of those years treated a quite a few people, though it was rarely anything serious. In fact, as the only man with actual medical training, it wasn't unusual for him to act as vet either, which kind of annoyed the man who did not like to be around animals, but he never spoke about it, just like with everything else. In fact, no one in the town knew of Michaels past, and it had only been by a slip of the tongue one night where he had been drinking a little too much that anyone even knew he had medical training. And since that day, he had more or less been forced into his current job by the sheriff.

Opening the door Michael stepped into the clinic room, as he walked along the wall and behind the counter that was positioned near the wall at the back of the room, with the door leading outside opposite of it. Along the other walls was shelves with an assortment of different containers, most being things you could buy without a prescription at your local apothecary, but of course with how rural the town was, there was none. However with the exception of another shelf behind the counter, with glass doors and a lock, there was nothing else in the room which spanned just about ten meters in length with the door in the middle, and five meters in width, with one door at the back end on each side of the room.

Of course, Michael barely noted this, he was used to the sight of the fairly empty room and didn't really care. He only brought in what was necessary when it was necessary, and only kept the things which was regularly needed in stock. Though he was actually quite passionate about his work when he got around to it. Once behind the counter Michael leaned down on it as he reached out under it, grabbing a bunch of papers which he lifted up on-top of it and then sorted through. Though one might not think so, he was actually checking his schedule. Though one could think he'd try to keep it a little more organized. After settling that he had no 'appointments' for the day Michael dropped the papers on the counter as he walked right back into his room and got dressed.

Michael was a fairly average looking man, just slightly over 180 centimeters in height, fairly slim body build and a somewhat pale skin-tone, though neither being unhealthily so. He had dark brown colored hair, almost black, which was cut short, but having grown to just cover the top of his ears at the side, with him pushing the hair hanging down on his forehead aside. His features were not that special, though somewhat sharp due to his slim body, which made his almost square chin stand out along with his sharp, down-pointed nose. One thing that really stood out on him though, was his bright blue eyes.

The day passed like most others, completely uneventful and pointless, and so Michael had decided to simply close down for the day and get back to his personal studies, when the phone rang. It seemed the Sheriff wanted him along with all other inhabitants of the area to gather in the Town Hall for some reason. Not giving much thought to it Michael locked the door as he walked into his own room once more, changing to more casual clothing as he sat down at the small desk opposite of the door and flipped open a old and used laptop that had been laying there. One thing that made Michael stand out from most other inhabitants of the rural countryside, was that he had a Internet connection. Though of course, it was not a very good or even stable one, but it was good enough for him to be able to order goods and check up medical data when necessary. The reason for doing this now instead of later, was because he needed to make the order today before a certain time, and you never knew how long the Sheriff would hold you up...

After finishing up, which took a little longer than he'd have liked due to the connection acting up, Michael stood up and walked outside, now dressed in a pair of black jeans-like trousers and a white buttoned shirt. Out of habit he had also brought with him his small backpack, containing the essentials for a typical first-aid package. But as he walked outside the front door and closed the door behind him, he suddenly heard a loud bang, accompanied with a dozen smaller crashes coming from inside the house. Though Michael looked startled at first, he then lowered his head and sighed. "Damn unstable shelves..." he said to himself as he locked the door and walked down the grassy pavement toward his car, thinking to deal with the problem once he got back. Luckily for him, this just saved his life.

Michael's car was by far not a work of art, in-fact it was a piece of trash. It seemed a wonder it barely worked at all, as it produced more noises inside the car than in the engine itself it seemed, and so it was nearly impossible to hear anything going on outside. But the cars poor condition did not only make it near unbearable to drive it, it also made it unable to handle "high" speeds, and so what would have normally been a few minutes drive at most became a fifteen minute one for Michael, who when finally arriving at the Town Hall noted that there was a bunch of cars parked outside, it seemed most everyone in the town had arrived already, though as he looked at his watch he realized he was prety late.

Parking the car at a suitable spot, Michael went outside and then walked up the door as he pulled on it for a second before realizing you were supposed to push it. When that didn't work either he began to look skeptical, if everyone was meant to assemble why the hell would they lock it before everyone had gathered? Why would they lock it to begin with? This made no sense... He knocked a few times, even gave a shout, but there was seemingly no answer and so he stood there in thought for several minutes, thinking he might as well get back home when he suddenly saw the car-lights of another car coming down the road.

Once the car stopped the inhabitants, showing up to be the Johnson's, Coffin, Vincent and Bryant, the later of whom was the first to reach him. One thing which Michael noted as the group exited the vehicle was that they seemed... Tense or scared for some reason, though he decided it was just his imagination. It was this observation which made his comment about the doors being locked come a little too late, though he did not really react to Nick's sarcastic reply. He did react to what he said next however, looking very surprised, though when the Johnson's didn't reprimand him for simply thinking such a thing, and instead mentioned some "things" he got a incredulous look on his face as he raised a brow. "Excuse me for interrupting but, what are you people talking about?" Though he didn't say it, he had some (basic) knowledge with lock-picking, though he could only pick very basic locks. It was something he had done as a bit of a hobby in his youth...

[kensei]

Vincent had managed to stop most of the bleeding. Though one of the cuts on his face was bleeding slowly. He had put a few pieces of cloth and some tape on his right cheek as it had the cut that was still bleeding. The Johansson’s had been nice enough to keep a roll of gauze inside there truck and had given it to Vincent. “Four.. I cant believe this is happening..” He said closing his eyes.

As they neared the town hall he noticed that the outside noise had stopped. “Are they leaving?” He asked before they stopped. As he jumped out of the truck he noticed that Dr. Leonav was already there. “Hello doctor.” He said as he opened the passenger door to the truck after Mrs. Johnson had exited the truck. He sat in the seat before opening up the consul and pulling out a box of ammunition. Pulling out his revolver he reloaded it before grabbing the box and sticking it in his jacket’s pocket. He slowly made his way to the group. Moving to the back and watching the area. He had his revolver in hand, even though he knew it would most likely not do anything to those…. THINGS!

“Lock pick?” Vincent said as he walked back to the truck and opened the passenger door before once again opening up the consul and pulling out a screw driver. “Please! In old buildings like these you can use almost anything to lock pick.” He slammed the door shut as he made his way back to them. He kneeled down at the door and put the head of the screw driver to the lock. “And just apply some good force.” He said grabbing his revolver by the barrel and using the grip as a hammer. The screwdriver went in, and Vincent turned. It took a lot of force but he did open it. “Tadah. Its really not all that hard. Almost every building can be broken it like this, in this town at least.” He said as they slowly walked in. They heard some noise up ahead and Vincent had a correct grip on his revolver now. He had it pointed ahead of him incase, something else was there. After tonight, he was paranoid.