Chapter 12: The Farmers

"Wha-What are you?!" screamed the farmer's wife.

Rachael opened her mouth. Only a weak cry crawled out.

"Devil..." whispered the woman. Her body shook as the color drained from her face. She backed up toward the door. "Devil!" she screamed. "Deeeevil!"

Rachael reached out. A gust of wind from the window blew the sheet off of her body. Across her bare skin was only spots of dried blood. But no scars. She stepped off the bed. "Please... don't..." she finally managed to utter.

"DEVIL!!" The farmer's wife made the sign of the cross and ran out of the room. There was some yelling. Then the farmer appeared. He stood at the threshold and stared in silence.

In front of him was the young lady whom, just days earlier, was a twisted pile of blood, bones, and skin. She looked like she had been in death's grip. Now, she was a beautiful, radiant woman who was very alive and, he suddenly realized, very very naked. He averted his eyes.

Rachael quickly surveyed the room. An open window to her left. White sheets lying on the bed. A barren desk to her right. No extra clothes or shoes anywhere. She immediately grabbed the sheets and wrapped it around herself.

The farmer backed away from the door, just in time for his wife to enter with a shotgun. "GET AWAY FROM US, DEVIL!" she called out.

Rachael studied the couple for a moment, brushed away the thought of doing them harm, then leapt over the bed and out the window. Wood and glass broke and tore through her flesh. She rolled onto the dirt floor and braced herself for a shotgun blast. But none came.

Rachael scrambled to her feet. The farmer and his wife were staring through the broken window. The shotgun was still leveled at her, but the wife's finger was dangling off the trigger. Then Rachael noticed all the blood on the window sill. And bits of flesh.

A flash of brown crashed into her. She toppled to the ground. Fierce teeth bit into her forearm. The farmer's dog yanked her sideways, throwing drops of blood onto the sheets. The sheets grew crimson.

She fixed an intense gaze on the dog. The air rippled. Then the dog flew into the air and smacked into the house with a yelp.

"DEVIL!!" screamed the farmer's wife. She fired her shotgun. Beads of metal ripped through Rachael's stomach. The impact propelled her backwards. She felt every little piece break her skin and cut through her organs. The pain was excruciating.

She closed her eyes and grinded her teeth. A large tremor shook the ground. There was wood creaking and cracking. Glass shattering. Metal twisting. Then two screams. And an explosion.

Wrapped in the crimson sheets like a burrito with raw meat, Rachael fell unconscious again. She laid on the ground for hours, her mind exhausted, her body repairing, and her soul struggling to stay alive.

In her inert state, she didn't notice the little girl emerge from the wrecked house. She didn't see the little girl crawl over to where she lay. She didn't see the little girl sit there, watching Rachael's skin rebuild itself. And she didn't see the little girl wipe away a tear, then smile.

Chapter 11: Sanctuary

Fear pushed her forward. Fear and a new sense of self-preservation kept her stumbling blindly through the forest away from the sounds of gunshots, and animalistic screams of the undead. The hundreds of cuts that covered her body hadn’t had a chance to clot, re-opening and tearing with every step. The night was cold, the wind unforgiving to her naked skin. Still, she pushed on through the unknown darkness before her. She couldn’t help feeling as if the creatures were in pursuit. During the course of her torture, hundreds had spawned out of the darkness and she could still hear their grotesque child-like laughter and smelt their stink of rotten flesh. She had wanted to die so badly. She had tried to kill herself, and yet here she was, the pain reminding her that she hadn’t crossed over, that she wasn’t safe.

“Out of the woods.” She thought to herself. The saying almost brought on a smile.

Suddenly she crumpled to the ground. Her legs refused to move anymore, the hardwire to her brain severed. She felt the patchy grass beneath her body. It was cold and damp. The sharp rocks and wood hidden within cut through her skin, adding to the pulpy mess of blood and torn skin covering her body. Under normal circumstances she would have cursed in irritation, but in her current state she was too exhausted to not appreciate such the small ‘inconvenience’. The forest became even darker as her consciousness, defeated, gave into sleep.

When she awoke she found herself on a bed. The trace of musk and oil mixed with the fresh cold air flowing through the open window reminded her of how alone she was. Somewhere in her distant memory she recalled how she came to be here, but she quickly tossed the thought away as the door opened and the silhouette of a tall and slender man approached. “How are you feeling, hon?” the stranger asked in a soft comforting tone. She opened her mouth to speak. It was dry and she felt the crusted blood flake off her lips.

She trembled, “Where am I?”

“Lakeshore. I saw you lyin’ out on the road outside an..” he hesitated and quickly turned his head nervously. It was in that instant that she realized that she was completely naked besides the blanket which lay on top of her. She started to cry. The drifting in an out of consciousness had left her confused. Everything seemed so surreal as if she had woken up from a series of nightmares. She felt violated and helpless. She quickly checked her sores and found nothing unusual except for a cut on her upper left-hand cheek. Strange, she could have sworn...

The farmer had called for his wife.

“Take care of the children, I don’t want them to see,” a husky woman’s voice urged. A dog barked in the distance. Rachael pulled the cover up to her chin and quickly, as if by instinct, wiped the tears and dried blood away from her face. Her short hair was a tangled mess and she instinctively brushed it back with her fingers. Her face instantly became damp with sweat. A stout woman, who looked to be in her late forties, entered the room.

“You’ve been out for nearly two days miss. Are you feelin’ okay?”

“Not really. What happened?” Her voice trembling a bit.

“I was hoping you would know.” The woman smiled. Her voice was comforting. “We found you outside in the fields, you were cut up pretty bad. Almost thought you wouldn’t make it. Speaking of which, do you mind if I check out your wounds?"

Rachel lifted the sheet afraid of what she would find underneath and was surprised to see that most of the cuts had healed over so that there were barely any trace of scars.

"Oh, my Lord!" The woman stared in disbelief and Racheal could see the fear in her eyes matching that of her own.

Chapter 10: The Soul

She was floating on a soft raft in the middle of the ocean. The gentle waves lifted her up and let her down. It was a soothing rhythmic motion. This is how Rachael felt as she died.

The soul is a tenuous string that vibrates with fierce intensity. This creates a brilliant glow that is delicious and powerful. Every soul has a unique vibration, some brighter than others. It's energy trickles in all directions, expanding, touching, and mingling with everything in its path. Sometimes, when it encounters a compatible vibration, the two momentarily combine and become exponentially radiant.

Rachael's soul was alone in the black. Its vibration slowed down and grew dark.

Somewhere in the void, there was a flutter. A glow. A speck of radiance that danced like a firefly who just found its way home.

The glow fluttered to Rachael's soul. Its energy reached out and joined with Rachael's, massaging it and feeding it. There was a gentle hum. "Rachael..." it whispered. "Rachael..."

Rachael's soul string buzzed. It was only enough to emit a dull light.

"Rachael... don't go yet..."

Her soul began to pulse.

"Don't go yet... there's still much to do..."

"...much... to... do...?" Rachael felt a warm rush flow through her. It was electrifying.

"They found us... they'll be coming for us... they won't stop until we're dead..."

"...they... oh no..."

"There's still much to do... we have to run... and to warn the others..."

"...the... others... warn the others..."

Then there was a harsh crack. A bite. A bloody tearing of muscle. Screams. The pain of a thousand cuts over every major nerve.

Rachael screamed. She jerked her head up. Blood, saliva, and poison dripped from her numb lips. A silver metal ball fell between her legs.

The ground was shaking. There was dust. Screaming. Someone upstairs was screaming, shouting. POW POW POW! Gunshots.

Something bubbled from Rachael's mind. The air rippled around her. She stood up. The ropes were lying lifelessly on the ground. She quickly surveyed the basement. There was a window behind her. The air rippled again and the glass broke. She crawled out and started running.

It all happened so fast. She heard another explosion and was halfway through a field when she finally turned around. The large, decrepit house behind her looked to be held together with duct tape and glue; it was a wonder it hadn't collapsed yet. There was an orange glow and smoke from one side. A motorcycle was parked in the driveway.

POW POW POW! She turned around and ran into the woods.

Chapter 9: Grendel

He had a name, but it was forgotten long ago. He knew he had a name, because he remembered he had a family and all members of a family had names did they not? Unlike now, he had been small for his age; small and prone to sickness. What little he remembered from his memories were fragments of him waking up in bed. The room would always be the same. Everything was white, from the walls to the bed to the smock that he wore. If he weren't alive, if he didn't have blood running through his veins, he could easily have blended into his surroundings like a ghost.

Mother, father, brother, sister... Mother, father, brother... Mother, brother... Mother... And then, the room was empty. It remained empty for a long time. Near the end stopped hoping, kept his eyes closed, not wanting to face his loneliness.

And then he heard voices. In his excitement he opened eyes which hadn't been opened in years. The light blinded him, and he winced in pain as his eyes adjusted to colors, shapes, and movement. It went on for minutes, and then the pain ceased, he could make out the outlines of people. "They're back! My family is back!" He thought in excitement.

"Dad!? Mom!?" his head moved from shape to shape, the bodies still blurred shapes and shadows.

"Yes dear, we're here, we came back, everything is going to be fine now." The woman spoke in a cautious whisper.

"Sorry, I ever doubted you. It's just that..."

This time the man spoke. "Now, there my boy." It hasn't been that long. "You've been sick... I bet it's seemed like decades..."

"It... has... But now you're here..."

"Yes son we are." He felt a sharp prick on his shoulder, and the world went black again.

It wouldn't be years later that he would find out the truth. They would tell him that his family had been murdered. That the people he was talking to were their killers and were attempting to kill him, before they got to him. Only half of the poison had been injected, which left him mute. It also woke something within him -hatred for everything around him.

He found out the people who were responsible for killing his family and the families of others and vowed revenge, no matter what the cost. He accepted to be part of the program wholeheartedly since he couldn't do much with the physical body that God had given him. Afterwards, much like many of the other orphans, he became their assassin. Taking on job after job until what little ounce of humanity which remained within him was buried underneath the blood of hundreds. He felt no compassion. He had no problem killing a woman and crushing her child's skull. He was a monster and they called him Grendel.

Chapter 8: The Recovery

His blood trickles into the stream. It clouds crimson. Little fish dart away, terrified of touching his blood, of being tainted by his evil.

Every emotion is pounding in his head, beating on his skull. It's hard to concentrate. He wants to scream, but doesn't. It would do no good.

A rat skitters by. He lurches forward and catches it by the tail. Quick and deft. His massive hands twist the rodent apart. Hot steam bellows from its entrails. He is hungry, so he swallows it in three bites.

Leaves rustle behind him. He turns around to see his princess, beautiful and frail, lying on a soft bed of leaves. She's bare, except for her flimsy hospital gown. Her wrists and ankles are red from the hospital straps. The cuts on her leg have caked over in brown clumps. There are dried blood streaks down her pale, slender legs.

He reaches into the stream and cups a handful of water. Gently, he pours it on her legs.

In the distance, there are gunshots. He looks up, his muscles tense, and he reaches for his weapon. Sharp blades extrude from the back of his forearms, reaching out towards his elbow. Similar razors-sharp talons eject from his back. His firearm is as silent as his blades, and even deadlier for long-ranged combat. He is ready to kill again if necessary. He will do anything and everything to protect his princess.

The sounds fade. Moments later, the buzz of a motorcycle ignites, then falls to a whisper.

"Uhhh..." she murmurs. He leans close to listen. "Uhhh..."

His body returns to its calm state, its humanoid state. In his palm he cradles another handful of water and carefully washes her face. She's so delicate and harmless, he thinks. Why would anyone want to hurt her? How dare they hurt her?

Her eyes move under their eyelids. "No..." She slowly twists her head side to side. "No... Noooo... Raaachael..."

Chapter 7: Decisions

She was beyond exhausted. Her lungs were burning. What little oxygen she inhaled was quickly coughed out with blood and bile. The coldness of the basement had turned musty and oppressively humid within the course of an hour. Her tormentors were professional and it was obvious to her they weren't in it just for the money. They needed to see her like this, her fear and pain fed them, and they were starving.

Only thirty minutes had passed, and yet to Rachael it seemed like a couple of hours. Most of her clothes lay in tatters on the ground, her near-naked body exposed to all the disgusting creatures hiding in the shadows. What started as an interrogation had quickly become a perverse lesson in humiliation. Still, besides the beatings they hadn't touched her yet. She prayed for unconsciousness, even her death before shaking the thought from her mind. Still, she felt their eyes upon her, their excitement mounting. She heard their squeals of delight erupt with every blow. She didn't need to be touched to feel raped.

She knew she couldn't keep up the tough act when she saw those teeth. Up until then she had assumed she was dealing with the humans. She had no idea that she had gotten placed so high on their pay scale. She hadn't trained to deal with them yet, and she wasn't ready to fight them on their level. She only had one option left.

Amazingly, the round silver ball of her tongue-ring had stayed in place after all the blows. All she had to do was bite down on it, crack the shell, and the poison inside would end it all. The secret would be safe, her family would be safe and she could die knowing that. Still, it wasn't as easy as she thought it would be. First of all, this was a situation that she never took seriously. She had always been able to take care of herself before. Even when she didn't think she could, she managed to surprise herself with her 'abilities'. She had become over-confident, and now she was paying the price for it. It was that overabundance of confidence which, like fuel reserves, had kept her alive up until now. However, ever since she had seen the those teeth it was as if she was going two-hundred miles an hour and couldn't get her foot off the gas. She knew that she had to jump out before that happened, and right now she was running off fumes.

Ever so slightly, she passed her tongue between her jaws, felt the metal ball between her teeth begin to give, and closed her eyes...

Chapter 6: The Monster

He loved his motorcycle. A Ducati Monster. It's fleshless exterior, exposed bones, and bare guts appealed to him. He could see into the soul of this Monster and feel its powerful core. Cold steel, brutal efficiency, and precise movements; it was as deadly a machine as he was.

More cops would be here soon. The two officers who showed up at Trudy's were rookies. Barely out of the academy. All it took was one look into their eyes. Just one look, and they were his.

Jonny Boy smiled. He relished the image of their twisted bodies. Snap-snap went their necks. He knew what they were going to do even before they did.

Despite his muscular form, he moved with the speed of a lion. Or a Ducati Monster. He was the perfect predator; grace and agility pounded with raw strength and brawn. Absolutely relentless, whenever he was in the killing zone, his mind thought of nothing else. Some called him a sociopath, though he simply had learned how to shut off his emotions long ago. Had he been a doctor or lawyer, he might have been one of the best in his field. But instead, fate put him on a different path - a path that led him to Rachel Chiang.

The Ducati roared to life. Its eyes blazed into the night, slicing a path through the blackness. Jonny looked back at the coffee shop. The paramedics were hovering over the police officers. The shop manager stood behind them, yelling something frantically.

Jonny adjusted his gloves, checked his weapon, and... shit! Where's my wallet? Fuck, did the girl take it?!

He steadied his bike. Think back now. I was talking to her. She had on that delicious little Baby-Doll T-shirt. I looked into her eyes. Her eyes. Her goddamn eyes. Then I was down in pain. What the hell did she do to me? I could feel her... in my head. What did she do to me?? What did she see? Shit, what did she see? Did she... Fuck, what if she knows?

He twisted the handlebars and blasted the Ducati into the night.

Chapter 5: Captive Audience

"WAKE UP BITCH!"

A bucket of cold water slapped Racheal on the face instantly waking her from unconsciousness, and leaving her gasping for air. The room was dark but for the rays of moonlight streaming from the small windows above.

She couldn't help but be a little amused at the cliche that she found herself in. She gathered her surroundings in list form: dark basement (check), pail of water to the face (check), chair (check), ropes tying her to chair (check), hidden thug lighting up a cigarette and acting tough (check).

"What's so fuckin' funny?!" She had made him upset. She was frightened, but she wasn't going to show it, she wouldn't give him the pleasure.

"Um, if you're gonna kidnap someone, don't you think they deserve a little bit of, um, i dunno... originality?" She was surprised that her voice didn't shake.

"Ah, the mouth on this one.." Voice of thug number two behind her (check). "We're gonna have to -"

"teach me some manners, check... yeah I know, you guys are so cliche! Besides religiously jerking off to your Maxim magazines, you probably spend your days reading Batman comic books and learning how to be the Jok-"

CRACK! Her head snapped to the side. Blood sprayed as her lip ring tore off and fell to the floor. The white-haired man smiled. "Look, OK, you've made your point! We're the bad guys in some really bad movie, and you're the innocent victim of some conspiracy to obtain the Jewel of the Nile hidden up King Tut's ass!" She sensed the man grinning at his own bad joke. "Except! Except that you're NOT so innocent are you? Face it bitch, we all think we're victims, and we're never the bad guys, but it's not that simple is it? You know that as scripted, and as black and white as this situation seems to be on the outside, on the inside, we're swimmin' in a whole mess of smelly gray shit. There's history here sweetie, shit that nobody sees in some asshole's mass-marketed, masturbation project. This is reality babe, we have way more than 2 hours to kill with you." He grinned, more like snarled. This time the moonlight revealed something about his face, that sent sharp knives down her stomach. His teeth, there was something horribly wrong about his teeth...

Chapter 4: A Man and A Boy

He was lying in a pool of black coffee. It oozed around his arms like the aftermath of a gunshot wound. Foam was gathering around his mouth.

"What the fuck??" shouted Potsy. He stormed around the counter. "What the fuck? Is he OD'ing on something? Fucking crackhead..." He twisted his thick neck, sending ripples across his many chins. "Jim, call the police, will ya? I don't want this crackhead dying in my shop."

A frail teen peeked from the kitchen, jerked his head up and down, and scampered away.

Potsy shook his head and sighed. "I knew this guy was trouble. Should have kicked him out as soon as I saw him. He's probably some gangbanger thug or something."

Rachel knelt next to the large stranger and pretended to check his pulse. Her manager crossed his arms with a huff, then sauntered away. She slipped a slender hand into the stranger's pockets. His breathing was slowing down, though his legs still kicked like a dog in a nightmare. She could smell his leather jacket. There were markings on his neck, some kind of tattoo of an animal.

My God, he's a big guy, she thought. He's not from the lab; he's not one of the scientists or surgeons. How did he find me? I've been so careful for all these years. Is it safe to go back to my apartment? Is my cat okay? Why can't they just leave me alone?

She bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed the scar on her forearm with her free hand. Fragments of images flashed in her mind like a kaleidescope. She saw a name. Jonny Boy. So his name is Jonny Boy.

She also saw great pain. Knives. Blades. Blood. And great sadness. Crying. Pain. Death. He wasn't from the lab though. There were no images of the lab. Then she saw another man. With glasses and bright white hair. And deep, cruel eyes.

His wallet was inside his jacket, right alongside his gun's shoulder holster. She glanced at his firearm. It wasn't like anything she'd seen before. Shiny, slick, and devoid of symbols. The barrel was longer than usual. A silencer?

"Is he dead yet?"

Rachel bolted up. "He's, um, he's still breathing."

Potsy shook his head. "Cops are coming soon. They'll get his ass out of here. Then we can all go home."

"If you don't need me anymore, I'm going to head out now."

"Did you clean up your station?" her manager growled.

She nodded.

"Fine. Good night."

Rachel turned toward the door and quickly rushed out. The cool night air nipped her exposed arms. She fingered his wallet, now safely tucked in her pocketbook. Her head throbbed, like it did every time this happened. She rubbed her temples as she thought about a safe place to go.

That was the last thought to go through her head. A large arm cracked the back of her skull and knocked her out. She crumpled to the ground immediately.

A massive figure stood over her. Dark sunglasses, long overcoat, black gloves; he was dressed to hide into the night.

"What a shame, Jonny Boy. Don't send a boy to do a man's job."

Chapter 3: Rachael

The cops and paramedics arrived fifteen minutes after the 'incident'. Rachael was never so scared in her life -well at least in awhile. Who was that man? He had looked at her as though she were a ghost. She had a strange feeling, very subtle, but there nonetheless, that she had known him from before. His eyes, they seemed to hold a million thoughts, pleading thoughts being held captive by some hidden evil. Her immediate reaction was to blame herself. Of course it didn't help much when said victim was pointing at her whilst screaming and crumpling down in pain.

There have been just so many questions left unanswered after that day. It had happened 2 months ago, but for some reason she still wasn't able to cope with the loss of Cali. She was surprised when Potsy told her that he had reopened and that he needed her help. She knew she shouldn't be here, that it wasn't good for her, but Potsy had been like a father to her and she couldn't say no, not when he had taken her in and been so kind to her ever since she arrived in town. She told him that it would only be until he was able to get more help. He said he understood. That was a month ago.

Potsy had taken advantage of the insurance money and remodeled, but it didn't change anything. She still felt the warm spray of blood, the terror of seeing people, children, laughing just a second before being torn into something not unlike what you would see behind a butcher's glass window. Everything that she had once felt secure in, everything that she had thought made sense in the world had changed that day. "Oh, Cali, what did you do?" She thought to herself as she wiped her eyes. The cops were walking towards her and it was time to put on an acting show.

Chapter 2: Jonny Boy

He sat in the dim shadows waiting for her to come around once more. He was now on his fourth cup of coffee, the effects of which had taken place somewhere around his second. He had been here a while, and it obviously had aroused suspicion from the manager who seemed to glance his way every five minutes. However he didn’t mind it at all. In fact he liked the attention and agitation that his presence had brought to the employees of Trudy’s, especially to the slender young girl who had been serving him. She wore a worn plastic name tag that read Tina, but he knew better. He knew that she was the girl for whom he was sent, and that her name was in fact Rachel Chiang. Cali had confirmed it. His instructions had been clear and concise. He was to do anything he wanted with her at first, maybe have some of the usual fun, but in the end she was to go down like the rest -fast and quiet. He glanced at his watch, which read eight minutes to ten. Pretty soon the coffee shop would close and his cute little waitress would tell him in her most polite manner that he had to leave. He anticipated this, for he wished to examine her more closely, to look into her unknowing eyes before he took action. He needed to catch her soul in its unsuspecting and normal state. He closed his eyes for a moment with the thought of her soul flowing through his veins, and then opened them again in anticipation as she started to make her way across the aisle.

Her dress was not typical, especially not for a small coffee house waitress which was how he had first known that it was her. Besides, her character was totally out of place, she was much too young and chick to be working in a place like this and her bored expression showed it. However now and then she still managed a cute perky smile to the customers that kept everyone else fooled. She wore a white, Baby-Doll T-shirt, worn blue jeans that accentuated her long slender yet sculptured legs, and a black pair of Mary Janes -minus the socks. The only items identifying her as a waitress was a small apron she wore loosely around her waist and the crooked nametag which barely hung on its side. He was surprised that the WPP had allowed her to wear such things, but then again her file had inferred that she was the independent/headstrong type. Her pale face appeared innocent and yet one could sense its threatening undertones of post-teenage rebellion. The only apparent make-up that she wore was red semi-gloss lipstick, not the typical bright blend and yet not unattractively dark either. He wasn’t surprised by her beauty, for her file had also mentioned that she had spent some time modeling in Paris just a couple of years before the accident happened. It was now that she approached him. He casually looked up from the paper he had never been reading. Coming face to face with her he realized that she was even more beautiful than he had thought. She pouted her lips looking genuinely sorry, “Sir, I’m afraid that you’re gonna have to leave. Normally we’d wait until you leave to close up, but Potsy over there has to get home to his wife, and”, whispering, ”I heard that she can be a real bitch.” She ended the act with a wink and gave him an understanding smile. “I can call a taxi if you want.”

“No Miss, it’ll be quite all right. My motorcycle is parked just around the corner.” He smiled back at her and as he did he looked into her eyes. There were some things that could not be told in government files, and he wanted to know all of it.

Some say that the eyes are the windows to our souls, and those of Jonny Boy's were created to jump right through other's. He enjoyed the sudden surge of emotions that coursed through his body, filling him with the essence of his victim. It told him who the person was, what they had experienced, what they had felt throughout their lives all in one tiny instant. It was if he had a direct access to their very soul. Whether it was happiness or pain, love or sorrow, it really didn’t matter. The sheer intensity alone sent waves of pleasure through his body and enabled him to assimilate his target better. Throughout his lifetime he had never had a problem, he always knew his limits and when he had to stop before he fully assimilated, but now something was wrong. Something he had never anticipated as he looked into the young girl’s dark brown eyes. He would later describe it as being a flash of intense light and then a feeling of fear, horrible pain and emptiness, but at the present all he could do was scream.

“G-Get out of my head! What are you doing to me?!” As he stumbled from his seat he managed to knock over the table, his coffee mug shattered violently as he fell to the floor shaking. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even think about anything but the pain, and the white light. He had always been a big man, physically and mentally, but now he found himself drooling uncontrollably like a baby on the floor.

The girl just stood there in shock. Did they finally catch up to her? And she had been so careful. "React normally. Act surprised.." she told herself right before screaming “OH MY GOD! SOMEBODY HELP!!”

Chapter 1: The Rescue

The room is white and cold. I feel… alone. Someone slightly whispers something to me but I am too lost in a trance.. I’m trying to get out. The room smells as if someone had just bathed it in antiseptic. A man named Harold called me yesterday and said that he would meet me at Trudy’s, the local coffee shop where I was stationed as a waitress. That is the last thing I remember. Oh, that and something about a German Shepherd? A tall, white man in a green astronaut suit approaches me as though he doesn’t know what to say. He thinks that I can’t see him through his tinted visor, that I can’t see the fear in his eyes and the sweat beading down on his forehead. Why does he have that look on his face? Its that look that you always see on television when some doctor tells you your dog has died. DOG! Why is that word in my mind?!

“Miss Quan?” the man seems to be asking me this question, but my name isn’t Quan it’s.. “Miss Quan, I know you must be wondering where you are.” He is nervous and his voice is trembling. The words echo through my mind without meaning as the world turns black. The next thing I know, I’m strapped to a gurney being rushed through a long hallway. People are shouting all around me.

“How could this have happened?!” A voice filled with anger but mostly of fear and agitation.

“I-I don-t…“ A nervous reply.

“Well you’d better know, Levinson is dead!”

“What are we going to do?”

“Just hold her down now! Get more people if you have to!”

It is now that I realize that my whole body is shaking! I can see my legs kicking, the cuts on them spraying those around me with warm blood. My heart is pounding and a hot stickiness covers my head, making me unable to think straight. There’s blood everywhere… Suddenly a man I know appears. Who is he?… I Can’t think straight! He slashes through my bindings in one smooth arc, grabs me from the sea of hands, and pulls something out from his vest which looks like a gun, and all of a sudden people are falling to the floor. Screaming everywhere. The white walls are now splashed with blood and bits of juicy warm flesh. People are dying. Some run for the exit, but they’ll never make it back -back home to their families. How do I know this? Because the man is not human, the man is evil and he hates everyone for what they did to him, for what they did to me. I try to tell him to stop, that they didn’t know what they were doing, but he doesn’t listen. He just kills. He is stronger than me. I am weak, helpless. All that I can do is cry for the people, their children, their shattered futures as he crashes through the window and takes me into the cold, dark night.