The floorboards creaked as Earl leaned against the table. His eyes were pale brown, almost yellow, and they stared at Seth with a hungry intensity. “Let’s start with something easy. What’s your name?”
“Seth Mayhew. I’m a student at Shelby State, an aerospace major, and I know nothing about this place. It’s just, I was at the aero club, and Alex arrived, asking if anyone could film some drone shots for her film project. And she offered to pay, and so I came here, and the drone crashed, and that’s it.”
“Alex, the girl, I take it?” Earl closed his eyes and sighed. “I thought the other boy was in charge.”
Oh, right. Will was the one with the camera, and they’d assumed he was the leader. Seth considered lying, but what was the point? He didn’t give a shit about either of them. “No, Alex is the one making the documentary. The other guy’s just her boyfriend.”
“I see.” Earl waited for a long moment, then hopped away from the table and crouched before Seth. “So, you claim total innocence. Very well. Tell me what you do know about the so-called Shelby Fireball.”
The meteorite? Was that what this was all about? “Um, I don’t know. It was big in the news last year, but I never really saw what the big deal was. I mean, I didn’t even see the damn thing myself. Whatever it is, I’ve got nothing to do with it.”
As Seth spoke, Earl’s mouth split into an eerie smile, and he inched closer. Sweat dripped down Seth’s brow, and he kept his gaze low, afraid to meet his captor’s eyes. Even so, the scent of Earl’s beard filled his mouth. It stank of grease and butter and something rotten.
Earl laughed, a loud bark that sent Seth reeling against his restraints. “As you say. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll come back once Owen decides what to do with the lot of you.”
With that, Earl spun away and ambled out into the hall. The door swayed behind him, the hinges squeaking, but Earl left it open, and Seth had a clear view of the hallway beyond. The walls were smooth plaster, painted a light green, relatively uniform compared to the bare room Seth sat in.
He tried to inch forward, to see if anyone else was out there. Supposedly Alex was here, somewhere. When Seth focused, he could just make out muffled conversation below. Her own questioning, presumably.
Seth wasn’t sure what to make of the interrogation. But whatever the Shelby Fireball entailed, it was more than just a hole in the ground. There was something strange going on. Regardless, he didn’t want to wait for whatever Owen decided to do with the intruders.
No, Seth needed to get the hell out of there.
He still had his phone. He felt it in his pocket, the weight of it pressing against his thigh. Seth tried pulling his hand forward, fingers outstretched, but he could barely move a few inches before the zip tie dug into his wrist. He strained harder until his arm burned with exertion. Still nothing. When he finally relaxed, a purple line circled his wrist where the tie had cut against his flesh.
Seth lay back and closed his eyes. He breathed heavily, the air thick and dusty. Long shadows stretched across the room, filtering through the window. He turned to the light. It wouldn’t be much, but if he could look out the window, he could at least analyze his surroundings.
With the goal in mind, he tried scooting forward. The chair legs rocked against the ground. Seth leaned back, then jolted forward, harder this time. A nasty screech shivered through the floor as wood ground against wood. Shit! Would Earl hear that?
Seth waited a few moments, but nobody came to investigate. So he resumed his struggle, always inching closer, yet the window felt further and further away. He gave up after a few feet. His lungs burned from the effort. Pins and needles speared across his hands and calves, where the ties had cut off his circulation.
The door swung open, slammed against the wall. Seth jumped back at the noise and whipped his head to the entrance.
“Surprise,” Earl said. “Got a visitor for you.” He stepped to the side as an old man entered. The man shambled forward, shoulders hunched over, and his face was red and wrinkled and pocked with deep scars. He looked like the victim of an angry cheese grater. “This is Old Beck, show him some respect.”
Beck dropped to the right, and it looked like he might fall over. No, he was leaning on something. A shotgun, sawed off and double-barreled. The old man lifted the gun and stepped it forward, then leaned on it again as he limped into the room.
“Right,” Earl said. “Beck’s got some questions for you, and I’d suggest you behave.” Earl patted the old man’s shoulder, then stepped back into the hall.
Old Beck stood for a long time, his breathing labored. His eyes bulged from thick folds in his face, staring at Seth. “Is this yours?” He leaned to the side, revealing Seth’s backpack. The top was unzipped, and the LEDs of his laptop flashed within.
“Yes,” Seth said. He’d left the pack by the car. He eyed the shotgun warily, unsure what the old man wanted. “Thank you for bringing it. Are you going to let me go?”
“In a way.” Beck let the backpack slide off his shoulder and slump onto the floor. “But first, a gift. One you won’t appreciate, I’m sure.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I told Earl everything I knew. Why don’t you just let me go? I won’t say anything. Not about this.” Seth shook his restraints. “And nothing about Jess either. It would be like I was never here.”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Old Beck ignored him, and he slowly reached into his pocket, his hand trembling. He pulled out a wooden box, its surface inlaid with a swirling pattern. The box was hinged down the center, and a silver latch held it closed. Beck brought the box to his mouth and whispered something against it.
“Are you sure he’s the one,” Beck asked, voice muffled. “The timing… yes. Yes, I understand. If you're right, it truly is fortuitous…”
Beck frowned, then placed the box on the table. “I’m sorry, boy.”
He opened the box. Something slithered out. It was pitch black, and it shined in the light like it was covered in oil. The thing, the creature, stretched along the table. It looked like a slug, but even from a distance, it felt heavy. Like reality warped around it.
Seth shied back. His heart stopped. His breath froze. A chill washed down his spine like a wave of ice. He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but as he did, the creature shot forward. It slid across the table and leaped for Seth, landing on his arm.
The slug pulsed against his skin, incredibly cold. But when it wormed its way into his flesh, it felt hot as a burning ember. Now Seth did scream, but the creature pulled the wind from his lungs and the sound cut out as soon as it began. The creature squeezed into his veins, and a lance of fire flooded his body, circled his heart.
Then, everything went still. The pain subsided, and Seth caught his breath. The creature was gone. No, it was inside him, but he couldn’t feel it. As if it had never existed.
“God Almighty.” Beck traced a cross over his heart as he muttered a silent prayer. “It seems he’s finally found a suitable host.”
What the hell was going on? Seth squirmed against his restraints, still wracked by the phantom pain of the slug creature. Was it some sort of parasite? The thought made him sick, and he wanted the cursed thing out of his body.
“Well, my time here is done. The First Shadow. Soon it will fall, and God help you when it does.” Beck lifted his shotgun, swaying under its weight. “Say hello to Owen for me.”
“Wait!” Seth’s heart seized as Beck pointed the shotgun at his chest.
But Beck continued the motion, swinging the gun up until the barrel sat right under his own chin. He pulled the trigger.
Beck’s skull exploded. Blood and brains sprayed against the ceiling, a splash of crimson against the peeling paint. A thunderous boom clapped against Seth’s ears, the loudest sound he’d ever heard, then everything went quiet. Beck fell backward, thumped against the floor, silent except for the vibration that strummed through Seth’s bones.
Blood spilled out of Beck’s ruined face. Seth’s stomach hitched at the sight of it, the gaping hole of his shattered jaw, his exposed teeth, one of his eyes turned to jelly. But Seth couldn’t look away.
His ears rang. The loud whine pulsed through his head as he struggled to breathe. Surely Earl had heard the gunshot. How could he not? In a few seconds, his captor would come in here, see the body, and he would punish Seth for it. Beck’s death wasn’t Seth’s fault, but Earl wouldn’t know that.
Blood dripped from the ceiling, and a chunk of flesh splattered against the floor. Finally, Seth managed to ply his eyes away from the carnage, and he stared at the hallway, waiting. Waiting for someone to come and end this nightmare.
The ringing continued, like the ear-splitting claxons of a fire alarm. Seth’s stomach rumbled. He thought it was more nausea, but the rumble continued with a steady hum. And though the world remained silent, he heard a voice echo deep within his gut.
“Integration initiated. State your desire.”
Seth was going insane. That was the only possible explanation for this nightmare in front of him. He ignored the voice, the hallucination, whatever it was, and he focused on his restraints. He pulled against them, muscles swelling, and he screamed out.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to leave. Hell, he’d accept a bullet at this point. But he couldn’t sit here another minute, not with a dead body in front of him, not with blood dripping from the ceiling, not with some parasite digging through his flesh, and not with that damn ringing that pulsed through his skull.
It was like he was a little kid again. Locked in the closet, his hand over his ears as his father screamed at his mother. He would spend hours in that closet, hidden in darkness. Shelby State was supposed to be his escape from that hellhole.
Escape. He needed to escape.
“Wish granted.”
The rumble hummed through his chest, then rolled through his body in a wave of warm energy. His muscles grew taut, the lean cords winding into tight bulges, hard as iron. He took a deep breath, and all his pain, his exhaustion, his panic, all of it disappeared. All that mattered was breaking free of these pathetic restraints.
The chair snapped apart, and Seth collapsed in a heap of broken wood. He released the tension in his shoulders as he tried to regain his breath. His arms and legs were still tied to the broken chair, but the wooden poles were no longer bound together. With a bit of effort, he managed to slide an arm free, careful of jagged shards. It didn’t take long to disentangle from the other restraints.
Freedom.
Seth shoved his way from the broken chair and collapsed against the floorboards. But he couldn’t dally. He gave himself ten seconds to regain his breath, then he stumbled forward.
Beck lay before him, a puddle of blood pooling across the wood, dripping between the gaps in the floorboards. Disgusting. Seth didn’t want to look at the body for another second, but he couldn’t escape this nightmare without a weapon. Seth grabbed the shotgun. His sweat slicked the handle, a rounded curve of polished wood. The weapon had two triggers, one for each barrel? He didn’t know shit about guns.
With the weapon in hand, he glanced back to the hallway. He still couldn’t see much beyond the door, and dread filled his chest at the thought of going out there. Earl might be waiting just beyond the door. Seth couldn’t believe that his captor still hadn’t checked on the gunshot.
His phone! Of course, he needed to call 911 before doing anything else. Maybe he could barricade himself in and wait for the police. With one hand on the shotgun, he reached the other into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a few swipes, he unlocked it and prepared to call 911.
The numpad was grayed out. He tapped at the buttons, but nothing happened. Instead, red letters flashed across the screen. No Service. God damn it!
Seth swiped over to the phone’s settings. Still no service, but maybe this old house had WiFi? He tried searching for available connections. Nothing came up, just a swirling loading bar. He watched it for a few seconds, then backed up a page and reentered. Still nothing.
Okay. He knew he was fucked, but he forced himself to calm down. It seemed the shotgun would be his only saving grace. He eyed the stout barrel. Blood dripped off the tip, rivers of dark red against the black metal. The more he thought about it, the more he accepted the situation. Hidden deep within his fear lay a tiny spark of rage.
These farmers were goddamned psychopaths, but now Seth had a way to fight back.