It was cold and miserable, and Jackson just wanted the night to be over. It was on nights like this that reminded him why New Chicago was often called the City of the Dead. Place turned into a ghost town when the sun went down, and for good reason too. Jackson couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone walking the streets of the Canton District at night, not that they’d want to in the first place. When the Reapers came out to play, nobody was safe. They were seen as the city’s resident boogeymen, befitting of Chicago’s infamous nickname.

Anyone foolish enough to be outside of their homes at night were practically begging for trouble, not that Jackson was any better off. Standing outside of the old, decommissioned steel mill, Jackson felt like a fool. Here he was standing in the cold, while everyone else was inside enjoying varying degrees of warmth. The only solace of being out here was that he could feign ignorance of the event transpiring behind those doors. As far as anyone needed to know, he was simply the bouncer of a private event. That’s what he was being paid for officially.

Alas, Jackson’s role was to keep an eye out for any cops that might come knocking. At the first sign of trouble he was supposed to send the alert out so everyone could make their getaway, but there was one good thing about this going down in Canton: the cops didn’t come around often. Although, that didn’t mean it would be an easy night. When it came to the Canton District, caution was a necessity—especially on a night like tonight. Jackson rubbed his hands together, glancing over at his trusted companion, Rusty, as the rottweiler unceremoniously cleaned himself.

“Ugh,” Jackson scrunched his nose up in disgust. “Should have brought my headphones…”

Sitting down in the chair beside him, Jackson glanced up towards the night sky. The full moon was just rising over the skyline, which only added onto his dismay; tonight was going to drag.

Even though the city had been quiet as of late, he was still shocked by the lack of noise. Most nights, one wouldn’t be able to step outside without hearing distant cars, let alone people walking down the street. Regardless of its loathsome reputation, it couldn’t be said that Canton was lifeless. He’d usually see one or two cars, maybe a cat creeping on the top of a fence. So, for the streets to be so still that not even a mouse was about, it was enough to send chills down his spine.

In a way, it felt as though the world had paused, holding its breath in anticipation for something. For what, Jackson had not a clue.

“At least I got you for company, ain’t that right, boy?” he chuckled, chattering his teeth.

Suddenly Rusty stopped licking, and gazed towards the edge of the parking lot. The guttural growl that escaped his lips made the hairs on the back of Jackson’s neck stand on end. Facing that way, Jackson couldn’t see anything across the barren parking lot.

Besides the natural illumination the moon provided, the parking lot was shrouded in shadow, blanketed with a thin layer of fog. Such as it was, there wasn’t a car parked on the property. Due to the business going on inside, the clientele made sure to park somewhere away from prying eyes. The chain link fence on the far side of the lot rattled because of the late night autumn breeze.

Slowly standing up, he reached for his flashlight with one hand and the pistol strapped to his side with the other. With a click of a button the parking lot was illuminated, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the only thing that seemed out of place was the scent of rain carried by the wind. The sky was clear, but there was no denying the smell.

So it raised the question: What had gotten into that dog out of nowhere?

“Hey, what is it?” Jackson asked, as the dog snarled, drool dripping from his lips. The hair on his back was standing on end. Something’s really gotten him worked up. “Buddy, it’s fine! Calm down.”

Rusty didn’t seem to hear him as the dog continued to bark more viciously with each effort. It was like he was in a trance, focused on something that wasn’t even there.

“Rust!” Jackson called to no avail. Finally after a moment, he reached down and grabbed the dog by the collar, and just like that Rusty went silent, his tail tucking behind his legs. “What’s wrong, Rusty? It’s fine, nobody’s there.”

The dog whined as the door swung open, with a young dark-haired man poking his head out. The man looked to be about one hundred eighty pounds, maybe one-ninety, though his frame didn’t give it away. Stepping through the threshold, Jackson’s five foot eight stature was shadowed by his six foot. Soft and inexperienced caramel eyes glanced worriedly his way, and for a moment Jackson’s worries that night were melted away by the sight of a friendly face.

His self-proclaimed partner in crime, Nick, had taken the job alongside him when he found out how much the gig was actually paying. Jackson didn’t want Nick to get involved, but once Nick had an idea in his head there was no stopping him. He was a good kid by all means, having just graduated last fall and needed the money for his college tuition since he couldn’t play sports with his bad leg. When he found out how much Jackson was bringing home from a single shift, it seemed impossible to get him to turn away.

“Everything okay out here, Jax?” Nick asked, looking at the dog. “You could hear him all the way from the security checkpoint.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Something’s got him worked up,” Jackson shrugged, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his windbreaker. “Did the show start yet?”

“Pfft,” was the response he got. “We got at least another fifteen before that happens. Word from the back is that one of the models was causing trouble.”

“Great, so Warren’s gonna be pissy. Hopefully they didn’t rough them up too much. Last time that happened, nobody wanted to pay for damaged goods.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it. Either way, we’re just keeping watch.” Nick replied. “If you want to take your break, I’ll take over.”

“You don’t have to do that right now.”

“Hey, I’d rather be out there than be around those sleazebags. Swear I’ll catch something from them just by looking at ‘em.”

That was about the only way Jackson knew Nick wasn’t content with what their bosses were up to. As much as he hated working for them, the money was enough to get the bills paid. With his fiancée’s hospital bills piling up, this made the load easier to bear. If it wasn’t for that Jackson might have made a few anonymous calls and gotten out of dodge.

When Sue got sick, Jackson was hard up for money. He lost his job about a week before the diagnosis, and did everything in his power to find a source of income. By the time he was approached by Warren, Jackson was desperate and out of options. Did he know right off the bat what he was getting into? No, but that was the problem when you were desperate. Most of the time you didn’t ask questions until it was too late. However, it was hard to want to ask questions when you could make fifteen grand in three nights just by standing in front of a door. So, despite his better judgment, Jackson turned a blind eye to the situation. With money like that, it was hard to say no.

The toughest part of it all was ignoring the crying when he went to collect his pay from Warren’s office. By the time he left he felt like a monster, but what was he supposed to do?

“Alright. I’ll go on my break in a second.”

Nick nodded, patting his pockets momentarily.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Forgot my phone.” he explained, turning towards the door. Unbeknownst to them, Rusty had lifted his head up towards the roof.

“Don’t get lost.”

“I will,” Nick chuckled, heading inside.

Jackson turned back towards the fence, the sound of Rusty’s ferocious stance still lingering. Rusty wasn’t easily spooked. He never barked at anyone walking by their house through the window, and most days never showed any sign of aggression.

If there was anything out here, he was hoping it was long gone.

Glancing over to Rusty, Jackson could see the dog was lowered to the ground, eyes laser-focused on something above them. The tiniest whine left Rusty’s lips, making Jackson’s blood run cold.

Looking up, Jackson’s eyes widened in horror…

The walk down the corridor to his phone had only taken about twenty seconds, but the change in the air was evident enough. It felt thick and heavy despite the ventilation as though the building had been shut up for years without exposure to the outside. One of the lights overhead flickered with a moan of electricity as he approached the counter. Nick couldn’t help but scoff at the failing bulb. All the money that flowed through this place and they couldn’t be bothered to throw in a new lightbulb. With every auction for the last three months, the same bulb had flickered randomly throughout the night. He wasn’t surprised though, if that was enough to scare some of the crew into complying then why would they fix it?

Reaching for his phone, the screech of metal scraping howled throughout the corridor. His ears twitched in pain, the scraping being worse than nails on chalkboard. At least with the chalkboard it was a slow squeal, but this was fast and had the unfortunate benefit of echoing to bolster its effects. Nick turned towards the front door, feeling goosebumps forming on his arms as he slid his phone into his pocket. He wouldn’t lie and say that he was thrilled about the sound as it was genuinely creepy– but he also wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t think it was a joke on Jackson’s part. He must have been getting impatient with him.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Who could blame him?

“Hang on, man! I was barely gone for a minute,” he called out as he walked back towards the door. The scratching returned, becoming more frantic and rapid. Nick raised an eyebrow, clenching his fist momentarily as he lifted it to grab the handle. Part of him was begging to not open the door. He could feel his hand trembling as he wrapped it around the brass handle.

“S-seriously Jax, I don’t kn-” he barely pushed the door open a few inches when the dark mass that was Rusty squeezed through, racing into the building with his tail tucked between his legs. The dog’s frantic whining slowly grew distant as he disappeared out of sight.

“What the hell?”

Out of the entire time he’d known Jackson, he couldn’t recall a time where Rusty had run away like that. While the Rott might have appeared intimidating, Rusty was one of the friendliest dogs Nick had ever met; then again that all depended on if Jackson was in danger, of course. It didn’t matter what the threat was, he wouldn’t run away from Jackson’s side.

The thought of him bolting through the door as if his life depended on it sent a shiver down his spine. Opening the door he was greeted by a disturbing, pungent cloud that took his breath even more so than the building’s lack of filtration; it was reminiscent of a wet dog but laced with a hint of rot. The scent alone would have been sufficient enough to make anyone desire to stay away, but the mood had changed as well. It was in the same mood one felt when they heard a noise from within the house even though they were the only one there, the hairs standing on end as one’s body is brought to attention. Heartbeat speeds up, swallowing becomes difficult, and it almost makes one shiver just from the fear now coursing through their veins.

While the area had never felt quite welcoming, between the strange smell and the hairs on his neck now standing on end, it felt downright volatile to even consider stepping outside; part of him expected something to lunge at him the moment he poked his head through the threshold, but it didn’t come. Nick couldn’t shake the idea that he was being watched, but wasn’t quite certain as to why.

Nick had half the mind to shut the door and turn around, but knew if something was wrong with Jackson he couldn’t leave him. Stepping through the threshold, he found that Jackson had seemingly vanished into thin air. The only sign he had been there was his flashlight rolling to a stop at Nick’s foot.

“Jax?” he called, receiving no response. He glanced around the parking lot for any sign of his co-worker. It wasn’t like Jackson to just disappear, nor was it like Rusty to run from his master’s side. Surely this couldn’t have been a joke, right? “Jackson?! Where are you at, man?”

As he stepped outside, the door slammed shut with a thunderous roar. It was with a shudder that Nick reached down and grabbed the flashlight, unaware of the shadow racing along the wall behind him. Standing back up, Nick noticed that there was a clear slimy substance on the device. It seemed like drool, though he couldn’t be for certain; Rusty must have been wanting to play.

BOOM.

A clash of metal echoed from the corner, rattling his bones. Turning the flashlight on, Nick pointed it towards the source catching something gray disappearing out of sight around the wall. “Jackson? Come on man, if this is a joke…” he groaned, as another crash came about. “Hey, this isn’t funny!”

There was no response as he slowly inched forward. His feet were unsteady, his legs wobbling as he placed one hand on the cold brick wall for support. He had every expectation of Jackson lunging around the corner to scare him, but it never came. Peering around slowly, Nick could see the outline of the dumpster through the dark alleyway. The guard had to fight to not roll his eyes– it was only natural that the strange noise was coming from the one area with no light source, because why not? It wasn’t like tonight was creepy enough as it was.

Flashing the light its way, Nick noted the alley was deathly silent with very little out of place except for the old dumpster. Its green paint had long been scratched off and was stained with gunk from over a decade of use. It would have been wholly unremarkable if not for the fact it was caved in with a thick indentation and… a body slumped over it. At first, he groaned. Despite his nervousness, the body didn’t bother him as much as it most likely should have. It wasn’t uncommon for corpses to be dumped this far out of the city, and if he had to guess this was what spooked Rusty in the first place. For as loyal as the dog was, it became rather squeamish when there was a lot of blood as outlandish as that might sound. That still didn’t account for Jackson though, but Nick figured he was off to find a way to get rid of the unlucky bastard without involving the cops. He made his way to the dumpster and shone his light to assess what sort of flavor of the week this particular kill was. However, when the light illuminated the poor sap’s face, the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

“J-Jax?” an incredulous whimper was Nick’s immediate dumbfounded reaction. When his brain caught up with his eyes, he bolted towards his friend, nearly dropping the flashlight in the process. “Jax? Jax?! What the hell happened man? FUCK!”

His friend was a mess, and the sight of which made Nick momentarily recoil. Deep reddish-purple blotches littered Jackson’s face, with his right eye completely swollen shut. His lip was split wide open, and from the amount of blood pouring out of his mouth, he might have lost a few teeth too. His once chestnut brown hair was now matted black and stuck to his brow.

Now, both he and Jax had been in their fair share of fights and messy all-out brawls. He would never call Jackson an expert or dare to compare him to an MMA fighter – not even close – but from his own experience, Jax was normally the one dealing out the pain more often than not. This was the worst Nick had seen his friend come out on the other side by a long margin. It was like it was his turn to be the punching bag and the sight filled Nick with both dread and anger. Whoever attacked him was either really good, or they weren’t alone. Somehow, he didn’t know which was the better option.

Still, even if he had been ganged up on, it wouldn’t have been a quick affair. There’d have been noise and Rusty would have backed him up, at least made a lot of racket. He clicked his tongue in frustration. No, that couldn’t have been it. Something wasn’t adding up here…His suspicions paid dividends when he noticed the state the rest of Jackson was in. His jacket was torn to shreds – stuffing spilling out all over – and his shirt had slashes across it like he got attacked with a knife, and blood was everywhere. It was almost like Jax tried to fight a bear. This was bad… What kind of sick bastard would do this? Nick’s heart was pounding by now, and it felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He swallowed heavily to try and push it down.

Gripping Jackson’s shoulder, Nick tried to not lose control of his emotions. “Ah, fuck man… Jax, don’t do this to me.” He lowered his head with shuddering breaths, his eyes burning from the oncoming tears threatening to break free. What the hell was he going to tell Sue about this? He was supposed to take care of him– he’d promised her the night the two had gotten engaged. “C-come on, tell me you’re okay, man…”

His plea seemingly worked as he heard a faint, gurgled groan, and Nick finally noticed how Jax’s chest rose even if shallowly. Nick’s eyes widened and felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was torn between yanking his friend out of the dumpster and carefully pulling him out, ultimately settling for somewhere in the middle.

In his single-minded desire to help his friend, Nick failed to notice the shadows that danced along the wall, and the shifty eyes that tracked him through the dark of night.

“It’s okay man, I got you.” Nick said, setting Jackson down on the pavement and going over his injuries. They were far less life-threatening than he first feared. Well, Jackson still looked like he was the first victim of a trashy B-list slasher movie, but he’d hopefully turn out fine and with a hell of a story to tell. “I’m here, just stay with me. I’m going to-”

Although Nick was happy that whoever the fuckface was that tried to kill his friend had failed, Jackson still needed a visit to the doctor’s. There was a small chance he’d bleed out and there was no way to tell if he had any internal injuries he wouldn’t be able to see. Nick looked around the alley in a vague hope to get some backup only to remember they were in the ass end of N.C, and on purpose to boot. The thought of going back to the auction house to ask for help crossed his mind, but Nick discarded the idea quickly; he doubted the clients or his boss would give a fuck about two deadbeat guards. If Jackson was going to get any help, Nick would have to take him himself… and likely miss out on his pay-check, if not a bit more depending on how pissed Warren got.

“Fuck it, you’re more important than this shithole.” Nick grumbled to himself, then reached down to grab Jackson and hoist his arm over his shoulder to help him to a nearby car. It would’ve worked if Jackson’s body didn’t lurch as he tried to tug on his jacket. Confused, he rolled Jackson over a bit – an action his friend protested with a pained groan – which revealed something Nick had missed earlier: his wrists were tied… with a fucking chain. The most perplexing part of it? The chain had been bent into a knot somehow, defying all explanation. He gazed down to find the same had been done to Jackson’s ankles too.

“What the fu…” Nick whispered out in incredulity.

First it looked like Jackson got ganged up on and mugged for money, then the erratic and brutal slashes made Nick think it was an attempted murder by a psycho. Now to see him restrained by chains like some sort of hostage. Nothing was making sense about this.

“N-Nick…” Jackson called out to him weakly, as a fresh ounce of blood flowed out his lips and further stained his shirt crimson.

“I’m right here, Jax, but you gotta tell me what’s going on. Man… Who did this to you?” he asked. Even as he tried to remain calm, Nick couldn’t help but feel something was wrong and gazed over his shoulder. There was nothing there, not even a rat scurrying by. While his head was turned, he heard Jackson mumble something. “What was that?” Nick snapped his focus back to Jackson as his lips moved. Bringing his head closer, Jackson whispered:

“M-monster…” the word made Nick let out a nervous chuckle.

“Monster? Really, Jax? Now’s not the time to be joking here. Yeah, you got beat up bad but-” he paused as he noticed the look in the guard’s eye. The vicious, cold look of someone who was deadly serious and willing to die on the truth of their words. Nick had seen that look on the faces of some brave and equally dumb bastards in this line of work, but he never thought he’d see it on Jackson’s.

“T-the eyes… Monster…”

“Okay… okay, just-” Nick bit the inside of his cheek. Surely Jackson must have hit too hard in the head, because there was no way a monster had done this. “I-I’ll take you to the doctor and away from the monster, okay? Just hang in there, I gotta get these off.”

He tried to pry the chains off but it was like the links were squished together and the more he pulled, the more they tried to tear the skin off. Nick started cursing to himself when he heard Jackson whimper and his body started shaking.

“I’m sorry man, but these chains are a-” Nick stopped himself short for three reasons. First off: Jackson was no longer looking at him, but rather somewhere behind him. His eye filled with overwhelming dread and fear. His mouth remained open and his lips were trembling as if he was stuck between whimpering and screaming. Secondly: a looming shadow now covered the two of them from someone who managed to creep up without a sound, like a ghost neither of them had seen coming.

The third and most important reason: his nose was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of blood and rot… and the air was far too warm on the nape of his neck.

A chill ran down his spine. Every fiber of his being, every instinct in his brain told Nick to run… to leave Jackson behind, to not look behind him, and to run as fast as his legs could carry him. It was his turn to shiver and he couldn’t even tell if he was breathing anymore. Against his better judgment, he slowly craned his head to look over his shoulder at the figure towering behind him.

“N-Nick…” was all Jackson could whimper as a singular thought came across his mind.

They’re yellow…

It was the last thing he saw before it lunged at him:

The eyes of a monster…