Tales from a Moldy Pumpkin

by Nagrij

 

A Tiny treatise on True Terror

I was the last; I had to have been the last. Mark and I had been the last for weeks, calling each other every night to make sure we hadn't been compromised; I had taken to using disposable phones and throwing them away after each use. After Jeffrey had vanished, it seemed a reasonable precaution.

Right now I was pondering a rather extreme precaution; that of moving, and rapidly. Tonight, leaving everything behind. I could afford to do it, buying replacements of anything I found myself missing. What did money matter to one such as I? Material goods were only fleeting after all.

And yet I found myself hesitating. This locale was known; safe. Even the dangers in it were well known to me. I blended in best here, and in another location I would be exposed. Perhaps too exposed. I was too restless. I decided on a walk.

I took my wallet and keys only, though I had already half convinced myself to leave this place. One last look around, then off into the arms of a travel agency and to one of the few remaining countries more suitable to our habitation. Perhaps Indonesia, or the wilds of Africa.

The moon shone large and gibbous, the face especially bright and leering tonight. The air was crisp and clean, with just a hint of winter's bite. The wind stirred the scents and made the leaves dance. The night was like few of it's cousins, somehow less dreary than the others along the staid march of years.

The night was also quiet; peaceful. Within it I was a supreme predator, and none could stand against me. Such it was with all of us; at least, until they came. But even now, I feared no simple mugger or murderer.

Which was a shame, for there were none. None challenged my right to be about. There were, on this night in which so many of the old specters and ghouls were imitated, not a single moving soul within all of my dominion. A mere handful of minutes into my walk, I knew. It was time to leave.

After all, the only reason other creatures were silent and still in their environment were sleep... or the introduction of an unknown predator into their midst. I, being a known factor, would not provoke this reaction.

However, some feeling, some imp of the perverse, had me now. I decided to go back to my home for the better part of ten years, to see if I could race it's impending doom. As it turns out, I could not.

It seemed that when I had left the first time for my walk, I had been mere loaded moments ahead of a fate far worse than death; they had arrived, and were currently surrounding my dwelling. I shuddered.

Yes within my domicile I could have withstood a siege of weeks, perhaps months. But with nowhere to flee, I would eventually have been overwhelmed by the detestable creatures currently massed outside it. What would have happened next would make death seem a merciful release.

Yes, it was far past time to leave.

Luck it seemed, was not with me however. As I turned to leave what must have been sentries spotted me. They probably had designated sentries after Benholdt's miraculous escape, made in a similar manner to this. Bernholdt had not lasted long to boast of his good fortune however.

There he is!”

Are you sure? He looks so....”

We can fix him. It shouldn't take more than a week.”

Yes, that's him. He was headed right for the address, and turned the moment he saw us! Teams ten through twenty, get him.”

There would be no reasoning, or talking my way from their clutches. The only way to escape this horrid fate would be to run, swiftly and ignobly. So I did.

Somehow these loathsome beasts were as fast as I.

Putting on a burst of speed, I decided to head straight for the airport. There were ways to make a plane more accommodating, and I needed as swift an exit as possible. Even with the speed I was capable of, the fearsome creatures had beaten me there.

There he is!”

And the chase was on again. I led them to the darker alleys, the more eldritch locations where man's dominion held much less sway. They seemed to anticipate this.

Quit running, stud. We'll make this painless.”

The alley was dark, slimy, filled with unspeakable things, and I felt at home here. Somehow they knew that. Backed into this corner, more my true home than any house, I felt comfortable... unstoppable. Surrounded by them all, yet for once feeling little threat, I bared my fangs at one and all of them, and hissed my challenge.

I knew it was a great mistake when, rather than respond in the accustomed fear, they instead grinned large Cheshire grins and pulled out the body glitter.

One of ours, one of ours, one of ours....”

 

The Clothes Make The Man

Sigh, I hated doing this. waiting till the last moment to search for a Halloween costume was natural when you hated trying to go to all the boring parties, mixers, and office get togethers filled with horrid crepe and dismal, ancient, and sad decorations dragged out of must basements or mouse inhabited attics. The smell of mold and rodent crap clung to an otherwise wonderful holiday like a miasma of failure.

Hope springs eternal though, so I was willing to give it that one last try I also gave the three years previous. I was sure I'd find someone who loved the season...the darkness, the pure worship of entropy, that this time of year properly was. Of course, while a soul mate would be nice...I had to admit I had far less lofty objectives in mind most of the time. Which was why I was staring at a specialty shop's mask rack now, on the off chance I'd be invited to a party of like minded individuals who would debate with me the values of Poe and Keats, and then later screw my brains out.

"Excuse me sir, can I help you find what you need?"

Well, that was a step in the right direction...I looked down to see a woman of perhaps college age and average height, with auburn hair and large breasts peeking out of her body hugging dress. The name tag tackily applied to it read: "Trisha."

"Just looking for a last minute costume...and maybe a date?"

She ran her tapered nails along my shirt in a gesture I'd seen before, desire blazing behind her eyes.

"Well handsome I can help with one, and I might be able to help with the other."

"Well...what do you recommend?"

"Depends on what you like; we still have a good selection. Do you have an idea on your party theme?"

I'd never even heard of a party theme for Halloween before. To my knowledge everyone came with random costumes.

"Well that would be...up to you?"

I winced internally at the hopeful note in my voice; it was best not to come on too strong or desperate in such situations. But I couldn't help myself, she was gorgeous!

"Oh, well....the store has it's own party in house, and all the employees and their people attend. Our only theme is linked costumes. That is, you and I for example....would have matching masks and costumes. So do you want to go, handsome?"

"As your...guest? Sure."

"Not as my guest...as our guest. Hey gang, what do you think?"

Trisha was soon joined by loveliness of three other flavors, ranging average height to 6 feet, sporting similar dresses, and hair of blueberry, black licorice, and white as premium vanilla ice cream. did modeling have to be a requirement of working here? Seriously, this was ridiculous...even my gym didn't have this many hot bods per foot.

"so this is Anne, Becca, and Holly. We all find ourselves without suitable companionship for tomorrow night...care to be our date?"

"All of you?"

My slightly shell shocked question was answered with nods and broad, almost predatory grins.

"Um, sure. So what is your theme?"

"Oh, we're all wenches...you get to be the pirate. You're bigger than good old captain jack, but you'd make a mean Blackbeard...once we get you a beard. What do you think girls?"

More nods met that question.

"Count me in; got nothing else going on, what do I need to do?"

"Well our costumes are all linked as a series. So is Blackbeard. He's right down this aisle."

She led the way, her silent friends bringing up the rear, all grins and waves. I whispered back to the blue one, Anne I was hoping.

"So, can the rest of you talk?"

"Of course.' she responded in a perfect bedroom voice. 'Trish is just the most outgoing of us. Don't worry, you're in good hands...we only bite if you want us to."

Oh, shit.

"do I need safe words?"

"Maybe; Becca can get carried away at times."

"Ahem, ladies, minds on task please. Pleasure later."

"Yes boss!" they all chorused, on cue.

"Now, all the parts of costume number 27 in large or extra large ladies...one full Blackbeard. I'll handle the mask."

"A mask? Can't use my normal face with an eye patch or something?"

"No, not at all...you're far too handsome to be one of those sea dogs, especially black beard. Don't worry, all our products are of the highest quality. The only one able to tell that this face isn't yours is us."

She reached her objective and held it out, it was a full head mask with more hair than I've ever seen on a man. A full black zz top style beard, and black hair down past where my shoulder blades would be. The face itself was ruddy, scarred, weather beaten, and looked completely real. It also had a scar down the left eye.

"Your call, to go eye patch or not."

"Wow this is amazing...you sure you didn't skin a guy?" I inspected the inside. The mask even felt like skin, at least from the outside. But no skinning marks or anything and it felt like latex on the inside. It was more thin than I expected too, like it would mold over my features rather than overwriting them.

"not at all, that would be illegal; but we did the next best thing. That is a mold of a real mans face."

"Oh and no, no eye patch, I love my depth perception. No fan of peg legs and hook hands either."

"Well Blackbeard didn't have either of those, just wanted to be sure on how close to the original you wanted to be. Go ahead, try it on, usually they are once size fits all, but always best to check."

Finding a small zipper in back under the hair, I unzipped it to give my head room and shoved it on. It fit like the proverbial glove, though a bit loose since I wasn't about to zip it up.

"Hmm, looks perfect from here. Any thoughts?"

"No, if you think it looks good, I'm sure it does. Serves the purpose at any rate."

"Then shall we wait at the register for the girls to get back with the rest?"

"Sure."

She led the way through the still packed aisles.

"I must say, you are easier to please than most customers I deal with."

Looking at that saucy grin I found that statement hard to believe.

"I doubt that, but telling someone they are going to be escorted by four lovely ladies to a party is a sure way to get them to agree to just about anything."

"Perhaps, some can resist but..."

"Hey boss! Got the goods from aisle 4." the blue headed one came back, with various bits of costume jewelry encased in plastic baggies marked with tags.

"Anne, right? what is all this?"

"Yes sir, I'm Anne, and this is all the rings, necklaces, and other assorted bling that pirates of the period would wear. Don't worry, the earrings only go into the ears of the mask, not yours."

"Hadn't even considered that, but good to know. High end costumes seem to be much more involved than I'm used to."

"Don't worry sir, it is our job to make you look as good as possible."

"While being someone as different from yourself as possible. Hey boss, got the pantaloons, shirt, vest and wicked hat."

The raven tressed helper sauntered up behind, sliding an arm around me, hot breath caressing my cheek.

"And I have the boots and weapons. Please don't harass the paying customers, 'Becca."

"Wait, weapons?"

"Fake cutlass, fake flintlock, fake knife, and boots, in a size 11...That is your size, correct?"

"Oh, fake ones. Yeah I'm a size 11, how did you know?"

"I'm very good at my job sir."

"So, all your costumes are period costumes, and linked with mine? I'm coming to your party?"

They all nodded expectantly and seemed to hold their breath. I could feel the tension rise as I considered.

"Then I'll take it."

"Alright!"

'Becca yelled, jumping into the air and pumping a fist. Holly and anne wore matching smiles, while Trisha wore a Cheshire grin.

"Very good sir, as you can tell by the girls, we were sort of hard up for an escort too, and everyone who works for our company is expected to bring at least one person in. While this isn't ideal, since we only have you, no offense intended, it's a bit better than not having anyone."

"Why?" I replied as I handed her my credit card.

"Well our boss loves the season as much as we do, and wants a higher people count simply because it's more fun. I mean don't get me wrong, we don't get in trouble or anything, but its like an office party. You don't get many social points if you don't have a date."

"Heh, been there, done that. Not like I'm doing much tomorrow anyway, I'll be happy to help."

Trisha bagged my purchases up and handed my card back with the receipt.

"My number is on the receipt; I'll call you if plans change. Otherwise just simply drop by at 5, when we close. I'll be here to let you in, the party is in the back."

"Sounds good to me, if I don't hear from you I'll just pop on by at 5, right?"

"that's right, don't keep us waiting now."

I nodded numbly and walked out to 'Becca's cry of "Later stud!"

I hopped in my much beloved and restored 1972 mustang and drove off. Deciding to favor speed over my usual scenic route driving and going straight through the middle of town. Twenty minutes later and I was watching an old episode of "lost" with a whiskey sour in hand. However, I just couldn't get those women out of my head. there was something about them beyond the normal; I was sure of it. So while I let the next episode spooled up, I found the bag on the floor where I'd thrown it and dumped it.

The clothing was still in its own plastic, so I wasn't worried about that. The cutlass didn't fit in the bag, so I looked at that first. Almost three feet black metal, oddly enough. Iron perhaps judging by the weight. It was a weapon in truth even though it wasn't sharpened. The sheath was real leather and capped on the ends with what I took to be bronze. Very odd and very high quality for a costume.

The jewelry was more of the same; there was a ring for every finger, a rainbow per hand, rubies amethysts jade and diamonds. It looked like real silver, gold, and gems, but that couldn't be right, since the receipt showed a measly 60 dollars, and real stones would be somewhere in the thousands if not higher. But I could see no hint of paste, and the gems didn't look like glass to me....

Couldn't be, I'm not a jeweler. They must just be better fakes than I'm used to. The clothes were ripped directly from the time, a tri-corner hat, cotton pantaloons, large leather boots with square buckles on them, a white silk shirt that did that whole poofy thing around the sleeves and had lace around the collar, and a large red jacket complete with tails, gold brocade, and gold buttons. A curious mix of humble and wealthy that spoke pirate in any language. And the mask...the more I looked at it, the more it looked real. It even felt real. The hair was likely 100% real human hair, and the skin felt like skin, if cold. It was downright creepy.

Those women were good.

I gathered the costume up and put everything back where it belonged. No longer interested in lost (I'd only seen it all three times and counting) I finished my whiskey and went to sleep; after all, I had work in the morning.

The morning began, much as it does for everyone else...to the irritating siren song of the alarm clock. Smelling my automatic coffee maker already in action, I headed to the shower to wash up. fifteen minutes later I was showered with a clean suit on, almost ready to begin the wage slave blues; But I wasn't awake, which was why I tripped over that bag in my floor and slammed my face into the couch.

Cursing, I realized I'd missed the sharp edge of my coffee table by mere inches. Then I realized what I'd tripped over, and checked it. Good, no damage to it at all, the sword (the item I'd tripped over) hadn't bent. Only 30 minutes to get to work, so I grabbed my coffee, grabbed the bag, and grabbed some unheated pop tarts, hitting the door running.

I made it to the office just in time, clocking in right at nine. Roger, my loving boss, was waiting there like a vulture scenting carrion.

"Hi boss."

"Hello Chris...trying for the grunge look again I see."

"I conform to office dress code Roger, but thanks for asking."

"I need that new log in page for our clients today."

"Buck said it's not due till Friday Roger...but it'll be done by the time I leave today, thanks for your concern."

I pushed past him, having exhausted my quota of middle management asshole today. Sat down at my lovely cubicle, typed my password in, and got started. The current client is a browser games company (perhaps one step above malware). They wanted a new webpage for their main site, and didn't want to pull their own code monkeys for the job, since they were busy actually developing new games. That was where the company I worked for, and therefore myself, came in.

Digital management solutions, we do the grunt work so you don't have to. Not really our motto, but close enough.

Even with the break at 10:30 to get a red bull, I was done with the coding by 12. Wouldn't do to let Roger know that however; I appreciate my lazy half days. Do this well enough, and I can have a lazy Friday as well. Grabbing a vendor sandwich (tuna) I settled back in lazy ease to eat it.

"Hey Chris, you coming to the office party tonight?"

"Oh hell no...got myself a date with some hot chicks."

"Plural?"

"That's right."

"Damn, you're an ass."

"Guilty as charged. Won't have to deal with the same old office crap this year, thank whatever devils rule the season. Sorry to leave you in the lurch though."

"I'll survive I guess; you done with your page yet? I'm really having trouble with the pay page."

"So hey, how about those jets?"

We discussed football till the half hour ended, and we were both due back for another half daily dose of hell. I started my next project for giggles, but my heart wasn't in it. In fact I was getting more and more nervous. By 3 I was such a wreck of anticipation there was no way I could focus anymore. Which I had anticipated.

Time to leave.

Roger caught up to me as I was clocking out; I pictured him waiting there hunched in an a cubicle like a a suited gargoyle, blood on his teeth and claws poised to ambush the unwary.

"Leaving so soon? Buck sure will be disappointed."

"Nah, not really Roger, he gave me the go ahead Monday to take the early day...provided the page was done. And it's done. Check your email. Ta!"

Ahh, leaving him standing there, speechless, never got old, no matter how many times I did it. Being efficient had it's perks.

In the car I picked up the card I left there the night before, and called it.

"Hello, Ye olde costume shop, may I help you?"

"Hi Trisha, it's Chris, the guy you asked to come to your party? I'm done with work a bit early, mind if I show up?"

"Sure Chris, no problem...but some of us are still working, so you might be forced to entertain yourself for awhile. Lot's of last minute shoppers."

"I can manage, I'm sure. Just thought I'd call ahead as you requested."

"Yeah everything is A OK, come on over. The staff will be happy to see you."

Even with the light traffic, it took just under 40 minutes to reach the shop. The place might have been packed earlier, but it was empty now, and looked like a tornado hit it. Masks, costumes, bits of costumes, and other miscellaneous crap littered the aisles.

"Holy crap, quite the bomb got set off in here."

"Three buses of catholic school kids attended by nuns leave quite the lasting impression on any location."

Holly stated, having heard me from her position near the door. She and Becca were trying to put this section at least, back together.

"hope they bought a lot."

"Not really, the hazards of our profession."

"Well I'm not doing much, I'll just help."

"Oh we couldn't have you do that, it's our job after all."

"So you want me to get bored watching you? Nah, you can't stop me." I suited action to my words.

"Thanks sir."

"Chris. My name is Chris. If we are going to party together, sir is kind of awkward."

"Thank you Chris. Those nuns weren't nearly strict enough."

We crawled our way through the store, rearranging shelves, picking up various fallen items from the floor, and picking up trash.

"Well, thank you very much for your help Chris. We really appreciate it."

Trisha whispered in my ear, sliding her arms around my waist in a hug. Just like that my heart started racing again.

"so you did remember your costume yes?"

"It's in the car. I'll just go get it."

"You do that; for saving us some time to get ready, we will help you get ready too."

"Uh....thanks."

As soon as I walked back in, admiring the now clean shop, she grabbed me by the tie and led me past a door marked 'employee's only'. A modest break room greeted me, with a kitchenette to one side and 2 bathrooms to the other, and a steel padlocked door straight ahead, showing just a touch of rust. Trish noticed my gaze and and gestured to the men's room.

"Over there Chris, just put everything on and we'll get you all...adjusted when you come out. That door leads to the party, once we are all properly attired."

I needed no further encouragement. The bathroom was sparkling clean, as if someone had cleaned it just before I entered...I could see my teeth sparkle in the floor tiles. It spoke to me of simple, old, and expensive elegance, with a small chandelier and brass fixtures. My suit came off in record speed, and the pantaloons and shirt were on just as fast. Trish had a stopwatch going when I stepped out of the bathroom.

"You were right Becca, under 4 minutes. You win."

"What's going on?"

Becca sidled up to me, grabbing my hands with hers as she laughed.

"Nothing, stud. Just made a little bet here on whether you were the impatient type or not. Trish bet you'd be done in 5, I bet before 4."

"Did your other co-workers bet?"

"Sure, but they thought you'd take more time to do things, so they weren't even close."

Holly responded. "I thought you would fold your suit, rather than just stuff it into your bag."

I sheepishly ran my hand through my hair at her look of faint disapproval.

"Sorry, but it'll just get cleaned anyway...and why buy wrinkle resistant clothes if you aren't going to put them through their paces?"

"Why indeed?" Anne responded.

"Did you have a reason why I'd take longer Anne?"

"Of course I did Sir...I thought you'd take advantage and use the facilities."

"Heh. Maybe later."

"Well you've made a right mess of your costume already." Trisha stated, eyeing me critically.

"Oh? How so?"

"We will show you; Ladies?"

They swarmed me like a pack of flower scented dogs, grabbing rings off fingers and adjusting shirts and the like. Trisha put my mask on, which I considered it a bit early for.

"Isn't it a bit early in the night for this? I mean I'd like to eat and drink a bit before I get fully suited."

"Ahh but that is the greatest thing about our masks Chris."

She zipped it up and there was no room at all; no air movement that I could detect, and no slippage of the mask itself. Even it's lips fit over mine.

"Our masks are 100% usable any time, anywhere. We make the same product for the stage and movies. And yes, even the recent ones with all the CGI."

"So I can drink and eat with this thing on?"

"You'll have to clean it later of course, with alcohol...but yes; the inside is designed to gently stick to your skin, so it wont move; its porous, so your skin can breathe, but you'll have to make sure any crumbs on the lips for example, don't cause bacteria later. That kind of thing can be dangerous."

"And the rings stud...rubies always go to the ring finger for pirates." Becca added, shaking her head.

"Really?"

"Please sit down sir." I looked and Anne had my boots in her hands, gently pushing me to a chair.

"Sure."

I sat down and she slipped them on, and they fit as well as the mask. They felt padded...very comfortable.

"Your armaments sir."

Holly belted the fake cutlass and pistol around me, adjusting it till it was of proper rakish angle. They all stepped back.

"Well what do you think my lovelies?"

Trish met my eyes with hers.

"Perfect."

Becca Holly and Anne nodded, apparently speechless. I couldn't look that good...I wandered back into the bathroom to stand in front of the mirror.

Holy shit.

Long long long black hair running down to the middle of my back, a beard almost as long and done up in braids with copper rings or something close threading them. a thin straight red line of a scar down my left eye that looked like a sword wound, running completely vertical. The white silk shirt showed every muscle I'd spent so much time gaining in high school to great effect. The pantaloons were loose and tucked into my boot tops, almost completing the image.

In short, it looked like I had both stepped out of a painting from the 17th century...and a romance novel.

"Damn I look good. So do I pass? Am I worthy of the great artists?"

They shared a guarded look before replying the affirmative.

"Well now it's our turn Chris. The shop is closed, so it's safe to wait out there while we change. Scoot."

"Alright, just collect me when you're ready. I'll browse a bit more."

"Just remember, you break it, you buy it."

"Sure thing."

I went out and wandered the shelves, looking at the various vampires, werewolves, frankenstein monsters, ranging from cheap to highest quality. Oddly, nothing looked like my costume. Trish had called it a number 27...but no number 27, no silk shirts and weird jackets matching mine, and no other Blackbeard mask. Very odd...did I get the last one in the place? I mean I did do my costume shopping pretty late.

That must be it...but I didn't see any other costume in the store, no matter how well made, to match what I was wearing. All of that sold out too I guess. I settled in behind the counter to wait. I grabbed a magazine of the latest costume fashions from the rack of them next to the register.

Hmm, no Blackbeard or number 27 in it, either. It felt like an hour later when....

"OK Chris, we're ready; you're not asleep, right?"

"No I'm good. So...."

Again, holy shit. Trisha was wearing white; white pantaloons, white cotton shirt. Except...both were opaque, allowing the hint of white panties and a bra to be seen. Her legs were fantastic. She was all hints and suggestion to please the eye. Her dainty feet were not encased in any footwear.

What Trisha only hinted at, Becca stated outright. She was wearing what amounted to a harem girl outfit, all wisps of scarves matching her hair, knotted together to form clothes, after a fashion. Her generous bust was all but displayed, and anyone could tell that there was no way she was wearing panties of any color. Her footwear were sandals.

Anne was a match for me, a sort of nerdy first mate, with a white cotton shirt, grey skin tight pants, and black boots. She was dressed modestly, except everything seemed molded to her form, showing it all off in a manner that left nothing to the imagination of a rock. Her boots looked like mine, and she bore a rapier.

Holly was a match for Anne, except her shirt was grey and her pantaloons tan. Instead of a rapier she bore matching pistols. They all wore small silver collars with their names stamped into them.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor stud, you'll gather bugs."

I snapped out of my stupor with a herculean effort.

"Holy shit, and I thought I cleaned up nice."

"Thank you for the compliment sir."

"No problem Holly, and it's Chris. All of you should call me Chris."

"Alright Chris, one last thing to do before we join the party. You have to meet our boss. Just a formality, but he insists on it. Doesn't like people he hasn't met randomly showing up."

I laughed.

"Sounds like I'm meeting a father, concerned I'm here to take his daughters out to prom."

Their looks sobered a minute, tinged with something I couldn't place. Fear? Then so quickly I wasn't totally sure I'd seen it at all, it was gone, replaced by smiles.

"That's pretty much it; he is the owner, and our jobs could well be on the line."

"Well that sucks; I'll do my best to make a good impression, so don't worry."

"We don't really doubt you, after all you made a good impression on us."

Holly chimed in. The others nodded as Trisha took a key from around her neck and opened the large padlock to the steel door I noticed earlier.

The passage beyond was dark, despite the fluorescent lights struggling valiantly while flickering in fitful starts. It was cold too, just ever so slightly chilly as opposed to the shop itself. The beige wallpaper was tasteful but dingy, possibly very old, and matched the carpet to a tee.

My escorts strode down the hall with purpose, ignoring the first door (a right) in favor of the next (a left). The nameplate on the door stated boldly: 'the boss'. Trisha rapped softly on the door with a knuckle, the sound seemed louder than it should be.

"Boss, our escort is ready."

I couldn't quite hear was was said from the beyond the door, but Trisha seemed to take it as an affirmative.

"Go on in, we will be downstairs once you two are acquainted."

she pointed to the end of the hall, where I could see steps leading into pitch blackness.

"Will do."

I opened the door. Having some idea how to deal with fickle bosses, I put on my best 'I am serious' face.

"Good evening Sir."

The man behind the desk, just standing up, was large and wide in the big boned way, with sun kissed skin and a hale look, like a big blond quarterback smiling after the win of the big game. His blue eyes however...they seemed dead, glassy and lifeless.

"Call me Robert; and you're Chris, right?" His handshake was strong, hearty...but his hands were cold and clammy.

"that I am Robert. So, here I am."

"you are indeed. I'm sorry about this really, but last year 'Becca brought in a guy that was maybe a half step above a whino. Since then I've had to crack down. You arrived here in a suit, you've been courteous, you don't have any party 'extras' like strange liquor or drugs. A cut above the guy who caused such a disaster last year."

I relaxed a bit; I could actually see this guy's point. No one wanted to be the guy in charge of a disaster caused by some random asshole.

"I assure you Robert, I'm simply here to have a bit of harmless fun. I'm not the type to cause trouble."

"And my girls? You aren't going to try anything shady?"

Wow, this guy both cared and was an ass himself. I didn't know whether to be impressed or hate his guts.

"Robert, a dead man would be attracted to those women;' I stressed the word women. 'however if anything happens tonight it's strictly their choice."

We looked at each other for a long moment, and then he nodded.

"I believe you; enjoy the party Chris. We will talk again."

Not if I could help it. Next and last words said to this guy would be 'Good night, thanks for the party.'

I headed out with a wave and walked quickly to the concrete steps; they were lit now, and crepe bunting in a jaunty orange mixed with black led down the narrow staircase at shoulder height. There was another steel door 5 steps down which I assumed led to the back, the fire exit, It was unlocked and Anne was standing at the entrance.

"Hello Anne, I passed the audition. Your boss is something else."

She laughed nervously.

"Yeah, hes a bit protective of us...he say anything embarrassing?"

"He called you 'his girls', almost like we were partying by gaslight or something." I responded with a grin.

She blushed cutely, just a tinge of pink in an otherwise placid face.

"So...manning the doors, so to speak?"

"Yes, my duty as the most dressed of all of us. This is the entrance people normally come to the party from; more parking space in back."

"Good to know...hopefully I'll be invited back next year."

Her ready smile dimmed a bit, and she arched a perfect eyebrow.

"let's not jump ahead of ourselves quite yet, shall we? We hardly know each other after all."

"The night is young, plenty of chance for that. Shame your boss sort of has you working the party. I'll let you get back to it."

"I get paid for it, so it isn't all bad. Got to pay the bills after all."

"True enough, this isn't any worse than anything I've done for money. See you later."

"At least you avoided the rush!" she exclaimed as I walked out of sight.

"Hey Chris! good, it all went well then. Hey we forgot something. for your costume."

I turned around to see Becca smiling warmly at me...holding a live parrot. This particular parrot was a macaw I think, and huge. She placed him gently on my shoulder where he stayed, staring at me.

"This is Smalls. hes on loan for tonight, and don;t worry, hes potty trained. He will behave, won't you Smalls?"

"Rawwk, Smalls behaves for pretty ladies rawk! Shiver me timbers!"

I gave a sigh.

"Becca, isn't this a bit much for a costume party?"

"Hang in there stud, it adds realism. He's harmless, I swear. Smalls, inside voice."

The parrot quieted, shifting a bit, and stared at me. Becca handed me some saltines.

"Just feed him when you feel the urge, and he will love you forever."

I took a cracker and waved it; Smalls eyes followed it around...so I held it out with one hand while reaching around and petting him awkwardly with the other. Becca grinned.

"Even more perfect!"

Distractions aside, I took a look around. The place was huge, with roving spotlights and track lighting everywhere, designed not to cut the gloom so much as offer isolated spots of illumination in it. Black lights were also spaced intermittently throughout the area, lending an eerie look. There was an honest to god DJ setting up in a corner booth, and a fully stocked bar at the opposite wall, Holly in residence behind it. Halloween decorations were everywhere, ranging from high quality and mildly frightening to cheap and cheesy. A small stage rounded out the corners, a piano placed on it.

I of course summed up the situation in my own way;

"Niiiiiiccce."

"Good, you made it!" Trisha seemed to pop out of nowhere, no idea where she was standing before.

"So let me guess. building was a former speakeasy?"

"Absolutely right! Yes this is the 'illicit' bar...we had to remove the gambling tables though, those are still illegal without a license. We do however, have the perfectly legal right to sell alcoholic beverages of any type down here."

"Ahh so another shameless attempt to break my wallet huh?"

"Not at all, not tonight anyway. Tonight all drinks are on the house, courtesy of the management."

"Excellent. I knew there was a reason to like him."

whatever Trisha was going to say was stalled by the arrival of several people, all dressed in various costumes which I assumed to be from the shop. Batman hobnobbed with Catwoman, a succubus stood beside what could only be a warlock (from world of warcraft perhaps?) and plenty of vampires, witches, werewolves, and even anime characters noisily poured out from the narrow stairway. There was a muted silence and whispers as the crowd took in their new surroundings, then the dull roar commenced again as most made their way to the bar where a slightly distressed holly could just be made out.

"Becca, go help Holly! I'll make the announcements."

"Gotcha boss!"

Nimbly Becca threaded the crowd, somehow beating most of them to the bar. I followed at a more sedate pace.

"Rawwk! 15 men on a dead man's chest! Rawwk!"

shit, I'd almost forgotten about the live feather duster on my shoulder, till he spoke, startling a couple too concerned with each other to worry about their surroundings. The bird actually helped me avoid a collision.

"dude, great costume!"

"thanks, seems to be something we all share."

"Well dating a worker at a costume shop has its perks. Dan, and this is Debbie. She works at the east side branch."

"Pleased to meet you both, I'm Chris, I was invited by Trisha."

"Ahh good, so Trisha found someone after all, I was a bit worried."

"Yep, last minute addition, but here I am."

We made it to the bar where the drink dispensing was beginning. Holly looked a bit lost, but Becca had to have tended a bar before; bottles were being juggled, fruit slices were flying, tiny umbrellas were being flourished, it was quite the show.

"Attention everyone, now that most of you are here. Welcome to Ye olde costume shop l.l.c.'s 100th official costume ball; I see plenty of new and old faces in the crowd. Welcome. As you all know, this will be my last time co-hosting this event. Please make it one to remember, but don't do anything I wouldn't do! After all, remember, Robert is watching. Now I'll get out of the way, DJ Crypt, take it away!"

The first track was loud, obnoxious, and strangely compelling, mixing modern dance with organ music. I finally made my way to the bar, purposefully going up to the less mobbed Holly, who was gladly standing back letting Becca hog the limelight.

"Holly, can I get a Guinness?"

"Huh? Oh sure Chris, sorry."

"No need to apologize. She's good."

"Yeah I have much to learn yet. She can really work a crowd. Here you go."

"Thanks. I'm a bit lost here; I mean, you're all working...not much need for me to be here. Kind of sad really, to work on Halloween like this."

"Ahh but we don't work all the time this night, you'll get to spend your time with us...and I'm first. The usual Holly."

I looked to find Trisha had snuck up on me again, though in this crowd it was no hard feat. Holly silently delivered a neat bourbon.

"Come on Chris, lets make the rounds. And of course, dance. Can't forget the dancing."

"Lead on, dear lady, lead on."

We danced, we schmoozed, we schmoozed, we danced. She told me witty stories about the employees from the other shops we met (I learned there were 5 total stores in the city). She flirted with reckless abandon, pulling my head down and nibbling on my ear gently (the free ear, not the one the parrot was squawking in). I felt warm, basking in her bright flame of life.

Then all too briefly, it was over.

"Trisha, could you please help me in setting up the buffet?"

Robert...fucking Robert.

"Let me help."

"Oh you don't have to Chris, please relax and enjoy yourself."

Hard to enjoy myself with you stealing my date, asshole.

"I don't mind, really. So what needs doing?"

"Oh the buffet is in small carts in the kitchen, we simply need to roll them out and place them in the correct order, and everyone has snacks or a late dinner, as they prefer."

I followed them past a tapestry which I'd glossed over before, realizing it led to a restaurant style kitchen...something like you'd see on one of those cooking shows that were all the rage. And there, next to a walk in freezer of indeterminate age (somewhere less than modern) were a series of carts with trays of meat, vegetables, and other such finger foods, sauces, nachos, a veritable cornucopia of snacks. the carts had to be custom made....they had sneeze guards built into them. It took 3 of us 2 trips each to roll them out, but it was fairly easy.

"thank you for your help Chris, it would have taken twice as long without you. Perhaps we should see about putting you on the payroll, part time?"

Trisha whirled around and gave Robert a stare that could have melted me into a puddle. He took it well.

"Not quite that long Robert, maybe 5 minutes longer, and I don't think I could afford the paycut."

"Don't be too sure Chris, the benefits outweigh the pay scale. But I joke. Sorry to have dragged you off the dance floor Chris. Trisha, I need to have a word with you about some inventory discrepancy..."

They walked off, Trisha with an apologetic glance in my direction, Robert casually dismissing me. I seethed a bit.

"Rawwk! Ahoy pretty lady, ahoy!" I turned in time to see Holly heading my way with two Guinness.

"hi. You looked like you could use another."

"I can, thanks."

I was mildly surprised to see her drinking too; she seemed a bit more...uptight than the others working here.

"So the boss grabbed Trish, huh? Mind if we sit down? I'm on break."

"Sure thing, I'm a bit tired as well."

she leaned close, allowing me to catch the scent of sweat and lavender.

"Tell you a secret...I can't dance well. Sorry to disappoint."

"Rawwk! Secrets! Secrets! Dead men tell no tales, Rawwk!"

"thank you for that Smalls. Tell you a secret Holly...I can't dance well either. I just fake it."

She giggled, and took a long pull off her beer.

"Looked like you were doing quite well to me; I was a bit envious."

"Of my skills?"

"Of Trisha enjoying your skills, while I was stuck behind a bar. But since I can't dance, how about conversation instead?"

"Fine by me, what do you want to discuss?"

"Global warming?"

"A heady subject, but sure...just don't get get angry if I say what I think...."

"And what is that?"

"That it's a hoax."

"You think global warming is a hoax?"

"No of course not, I think the globe warms just fine...I think man made global warming is a hoax."

And just like that we were off, debating Al Gore's manbearpig. As we talked, she seemed to gradually warm to me, losing some of her standoffish facade. Her smile and behavior became more genuine, less reserved....and her true beauty was revealed before me. Sigh, this was a most enviable mess I was finding myself in.

We enjoyed ourselves, heedless of the crowd around us, chatting about weighty matters and of course never solving the problems we spoke of. Holly insisted vehemently on getting the drinks, So I let her, my eyes scanning the crowd when she wasn't present. All the people having fun, dancing, a small group in a corner smoking cigarettes, a couple here and there making out with reckless abandon...not quite the typical Halloween party, unless you were talking a college one.

Holly returned after her 4th such trip with a bottle of crown royal.

"come on, lets get away from all this awhile; all this noise is hurting my head and it's hard to hear you over it anyway."

"Um, sure, but where?"

"You've been in the kitchen right? well see the tapestry on the other side?"

"another door?"

"Yes, follow me."

So I followed her as she lifted the tapestry back revealing a heavy wood door of indeterminate origin...it didn't quite look like oak. It had silver inlaid into it in a star...very fancy. And old unless I missed my guess, they didn't make stuff like that anymore. She opened it and led me down a darkened hall, one single bare bulb struggling to lessen the gloom. There were a total of 5 doors...2 left, 2 right, and one at the end of the narrow hall.

"Don't tell me, you guys live here?"

"We do, that one is my room."

Holly pointed to the first one on the left. Stepping closer I could see it bore a brass nameplate with her name and under that an inlaid silver butterfly. The door was the same indeterminate make as the other; I looked again, they all were. Across from Holly's door was Anne's, bearing her name and a rose. I couldn't make out details of the other 3 doors, and I didn't want to be a poor guest.

"OK, after you."

Holly led the way inside. The interior was much like I expected, all muted blues ranging from the light pastel wallpaper to the dark blue comforter on the bed. what wood was present (the desk, a chair for it, and the bed framework) was a tasteful dark stained mahogany. A small television was mounted on the wall opposite the bed, and a laptop sat on the desk. there was also a door for what I assumed was a bathroom. Holly popped the bottle open and took a long pull, causing my eyebrow to raise.

"You OK?"

"Yes...no...I don't know. Not sure if i can do this, year after year..."

"If you're unhappy with the job, quit. You don't need to put up with anything you don't want to. I'm sure if I ask my boss nicely enough, he will hire you for something. And if you need to, you can crash with on my couch, or I'll call my cousin..she'll do anything for me."

Holly's mood got even worse, if anything. She crossed the room, pulling me to the bed.

"you know, you really are too nice for your own good."

"I..."

She shushed me with a finger to my mouth., and turned to the parrot.

"Beat it Smalls."

The bird flew up silently as she started to undress me. I could feel her determination and sadness, mixed with a touch of fear. The emotions radiated from her in waves of unease, slamming into me like a tide. This couldn't be allowed to continue. I wanted her, sure, but not like this! I snagged her hands; feeling her fluttery heartbeat from her wrists.

"Holly stop. Not like this, or we'll both regret it."

She took a deep shuddering breath...and barked a tension filled laugh.

"We will always regret this moment, you and I, regardless of what happens. Damn you for a fool! You're right though, the moment is passed. I'm sorry."

Turning she ran headlong from the room, barely opening the door before squeezing through. I thought I saw a hint of tears before she turned away.

Wow. I had no clue I was that desirable. In fact I was sure that while a pretty cool guy, I wasn't worth tears. I got up to follow, re-lacing my shirt.

"Hold it there stud."

I almost ran into an irritated looking Becca as I reached the hall. She pushed me back into Holly's room and shut the door.

"Holly had her chance, she's off break now, and I'm on mine."

I suffered a bout of deja vu as she shoved me onto the bed, and started undoing my shirt again.

"Wait Becca, Holly was distraught, I really think I should go talk to her."

"Hey stud, you turned her down, it's ok, she'll get over it."

I grabbed her surprisingly strong hands much as I did Holly's, stopping her. This time more than a flash of irritation blinked into existence; A full blown storm of rage crossed her countenance, humbling me. I would not be cowed though.

"Becca this approach didn't work for Holly, what makes you think it'll work for you?"

"That's obvious stud; you didn't want her, and I'm hotter?"

"You might be hotter, not sure on that. But I'm stubborn some days...the more people push, the more I push back. Just what is going on here exactly?"

She got up, my question, while more a fishing expedition borne from various uneasy moments since my arrival, had struck a larger nerve than I'd intended. Well that's...alarming.

"Well stud...I liked you when you first walked in the store. And Holly and I, we're only trying to help you, in our way."

"And have a bit of fun for yourself?"

"Sure, why not? Haven't heard anyone tell me that two people can't scratch each others' backs...so to speak."

She arched forward with a lecherous grin, spilling herself out of her top as she tackled me, kissing me deeply. I could taste her lipstick...and her hunger. And then her tongue, forced between my teeth. It took a weighted moment, but I pulled away.

"Never thought I say this...but no. Not till you tell me what's actually going on here, and why you're both in such a hurry."

she barked a laugh much as Holly had before.

"Sure, tomorrow...Though I'd appreciate it more tonight. As for what's going on, you'll find out soon enough."

She pulled away and checked Holly's wall clock.

"...In fact, pretty soon. It's almost time for the grand unveiling, where we all meet each other without our costumes. Where does the time go?!?"

"The grand unveiling? The moment where we all stare at each other awkwardly and realize we aren't nearly as good looking or cool as the faces we put on for the night, right?"

Her smile this time was more warm, and again like Holly's smacked of a hint of sadness.

"Right you are stud, right you are. But it's too late now for what we both wanted."

She re-laced my shirt yet again, quickly and pulled me up with surprising strength and to the door. I could hear her muttering things under her breath.

"Smalls, right shoulder."

"Rawwk, dead men tell no tales, rawwk! 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!"

The living feather duster landed on my shoulder again as we entered the hall. Suddenly remembering I guiltily fed him a cracker.

"It also means the end of the party; no more fun like this till next year."

"Well while it's had it's moments, my escorts have been acting strangely. I think I'll just take off."

I headed towards the stairs.

"Can't leave stud, sorry."

"Oh and why not?" I stopped and turned to her, yelling over the music, which had gotten loud and frantic again.

"Doors are locked of course; we always lock up by 8 and set the alarm. This isn't exactly the safest neighborhood."

Her demeanor of amused triumph pissed me off.

"Then you'll just have to unlock it."

"Can't do stud...Anne has the keys."

"oooookkkkk...and where is Anne hiding?"

"I assume still upstairs manning the doors. That's where she's been all night, after all."

"Right." I continued upstairs into the dim light. Becca didn't follow.

"Yo Anne, you up here?"

I reached the landing, and didn't see her...till she came out of the shadowy alcove like a ghost, bottle of Jack daniels in hand.

"Yes sir, can I help you?"

"You've been here all night?"

"I'm not much for parties Sir, you remembered me?" she offered the bottle, which I took a pull from.

"Of course I did, why wouldn't I? I'd be lying however, if I said I didn't have an ulterior motive. Something weird is going on, and your co-workers are a part of it. I'd like you to either tell me what is going on, or let me out."

I'd been hoping to surprise her, but all I got in response was a blink...her composed doll like face didn't so much as twitch.

"I can't tell you anything sir, as I'm not sure what you mean by weird. I also can't open the door, as my boss just collected the key on his way upstairs."

"So what you're telling me is, this place is now a fire hazard locked down by 2 locked steel doors, and your boss has the only key?"

"That is correct sir."

"Sonofabitch. you aren't kidding. Ok time to confront your boss."

Was that a bit of...hope on her face for a second? First touch of emotion I'd seen from her.

"good luck sir."

I waved in response and headed further upstairs. Past the landing all the lights were out, shadows and deeper shadows chasing each other in a frenzy along the sludge grey hall as I moved. I could barely make out the outline of the doors in the distance, and was glad that nothing littered the space, as I'd trip and break my fool neck. I had really stepped in it this time.

I paused...that store room door called me; I bet it had answers in it, and I didn't remember seeing a lock on it. I had gone so far as to put my hand on the door before I shook my head in disgust. Curiosity killed the cat, And I needed out now. No idea what was really going on, but I really didn't want a ring side seat for a remake of the Texas chainsaw massacre.

Without preamble or knocking I opened Roger's door. The shadows flew away from the light as if alive.

"Roger."

He was ensconced behind his desk, looking up without any apparent surprise.

"Hello Chris, enjoying the party?"

"Not at all, and I want to leave please. I was told you have the only key."

He seemed to consider for a second, then stood up.

"I'm sorry you aren't enjoying yourself but the end is only 10 minutes away; right at 12:30. Surely you can hold out that long? then I'll be opening the doors for everyone."

Straight to the chase then.

"I'd rather not Roger. I find your manner suspicious, and the manner of your employees more so. Each of the women I was invited here by tonight seem very afraid of you, and of losing their job here. Maybe to the point where they will do anything to keep it. That is a bit unnatural, and I'm not going to wait around for you to put an axe in my face. Now let me out, or I pull out my cell and call the cops."

He grinned in a most disturbing manner.

"You don't have your cell phone Chris, you left it with your clothes."

Shit! I forgot, this costume had no pockets. He continued:

"but there is no need to call in the authorities; I have no intention of putting any sort of cutting tool into your face. I merely think you should stay for the finale, it being so close...and you really can't escape anymore, at least not intact. Might as well settle in and enjoy the show."

"The hell I can't."

I bolted from his office, absolutely sure in my suspicions now. The shadows an I danced together madly for a moment, then I saw...the door leading to the front was unlocked! The padlock was there, but not shut.

"Come back Chris, let's talk about this."

I could hear the 'I've got you now, asshole' grin in his smarmy voice. Needing no further encouragement I ripped it off and headed to the bathrooms. They had windows and vents, and I wasn't sure I could break the pane glass in front, though I'd certainly try it if pressed. I reached the men's room...and it was locked.

"Just a second Chris." The voice wasn't familiar, a baritone a bit deeper than mine. But the inflection...

"Who are you? Do I know you? And hurry up, an asshole who means me bodily harm is coming!"

The door opened and I ran smack into...Trisha?!?! He was much taller than I was, as broad throughout the shoulders as myself, same former football build with maybe a touch less flab, and his face...was a mind numbing mix of mine and the woman who had invited me to this hole. He was wearing my slightly crumpled suit. It didn't make sense, and I felt dizzy and hit the floor.

"Oops sorry about that, this strength thing takes some getting used to. Haven't been this large in some time."

"You ARE Trish! But...how! What the fuck is going on!?!?"

"Well you see Chris...We're the real pirates. We stole your booty."

Becca spoke up from behind me, I whirled to see her standing just in front of Roger, who seemed larger somehow...and the shadows were definitely crowding around him.

"Now now Becca, that's a bit crass, don't you think?"

"Sorry boss."

I shook my head to clear it and drew my cutlass. Blunt or not, it would still serve as a good beat-down weapon. I backed towards the front, trying to keep them all in sight. Then I caught another glance at the cutlass and stared. It was real! I could see a real sharpened edge on the blade. No time to worry about that now! I tried to look menacing, but it was getting hard...were they growing?!?

"All of you just stay the hell away from me!"

I'd almost made it to the glass windows fronting the store when I felt dizzy again, and dropped, simply unable to move. I had a fleeting thought of relief that I hadn't cut my foot off with the cutlass before I was picked up.

"Being strong is nice. Let's go. We don't want to be late after all."

"Quite right Patrick."

there was a sensation of movement and the fog in my brain cleared a bit. My vision cleared a bit too, and I was able to make out the person I knew as Trisha carrying me down the hall at a rapid pace. How could he carry me bridal style so easily? I weigh a good 200 pounds!

"Drugged?" I slurred, my voice shrill in my ears.

"That's right Chris, you were drugged. Good job Anne." Trish added as we reached the fire escape landing. I lolled my head just in time to catch that stupid bird fly overhead and Anne's face, filled what for her was a massive dose of regret and despair.

"I am sorry Chris,' she whispered. 'I have to do as I'm told. We all do. I had hoped you would escape."

"Rawwk! Pretty ladies! Dead men tell no tales! Rawwk!"

"Smalls, shut up. The time for such farces is over." my captor stated plainly, giving a gimlet stare to the bird.

We reached the landing and headed through the crowd to the stage, moving almost at a run, jostling people out of the way. They all appeared drunk to a person, except the employees from of the shops' other branches. So they were all likely drugged too, shit! no help at all. I tried to scream, but only a slight undignified squeak came out, and I still couldn't move. Still I was set down and though I couldn't move my legs I was pulled along. I began to feel very warm.

"Sorry Chris, bear with it just awhile longer."

Roger stepped onto the podium and took the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for making this landmark party for Ye olde costume shop llc a huge success! And now as is traditional at our parties, the time has arrived to remove your masks, and show everyone the real faces you've hidden under our beautiful custom works! Come now don't be shy!"

The crowd as if in a trance, did as asked, and for a moment nothing happened, save Roger's grin got wider. I began to feel downright hot, and even though I couldn't hold my head up to see Roger, I felt as if I knew where he was, and what he was feeling.

Pure undiluted joy.

Anne was still feeling despair.

Becca was feeling happy, and satisfied.

Holly was feeling a sadness so crushing I didn't see how she could stand it.

And Trisha...was feeling liberated.

And somehow I felt it all. Though the connection with Trisha seemed to be washing out, going more tenous by the second as the bonds with the others strengthened.

Then it happened. With a collective sighs and not a few screams, the customers of ye olde costume shop collapsed. Those that I could see, I knew were dead. Eyes open and staring, skin a putrid looking grey. And...

Were those souls?!?

I blinked, trying to clear my eyes. But I continued to see them...greenish blue flames flickering fitfully in the intermittent gloom. Looking closer I saw each one tied by a yellow thread to a corpse, No...to the mask beside the corpse here, or a bit of costume there. The bodies even as I watched, my horror meter topped well beyond where I thought it could go, seemed to deflate and regain some of their color as yellow thread bound them too to their costumes.

"Anne, Holly, you know what to do."

"Yes boss."

"Now, time for you Chris. you must be awfully uncomfortable in that dreadfully hot costume."

I gathered my strength and tried to push away...but it was no use at all, I couldn't budge the large arm wrapped around me.

"don't worry Chris, you won't end up like those poor unfortunates...you have something they lack."

Roger strode towards me slowly, obviously savoring the moment. In fact, he WAS savoring it, I could feel it.

"St...stay away from me! Just stop this, please!"

"You see Chris, you are a curious sort of person...a strange mix of greed, desire, and a hidden streak of nobility I just don't see that often; all in the right amounts mixed with an outgoing witty magnetism sure to draw people in by the score...a honey trap, as it were. Why the last time I'd seen such a personality was Sir Patrick here, many many years ago..."

I shook, wanting to deny what I was hearing. Maybe I'd fallen asleep drunk in Holly's room, and this was all a dream! That's it, it had to be! Roger pulled something from behind his back...a silver collar bearing the name 'Christine'.

"And Patrick, well Sir Patrick has earned his retirement...and you are part of the severance package."

I felt a hand on the zipper of my mask, my wonderful, lifelike mask...and heard a keening wail fit for a lost soul. It took a moment as the mask was gently pulled away for me to realize the scream was my own.

************************

Roger stared at the small glowing gem and the flames trapped within. The last experiences of one Christopher M. Sedgwick, internet development specialist, still replaying in his minds eye. He tested the link with the still form on the bed beside him. It was strong...strong enough to guarantee obedience, at least once the final act was done. He swallowed the soul, sealing the deal.

It was a shame about losing Patrick, but Becca could pick up the slack while Christine was taught the ropes...and perhaps she would be successful enough to buy back her soul before it was completely consumed; a rare occurrence, but Patrick had proven it could be done. He couldn't help but chuckle though at the thought of the former knight and crusader let loose to cause more mayhem as an immoral lout; his inner nobility had made for a tasty meal, and without any inhibitions to speak of and no lord to rein him in....

He spared a glance. Christine had cleaned up nicely, once the remains of her former self had been sloughed away to add itself to the vats. A sable haired fox faced vixen, small in stature and delicate in frame, muttered under his touch for a moment then quieted. Her hair had some touches of white denoting stress in the young, as she clearly was...and a small straight red vertical line crossed her left eye..the remainder of some tragedy no doubt, though the eye itself was spared. All in all, a beauty among beauties, a delicate flower with more than a hint of the rogue about her...or a pirate.

He smiled, and lowered himself into bed beside her. He loved Halloween.

 

The Evil Without

There was no real warning, looking back on it. I kept casting my mind back to determine if there was anything at all that I could have used to foresee how things turned out. But nothing came to mind, even through my best efforts. The first warning or hint or omen was when... it happened. When the world went from making sense to hell in a heartbeat.

When the love of my life died in front of me.

....

Work sucked so bad, and Mr. Radcliff was always a slave driver on Fridays. He seemed to love sucking the joy from the lives of employees. I couldn't wait until I was done with college, and able to kick this stupid menial place to the curb. Though it was probably best to wait until I'd been hired on as a game developer before quitting my stock-boy job. I'd try to stomach it that long, it was only a few more weeks after all, and Cassie didn't like slackers. She was far too in love with money for that.

She was pretty hot though.

I shook my head as I walked into the parking lot. Closing late always made her angry, and with Mr. Radcliff riding my ass the way he had, I was even later than usual. Chances were I would be on the couch tonight.

Sure enough, she was waiting in the car, tapping her manicured nails on the steering wheel and fidgeting. Had the radio on full blast too, and the doors locked. She had parked in our usual spot at least; sometimes the car was hard to find in the dark. The usual spot was clear in the back of the lot; after Mr. Radcliff threw a fit over his precious customers being forced to walk ten extra feet, all employees were supposed to park in the farthest spots. The only good to come from that was watching Mr. Radcliff himself make the walk at the start of the shift. He was not in the best of shape.

Cassie was however, believed all that 'my body is my temple' crap. I had to admit it looked good on her; she stood at five feet seven inches and weighed around 150 (she wouldn't tell me the exact number, and I knew better than to ask). Her dyed black hair was in a pixie cut that she had trimmed up every month, and her face was a beautiful, but bland. She was no mighty she hulk, but when we played around she was pretty scrappy. Heaven help you if you broke her nails or messed up her makeup, though.

By the looks of things, she had been waiting for an hour. Possibly even longer, sitting in the car under the eye-smarting halogens used in the lot with the heater on to ward off the chill. Mr. Radcliff insists that no one goes home until the work scheduled for the shift is done and the close up procedures are followed to the letter. He was an ass like that, and Cassie had probably been off shift before the clean up started. She usually was somehow.

Cassie was allergic to work because of the aforementioned nails and breakage thing. She was kinda hot, though. Unfortunately, she was also angry, and Mr. Radcliff wasn't out yet. I was a convenient target.

About fucking time, Jesus.”

She opened the door and stepped out, making a show of planting her hands on her hips as I strode up. I decided to try and deflect anyway; I really didn't want to sleep alone tonight.

You know how it goes, Cassie. Can't leave until closing; I can't wait to get a real job. College bills are a bitch.”

I hugged her and she didn't resist, so I dipped her as if we were dancing and planted a nice big one on her.

Not here; it's too cold.”

She shoved me off to check her lipstick in the mirror. I didn't get it, I thought that stuff was smudge free? She wouldn't be cold if she picked jeans and a coat to wear over the skirt and top she had though I had to admit to myself the effect was undeniable.

I looked up as one of the halogen lights ringing the lot blew, noisily. Cheap things; Mr. Radcliff probably skimped on them and bought those cheap Chinese things again. Which meant, of course, I'd be replacing the thing tomorrow. I hated heights. There was still plenty of light to see by, at least here. It was kind of odd that no one else was out yet, come to think of it. Usually, Becky was out by now; she was almost as allergic to effort as Cassie was.

Cassie was already on the other side of the car, knocking on it impatiently; she had forgotten to unlock the passenger side and wanted me to drive, apparently. I could deal with that. The keys were still in the car, but she threw something at me as another light blew, this one right above Mr Radcliff's car. I had some hope that the showering glass had damaged the paint as I missed my grab. Whatever it was fell next to the car in question.

Good grab there, butter fingers.”

Thank you, Cassie.”

I took the required steps and bent down when something caught my eye. What was that? That shadow seemed to be moving, but I didn't see any animal or other cause for it. Nothing at all, and the shadow didn't twitch; great, now I was seeing shit. Clearly, I was tired.

Cassie had thrown my wallet. Oh well, it was old leather, it had survived worse. Evidently she had snagged it from my locker while I had been working. I checked; I still had money, so she probably just bought a coffee or something. Picking it up I wheeled just in time to flinch as the other lights around the car all burst at once.

.What.

There's cheap, and then there is weird. Cassie seemed to feel it too, as we both stood there gaping with only the car's dash lights to keep us company; the world seemed to feel even colder and the hair on my neck was standing on end. Well at least I didn't feel tired anymore. I watched the few remaining lights warily, but they all seemed too bright, too cheery, to blow. None of those remaining were closer to my car than a hundred feet.

I turned around, stuffing my wallet in my coat, and met Cassie's wild eyed gaze. She was looking around wildly, spooked by something.

David, let's go, please. I want to go now.”

Even weirder; her voice was steady, but it was calm and polite. It lacked her usual confrontational fire. There was a... weird undertone to it. I needed to expand my vocabulary.

Whatever it was she felt, I felt it too. Something wasn't right here. I got in the car and clicked the unlock button. Cassie didn't open the door. I could see her hand briefly swing that direction then a scuffling sound; what was going...? I shot out of the car.

Cassie was being held by... something. A shadow, or something else, something that my mind skittered away from, was holding her off the ground by her arms and legs. One tendril of shadow was wrapped around her face and mouth, but I could still see her eyes. They were wide, and staring. Pleading with me. She was held there, an impossible moment.

Then I was showered in blood as her arms flew past me.

I was in the car, driving down the well-lit streets. I could feel the blood running down my face, and the back of my neck. The passenger side door was flopping open, and I had no idea why. Where was Cassie? My mind skittered away from the question and something (a memory of an arm with perfect nails sailing past my eyes) got shut down.

I needed to get some help for Cassie. Call the cops or something. The local precinct was just down the road. I was pointed right to it, in fact, and this wasn't my normal route to go home. Why would I go home? I wasn't tired, and I needed to get help for Cassie.

The police precinct was bright; very well lit, with no missing or broken lights. That was good. I drove up and parked in the bright lot, and ran in, shouldering past a cop that didn't really move fast enough. I knew you had to go through desk sergeants at a time like this... right? Or was that just a movie/TV show kind of thing? Whatever, it wasn't important. Cassie was important.

The cop at the first desk, an older man with a Santa Clause paunch and no hair took one look at me and dropped a hand to his gun. I held my hands out and still; he looked twitchy.

Please, you've got to help Cassie!”

I... needed to get a hold of myself.

Alright sir, calm down. You need to calm down so you can tell me what happened. Who is Cassie? Where is she?”

He made a gesture and I was surrounded by cops. This was a good thing, but I still felt hemmed in. It wasn't important; I had to focus.

Cassie is my girlfriend. She's at our work, um, the Go Go Grocery on 9th and McCarthy.”

And what happened to her?”

A loaded question. What did happen to her, exactly? I'd seen it, and I wasn't sure what happened.

Something killed her, I think.”

I was shoved into the cop's desk and cuffed. Why were they arresting me?!!? This wouldn't help Cassie at all! For a moment I was speechless. They frisked me and emptied my pockets. Then the cops shoved me into a chair and started asking questions again, while taking pictures. I took another look; there were only seven policemen here. I really wanted there to be more. At least the lights were nice and bright.

Something killed her? Don't you mean someone?”

The cop I'd come to first was thumbing through my wallet. I didn't even remember putting it back in my pocket.

Who killed her? Who killed Cassie, David? Was it you?”

It wasn't me! It was something else! Not a someone at all!

It wasn't me! It was the shadows, they came out of themselves and killed her!”

That sounded crazy. I was crazy, wasn't I? I had to be crazy, or dreaming this; but the bite of the cuffs and the pressure of hands on my shoulders felt real enough.

The blood spraying across my face had felt real enough. One of the cops held my hands out while the other took more photos. There was a cut there, he saw. A small one, on his right hand. He had no idea how it got there. Had he cut his hand on a box at work? One of the cops in the back spoke up.

No patrols there, we're actually the closest. Want me to go?”

Yeah, take Andrews with you, and take Mr. Newton with you; get him to show you where all this took place.”

They stood me up and re-cuffed me with my hands behind my back; it was painful. I was walked roughly to a squad car and placed in the back, thoughts swimming like piranha in a river. They thought I did it. I came in here to tell them, and they already thought that I did it!

I didn't want to go back there. Not at all; but what could I do? I'd missed my chance. I tried to explain, but the look Andrews gave me said it all. I would not be getting out of this. The other cop spoke:

So you said the parking lot of the Go Go, right? What side?”

Deep breaths. I tried to take them while watching the shadows. They weren't moving, which was... good.

Right in front of the street, right side. You'll know when you see it.”

They pulled in past the well-lit streets to the edge of what was the only darkened space in the lot. The darkness was... sticky there, as if it clung to the space within in clear defiance to all light. The cars headlights cut it, but I couldn't help but feel there had been some form of resistance. The cop flicked on the high beams, which also seemed to take an extra heartbeat to cut the gloom.

Had he seen?

Whether he had or not, the object at the far end of the light was easy to spot... if hard to decipher. I didn't want to figure (that's a torso, her torso) it out. The cop driving, whose name I didn't know, grabbed his flashlight and got out of the car.

Keep an eye on him, Andrews.”

Don't. Don't get out of the car. Don't walk into that!”

I hadn't realized I'd spoken until after I'd heard it; was that really my voice? Andrews opened his door and stepped out.

Yeah, you're not leaving me alone with that. He's not going anywhere anyway.”

I could hear the worry in his voice. I wanted to tell him he was right to be so afraid, but I didn't want to make it worse. Maybe whatever it was had left? Moved on to greener pastures, and other girlfriends?

Even from here, inside the car, I heard the back door of the Go Go slam. I hadn't even noticed, but the other cars I'd have expected to be gone were still here. A look revealed a flushed Mr. Radcliff storming out to the officers. He took one angry look at me before he started bellowing.

That's him, officers! That's the man that killed her!”

...what? What?!?

I never touched her! Something else got her! It wasn't me! It wasn't me!”

Even to my fevered mind that sounded pure crazy. Becky followed Mr. Radcliff out the door with clear relief on her features. I could tell in an instant that she thought I had done it too.

You the one that called, sir?”

I am. That's David Nelson, the murderer. You have the right man.”

Don't be stupid! There is no way I could have... done this! I didn't even have time.”

The other cop leaned over, flashing his light into my eyes painfully as he leaned back into the car.

You have the right to remain silent, sir. I suggest you exercise it.”

He closed the door and I shut up. I was under arrest for Cassie. The cops weren't here to get to the truth, or find the real killer. They were here to railroad me, because Mr. Radcliff had called them and sold them some form of bullshit.

Alright sir, what did you see, exactly?”

Andrews was asking Radcliff questions while the other cop, the asshole cop, was striding into the darkness towards Cassie. I wanted to tell him not to go, that it wasn't safe, but he had told me not to talk, and he was out of range anyway unless I yelled at the top of my lungs. Maybe not even then. I could barely hear the questions Andrews was asking, and they were right next to the car.

I saw David speed off as I was coming out and found the body. Then I went back in and called you.”

So he hadn't seen me do anything. Did he really think I could... do that... to Cassie, and do it all and drive off in five minutes, or maybe even less than that? How? I'd need an ax or something, and a lot more time... I shut down that traitorous thought and looked, carefully. Had the darkness moved again? Twitched?

I flinched as the lot light between the patrol car and where my car had been parked blew in a shower of sparks.

What? That was odd.”

Very odd, I just replaced those last week.”

Mr. Radcliff, you liar. You had those replaced four months ago, by me. He was right about how odd it was, at least. I found myself yelling again, sounding like a crazy person. But wasn't I crazy, after all?

Heeey! It's coming! We need to get out of here, now!”

I had no doubt that it was coming.

Another light blew out. The jerk cop was still shining his light at the ground, showing things I really didn't want to see, but he hadn't heard me. Officer Andrews wasn't paying any attention to me at all. Mr. Radcliff glanced my way, but ignored me. Crazy or not, I had to warn them; I started pounding on the window.

Hey, I'm not kidding! We need to leave, right now! It's coming back!”

Another light blew out to punctuate my words, this one next to the car, on the drivers side. I edged as far away from that side as I could. Praying sounded like a wonderful idea right now. Officer Andrews finally took notice and finally got angry.

Look sir, quiet down while I take statements and we will sort all this out back at the station.”

His hand was resting on something at his belt; a taser? I almost laughed at him; a taser would probably be a mercy right now. But this was too important to risk with laughter. Never was I more sure of anything in my life.

No! We need to leave, now! Right now!”

The car headlights blew, leaving the first cop with only his flashlight to see by. The darkness was a smothering blanket, suffocating all it touched.

What the fuck!”

It was too late, I knew it was; but I had to try again.

We need to leave, now! Get me out of here! Let's go!”

Sir calm down while I take this statement.”

Mr. Radcliff was still talking, but I wasn't paying attention anymore, and neither was officer Andrews. He reached for the handle and lifted it up at the same time the other cop's flashlight blew out. Even watching for it, expecting it, I was cold.

Christ!”

The last full word the other cop spoke. The horrid... sounds began less than a second later, as the door swung open.

We need to go, we need to go now!”

I wanted to run, head to the light without a look back, but officer Andrews had a firm hand on my shoulder; I could feel bones creak under the strain. Then he did the worst possible thing; he turned his own flashlight to the patch of darkness, aiming for where he'd last seen his partner.

Ray?”

Ray was dead. There was no way Ray could be anything else. This fact was confirmed when Ray's head flew past me, eyes bulging, mouth open, tongue lolling and somehow still MOVING, trying to breathe or something.

Mr. Radcliff was dazed when an arm slammed into him, spasming around a flashlight. Officer Andrews fired his gun, a loud harsh sound. It wasn't aimed my direction. I couldn't just leave things well enough alone, it seemed.

Come on, officer! We got to go!”

I dragged Mr. Radcliff into the pool of light past the car and got him moving. Then I took off; I wasn't sure how you could fight such a thing anyway. One look told you it wasn't human, it didn't move at all like one. It FLOWED places.

The parking lot lights started blowing again, slowly. Becky was at the back door, gaping. I got near and she squeaked like a stomped mouse and closed it. I hit it in a rush and tried to open it. It was locked; I didn't have a key, I never opened the store. I pounded with my shoulder.

Becky, open the door!”

She didn't. Mr. Radcliff reached the door and shoved me out of the way as if I were weightless, a dark stain spreading on his pants and the smell of piss in the air. He fumbled for his own keys as I turned, doing my best to master myself so that I wouldn't cause him to take longer.

The parking lot lights closest to the back door were the only ones left. One of them blew as officer Andrews reached the door himself, firing blindly behind him until his gun clicked. Despite the clear panic, he sounded almost calm.

Anytime now.”

Mr Radcliff got the key slotted as the light to our left blew out in a shower of sparks; some of them close enough to hit us. He rammed himself the door, and I was right behind him; I didn't want to give him the chance to shut it in my face. I shouldered him out of the way and held it open for the cop, who wasted as little time as I had.

Shutting and locking it left us in a very well lit hallway. I could see Becky wringing her hands, eyes only for me. The cop on the other hand, was already undoing my cuffs while talking into his radio.

Dispatch, dispatch, come in.”

Only static answered, which was just perfect really. Par for the course. Rubbing my wrists I felt blood, but I could deal with that later; We needed a phone or something.

Cell phone? Anyone?”

Mr. Radcliff pulled his out; it was soaked and dead, which was odd. It was a brand new model. I looked to Becky and she shook her head. The police had taken mine as evidence so that just left the land line and the payphone at the front of the store.

The front of the store was dark. I walked down the hall, Becky giving ground before me, and hit the light switches. I half expected no response, but the place lit up; my own sigh of relief was matched by officer Andrews; Mr. Radcliff was busy trying to get his phone to work, and Becky was still looking at me as if I had an ax in my pocket.

Are you sure you want to let him go?”

Her finger pointed my way was shaking as I passed. I could afford to ignore her; she wasn't a threat. Not after... that.

I'm sure. He's innocent; that much is obvious. Not sure what is guilty, exactly, but it isn't him.”

He had his little notebook out, and was writing in it. I wanted to ask what, but the front windows were a bit more interesting; they led to the still lit portions of the lot, and we would be able to see if whatever it was approached us. At least until those lights died too; I had no doubt they would.

The phones were down, of course. Both the line used by employees and the payphone. They had probably been down since before, with Mr. Radcliff calling the police on his cell. We needed something; either a way to communicate or a way to defend ourselves. Flashlights first, just in case.

The phones are out? But that's impossible! They can't be out!”

Mr. Radcliff walked noisily into the office I'd just vacated, and I could hear him slam the phone down seconds later. Of course, it was possible for them to be out since they were out. Apparently all sorts of strange things were possible tonight. I could even see the wiring from where I was, and it looked intact, so there was no reason the phones shouldn't work; they just didn't. Like we were stuck in the plot of a bad horror movie.

That's what this was; a bad movie plot. Not even worth three stars when reviewed, because the phones being out was too contrived.

This was a general grocery; we had radios, cheap cell phones, batteries for both... and a small automotive section. All the crap sold here was cheap, but it didn't need to last us long. I pulled a prepaid down, half expecting to hear Mr. Radcliff object that I should pay for it, but he just watched. As I suspected, even though it was supposed to have a charge, it didn't even turn on. Neither did the next one.

The lights confirmed we still had power, so I snagged one of the cords for the phone and plugged it in; it shouldn't take long to have enough power to turn on at least, and maybe we could get a call out. I'd let officer Andrews make it; he seemed much more calm than I felt.

Plugging batteries in the flashlights made them work just fine, so I took one for myself and left the rest for others to take. We didn't need them... yet. In the automotive section, which was really just one aisle, we sold those small cheap auto emergency kits. The kind which contained foil blankets, matches and tire foam... and flares. Four of them, per bag. They were packed just beyond the collapsible cloth caution cones. There were four per bag, and four bags left on the shelf; I stripped them all. Again, Mr. Radcliff watched without saying anything.

What else? Candles were useless, we had them, but they were the small birthday cake kind. A stiff breeze or breath would blow them out. We could make torches, those might work, but we would need a base to use; rags and paper towels we had, but a stick? Maybe broom handles? I handed Mr. Radcliff four flares as I went by; he took them without a word. Four to the cop, and four left in front of Becky since she was still avoiding me.

At least they all had flashlights now. The cop was even carrying one in addition to his standard issue, which sounded like a great idea to me. I grabbed another and tested it, then put it in the same pocket the first one was in; the flares were in the other. It had been enough time to check; I tapped the power button on the phone while it was still plugged in. I didn't care about long term battery life, after all. It didn't turn on, but the battery was charging. Another five minutes then?

What are you doing?”

Mr Radcliff finally broke his silence. I looked to officer Andrews, but he was watching the lot out of the picture windows. I wondered why, since it was still lit, but a look back revealed that he had barricaded the employees door with a chair, of all things. Since it was the only door there, it was the only exit at our backs. I wouldn't trust that door to hold two minutes, even braced, but it should give us enough warning.

Setting up. That thing, whoever or whatever it is, uses the darkness. So now we have plenty of light sources and a phone charging for help. We can hole up here if we need to, at least until we come up with a plan.”

I was pretty sure if officer Andrews could have called in, he already would have. I did wonder if he had a phone though; everyone had a cell nowadays, right? Was his out of power too? Had that been what had happened to all the phones on the wall, and if so, how? I looked out at the dark hole in the lights: it was as if ink had been bled there. The patrol car was dark; all the cars were well within the darkness. I didn't think it was running either, and it had been when we ran. I certainly wasn't going to risk it.

What sort of plan do we need? We need to get out of here before that... whatever it was comes back. If it's hanging out in our lot, we need to NOT BE HERE.”

Well at least other people were seeing it; I wasn't insane. Or at least, no more than usual, assuming I could use Mr. Radcliff and officer Andrews as good indicators for sanity.

I agree, we do. And we need to head out front, where the lights are. But for some reason whatever it is seems to have a problem with light, so having as many sources of light at our disposal couldn't hurt.”

It really didn't. It seemed like a stupid idea; trusting our lives to something so flimsy. How had it even blown out the lights at all? I had no doubt that it had, the damage was too organized. And now I sounded so very sane. Of course, better to be crazy than be dead, so light sources it was, flimsy as the idea was. It hadn't actually attacked anyone in the light yet, as far as I knew.

Fine, we got our light sources. So now we can go... and we need to go.”

What a stupid thing to say; just like his insistence that we always call him Mr. Radcliff. So petty, so stupid.

I'm with you there Mr. Radcliff, but I also think we need to get the word out. We need some way to let people know we're in trouble and need help.”

A warning of sorts, and vindication: 'look out world, there is something new going on, and David Newton isn't a merciless killer after all'. Of course, having more people in the know would also increase our chances, but just having the cops or whoever else looking in the right direction would be a start. The first step to both would be having officer Andrews make the calls he needed to make. I made my way over to him slowly, making sure he saw me and my empty hands.

No phone?”

He barely moved, and his eyes never left the lot.

It's dead. Had a nearly full charge an hour ago, and now it's dead.”

So, not coincidence then. How did it do something like that, and how could we counter it? I didn't know. But we couldn't start with a list of what this thing couldn't do, that was for sure. I checked the phone plugged in again; it started right up, it's chime loud in the pregnant silence. It even had the holy grail of all cells; four bars. I kept it plugged in and handed it to officer Andrews.

Do you know some sort of shortcut number to your precinct?”

He nodded and dialed carefully, still not taking his eyes from the scenery outside. I could sort of understand, the sporadic traffic on the road just beyond the lot was painfully close. They didn't have a care or a clue... not a real one, at any rate.

The call went through, but I could only hear one side of the conversation.

Sir, we have a serious situation. We need SWAT immediately at the Go Go. Officer Simmons is down, and there is some sort of serial killer or killers here.”

A pause, and he glanced at me.

No sir, Mr. Newton is not the perpetrator. Someone else is, and we are trapped in the grocery.”

Another pause.

Myself, Mr. Newton, and two other employees of the grocery store. We need a full response, as soon as possible.”

Another pause.

I understand sir.”

He hung up and put the phone down just as carefully as he'd dialed it.

Communications are down at the precinct. He's sending a few officers, but the SWAT unit on standby has been deployed on another call. Orders are to sit tight and wait for backup. Is there a television or radio in the building? In the break room or something?”

Not that I'm aware of. Maybe Mr. Radcliff has one, but the employees aren't allowed one.”

It probably wouldn't work anyway, if we had one. Officer Andrews just nodded and walked over to where Mr. Radcliff and Becky were huddling. I took over the watch. I didn't leave when they did, pulling the chair and cautiously heading back to the offices. The door leading out the back seemed to have held, anyway. It was metal and had huge deadbolts, so it was far more likely anything coming would come through the glass. Or maybe not, since the lights were still on out front.

The meeting in the back was still going on when the car pulled into the lot.

Guys, we got company!”

I flashed my light when the car drove near. I had to keep them from pulling around the side and seeing the mess back there. They saw me and pulled up just as officer Andrews came back with Mr. Radcliff and Becky in tow. Mr. Radcliff wasted no time bracing the door again, while officer Andrews unlocked the front doors with Mr. Radcliff's keys.

My attention wasn't on the two cops as they got out; I noticed the vests and shotguns, and the spares they carried. My attention was on the lights around the far side of the lot. Specifically, the one that had just winked out.

Andrews, what's going on? We're supposed to be looking for a killer or killers?”

He sounded nervous; a touch afraid. It would get worse for him soon.

Yes, but I'd rather evacuate the civilians and then search, if we have to search at all. I don't know how many are out there, and I'd really rather wait for SWAT before trying to pin them down. As things stand, they could outnumber us.”

He was lying. He was looking right at me, a pointed glare, while he was doing it. He didn't want his fellow officers to know what was really going on. Was he afraid of being called crazy, like I had been? Of course he was, and from the way Mr. Radcliff was looking on he was too. Well I wasn't about to rock the boat. Not if we got out of here, and I wasn't called a murderer. So I kept silent while the two newcomers mulled it over. The other cop didn't even hesitate to step forward and put himself in Andrews' face. Andrews took advantage, pulling the vest out of the guy's hands as spittle flew.

Things are pretty crazy out there, but I'm not sure we should give up on finding the perp just yet. He did kill one of our own after all, in addition to whoever else tonight.”

We won't be able to do much with just the three of us. This is a big area to cover.”

Officer Andrews pointed out, calmly. I had to admit it, I was jealous of his calm; it seemed inhuman.

We should at least secure the crime scene, something also hard to do with only three of us.”

The other cop wanted no part of this at all, and everyone could tell. The aggressive officer curled his lip in disgust. Officer Andrews, our cop, the one who knew, stood firm.

If you want to. My cruiser was disabled. You two can stay here and secure the scene if you want; I'll be escorting the civilians out.”

The other cop wasn't backing down.

Show us the scene, and we'll make the decision from there.”

I moved up to whisper to Andrews, appearances be damned.

Go ahead, I'll keep lookout here.”

I didn't want to see… that again. I tapped his flashlights and moved off, taking my self appointed post over our only working transportation.

Weren't you a suspect, earlier?”

He gave me the 'you are a loathsome bug waiting to be squashed' look but didn't allow me to respond.

Leshawn, you stay with this guy, I'll scope it out.”

Officer Leshawn did not appear to have any problem with that at all if his sigh of relief was any indication. He took a spot a good six feet away and started watching me as the others crept to the back door again. They were too loud for my liking. So he thought I would bolt with the car if left alone; I had to admit, now that the thought was in my head I found it hard to shake out.

I was even calculating the odds. I was reasonably sure that I could reach the car before officer Leshawn caught up to me, and reasonably sure that either the keys were in it, or there were spares. But the area was still lit, with most of the lights functioning just fine. The one that had winked out before now had a friend.

That did not bode at all well.

A quick glance confirmed that section as the only one having problems, so I focused on it. The others were staying on. I wonder when the second light had gone off? Timing it might have given me an idea on how long it took for the thing to do whatever it was doing… I needed to pay more attention.

What are you looking at?”

Do I tell him? I should tell him.

The lights. Just before the… murders, the lights in the area always blow out.”

Ah, so that's why the flashlights and flares.”

He nodded to my pockets and pulled out his flashlight. He was a cop, of course he noticed. Then he proved that for all his skills, he didn't really know.

So the perps smash all the lights before they go in? How do they do it, do you know? You caught any of them at it?”

No… the lights just blow out. I did not see how it was done, or figure out how it was done, for that matter. They just break. And then when the lights are out, you get torn apart.”

Torn apart?”

I had to say this. Had to relive it, in order to make him understand.

Torn apart. Limbs and head separated from the torso, usually in a hurry.”

I swallowed bile, and he opened his mouth.

And before you ask, no I don't know how. I really didn't stick around to find out; however it happens, it's fast.”

A lie, and I think he knows it. But I couldn't tell him that they seemed to be torn apart while hanging in midair, held by shadows. Either they would see it, or they wouldn't. If they stayed here, I had no doubt at all that they would see it; probably the second we left.

No further lights had burned out or broken before the other group came back. I heard them before I saw them; the one cop was all noise and swagger.

We can secure the scene easily. No one is around, the field of view is perfect, and we're both heavily armed. We can hold here, and you can take the witnesses to the station; just send us some more backup when you can.”

His words rang hollow to me. I could hear the knowledge that he couldn't see to stop an attack behind them. I didn't have to focus hard to remember how thick, how syrupy, how cloying the darkness had been. He was probably betting on the 'killers' being gone. He didn't want to admit to his boss that his job was a lost cause at this point. Much like any of us not wanting to tell the whole truth and wind up in rubber rooms with long sleeved jackets of our very own. I was fine with letting him try if he wanted, though. If officer Andrews wanted to make the effort I was all for it, but I just wanted out of here.

The lights cut out.

All of them.

The aggressive cop, the one who didn't KNOW, flicked his flashlight on and played the light around the ceiling.

What?!? Power outage?”

I shared a look with officer Andrews, we were both at the windows now. He motioned Mr. Radcliff to get the doors. We were leaving, now. Mr. Radcliff stepped up without so much as a peep, his own flashlight showing me how much he was sweating. Becky was right behind him, so close that when he stopped to open the main doors she ground her chest into him.

You can stay if you want, but we're going. I highly suggest you go with us, regardless of any consequences. Tonight isn't...normal.”

I snagged a flare from my pocket, hoping I was wrong.

You're probably right… we were having a lot of calls the last 30… a lot of people out, and dispatch beginning to click over to automation. Something big could be going on….”

He was finally seeing the light it seemed, but he was seconds too late. I popped the flare just in time to reveal the something that I'd survived before.

It was a shadow, but that much I'd known before. What I hadn't seen was that like a shadow, it had no real depth to it at all, like an inky black sheet of paper empowered by malevolent will. It had a large caricature of hands tipped in claws, and a mouth that had shard-like teeth. It screamed when the light from the flare hit it in the middle of lazily wafting to us, showing none of the speed I'd seen it move with before.

It was far too close.

Then with a screech like coffin nails against concrete, it wasn't close anymore. I stared at the flare in my hand; was it really just that simple? I wasn't going to waste the chance.

Let's go, let's go!”

I was second out the door, behind Me. Radcliff. Officer Andrews was busy shoving his fellow cops, who were doing reasonable statue impressions. Becky was too, staring off at where the thing had left. We didn't have time for this! I grabbed Becky and pulled her along. Mr. Radcliff was already in the car, waiting in the back with the door shut. I wasn't about to put myself in there until the keys were produced and a driver was in the car, but I didn't tell either of them that.

Get in, stupid, there's no time!”

Come on you two, let's go! We can't stay here!”

Officer Andrews and I shared a moment of deja vu of some kind, a moment of clarity, noticing we were mirroring each other. We looked briefly into each other's souls and found the same thought, the same desire not to die, not to die here like this, before we broke the moment by mutual consent and worked on saving others again.

The pained but very present screech from somewhere just beyond the light cast by the bright flare helped. Mr. Radcliff was waving his flashlight wildly in the window farthest from the flare I'd dropped, hoping to keep the thing from coming to him. Becky was fumbling for her flashlight too, hopefully to help with that. The cops finally got moving, breaking out their own lights. No one else popped a flare; even though the one I used seemed to be working, I don't think anyone wanted to waste one. I know I didn't. None of us wanted to cross to the other side of the car, so the cops got in the passenger side, the aggressive guy first, crossing over the radio and other crap with the keys in one hand and light in the other, and Leshawn coming to rest in the front passenger side.

I got sandwiched between Becky and Officer Andrews, but I didn't care. Wonder of wonders, the car started and the jerk wasted no time throwing it in gear. He was smart enough to turn the lights on top of the car on as he did so. It couldn't hurt.

The real problem was where to go. Sure, we got out of the parking lot with the cop driving a good 40 miles per hour and almost rolling us on the turn to the street, but the lights were still out. It wasn't just the grocery store; it was all the lights, everywhere. Power was out over the whole city, it seemed.

The precinct; it has back up power.”

Well it was closer than the hospital.

We managed the entire trip without unusual incident, only having to dodge a few cars that didn't want to yield for a cop car. They were studiously driving the speed limit when we passed, so it was obvious that they didn't know, but as much as I wanted to, I couldn't warn them. If they were lucky, they would never know how lucky they had needed to be.

The precinct was still there and still well lit, but the number of police cars left in their parking lot was down to two. A glance at officer Andrews confirmed how odd that was; they must have all hands on deck dealing with calls.

Which meant that whatever else was going on, there had to be more shadows or whatever they were out there, murdering other people in other places. Even if some of the calls were looting or normal crimes due to the power going out, at least some of those cops had to be responding to calls like Mr. Radcliffs.

Officer Andrews knew it too, and the other cops had to suspect.

Now the conversion process from unbeliever to believer had to start all over again. That was no longer my concern, though; mine was to figure out how I could get the police to let me stay. The precinct still had power courtesy of what had to be its own generator; that made it safer than just about anywhere else. I could always try the hospital, but the idea of potentially having to save wounded and sick people with flares did not appeal to me. Better to stay far away, so I didn't need to tempt my conscience.

We all piled into the empty lobby or whatever it was called. I didn't care, aside from noting that it was in fact empty this time. The desk sergeant’s desk really should be manned, if only to keep someone from wandering in and making off with the stationary or occasional mug. But instead there was no one. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed that it had only been a bit over a half an hour since I'd been here last; could everything go to hell that quickly, truly?

The aggressive cop went straight through the room to the other side, and to a locked door, which he opened. Officer Leshawn went though the room to the right, and another door, this one closed but not locked. Officer Andrews wasted no time turning to us and point to chairs.

Sit. I need to find my superiors and report in. You all need to stay until we take your statements. We won't stop you from calling anyone you need to, or checking up on family, but if you leave, I will find you. Got it?”

He didn't want to try explaining what he'd seen alone. I nodded and parked myself as close to dead center in the room as I could. I didn't have anyone to contact, but Becky and Mr. Radcliff did, because they wandered toward the payphone in the corner. Becky looked torn; as if she wanted to stay right next to Mr. Radcliff, but also wanted to give him privacy. I vaguely wondered why she had latched onto him, but it really didn't matter.

Maybe stuff like that would matter again, but it didn't right now.

The aggressive one came back; I wished I could remember his name. He was a walking armory, which must be where he just came from: a shotgun, one of those stubby machine guns, and no less than four pistols complete with ammunition hung from him as he strode back into view, large and in charge.

Whatever helped him feel better about things, I guess. I for one would stick to my flares.

The phones weren't ringing. I expected them to be ringing off the hook, given the busy message we had received from 911, but it was blissfully silent.

Alright, where is Leshawn?”

The aggressive cop asked with a put-upon sigh. I pointed to the room he went into.

Well, that's odd. The captain ain't here, so why would he still be in his office?”

He swaggered over, opened the door and walked right in. I heard sobbing before the door closed. Then angry voices raised, briefly, before both came out. Leshawn wouldn't look anyone in the eye, and I made it a point not to notice anything else.

The aggressive cop stopped right in front of me, grip on the gun in his holster tightening.

So, statements. Follow me.”

I followed while Leshawn singled out Becky. Might as well get this over with. There seemed a very real possibility I could get shot if I tried to wait for Officer Andrews. He stopped in front of a desk and plopped down with a rattle. I pulled up a chair and waited.

Alright, so what happened on the 27th?”

I looked. Technically it was now after midnight, so it was the 28th of October. Not even two hours ago. I looked at him, this cop; bored even now, and working very hard to convince himself that he hadn't seen what he had. Trying to rationalize with all that he was.

What's your name, officer?”

He colored, embarrassed. What use was embarrassment now?

Officer Tyran.”

No first name, he was trying to keep distance.

Well officer Tyran, this… I really can't talk about this yet…”

He scowled before I could continue and I raised a hand.

But I can write it out, and you can sign it as a witness. Will that work for you?”

He nodded and moved, waving me into the seat he vacated.

Use the computer instead, that way we can be sure it'll be legible.”

We switched chairs. He was still watching me like a hawk, but it was at least a minor improvement. Telling the story this way I could hold the tears in. Officer Tyran didn't ask questions, just watched in silence and then hit print when it was obvious I was done. I had honestly expected more questions, but maybe they had gotten enough from my earlier rambling? I didn't know, I wasn't all that together the first time. Or maybe officer Tyran just didn't care. I know in his place, I wouldn't care.

What could I say that was useful anyway? He already knew the important things.

I looked up and officer Leshawn was interviewing Mr. Radliff now with Becky silent and pensive at his side. Officer Andrews was nowhere to be seen, however, and I really wanted to know where he had gone. I pointed to the door he went through.

Officer Tyran. What is back that way?”

The old holding cells. There are some drunk tanks back there, and some old store rooms.”

But not enough to take a cop almost twenty minutes to tour.”

He looked at me, clearly startled.

You're right. I take it you want to come?”

I nodded and he shifted a gun into my reach. I pulled a flare instead, and he nodded, taking point. Becky watched us go, but the others seemed to be too busy acting normal.

The hallway was as small as officer Tyran suggested, and rather plain doors led off from either side; one on the right, and three on the left. Back here, away from the showroom of sorts that was the lobby, one could see traces of rot and neglect. The floor tiles, an ugly yellow linoleum, cracked and peeling. The paint, dirty and faded. Even the ceiling tiles looked about ready to fall. Budget cuts, I guess.

Officer Tyran opened the one door on the right first, bypassing the first door on the left. It led to three old holding cells bolted into a concrete floor. There was a desk off to one side, facing the cells, with an old wooden chair under it. It all looked old but serviceable and was empty.

We backtracked to the first door on the left. It led into the call routing office for the precinct. It was well soundproofed, which was why we hadn't heard officer Andrews valiantly fighting a losing battle between the phone and radio calls. He wasn't alone however.

She was tiny, barely five and half feet if that, blonde and petite and rather plain, the kind of person you could see getting lost in a shuffle of some sort. She was moving between phone and radio with a ruffled calm, a sense of panic underneath that never quite bled fully into her voice as she told people to hold while trying to call her colleagues for status updates.

Even with help it was clear she was swamped, and many of her fellow cops weren't answering.

Officer Andrews looked up and noticed we were there. He crooked a finger and we backed out.

Sally hasn't seen Sergeant Sims, who is supposed to be manning the desk, for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. Shortly after I left on to secure the crime scene the 911 service started getting inundated with calls, with the appropriate ones getting routed to us. Shorty after cops started calling in asking for back up.”

Sounded familiar, and I could see officer Tyran following along.

Soon after my call Lieutenant Brown made a command decision and started sending every available unit to the site of previous calls; he went to one of the locations himself. Sergeant Sims and Sally were left as the only presence in the building as a result. A few minutes before we arrived Sally called the front desk to ask for help with all this and there was no answer. I was going to investigate, but Sally needed my help here.”

There was something wrong in all that, but I couldn't pin down what it was. Officer Tyran seemed to have a better handle on it though.

What call did the lieutenant go on?”

The one he sent Jenkins to. He might have just arrived on location now; that's what Sally was expecting.”

Left unsaid of course was the elephant in the corner of the dispatch room. Namely, what all those calls and lack of responses from their fellow cops actually meant. I was no better; I didn't want to mention it either though I was surprised by the lack of people here. I would have thought those people like myself, who were in the know, would have spotted this place and descended like locusts on a wheat field.

Officer Tyran took charge.

Alright, well, you help Sally. Leshawn's got the front for now, and I'll go look for the Sarge.”

He looked at me and I nodded. As long as the lights stayed on, I had his back. I could do that much at least. Officer Andrews gave me a different look, then nodded himself.

Be careful.”

Then he disappeared back inside.

We went on to the next door, officer Tyran with shotgun in hand and half raised, and myself with a flashlight and a flare. Wouldn't it be funny to have survived the shadow things, and die to some random serial killer in a cop shop? The thought was dark, but not enough to make me let go of my chosen weapons; failing anything else I could use the flashlight as an improvised club, for at least a few swings anyway.

The next door opened into a yawning black hole and I stepped back despite myself. Officer Tyran wasted no time flicking the light switch with a frown. into a typical office records room, with boxes stacked on metal shelves and a very old computer set on a desk in the corner. It wasn't that big a room, you could tell at a glance that it was empty, though officer Tyran entered to make sure anyway.

That door should have been locked.”

Well that explained a little; like nothing at all.

Officer Tyran left the tiny room and closed the door. He left the light on. The next door I was ready, and my flashlight pierced the darkened gloom before officer Tyran found the light switch. This room was a typical office style broom closet. Brooms, mops, other cleaning supplies. One of those duster wands, which kind of surprised me. But no sergeant.

Alright, one last place to check.”

I thought that was all there was to this place? A strip mall sort of building, put up in a matter of hours, with nothing on either side. What more was there… oh.

Yeah, there is a small basement, where the generator and some backup stuff is stored. It's usually locked too, but the desk sergeant on duty has the keys. Those keys were not usually where he keeps them when we got in.”

Made sense.

It's well lit too, though, right?”

I did not like how pitiful my voice sounded, the pathetic note of pleading something I couldn't exorcise. He just nodded.

Yeah, it is. Mostly finished, but not entirely. Bare bulbs instead of fixtures, and some partitions. It was going to be a small lab, before the budget cuts.”

I didn't care about the budget cuts, but the noise was fine. Silence would have been intolerable. He led me back to the lobby. Officer Leshawn, Becky, and Mr. Radcliff were all still there, doing a whole lot of nothing.

Well that wasn't entirely true; they were staring through the glass door at the darkness outside. The power still wasn't on out there, and there still weren't any other people here. What was keeping them?

Andrews and Sally are fine, back in the dispatch office. Been a lot of calls tonight. Sarge is somewhere; going to check the basement.”

The trio stayed silent. Officer Tyran led the way to the third door out of the lobby, in the back. The staircase down would not have been out of place in a house, and the light switch was on the right side. It was up, and the lights down at the bottom were on.

Sarge?”

Just like in the hall, officer Tyran led the way and I readied my lights. It was a good thing I did, since after the light at the landing, the place was dark. I could hear a generator chugging merrily away off to my left, but couldn't see anything beyond the small patch of light. Officer Tyran bumped into me, recoiling from the pitch nothingness.

I popped a flare immediately.

Only after it was burning did I turn my flashlight on.

I panned it left and stepped out from behind him, my light immediately fell upon a body. I recognized it immediately as the cop who was at the desk my first time here. He was lying on his stomach and there was a small pond of blood on the floor. Directly above him was a broken light bulb in its socket; and I could see more of the same in every direction.

Shit! Sarge!”

Officer Tyran didn't even hesitate. I covered him with the light as he moved. The darkness seemed to give way, but only after an eternal moment. The generator was pristine. The sergeant was not. All it took was his fellow officer to roll him over to expose his ribcage and guts. The good officer let him roll back into place. I hoped it was the one from the store; I didn't like the alternative.

We need to figure out how it got in.”

He looked at me. I don't think he saw me.

Wake up! We need to figure out how it got in. I don't know why, but it didn't hurt the generator. But if it does, this whole building goes dark. We really don't want that to happen.”

I walked past him to check the gas. Doing that with an open flare in my hand probably wasn't the brightest idea, but it was better than tossing it on the floor and praying whoever filled the machine was careful.

The gauge said the generator was half full. I hoped that meant it had hours in it yet, and would last until morning, but I couldn't take the chance. There were four large gas cans stored down here on a shelf, and checking them revealed one empty, the rest sloshing full happily.

Mr. Radcliff, Becky! Come down here please.”

Best to do this calmly. We didn't have much time if it was just me and officer Tyran.

Why are you calling them?”

We need the flares they are carrying… just in case. Unless you have some.”

He shook his head.

Nah, we normally have some road flares in the cars but we don't store any here.”

Heads silhouetted the doorway at the top of the stairs.

Come down, we need your help.”

Mr. Radcliff sounded more scared than at the store as he answered.

With what?”

We need your flares down here; the lights are out.”

A few thunks and the flares rolled to a stop at officer Tyran's feet. We were both less than happy about that, but he was more vocal about it.

You bastard! What if it had gone off, and set the place on fire? Are you stupid?!?”

I just gathered the flare that came my way up as the head disappeared into the lobby again. Officer Tyran managed to find the other two. A stray thought had me yell up to them again.

We need light bulbs down here too! Check the supply closet please.”

Officer Tyran blinked. I probably should have just grabbed any light bulbs the first time I was there. Maybe I still would, if Mr. Radcliff didn't. I was pretty sure he had just ignored me.

Alright, so, I'm not a fan of splitting up. So let's do this the smart way. Which way is the door outside?”

There had to be a door that led to outside. I refused to think the shadow thing could make it's own.

It's this way.”

He led me to the left and through some bare unpainted walls. The door that led out was one of those cellar style doors that opened up at the end of a series of steps. Both doors were open wide and the night beyond was a shade that seemed even darker than what was in here. That didn't seem possible, and yet it did.

Of course, the flare chose that moment to burn itself out with a muted hiss. For a moment, a terrible moment, I just stared at it. It should have lasted at least 10 minutes longer than that. Was there a reaction? Had the darkness seen us, was it responding? Officer Tyran popped one of his and dropped it at our feet.

Snap out of it. We need to get the doors closed.”

Ugh, he was right. That moment of hesitation could have easily killed us both. I pulled a flare of my own and threw it outside.

Just in case, we are now covered both ways.”

He nodded and grabbed the right-hand door. I grabbed the left, and we pulled together. The slam was loud, but should it have been louder? Officer Tyran threw the bolt as soon as he could, and slammed the door with a fist, a casual and happy gesture.

Something else on the other side slammed back.

We both almost jumped out of the lighting. That would have been a critical mistake; I KNEW it. The pounding was not repeated, which made me feel more certain that the basement wasn't secure. Officer Tyran felt the same way; his look was clear. He now knew too.

No splitting up. That's dumb shit for actors in badly written movies.”

I couldn't agree more.

Same deal? I pick up the flare, you have your gun?”

He picked up the flare and gestured while pulling his pistol, keeping the shotgun slung.

How about we both use them? I don't feel like taking chances.”

While I didn't like the idea of using our flares so quickly, especially since they seemed defective, I couldn't deny the logic. We needed to know for sure. So I popped my third and we started off through the half made halls.

We got about half way there when the background noise of the generator stopped.

In hindsight, I really should have left a flare or a light on it. We started back immediately. The generator was no longer pristine. Instead it was missing the obviously placed carburetor it used to have. I only had to glance at officer Tyran to know how screwed we were. I looked around, but didn't see it; it wasn't smashed, just flat removed from what had been a working motor. I couldn't even begin to guess how; there were no tools lying around.

It didn't matter, anyway. Even if we found the part, we didn't have the tools to replace it either. Maybe in the cars… but we wouldn't make it to the cars. I was positive of that.

Are there emergency lights?”

Yeah, and they'll kick on in a minute, just not down here. Too dim to do us any good though.”

He was probably right; I had noted the little boxes above all the doorways on the way in; they were the kind with the red light bulbs so dim a full moon was brighter. Since the moon hadn't stopped anything that was going on tonight, those boxes probably wouldn't either. The only thing they would do would be to allow us to see what was coming for us.

And on that happy note, officer Tyran's flare stuttered.

No sooner had his eyes widened than it went out. He had the other out as I began to move, but it was too late.

He was taken by the shadows at his back.

The first screams began before he was even fully out of the light from my flare. I rushed in regardless, as the shots started. They were spastic, jerking shots that were aimed my direction rather than the danger. One plucked at my shirt as I ran in.

I didn't see the shadow thing that took him, that vanished with a hiss like an overloading boiler before the might of my flare. From the light cast, officer Tyran looked fine. Well except for the unseeing eyes and all the blood. I checked for a pulse on still warm skin, and did not find it; I didn't want to move him to see what his back looked like. His hand still clutched his last flare in a death grip; I was surprised he hadn't done more than bend it.

Hello down there! What happened?!?”

I carefully slid that flare free and lit it up. I couldn't trust them to last as long as they should, so I'd have to chain them, while I still had them. I looked up into the bright unsteady beams of flashlights, which gave me an idea.

I'm coming up! Leave those flashlights at the door, and shining this way!”

They didn't, of course, but they did keep them shining the right direction. I wasn't sure if the things had to physically travel, but trying to cut them off if they did seem better than just doing nothing. I made it halfway up the steps before my old flare fizzled; by my own headcount that was seven minutes earlier than it should have lasted. It was getting worse.

Two flares left, not counting the ones upstairs. At most ten minutes of an actual sphere of light, rather than being limited to beams. Mere beams of light were no good.

The faces over the wavering beams of light were pale, drawn, and wild-eyed. My own vision was ruined from all the different sources; I couldn't see beyond them. But I could feel it – the oppression in the darkness; it closed around us from all sides. There was no escaping it.

The generator is dead. Somehow the shadows got in and got it.”

None of them wanted to ask the inevitable, but Becky apparently felt compelled.

The other policeman?”

I just shook my head as I shouldered past, taking my flashlights out.

Shut the door.”

They shut it and I turned my flashlights on, wedging them in between two books on a desk in front of the now shut door, making sure they would stay put. They weren't police lights, so if the battery draining thing was really a side effect of what was going on and not just my own madness, we had maybe fifteen minutes before whatever these things were could walk through that door again. The light! He should have taken officer Tyran's flashlight. Well, he wasn't going back for it.

The emergency lights had kicked on, and they were every bit as crappy as promised. Officer Andrews and Sally pulled into view as I finished while Becky was still wringing her hands. Officer Andrews had used one of his flares to light the way… I wondered what took him so long to appear? The dispatch office wasn't that far away, and the generator had been out for at least three minutes by now. Mr Radcliff walked off rapidly, light bouncing wildly and careening off things with muttered curses.

What had I missed in my time down below?

Officer Andrews, we need more lights. And car keys if you have them. It's not going to be safe here anymore.”

The good officer noted in an instant who was missing. I crooked my head at the basement door and he nodded.

Well the only patrol car left is officer Tyrans, so I can't do much there.”

Idiot! You should have remembered the keys! I truly was a moron.

I have a car. Or rather, a full-size pick-up truck. A ford extended cab.”

Sally jingled keys in front of us, her face stark and wan over her darkened uniform in the dim lighting. I could kiss her. We wouldn't even have to worry about room.

Excellent! Let's go. Now.”

But… we can't just….”

I'd forgotten. Sally knew, but she didn't KNOW. We didn't have time to handle this, my flare was down to perhaps two minutes. Officer Andrews stepped up.

We have to. Even if you don't believe what's going on, what your fellow policemen were telling you, it's still just you and me and a bunch of untrained civilians in the dark against a murderer or bunch of murderers who followed us. Without communication we are going to have to travel to backup, not have backup travel to us. How did Tyran die?”

I knew what he was really asking.

He never even saw what hit him. I didn't either. One moment he was there, the next he was just gone.”

I didn't think I needed to mention the screams; they had likely heard them, after all. Sally didn't really seem to need much convincing; she headed right for the door. Officer Andrews had to work to beat her to it, shotgun out. Mr. Radliff came back just in time to see us heading out and dropped the rope he'd gathered.

What was that for?”

He kicked it aside on his way to meet us.

To tie the door shut since it didn't lock.”

Pick it up. Good rope is always useful.”

Failing anything else, we could burn it for more light. He looked at me, annoyed, but did it.

One minute before I could no longer trust my flare. Becky still had hers, and officer Andrews had his, but this was bad. Beyond merely bad in fact. The moment he unlocked the door officer Andrews popped a flare; I sighed, grateful. I had already resolved to pop my own, but maybe now I didn't need to.

When Becky lit off one of hers, I knew I didn't. I wanted to jump down her throat over it, but she was scared and it meant I could save mine. The parking lot still had it's same vehicles - one was the patrol car we had come in, the other was an older model mustang, which meant the lone truck was Sally's. It was a nice one, brand new. My flare chose this time to die, right on schedule so to speak, and I readied another one.

As we hit the doors I realized something.

Where is officer Leshawn?”

No one even looked around for him; Officer Andrews was the only one that would look me in the eye. Huh; I wonder how...?

No. there was no time or point to asking that question. It didn't matter what had happened; what mattered is he was no longer here to help or worry about. The dark was too oppressive to worry about anything else right now.

And of course, because things had been going so well on our little trip, everything had to go to hell in an instant.

Sally was unlocking her driver's side door with officer Andrews right next to her, still holding onto the flare he'd popped when she was pulled under it. The screams began immediately, but no sooner had I popped a flare – my last – and hit the concrete than they stopped.

Two. She had managed two screams.

My eyes met those of officer Andrews on the other side; the writhing darkness between us flitting between us, hiding evidence of its carnage in turns and yowling like a cat with a freshly stomped tail. It was enough for me to focus on the single most important thing – the broken key still grasped in what was left of Sally's right hand.

Well we weren't getting out that way.

I turned back in time to see Mr. Radcliff and Becky… running hand in hand. With two flares between them. I wished them luck.

It was their right to try, but I didn't give them good odds.

I turned and officer Andrews was drawing his pistol; the darkness now felt like a weight settling with heavy chain around us. A crushing, hurtful weight that drove me down with every breath I took.

So, what's the plan?”

We go back inside, make torches from the rags and turpentine in the supply closet, and….”

The water came from everywhere at once, a complete torrent that knocked me from my feet and doused my flare. I stood there dumbly for a moment, before the arms of pure black wound their way around me in a delicate, sensual embrace.

I stared back at officer Andrews as he stared at me; beyond him I could see the things, the shadows, circling just beyond the painful light.

I thought you… you said you didn't do this! You…!”

His face hardened and he raised his gun. Then the water hit him, snuffing his flare.

He got one scream. His hot blood sprayed me as he went down.

The shadow turned me around, embracing me.

Lover.” it whispered.

I got one scream too.

 

Dueling Banjos

It was always scary to drive at night, away from a city. There was no two ways about it. Once you left the comforting lights spaced every block, the neon signs and permanently lit buildings made of steel and glass, and you only had the reflectors and paint to mark the roads....

Once that happened, driving was an entirely new experience.

During the day, it was no problem; the sun burned away the shadows and made the ribbon carved into and on top of the land an easy thing to follow. But with the sun down, the shadows claimed that ribbon first of all things and you were left picking out terrain first.

Road signs could only do so much, at night on mountain passes like the one I was heading to. That is why tales of ghosts and assorted spooks sprang up along them all; every road had their story, and some had more than one.

A case in point, this one. The very pass that twisted and turned more than a snake with epilepsy. A road even a fully skilled racer found difficult on the best of days. It had a reputation as a full widow maker, and during fall and winter when the pass became slick with rain and snow, rare was the day that someone didn't plow their car into a guardrail or even beyond one, only to be found far below, their condition a more twisted mess than their cars.

Yes, even this pass had a ghost story, but it wasn't the one you'd expect.

Picture this: a dark and stormy night, with a new moon, so darker than usual. Right at the end of the city, where the last lights are and the final stoplight before the mountain pass flickers its lonely cadence, a woman stands. She is beautiful, yet ragged, small and perfectly formed yet outfitted only in a nightgown, a small suitcase her sole embellishment. Her head hangs down, and her long black hair covers her like a cloak, giving only tantalizing glances of the face and eyes screened within.

Her thumb is out.

Her nightgown is dirty and slightly torn especially at the bottom, and she isn't wearing any shoes. Of course your heart goes out to this stranger, for why wouldn't it? It is as obvious as the rain itself that she doesn't want to be here like this, in the rain and the cold, any more than you do.

So you stop, open up your car door, and let her in. That's the start of course, and the middle varies from teller to teller. But the end is always "and they were never seen again." or "Their car was discovered wrecked and abandoned, but they were never found."

So when I saw such a woman, lithe and battered and standing there in the rain right at midnight, a suitcase by her side and hair a tangled mess around her face, under the streetlight itself as if bathing in the reddish glow, I popped the door locks as I rolled to a stop.

I didn't believe in those old ghost tales, after all, and even if I couldn't get lucky for the night, I could do my good deed for the day.

I pulled to a stop and waited. The light stayed red for a long moment, perhaps a full minute.

Scratches at the door, not hard enough to take paint, just hard enough to make them heard above the noise. I rolled the window down, noting one spidery looking hand slid across the glass.

It had a ring, that hand. A wedding ring, unless I missed my guess.

"It's open. Come on, you want to get out of the rain, don't you?"

The door opened, slowly. The car shifted as her weight settled on the seat, throwing herself in. I blinked: that had been fast. The door swung shut, just hard enough for the light to go off. Nevertheless she was in, her suitcase clutched between her arms, staring ahead and seeing nothing.

I'd be remiss if I didn't ask, somewhere less than the pure gentleman I was. "So, where are you headed?"

She didn't turn my way. Didn't even look at me.

The light turned green. Even with no one around, I felt the urge to move, to get out of the way. "Right, I'm just going to drive around a bit, okay? You tell me where you want to go when you're ready."

A shaking hand raised itself, even as her head stayed bowed. It pointed toward the road I was already intending to take and the daunting mountain pass beyond.

"Funny, that's the way I was going too."

The woman said nothing.

I checked the street again and started off. I was no scaredy-cat; I was ready to face my fears. Any fear I had, driving included. Soon we were racing along, and the only thing that would have made this better was being able to let the top down and feel the air slap me in the face.

The woman was shivering. It was getting a bit cold in here; I turned the heater on and cranked it up.

We were making good time, but it wasn't my best time; not at night. If I was going to be the best for Mount Touge and spread my name far and wide, I had to push my limits. I'd be doing that tonight, even with some strange lady in the car. Maybe she would bring me luck.

Music might help me focus. I tried the radio, and of course it was nothing but static. Must be the storm combining with the mountain itself; it happened often enough.

I felt a back wheel give, just a little, failing to find purchase in the rain. The car followed, sliding out just a little too far. I managed to turn the wheel just in time to make those catch and save us from the guardrail.

Right, so no radio after all then, I couldn't afford the distraction. I snapped the static off and risked a glance at my erstwhile passenger; she was still lost in her own world and still facing forward. For all I knew, she might even be enjoying the ride, in her own way.

Her head moved as mine turned back, looking away from me, to the back seat.

There was nothing at all back there, of course. I didn't ever keep dead weight in my ride when I was going for times.

Women were different of course, even shivering, dripping ones that wouldn't look at me. She'd come around, I was sure. I wasn't exactly an actor, but I looked good enough. Combine that with the savior thing I was working, and she'd come around.

The ring didn't matter; this was a breakup, it had to be. No husband would let his wife wander rainy nights with a suitcase like that, with no shoes. This had an angry argument and a toss out written all over it.

I wondered if she had anywhere to go. Now wasn't the time to ask of course, that would be after the regret for tonight kicked in.

Or after she began talking to me.

She was at least looking around now, taking in the car.

I had to focus now, turn four was a real bear on the way up. It was even worse on the way down, but with the leaves falling and everything wet, I had to slow down here. I didn't like that.

I had half a mind to stop, get out, and rake the leaves myself, but if I tried that I was sure I'd be hit by somebody not paying any attention at all. There wasn't much traffic around here at night aside from us, but there was always that one driver you never expected.

In the daytime it was worse - there were cars everywhere, and hikers.

The next few turns up, I drifted a little; there wasn't much danger on these, not on the way up, I could clear a little water, and it was always good to warm up a bit. My new passenger didn't say anything. Would I have to resort to scaring her?

Hm, if so, there might be an opportunity coming up; I could see lights behind me, in the distance. Someone was starting up.

Still, it was best to try things the soft way, first. "So, where are you headed, exactly?"

The woman stayed silent.

The car below us gained ground; someone was really putting that engine down there through its paces. A fellow racer?

"Come on, give me a hint will you? I don't want to drive past wherever it is."

The woman turned slowly to me, and her hair parted a bit. Enough to reveal a beyond pale, bloodless face. She croaked out a single word from a throat that had to be sore, her very voice cracked and bleeding.

"Home."

Huh. I could deal with that. It wouldn't be my first choice, but it was something. Hopefully it wasn't taking her back to whatever situation she just left; I'd heard that was a thing some women did, and it never ended well. Just because her face was white as a sheet didn't mean I couldn't see the red mark of the fist that got her. she'd have one hell of a bruise later.

That car was gaining fast: the uphill didn't really matter, but someone was driving as if it did. Let's see if they did the thing.

Next turn up I took a bit more aggressively, sliding into place like I was born to do; I had a bit of leeway as long as no cars were coming down the mountain, I could attack the corners like this.

The car behind kept coming though; the lights growing in my rear view. More power on the uphill than me, maybe. Not that I'd admit that without a fight.

It was just two gentle curves later that the car caught up, and flashed its lights twice. Then it passed us, the car laboring under higher gear than any good owner would likely put it through.

Right, a fellow racer then. Too bad for him my car was tuned for these roads, uphill included. I put my foot on the floor and prepped my gear change. With the ease of long practice, I shifted up on time. A little time lost simply because it was uphill, but the tires found purchase again in an instant, and the race was on.

That was what it meant to be a street racer; if you were challenged, you must race. Rain or shine, dry or snow, no matter the weather or road condition. A matter of honor and integrity, hard to find in the modern world.

I started gaining. The car he had was good, nice and powerful and with good anti-lock brakes. It was also heavier than my car and struggling on the way up. My car was older, but had better handling and all the excess weight shaved off the body. I'd even have the seats removed, one day, leaving pick-ups like the one tonight a thing of the past.

The woman said nothing, despite being whipped around a little, here and there. It was as if she was asleep or something.

Her hair moved at least, giving me a better idea of what she looked like. Cleaned up, out of the cold, her face made good on the promise her body offered. But her eyes... her eyes were dead.

Perhaps the cops would be a better alternative than her home? Someone like this, looking like that... there was a better than zero chance things wouldn't end well.

There, a flash of light from the top. A car was coming down, as we were going up. I knew where it was from the glimpse, and I could use that.

I added just a touch more speed, just enough to really pressure the other driver, but not enough to make a move just yet. The road was getting worse the farther up we went, as it always did. I'd have to time this perfectly.

The moment came and I made my move; Lower the gear again, the clutch could handle it. More power, and pass, even though that left us precious little time to nail the next corner.

I pulled it off, of course, but the car I'd just passed? They tried to maintain, to keep me on the outside, only to realize too late there was another car coming.

The other driver would have been safe... but for panic. The car coming down saw us and swerved a little, which caused the other racer to swerve a little in response, and.... I didn't see what happened, but I heard it.

Someone went through the guardrail, and over the side. The series of thuds marked by bending steel and breaking glass could only mean one thing up here, and how the sound moved and faded told me someone went down the mountain.

No lights followed me up, even as far as the corner, so it had to be the racer. Good. Fuck him, he should have been paying more attention. That's what his dumb ass got for passing me anyway.

No one passed me here. No one. I was on my way to the top, both figuratively and literally, and no one would stop me.

The woman was looking at me. Really looking at me, this time, with those dead eyes.

"Hello there. Ready to tell me your name?"

For a time I thought she would go back to ignoring me; she certainly broke eye contact readily enough. Then her voice sounded again, just over the rain and with the same strain as before. "Emily."

Emily, huh? Something about that name twigged a memory, but it was gone just as fast. "That's a pretty name. It's nice to meet you, Emily."

Of course, she said nothing; her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

That was okay, it was clear now she was warming up to me.

A few more corners and we would make it to the top, or the top of the road at any rate. Once there we could stop at the vista slash rest stop placed there for the tourists.

There was a heated building there, and vending machines. Maybe she was hungry, and it was clear my car's heater just wasn't cutting it.

Some light in my side mirror drew my eye; there was a streak of merrily burning fire down the side of the mountain. Another one for the graveyard.

The graveyard was another place that brought the tourists, and a bit of a tradition in these parts.

It was a graveyard, an old piece of hallowed ground at the top, just before the rest area. The church attached had been torn down long ago to make room for the rest area, in fact, yet people still got buried in the graveyard.

People who died on the mountain, more to the point. Lost hikers, suicides... street racers who lose control. Anyone who died on the mountain stayed on the mountain, it was said. Said for as long as I can remember, anyway.

Like every racer, I'd been up there a time or two, just walking among the graves. It was old, it wasn't very clean, and most of the times you couldn't even read the names etched on the old stone, even when you pulled away the rampant weeds.

The younger graves, well for some of them I didn't need to read the names. An entire section was called "racer alley" for a reason, after all. How they managed to keep zoning was beyond me, the place shouldn't have been used at all after the church was shut down. Tonight's racer will likely be interred here too.

A little spin, and we were finally up; right at the top. There was a phone up here too, a landline where cell service was spotty. I could call the police and direct them to the scene of the crash - if I wanted to.

The time was under ten minutes. Not bad, but I'd be much faster on the downhill. I'd fly on the downhill!

The graveyard came up on the right... and Emily glued her eyes to it. That was odd.

Slowing down proved worth it, as she pressed her hands against the window glass, her face almost rubbing the clear surface as the graves rolled by. She seemed to be fixed on a specific place there.

That was... what was that? Something weird was going on here.

Now I was curious. I rolled to a stop at the gate.

Emily... on one of my recent jaunts through the graves, on a distant sunny day, hadn't I seen an Emily among the headstones? In fact it would be right around where she was looking, wouldn't it?

Her head began to turn with a creak more suited to an old door than a neck. There was no breath frosting the glass behind her.

The head continued to come around, her face rising, her eyes meeting mine. The rest of her body hadn't moved at all.

"Home," she said clearly, and with a crack-snap, she lunged, her hands formed into claws.

Silly girl. Poor, silly, stupid girl. I grinned and met her hands with mine.

Picture a boy, a street racer. Someone who desired to be the best above all else, who obsessed over it. He gets his chance, and does it, passing his rival... only to crash on the downhill. What regrets would linger in such a soul?

Picture the boy driving as he used to, as he wanted. But all those FOOLS didn't know who he was, didn't care that he was the best? Picture all those other racers joining him at the top of the hill for all time, and all because they didn't realize who they were passing.

NO ONE passed me. No one.

She was surprised by my strength, but I knew now. She was older, with just as much rage as before, but it wasn't as focused. It wouldn't be enough. How many times had we met like this before? I couldn't be sure: some things worked differently here.

She struggled, pressing closer. Surprising.

I let the car go, my pride and joy, and we were standing on the street. "Come on, let's go."

Her suitcase was gone, but it didn't matter. They were just props, in the end.

She was still confused, but went willingly enough; we walked into the graveyard together.