Dr. Creepen's Dungeon

S4 Ep183: Episode 183: Alternative Timeline Horror Stories

‘We are intrigued by the possibility of alternate realities because they allow us to explore "what if" scenarios, offering a way to imagine different versions of our lives or the world. This taps into our curiosity about fate, free will, and the consequences of choices. Alternate realities also provide a form of escapism, where we can dream of better outcomes or exciting new worlds. Additionally, the idea challenges our understanding of reality itself, sparking philosophical and scientific exploration into the nature of existence…’

Duration:: 2h 30m
Broadcast on:: 06 Sep 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

Owning a rental property sounds like a dream until you realize how much work goes into getting it ready. Determine a competitive rent price, market the property, schedule the showing screen, tenants drop at the lease at a rent collection, handle maintenance request, maintenance application. Whew! Sound complicated? Renters' warehouse is here to take the hard work off your rental to-do list. Qualify tenants, check. Rent collection, check. Maintenance coordination, you got it. Go to runnerswarehouse.com for a free rental analysis to find out how much your home can rent for. Or call 303-974-9444, because from now on, the only thing you need on your to-do list is to call runnerswarehouse. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. We're intrigued by the possibility of alternate realities because they allow us to explore "what-if" scenarios. I've rung away to imagine different versions of our lives or the world. This taps into our curiosity about fate, free will and the consequences of choices. Alternate realities also provide a form of escapism, where we can dream of better outcomes or exciting new worlds. Additionally, the idea challenges our understanding of reality itself, sparking philosophical and scientific exploration into the nature of existence. As we shall see in tonight's three intriguing tales, however, before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language as one of the descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. Blobster. Amber was admiring the sunset as she walked along the beach. It was her nightly routine, though, waiting to clear her mind from the events of the day. She was always an active person, so we'd upset her that she'd have to take a job behind a desk. Not only that, but looking at her computer screen for hours made her eyes tight. It's where she could hardly stay awake on the drive home that she realized she needed to do something else. If she'd known that being a marine biologist would mean sitting behind a desk so much, she would have chosen a different career path. She was almost to her turnaround point, an old wharf that had been mostly reclaimed by the waves when she saw something lying on the sand. At first she thought it was a huge pile of trash, but as she got closer she could tell it was some kind of organic matter. This caused her to jog over to it, fearing that her baby whale had washed ashore. When she got to it, she saw it clearly wasn't a baby whale, or anything she'd ever seen before. The thing was a huge mass of flesh, over 20 feet long, thick black brown skin encased it like an armour. There was no discernible difference from its body or head. It was just a large barrel shaped blob of meat and tissue. It was definitely organic though, and Amber had no doubt about that. Her heart started to beat like a drum, and she got close enough to touch it. This could be a perfect find, a find that could propel her career. With only being on the workforce for three months, she'd really be making a name for itself. Her reaction was to call Rowell, tell him what she'd found and go from there. "Hey!" Rowell asked. Finally decided that going out to dinner with me would be a good idea. The smile broke across Amber's lips, and she liked Rowell. He was a good looking man that could make her laugh easily, but for some reason she'd always brushed off his office to take her out. She always told herself that it was because she was only playing with her, but she knew that wasn't true. The truth was that she enjoyed playing with men, and she always had. "No," she said, chuckling. "I think you should come over here, though. I have something I want to show you." "Whoa, you're inviting me to your house already, but won't let me take you on a date." "I mean, that's a first. I mean, I'm fine with it, if that's what you want to do." "Oh, it's not like that. You don't have a chance." She chuckled again to ensure he knew it was all in good fun. "Well, I found something on the beach, and I don't know what it is. I was hoping that maybe you could help me identify it." "Is it treasure?" "I've always wanted to find treasure on the beach, but those damn pirates never hit their treasure where it's easy to find." "No, it's not treasure. At least, not the kind you're thinking of. It's some kind of animal that washed ashore. I don't know what it is or how to deal with it, and for all I know, it could be a new species." "Really?" "Nice. I'm on the way." And with that, they got off the phone. Amber was thinking about how nice Raul had been to her since she started working at the aquarium. He was her senior, but he never made her board or put too much stress on her. In fact, everyone in the Aquatic Health Department had a good disposition, and Amber thought it was because of Raul. He'd always treated his co-work as well, but he always favored the opposite sex. Of the six females that worked with him, at the same pay grade or below at least, Amber was the only one he hadn't slept with. In his mind, she would succumb to his charm before the end of the quarter, so when she'd called him over to the house, he figured she'd give it up. While the time he arrived, the sun had completely faded into the sea, so at first he only saw the shadow of a massive thing, next to the shadow of a person. With their phones, they were able to examine the creature on the beach a little before Raul gave it a name. "This is a blobster," he said. "I've never seen one before, but I've heard about them. They're normally just the carcass of a whale that washes ashore, although this one is rather large and doesn't smell like it's decomposing. I'm going to call some other people and we'll get this back to our lab. Looks like you and I are going to be doing something other than looking at bacteria tomorrow." He flashed her a quick smile and then walked off to make his call. In minutes he was back with her, standing next to the body. I called Johnny, Rachel, and Dennis to come help us move this thing. Knowing them, they'll show up with a group of people each and a couple of kegs, so it's fine if you come in late tomorrow. He gave her a wink and she smiled. Raul then went back to the blobster and examined it with a flashlight on his phone. "Hmm, this is kind of strange though," he said as he rubbed his hand across it. Whale skin is thick, it has to be, but this feels more like an exoskeleton than the skin of a whale. See how the skin is rough and rigid, even with the barnacles or whale skin isn't like that. They waited for an hour before the first of their co-workers, Rachel, showed up. She gave her all a hug and for a brief moment, and we thought she gave her a look of disdain before hugging her as well. She called back to the bank she climbed over and another three people came walking over the hill. Two of them were carrying coolers, and the other had flashlights. "So, this is the carcass that washed up," Rachel said, pointing the beam of a flashlight on it. "Sure is," Amber replied. "You want to see it up close?" "Honey, I'm going to be helping you move this thing. I'll have plenty of time to get up close and look at it." She changed her attention to Raul once more. "So, who else is coming?" Raul reached into one of the coolers and pulled out a bit. "Johnny and Dennis." "Oh, great," Rachel said. "Every time Johnny comes around, he drinks all my bit. Not only that, he brings shitty hoes I won't drink, so he doesn't have to share with me." Johnny and Dennis arrived shortly after, and as Raul predicted, each had brought a care with them. But only did they bring more beer, which was a relief to Rachel, because she didn't have enough for everyone, but they also brought five friends with them, bringing their total to 18 people to move the Blobster. Johnny was carrying a huge canvas top, which he threw on the ground when he got to the party, waiting by the Blobster. "Yeah, what's up, guys?" he said, giving everyone a hug. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you guys again tonight. Just thought it was going to be these guys." He spun around to point at the people that had come with him, his dreadlocks whipping around with his hands. Raul told them the same thing about being on time in the morning. Then Johnny and Dennis started laying out the top so the group could push the carcass onto it. They'd heard it work before, so he figured it was worth a shot. "Wow," they said, as he tried to gauge the Blobster's mass. "Do you really think we're going to be able to move this thing by ourselves?" "Should be," Raul said. Amber finished her first beer and was feeling ready for this. But before they got started, they all decided that another beer would be best. That turned into two, which turned into five. "Ugh," Rachel said. "This thing is disgusting. I should have brought some gloves. I'm going to be cleaning this slime off my hands for a week." First, they tried to move all of the remains onto the top at once. Everyone was spaced so they could have the entire thing being pushed at once. But after the first few tries of that, they decided it would be easier to try and move it by house. The water was lapping at their sneakers, which caused Rachel to complain about that, too. "Damn it," she said. "These sneakers are new. I'm going to have to wash them and shoes never feel the same after they're washed. We've been pushing this thing for at least half an hour now. Have we made any progress?" "No." Still, a massive carcass sitting in the exact same place. You guys may be enjoying this, but I'm certainly not. Amber rolled her eyes when Rachel started talking. She only walked away to the keg, making it look like he was going to refill his cup, even though he still hadn't drained it since the last time he'd felt it. Dennis was the only one who spoke up. "Listen," he said. "I understand you don't like doing this. Well, I don't like doing this, but something needs to be done. If we don't remove this carcass now, then it'll still be here rotting in the morning. It'll be a feasting ground for all sorts of lovely parasites and scavengers. And I, for one, don't want to come back tomorrow and try to move this thing when it really starts to stink. Because you know who they're going to call, don't you? Us." Rachel stopped complaining so much after that, but she started drinking twice as much. Took them a couple of hours to get the first half of the gigantic body onto the top. Between people falling down, the breaks they took, and the size of the creature, everyone was happy with their progress. "Ah, this thing's pretty impressive," Dennis said, looking at the massive body. "I mean, the carcass seems to be fully intact. Most of the blobsters I've seen are either just a large piece of flesh that came from a whale, or nothing more than bones. But this, this is wholly intact. The only damage it seems to have taken is that one bit down the center." He was referring to a long scar that ran from one side of the carcass to the other. It was wide, but compared to the girth of a thing, it didn't seem so big. Dennis turned to rabble and sense. "You know, I don't think this is a whale at all. I think we've just discovered a new species, like a giant armored sea slug or something." The two men looked at the blobster and thought about it for a moment. After a long, drinking break, they decided it was time to move the other half of the carcass onto the top. Everyone was pushing as hard as they could, somewhere laughing as they tried in vain to gain purchase in the sand. But once it got moving, it didn't seem to be as hard. But sadly, they only got it halfway onto the top before they needed a break. "I'll take back what I said," Dennis said between heavy breaths. "It's not so impressive, it's just a bitch." When everyone had sobered up a little, Raul told them to hold off the drinking until they'd finished the job, and caught their breath. They started to push again. It seemed to be going easier this time, until the thing moved. Everyone jumped back from it, fearing the huge massive meat would fall on them. "What the hell was that?" Johnny yelled. "Oh, I just started rolling back," Raul answered. "We were lucky it didn't come back too far." "No, man. I didn't feel like it was rolling. It felt like it came from inside. It felt like that thing took a breath." "Oh, don't be ridiculous," Raul said. "This thing's dead. Couldn't have taken a breath. Not to mention it lived in the sea. It hasn't been able to breathe for hours. You know that just as well as any of us." "I also know that whales and mammals have breathed air," Johnny rebutted. "This is some kind of mammal. It's possible it could still be alive. Which would mean this is not the remains of any whale, but something new." "It could have come from the inside of this thing," Raul said. "If the bacteria inside had started to decompose the carcass, it had to make gas bubbles, which could cause it to look and feel like it's breathing. Oh, there could even be some parasite or scavenger feasting inside of it. Maybe it just repositioned itself." Johnny looked around the group. It appeared that only a few of them accepted the notion that it wasn't a breath, but bacteria or a parasite. The looks on some of their faces were of confusion and fear, which would hopefully provide enough force to move the last bit of this carcass under the top. After an hour or so, the entire body was on the canvas. "Dennis, why don't you call a tow truck and get this thing to the lab?" Raul said. "I'm going to walk Amber to our house and head over to the lab. We'll meet you there." Rachael looked appalled for the briefest of moments. She hoped that Raul didn't notice, which she didn't, but Amber did. Amber knew what Rachael was thinking that Raul was going to try and score with her, and how Amber was feeling he wouldn't have had to try too hard. The walk home didn't take as long as she thought it would take. By the time they'd finished their beers, they'd arrive to Amber's house. Rachael had a right to feel that Raul was going to try and get into her pants. He was talking smoothly to her the entire walk home, and by the time they reached the house, she was inviting him in. Well, if Amber was asked what happened, they made love, and it was great. It wasn't too gentle, but not rough, either. And if Raul was asked, he would say he got something. He'd had better, and he'd had worse. He wasn't sure if it was going to be a one-night stand or not. He hadn't made up his mind. She wasn't bad enough to make him not want to do it again, but he also didn't want to be tied down. There were always more fish in the sea. By the time they were passing where the blobster had washed up, they saw the tow truck arriving. Its yellow lights flooded the dark streets. Luckily no one was near the street, and Amber didn't want anyone to know that they were only leaving now. The truck arrived at the aquarium 20 minutes after them. That gave them enough time to get a large gurney to transfer the blobster onto and have the doors open for easy transportation. They were keeping him one of the freezers, the same ones they used to preserve the whales for study. With the help of the driver, they were able to roll the thing onto the gurney from the flat bed in an hour and a half. The driver was by far the biggest of the bunch, so everyone was thankful he was willing to help out. Ralph gave him a 50 as a tip, and thanked him again for helping before he drove back out into the night. Everyone helped push the gurney up the ramp and into the freezer. Even though the gurney had wheels, it was still a little boreous task. It took almost all the energy everyone had left just to get it up the ramp, but by three in the morning, the gurney and the blobster were safely locked in the largest freezer in the lab. Ralph stayed behind, bidding everyone a good night as they laughed. There was no way anyone was going to be making it in before noon the next day, so he didn't feel the need to rush. Not to mention, he also had to take Amber back to her house, and maybe if he played his card right, he'd be spending the night with her. There was some paperwork that needed to be filled out, which he got halfway through and decided it was a job for the next day. He also checked to ensure the temperature in the freezer was a stable level. Seeing the lab was low on liquid nitrogen, he put an order in for some more canisters. Dennis arrived at the lab at around 3.30. Everyone else was either still sleeping or far too hung over to even start to make their way to the lab. Dennis didn't really feel like being there either, and when he noticed that he was the only person who'd showed up, he contemplated leaving. He decided that it was best to stay there. As he walked through the lab, he was thinking about whether or not he should have just stayed at home. Seeing that he was the first one there, he thought that none of his co-workers would be coming in, so he'd stay for an hour or so and then leave if no one else arrived. His mind drifted back to the Blobster. Maybe he would stay longer and do some tests, get some samples. That thing was just too damn interesting to be ignored. So the first place he went to was the cooler to get the Blobster into the lab where he could start working on it. But when he opened the door, his heart sank to his shoes. The Blobster was missing. The canvas top was still in the gurney, but the creature it held was gone. It was far too big for someone to just carry it out of there. But why would they have left the gurney in top? Something was wrong. Then his spun on his heels, pulling his phone from his pockets. He needed to talk to Rowell about this. He'd have some idea of what to do. As soon as he started searching his recent calls, a voice sounded in his head. It wasn't a voice he'd ever heard before, nor his conscience, or his own. It was soft and calming. Then his looked around the room to see if he could identify where the voice was coming from, but there was no one in the cooler with him. In fact, he looked around the lab, but it was empty. "You don't need to call them," the voice said. Despite feeling the urgency of the situation, Dennis put his phone back into his pocket. "Let's go. Why don't you come back into the freezer? That's a good man." Dennis was standing in the center of the freezer when he noticed the Blobster. At first he didn't know what it was, or if the thing was even real. It was massive, but it didn't let the bowel-shaped mass they'd move last night. At seeing the thing stuck to the wall and ceiling, Dennis regained control of his body. The first thing he did was move towards the back of the cooler, and the Blobster was near the door. Dennis tried to clear his mind, but the voice was still impinging. "You shouldn't think like that. I just want you to help me. You've seen me and it frightens you, but you've frightened me just as much. Can I trust you to help me?" Dennis couldn't believe what was happening. The Blobster seemed to have changed its shape, and was clinging to the wall, sending thoughts to him even though his massive moor wasn't moving. 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The forests wouldn't be destroyed in the earth, wouldn't be unfit to sustain life as it once was. Humankind has been a blight on the world. I need you to help me cure that. The blobs started to move. Its wide, wing-shaped arms slowly started to peel from the wall. Dennis knew there wasn't any time to delay and ran for the door. He made it three steps out of the freezer when a sharp pain shot through his body, so strong that it paralyzed him. The pain caused him to become as stiff as a bald. He looked down but couldn't see anything. His hands broke behind him and felt a hard, slimy tube going into his back. A few seconds later, that same tube ripped through his chest. In his last few seconds of life, as the tube was pulled out with enough force to spin him around before he fell, Dennis' eyes caught the thing that had stabbed him in the back. It was the blobs' tail. As Dennis was dying, Rao was putting some pants on and walking to Amber's kitchen. Amber was at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs, and she looked beautiful. He walked up behind her and kissed her on the nape of her neck, and as he did, she nuzzled up to him and they stood there for a moment. He was feeling something more for this woman. Something he hadn't felt before. They ate their breakfast, got cleaned and ready for the day, and Rao started to call his underlings to tell them it was now time to head over to the lab. Everyone answered but Dennis. Rao thought that was strange. He was the person that he thought would be the easiest to get a hold of. He tried calling again while they were driving to the lab, but still he had only gone to voicemail. "Ah, looks like Dennis isn't going to be coming in today," he told Amber. Past is probably too hungover to answer his phone. Johnny was getting out of his car when Amber and Rao pulled in. "I didn't expect you to get here for at least another hour," Rao said as he stepped out of his car. "Man, I've had a lot of crazy nights in the past. That's just another one to add to the list. Besides, I want to take a look at that thing with a clear head into some good lighting. What Dennis said last night got me thinking. Maybe it's not a wait." As the three of them were walking into the lab, Rachel pulled in. They stopped and waited for her to get to the door. "Okay," Rao said as they all stood before the door. "We all know what our focus is going to be on today, so let's not get too carried away. We'll all still leave at the same time. Try to preserve some of the specimen. If it turns out to be something besides a whale, I'd like to keep it intact so we can identify it. It'd be great if we found a new species, so let's keep our fingers crossed." And after his little speech, he opened the door. The stainless steel shone in the fluorescent lighting. "Rowel, frown!" "Hey, I turned these lights off last night, didn't I?" He asked Amber. She nodded her head as she looked around the room, noticing the tanks of nitrogen and pointing them out. "That's probably the people who brought in the nitro." The smile broke across Raoel's lips as he realized she was most likely right. But that thought flared when he saw the freezer was open. "Who the fuck came in here?" He said as he ran towards the door. "I have someone took our specimen I'm gonna." He couldn't finish his sentence when he looked into the freezer. Dennis's lifeless body lay in the middle of it. A trail of blood smeared on the floor, showing where he was dragged. "Amber, call the cops," Raoel said, without taking his eyes off the body. When the rest of the crew heard this, they ran over towards him. Amber was the first, and she gagged and then started crying. Johnny and Rachel were right behind her. Johnny looked at the carnage and couldn't take his eyes from it. Rachel saw the blood stain and didn't want to see anymore, so she walked with Amber to the phone. " Raoel, we need to make sure that whoever did this isn't still in the lab," Johnny said. "If they are, we could all be in danger." Raoel nodded but didn't move. His eyes drifted from the lifeless body of Dennis to the empty gurney which had held the blobster. He could feel the heat rising his cheeks, his anger filled his body. The cold air blowing from the freezer did nothing to cool him down. "They took the specimen," he said in a hollow voice. "It was so soft that Johnny barely heard him." "What?" "They took the specimen," Raoel repeated. Johnny looked back in and saw the blobster was missing. That's not important right now, man. Dennis is dead. For all we know the person who did this is still somewhere on the site. Hell, they could still be in the lab. Think about the girl's man. What if that person attacks them? They're not in any shape to be fighting someone off. Shit, I don't think we really are either but we have to make sure it's safe in here. Raoel slowly turned around and nodded again. They started walking through the room, Johnny grabbing a scalpel to protect himself. Raoel just walked through the lab slowly. His eyes were wide but he wasn't really seeing anything. It was like he was walking through a dream. He could tell there were things in front of him but he didn't know what they were nor did he care. Amber and Rachel got to the phone. After a few deep breaths, Amber grabbed hold of the phone and took it off the receiver. She started dialing 911 but stopped after the first number. She heard a voice. It didn't sound like Rachel but she knew it couldn't have been anyone else. "Put the phone down," the voice said. "What?" Amber said, turning towards Rachel. "What?" Rachel said. "Why aren't you calling the cops?" "I thought you just said something. I must be out of it. Sorry." Amber then turned back to the phone and heard the voice again. "You don't need to call the police. There's no one you don't know in the room. If you call them, they'll come out here and find nothing out of place besides a dead body. Who do you think they'll question? You'll be taken to jail if you call them. Put the phone down." The voice became sternos. It kept talking to her. Amber put the phone down. "What the hell are you doing?" Rachel said. "You didn't hear that voice. I didn't hear anything. If you're going crazy, you better let me talk to the cops." "No," Amber said, urgency in her time. "If we call the cops, we'll all be arrested." "I can't be taken to jail right now. It'll just be too much." Rachel looked at her, her eyes narrowing. "Why would they take us to jail? Are you the one that did this?" Amber wanted to shake her to get her to understand how important it was just to leave the scene, but at the same time she didn't understand why she was thinking like that. It was definitely a reason why she was scared of going to jail, even though she hadn't done anything wrong. She just wasn't sure what she was worrying about. "No, I didn't do anything," Amber said. "I was with Raul last night. I mean, he can verify that." Rachel looked at Amber, her distaste, visible. "She's gonna try and blame you for this," the voice said. "You should kill her." "What?" Amber shrieked. Rachel slowly backed away from Amber, never taking her eyes off of her. Johnny looked over, his eyes wide, but when he saw the two women he returned to his search. Amber, "I think you should just step away from the phone. I can call the cops and you can just wait over in the corner while I do that." Rachel's voice was shaky and slow, but Amber shook her head. It was like she was saying no to what Rachel had asked, which caused Rachel to run towards the man as they searched the lab. In reality, she was trying to figure out what she'd been hearing. It was all too confusing, and for the first time in her life she felt that the only way to clear her mind would be to shake her head. It did nothing but make her look even crazier. Realizing that the voice was in her head, it meant something that had snapped at seeing Dennis dead on the floor. Once more she lifted the receiver and started to dial the number for the cops. "You will rot in a cell," the voice said as soon as she lifted the receiver. "Your life will never be the same." When Amber ignored the voice, it was very hard not to listen to it. Every word it said carried a weight that seemed to push her into a depression, the likes of which she'd never felt. But slowly, as she spoke to the dispatcher, the voice became panicked, angry. The blobster, trying to gain control over the situation, had changed his tactic. He decided that Raul would be a better prospect. "You need to kill her," it said, as demanding as it could. Raul paused for a moment. An image of Amber flashed through his mind. He knew what he'd been told to do, but he wasn't able to do anything other than stare at a chip in a fraud time. "Fire," the blobster said. "I'll do it myself." Everything happened so fast after that. Even as it was happening, Amber wasn't able to process it until it was far too late for a safe escape. Rachel was speaking with Raul, who seemed to be dazed. The dispatcher was asking for her location for the third time and telling her to stay on the phone. Johnny had just gone into the freezer, and once he was in there he screamed and started running full speed for the door. Raul and Rachel looked up from their conversation. Johnny was running for the door, screaming incoherently. It wasn't until he was halfway through when something burst from the freezer after him. The thing was massive, a long tail dragged on the floor as it floated overhead. It had wings that resembled that of a manta ray, only much, much larger. It was hard to tell where the head started and where it stopped, because there was a mouth that ran vertically between the wings at about half their width. In the mouth were teeth that were at least three inches long, about as wide as a state knife and as sharp as a shark's teeth. On the wings, suckers could be seen, and a large claw on the end of each wing. Amber, Rachel and Raul watched as the thing swam through the air like it was water. Amber froze, lowering the phone slowly as she watched the thing. Rachel and Raul ran towards the door as they watched. Johnny wasn't watching at all, his eyes were locked on the door. He was focused on where he was headed, but the thing landed in front of the door before he could reach it. His massive wings only a few feet from Amber. Johnny tried to stop running, but because he was going full speed, his feet slid from under him which caused him to land on his back. He slid to a stop not ten feet from the thing's open mouth. He scrambled to his feet and ran backwards towards the freezer. Amber followed suit. She tried to put as much distance between herself and the monster before it noticed her. She made it to the group and ran into Raul's arms and cried as he held her. The blobster started to make its way slowly towards them, crawling on the floor with its wings. Johnny had just gotten behind Raul as the blobster had gotten to the middle of the room. Raul shoved Amber to the floor and told everyone to run. Amber looked up in horror. Raul turned and started to run away from the monster, but Johnny caught him and shoved him back. His feet caught on Amber and he stumbled in front of the blobster. He didn't even have time to turn around before the blobster lifted itself on its wings. Those huge teeth sank into Raul, cutting him in half. His right arm and eye twitched as the electric signals from his brain slowly stopped. Amber made it back to her feet and ran to join the other two. The dispatcher heard the commotion and sent three squad cars to the aquarium. She kept trying to get someone to answer her, but everybody wasn't able to hear her over the din from the recent events. Amber couldn't believe what had just happened. Raul tried to feed her to the monster, but he just tried to kill her. Her head was spinning so fast and everything was happening so fast. Tears streamed down her cheeks and into her mouth. She gagged a few times and then spewed her breakfast all over the tile floor. Johnny was pushing her towards the wall, yelling something that Amber couldn't understand. Rachel was already hiding behind the nitrogen canisters, yelling for them to hurry. Amber couldn't focus enough to even realize how much danger she was in, but slowly her surroundings were starting to make sense again. "Moo!" Rachel screamed at the two of them, tears streaming down her face. Rachel was trembling, her arms and legs felt numb, her eyes wide to take in her surroundings. She was aware of what was happening. The man that she in love for the past three years, the man she couldn't let go, had just tried to sacrifice someone to save himself. If Raul had survived, there would have been no way she could have still loved him. Still, it was a hard loss to take, watching the death of someone she loved, even after a despicable act. It was a one-two punch of heartache, and she wasn't ready for it. Johnny shoved Amber to the wall, and Rachel poured her behind the canisters as she picked up one. As he turned, the long tail of the blobster came darting through the air at Johnny's chest. On impulse, Johnny raised his hands. The canister came up with his hands, and the tail punctured the metal. For the first time, the monster made a noise. A noise that everyone in the room could hear at the same time. It was a high-pitched squeal, so loud it made the three feel their eardrums would rupture. Johnny then turned sharply to run behind the canisters, but he never let go of the tank. As he turned, the end of the blobster's tail was cracked, causing it to scream again. The tail thrashed back and forth, ripping the canister free from Johnny's hands. frying spray landed on his chest, freezing his shirt and burning him. That gave him an idea. He picked up another tank, unscrewed the lid with trembling fingers and walked towards the blobster, raising it as he went. Rachel and Amber screamed for Johnny to join them behind the tanks. He didn't listen. He just kept walking, slowly, quietly towards the blobster. The girls knew he wasn't going to listen to them, so instead of trying to get him to hide with them, they started to unscrew the lids of the other nitrogen canisters. This was what caught the blobster's attention. It turned towards the group, its massaged mouth opening as it did. Johnny started to lift the canister and was going to throw it at the monster. When the hook on its wing came down, plunged into his collarbone next to his neck, and burst through his chest. Johnny screamed as the wing lifted him off his feet, high into the air. The blobster opened its mouth and started to lower Johnny towards those shops, a rated teeth. Despite how quickly it was all happening, Johnny was able to find the time to pour the nitrogen into his open gullet. The smoking liquid splashed down the monster's throat, causing it to convulse. Its wings fell to the ground, pinning Johnny to the floor. He poured at the claw frantically, first trying to put it all the way through his collarbone, but realised he couldn't, so he tried to pull it out from the wing that had pressed against his neck. His hands slit from the claw and the blobster fell on top of him, crushing him like a roach. The women saw their opportunity and started splashing the open canisters of liquid nitrogen onto the body of the blobster. A glossy sheen of ice started to form over the monster's body. "Stop!" the voice shouted, and this time both Amber and Rachel heard it. "I can give you everything you want. I can help you achieve your dreams. Please stop throwing that stuff on me." Amber didn't stop. She emptied one canister and grabbed another. Rachel paused only for a moment before she too grabbed another canister and started pouring the last of the liquid nitrogen onto the creature. This entire body was covered with a layer of ice and the woman looked at it in disbelief for a moment. "I am so cold," the voice said. "Please, I am the last of my kind. I only want to survive, just like you." "Fuck you!" Rachel said as she hefted an office chair over her head and slammed it down on the ice-covered blobster. The ice and meat below it fissured into a spider web of cracks, revealing red meat under the thick brownish black skin. Another high squeal resonated in the room, but Rachel didn't stop hitting the thing. Amber saw that what she was doing was having an effect on the monster, so she took the empty canister she was holding and smashed it down on the creature too. "Stop, stop, stop," the monster caught to them. It was at that moment when the police burst through the door guns drawn. "Shoot that fucking thing," both Amber and Rachel shouted in unison, and they ran to the police, and the police heard this inhuman squeal. Without hesitation, they opened fire on the blobster. The bullets ripped through the ice and flesh of it, leaving grapefruit-sized exit wounds. All three of the officers had emptied their clips into the blobster, and it was a few months after the last shots were fired that the squeal stopped. With wide eyes, cops each reloaded their clips and emptied them once again into the blobster. As the coroner was processing the dead bodies recovered from the scene, he was disturbed by the report of an animal that was able to create that much havoc. It was one of the worst cases he'd ever seen. The cause of death was easy to determine for each of the victims, but he still had to process the bodies or what was left of them. There was no way that Raoul was going to have an open casket funeral. He would be the last to be examined. Dennis was the first. The cause of death, the huge hole in his chest. It wasn't until halfway through the exam that the doctor noticed something unusual happening. Dennis' stomach was boiling. He moved his face closer to see what it was, pressing slightly on one of the bubbles as they surfaced. It was hard and wiggled under his gloved hand. As he took notes of this strange phenomena, three baby blobsters ruptured Dennis' stomach. They squealed as they latched onto the doctor's back, and he screamed as their sharp teeth dug into him. Slowly, a few more came crawling out. The exact was still attached to the tail of the last one that freed itself from the corpse. Tonight's podcast is sponsored by A.G. One. Don't deny your age. Defy it. Now I have a quick question for you. Remember turning 30? 40? 50? What did that feel like? 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That's drinkagone.com/creepen. So, go check it out right now. I made first contact. And now, I'm dying. By the time anyone sees this, I imagine I'll be dead or close to it. Well, I guess I already am close to it. Well, I can't smite anything for this turn of your lense, other than myself and ill fate. I suppose. It is, after all, my fault I'm here, shivering and hacking blood from my lungs. I feel I must regale the recent events my life has seen, though I doubt anybody could believe it. I barely do myself. I suppose it's all started a few days ago, though it astonishes me how quickly life can turn so sour. My friend John and I rent a small country house in a rural region of Southern Oregon, with the nearest house being half a mile away. We've lived here for about two years, I suppose, and perhaps longer, him coming from a small city in Manitoba by the name of Andary, and myself from Winston, Pennsylvania. We live a mundane little life here, with a little to differentiate the days. But things began. But things began when I came home from work one day, and John mentioned to me while we were watching TV that he'd found a stray cat lying on the porch early, matted and covered in black sauce, and half-rodden it seemed. He initially thought the cat to be dead, but when he knelt down to look at the wretched thing, the cat looked at him, sneezed and tried to stand up. He said he brought the cat into the downstairs bathroom when he looked online to try and find a vet nearby. But when he come back to check on him, the cat was dead. But the cat in a bag and threw it in the trash can outside. We told this to me. I found it gruesome and a bit sad, but nothing more. And we gave hardly any more thought to it other than a joke afterwards about how bad the trash would smell when we took you to the dump, but that was it. We thought it was simply an interesting detail in our mundane lives, but we were wrong. So very wrong. When we came downstairs the next morning while getting ready for work, I noticed that John was still at the kitchen table, trying to choke down a bowl of cereal. "Hey," I said, "don't you have work today?" He glanced up at me and then backed down to his cereal. "Overslapped," he replied bluntly. I was a little concerned about his lack of worry. He had to leave before I woke up to go to work every morning. Yet he didn't seem to care at all that he was late. It was then that I noticed that he was shivering even though the heat inside was cranked up to protect ourselves against the nightly November chill. "You sick?" I asked. He nodded and said, "I think so. I feel nauseous. I might have a fever." "Well, you should probably call out sick then." He shook his head and took a spoonful of cereal. "Can't, Zach, I faked it one too many times." Gary told me not to call out sick again unless he was serious. I shook my head and said nothing more. I had heard enough stories about his unforgiving manager to know that John was being serious. "Just come home with a guest too bad, okay?" I told him. He nodded his head and resumed his breakfast. When I came home that afternoon, I found him asleep on the couch with the TV on, wrapped in a blanket with a thermostat cranked up to an ungodly temperature. I was a bit worried about him, but figured I shouldn't wake him if he was so ill. Instead, I went into the kitchen and threw a hungry man into the microwave. "Oh, hey," he grumbled after I pulled my food out. "What's up?" "I just got home. How are you feeling?" He coughed and shook his head. Gary sent me home. "God, my head hurts. You mind grabbing me some aspirin?" He gave another cough, this one sounding a bit violent. "Thanks," he wheezed as I handed him the bottle of aspirin in a glass of water. After he downed the medicine, John went upstairs to retire to his room, though I heard him cough and whoop throughout the night. The next morning I worked to find myself weak and nauseous. I groaned, turned off my alarm clock, and got up to go to the bathroom. And even that amount of effort made my head swell. I knew I'd have to take the advice I'd given John the day before and call out of work myself. "Hey," I caught a John from the toilet. "I think you gave me whatever you got." There was no answer. Though I realized he was probably still asleep. But when I went to wash my hands, I saw that blood and mucus caked the inside of the sink. I cleaned it off and went over to his bedroom, pressing my ear against the door. Through it I could hear his lungs rasping rhythmically. With the shake of my head, I headed downstairs to the kitchen. Though first I grabbed a blanket to wrap around myself. I called work and told them that my roommate had given me his illness, and for the rest of the day I curled up on the couch and watched TV, falling in and out of slumber and soaked in sweat. The day passed slowly, and by the afternoon my lungs were beginning to imitate John's. I figured it must have been about to the flu, though the symptoms seemed to be getting worse, faster than any flu I'd ever seen. I wish I'd taken the signs more seriously. My awoke late in the afternoon, to the sound of John wheezing in the kitchen, doubled over and clutching at his chest. I rose up and steadied myself as my head swam for a few moments. "Hey man, are you okay?" "Yeah," he said. I wanted to get some water, and just woke up. "I can get it." "Thanks." I poured him and myself a glass of water from the time. We both sat down on the couch. "Oh, I think you gave me that bug you caught," I told him. He coughed and wiped his mouth, the flam leaving a slight red streak on his hands. I remembered then what I'd seen that morning. "Hey, I saw blood in the sink earlier," I mentioned. He looked up at me and gave me a grim chuckle. "Oh, forgot to clean it up," he answered. It was coughing pretty bad last night. Didn't fall asleep until after the sun came up. "Got blood in my mucus." "You think we should go to a doctor?" I asked. He waved his hand in dismissal. "Just a bargain. It'll be fine. Besides, my health insurance just ran out. Got the letter the other day." "I huffed." "That's your luck, isn't it?" "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" "I mean, you're cuffing up blood, dude. I'm probably going to be doing the same thing next." "No. I don't want to go, Zach. I'll be fine. If you want to go, whatever. But it's just a bargain. There's no reason to freak out." I shook my head and decided that I'd stay home as well. It must have been like he said, and I was just overreacting. I don't know why I didn't just go by myself, though. My own sense of personal insecurity got in my way, I suppose. That night we went to bed early. Both of us kept awake by our own coughing, though John's was beginning to alarm me quite a bit, even more than before. Eventually though, I fell into a light sleep. Gold and sweaty with three layers of blankets wrapped around my body and my chest throbbing. Around two in the morning my lungs decided to rouse me by hacking violently. I tried to stop it, but I couldn't end the coughing-fit. In fact, as though my throat were being shredded to ribbons, I went into the bathroom and leaned over the sink, trying to get the mucus out of my burning esophagus. I just noticed blood coming out of my lips when I heard an odd noise coming from downstairs. "John!" I cold, leaning away from the sink. The noise seemed to be some kind of strange cooing, like that of a dove, but not quite. I used my way closer to the door and could hear John's lungs rattling and wheezing away from the front of the house. "What? What do you want?" I heard him rasp. It was a chirping noise, and then a moment's silence before John responded. "No, I'm staying here. I don't know who you are or what you are, but leave, leave." He was interrupted by his own sickness, as his lungs gave and heaved. "Who are you talking to?" I yelled. I tried to open the door, but found that it was locked. "Hey, open the door. We need to get you to our hospital." John didn't answer, but instead began to scream. I beat my fists at the door, but his cries only grew in intensity. I somehow managed to get the door open and rush back into my room to call 911 on my phone. But to my frustration, the call couldn't go through. I tried it again and again, but the call would drop immediately. I checked the signal, but strangely enough, I had full reception. I was about to reboot it when I heard a loud noise from the front porch below. I peeked my head out and over the railing in the hallway to see him through the open door, flailing in the arms of two massive, faceless things. In the dark, I couldn't get a good look at them, but they were hunched over with insect-like legs, brought out beneath their bodies as they clutched John and dragged him away from the door. I'm going to pit as though they were covered in some kind of burgundy-colored rubber, with four massive rubber-covered wings curled up on their backs. I wanted to go after them, but my body was frozen in shock. I'd never seen anything like these things before. When they dragged him out of sight, my body came back to me. With my heart pumping and legs wobbling, I raced down the stairs through the gaping doorway. I could see them taking John into the fields behind our house, his body thrashing against their grip. I saw him wrench one of his arms free and hit the creature on his left. The thing recoiled and procured what pit to be a metal rod, which it used to poke his side, a zap of electricity sparking against his skin. He shrieked, and the creature grabbed his arm again and they continued towards the fields. I raced along behind them, ignoring the cold, but they were fast, much faster than I would expect them to be. But I was gaining on them as I forced my diseased bodies to propel itself forward, to save my friend from whatever these rubber-clad monsters wanted from it. It was only a few yards away though, when an enormous square of amber light emerged in the middle of the field, the size of the doors to a cathedral. They jumped with wings fluttering and whooshing into the opening. I then realized the square seemed to be a doorway into a mysterious room, lit with glowing orange spheres and ornately carved walls of bronze. I reached the doorway and grasped at one of the creature's feet. It jumped and squeaked, instantly kicking me in the jaw, pain exploding throughout my skull as I crashed to the ground in shock. As I regained my bearings, the doorway closed, and I perceived a low humming. I stuck out my hand and though I couldn't see anything but the moonlit fields before me, it hit what appeared to be a warm metallic surface, completely invisible to the naked eye. I pounded my hands on it and cried out at the creatures through my torn throat. A hot wind blew in my face and the field seemed to shimmer. I stepped away and the heat disappeared while the humming seemed to be rising into the air. Eventually the field no longer shimmered, but in the sky above I saw a flash of an incomprehensibly massive object covered in flickering lights of every color imaginable. Though it disappeared again and in its place the stars flicked and distorted. The radius of the visual phenomenon shrinking until the rural air was silent once more. I shambled my way back to the house and collapsed on the sofa. My lungs expelling mucous and blood from minutes on end, my body roaring with pain. Once this came to a cessation, I went back upstairs to my room and picked up my phone. Though I paused for a moment. I'd intended to call the police, but it occurred to me that they wouldn't take too kindly to talk of my friend being abducted by rubbery monsters and taken into an invisible machine in the sky. But at the same time if John didn't come back, well I hated to think about the possibility, it also came to me that they were becoming asking questions and they might think that I killed him. That maybe I'd buried him under the house or in the fields out there. With these thoughts my skin became unbearably hot and in my fervour I dialled the phone anyways, the sound of ringing and blessing to my ears. The story I gave them when they arrived was that I had awoken to screams and that upon investigation I saw John being dragged away by mass man who stuffed him into the trunk of a car. Well the officers believed this story and after some were digging around the house for a bit while others raced off down the road. They were finally out of my hair and I was left to drift off into hot, fever dreams of strange men poking my throat with needles. The next day passed without much incident. Aside from having to give a statement about what had transpired, along with my body's rapid deterioration, the policeman I was with took notice, but I told them that we'd both come down with the flu. It was after all what I'd believed at the time, but in the early hours of the next morning I awoke to the sound of chirping and cooing along with a bright yellow light shining in my bedroom window, cursing under my breath. I wondered who could possibly be at my door at this hour, not yet recalling the events that had led up to this in my sleep day's state. I slowly approached the front door and put my eyeball up to the people. I recoiled instantly when I saw the dark shapes of the burgundy colored monsters again and tried to sneak away, but my lungs decided to betray me and bring me to the floor in a bloody fit of coughing and wheezing. The door began to pound and the noises from outside grew louder. The yellow light shone through the living room window on my writhing body, and through tears in my eyes I could see one of the faceless creatures poke its head in to take a look at me. I rolled onto my stomach and started to crawl to the stairs. My head felt as though it had been split open to my lungs burned with fire. I had just put my numb fingers around the railing when the door came crashing down. I screamed and flipped, staring wide-eyed at the things in the doorway. I took a closer look and realized that they wouldn't be able to fit through the frame and resumed my scramble to scent up the stairs. But I heard a click and felt something snag at my ankle. I turned my head and saw that some kind of grappling hook had been shot at me, and that it was tethered to a rod in one of the monster's hands. I wrangled desperately with a device around my ankle as the things slowly reeled me closer, but my efforts were completely fruitless. As before I knew it, I was lying at their feet. I stared up at their rubbery heads. "Oh, what do you want?" I choked. The creature to my right reached into a pocket in the rubber, pulling out two metallic sticks stuck together. I shrank in on myself, afraid of what they might do to me, but instead the entity pried them apart, and between them was a glowing blue sheet. It dragged one of its three fingers across it and turned the glowing sheet around to face me. The other side of it was a black screen with impeccably neat handwritten text scrawled in white. I glanced up, searching for eyes to lock onto, and it cooed at me encouragingly, almost in a friendly tongue. The sound calmed my nerves just enough to read what had been transcribed onto the screen. "Come with," it read. I looked back at the featureless entity and shook my head while my fingers grasped at the carpet inside. The creature flipped the screen back over and began writing on it again. The other creature chirping loudly. Finally, the screen was flipped back around for me to read. "Master, come now. No choice. Friend. No. Get away from me," I cried. Suddenly occurred to me when I read the word "friend," that these were no ordinary monsters. These were beings from another world of technology to superior to fight against, but my animal instincts were kicked in, and I knew I needed to get away. I kicked the creature in its large bulbous torso and tried to crawl back into the house, but the tether had been locked. I then felt strong hands, no bigger than my own, grasped my ribs and picked me up. The other creature helped to restrain me, though they were much too large for me to overpower as they swiftly escorted me around the house and towards the fields, the same path they had taken with John the night before. As we approached, the same disembodied doorway revealed itself. I could hear my screams echoing in the bronze chamber within. Once the door closed itself again, I heard a hissing coming from the walls, and the creatures, the aliens, I thought to myself. Set me on the cold floor, my lungs rattling and gasping for air as my mind slowly sank into unconsciousness. Until, eventually, I knew no more." Owning a rental property sounds like a dream. Collect a rent and relax. That is, until you realize how much work goes into getting it ready. First, you need to conduct market research to understand local rental trends and determine a competitive rent price. Then there's cleaning, staging, repairs, and hiring a professional photographer. Next, develop a marketing strategy. 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Only appearing bright to my eyes, still accustomed to the darkness of sleep. The wall I faced was also stark and white, but turning my head to the right, greeted my eyes with a wall made of clear, glassy material from ceiling to floor. Standing on the other side of the glass were three creatures I had not seen the likes of yet. Though after a moment, I realized they had the same shapes as the burgundy creatures that had taken John and myself. I came to the realization that they must have been wearing suits before now. The creatures before me possessed in themselves a visual that surprised me. They were moth-like in appearance. Their small head standing at least eight feet from the ground, not including their four massive wings, which were covered with what appeared to be thick, white fur that looked soft to the touch, as were the rest of their bodies. The wings were additionally covered in pink and blue markings that seemed to glow with some kind of bioluminescence. Their eyes were bulbous and colored, solid light blue, with no apparent noses though, they possessed small fuzzy pincers from out with pink tentacles dangling out. Their ears were fox-like and foreign number, with thick black comb-like hairs on the tips of their ear folds. I also had antennae curled up from their heads with similar black hairs extending from them. Behind their ears were brightly colored and unusually patterned horns, scanning my eyes across the rest of their bodies. I also noticed that they had two white fairy arms with leathery gloves on their small three-fingered hands. While eight legs supported their voluminous bodies, a dawn with small leathery boots had somehow looked like slippers. Where their legs met their bodies were leather bands, while on their backs they had what looked like blankets similar to a dorms placed on domesticated elephants, intricately patterned in maroon and gold, and on their chests seemed to be fabric breastplays equally ornate in design. I also noticed that they had pink glowing studs running down their torso. One of them gently tapped its delicate fingers on the glass, and I looked towards it. This one, unlike the others, had a kind of crest attached behind its head. I figured it must be the leader of the group. I retracted into the wall I was against, not wishing to be anywhere near these monsters any more. The moth creature noticed and wriggled its ears and antennae with a brief bob of its hands. I shook my own head and it paused for a moment as though thinking. It waved its finger towards me in a beckoning fashion, cooing coaxingly with a sound unperturbed by the glass between us. "No," I whimpered as I tucked my knees to my chin. The monster bobbed its head and wiggled its ears and facial appendages at me again, cooing louder. God, I wished John was there. And then I remembered that they still had him, that he may be somewhere nearby. "Where's John?" I asked. The creature pointed to my right, and I swiveled my head to see that there was another glass wall with a jon asleep on an identical mattress to mine. I turned my head back to the alien and saw that it had procured one of the screens from before with a single word scrawled over it. "Alive!" "Can't you just talk?" I demanded. I wasn't in any particular mood to play word games with their broken English. The creature dragged its finger over the screen slowly and turned it back to face me. "No, can't make human sounds." I realized that they must be as capable of imitating human speech about as much as I'd be able to imitate theirs and reside myself to this arduous form of communication. "Is he okay?" "No, sit." I gulped and kept down a cough, not sure if my throat could take it. I suddenly realized that the air was cold and that I felt light. I stumbled my way to my feet and tripped, my body falling more slowly than it should have. "Are we still on earth?" I asked. "Yes." "Why am I so light?" "Earth gravity too strong for us. Make lighter, like home." I cut my hands over my eyes, not able to believe what was happening. I kept telling myself that it must surely be a dream, a dream from the sickness. I opened my eyes again and took notice of the room beyond the glass. It was a large hallway, the ceiling rising 30 feet into the air at least, perhaps higher, with vertically curved hallways branching out from the ceiling and doors at either end. The walls were bronze, with flowing designs etched into them in a myriad of fashions, and amber glowing spheres shed a dim light on the figures in sharp contrast to the white and blue hues of John and I's chambers. "Where are you from?" I asked. "Far, other galaxy." This message was accompanied by a picture of a planet covered in blue and purple, with deserts and mountains scarred into its surface. "What do you want with us?" "Very sick." "So?" I asked, assuming it was referring to myself and John. "Fix, test cure, first trial." My heart skipped a beat as I realized what they wanted to do. "You... you're gonna test on us, experiment!" "Yes." I cried out and flung myself back against the wall, coughing and spitting vehemently. "No," I screamed. "Let us go. We'll be fine. Just let us go, please." "No. I need test. Very sick." I closed my eyes shut and stuffed my face into the mattress, trying to drown out the horrors that I'd faced. I heard a door open and looked up to see the two of the aliens had entered into John's room, clad in their burgundy rubber suits. "John!" I screamed. He opened his sleep-crusted eyes and blinked, confusedly. "Where am I?" "John, don't let them touch you," I yelled, pressing my hands against the cool glass. I turned to the other creatures who were now in front of John's room. "Stop," I ordered. "Leave them alone." "No," the leader wrote. "John, fast." "Zack, what's going on? What are these things?" John croaked, shying away from the beasts. "Don't go with them," I urged. "They... they want to do experiments on us." John's eyes squirreled around the room, looking for an escape. But there was only the door, blocked by the two honking aliens dawned in rubber. The alien with the crest held up the screen with the word "stop," read Nollet. I ignored this and banged my palms against the glass, hacking blood onto the surface. The aliens were slowly approaching John, though with apparent trepidation. "I'll kill them, kill them!" John shrank further into his corner as they approached. Metal rods pointed at him, the same ones they'd used to shock us previously. As they grew nearer to him, he began to convulse and cough, blood dribbling down his chin. They reached out their hands to grab him, but John lurched forward and snagged the metal rod, and the aliens jumped back. "Kill them," I repeated. "Shuck the fuckers!" From the hallway, two of the creatures flew up through the vertical shafts, their wings beating with a heavy wind, and their luminescent markings swirling over their bodies. A deafening howling alarm began to sound throughout the rooms, beating into my eardrums. I turned my head back to John, who was trying to figure out how to use the contraption. I noticed his fingers pass over a button and a spark burst from the end. He glanced back to the creatures, who were now backed by the door. He turned to me, and then backed to the creatures. "Do it, John! For God's sake, save yourself!" He lunged at one from whom he'd taken the prod and jabbed it into one of his legs. The thing let out a piercing shriek and collapsed, legs writhing and armed, grapplingly inflicted appendage. He retracted the prod before it had a chance to recover and stabbed it where an eye would have been under the suit. The rod sank into the beast's flesh, and it writhed and screamed in such an abysmally pathetic way as to make my blood run cold. But I felt a little pity for them. Clear liquid oozed and sizzled out of the creature's eye, and it convulsed and seized sporadically, while the other alien, who'd apparently been frozen in shock, reached out and grabbed John by the torso. John then reared his elbow back, smashing his bone into the monster's head. He recoiled slightly, and John used this as an advantage to electrocute its chest. Now I couldn't smell the contents of the other room, and I could see that the material of the suit was sizzling. The creature then ripped off its mask and grasped John's arm with the pink tentacles that hung from his mouth, ponding his arm into its gnashing pincers, and chewing the flesh right off his arm. I heaved at the sound of crunching bone, clearly audible despite the alarms ringing in the walls. Right then the daughter John's room opened again, and five more of the moth creatures swarmed in and tried to grab at John, but he flailed the metal rod at them, shocking them wherever it met their bodies. He turned the prod back to the alien, chewing on his arm, and he stabbed it through his eye as he did the other one, flesh sizzles, and the creature flailed and cried. I heard a loud bang, and John stumbled backwards, dropping the electric rods. He gasped for a moment more as the metal cladded onto the hard floor, clutching his chest. "John!" I cried, not sure of what was happening, despite a clear exit wound in his back where a projectile had shot through, spraying blood on the glass before my eyes. His body went limp, and he crashed into the floor, twitching and spitting blood, his eyes boring into mine, and then he went still, lifeless next to the other two corpses. The other creatures that had come in began emitting a kind of gurgling and leaned down to caress their deceased brethren, the gurgling growing louder with despair. One of them even leaned over John's corpse and groomed his hair gently. "Leave him alone!" I shrieked, his tears wild up in my eyes. "Don't freaking touch him!" It was a tap on the glass outside my room. I looked over to see the leader showing me the words. "Very sorry, Zach. Did not want to kill. No choice. Heavy grief." "No, you killed him, you bastards. I'll kill you too for this. I swear on it. I'll fucking kill you all." The door opened, and two of the aliens emerged into my room, emitting a noxiously sweet odor that made my nose burn. I noticed that they no longer wielded the metal rods, but what appeared to be guns of sorts. I launched at one and grabbed its gun before the thing had a chance to shoot, and through my surprise found that there was a trigger. I pointed the exotic weapon to the other alien holding a gun and fired, its own shot missing me by inches. However mine found its target squarely in the centre of its head, and it dropped to the ground. I whipped back around and fired it at the other alien, the bullet which glowed orange, lodging its way into the beast's torso. It shrieked, and I fired again and again until it dropped to the floor, twitching in silence. I turned towards the leader and fired the weapon, but the glowing bullet shattered against the glass. I kept firing, while in the background I noticed a familiar hissing noise behind my rattling lungs and daunting sirens, but eventually my mind began to fade once more into darkness. I shouted in the cold and curled inwards, my body weak and sore with my abdomen, lungs and throat searing with pain. I moaned into my head. I wondered for a moment why a bird was pecking on the bedroom window, but when I opened my eyes and saw the familiar alien with its prestigious necklace, I gasped and spewed phlegm from my lungs. The creature raised the familiar black screen to me, and I blinked the crust and water from my eyes to focus on the words. Wake up, Isaac! I spat onto the floor, trying to clear my throat of the red mucus that clogged it. I peered up, my naked body freezing and soaked in sweat. "Remember!" the screen read. My mind grazed over the events that had transpired and I slowly nodded my hands. "Why kill? Never kill unless needy. We grieve, very sad. You killed our brothers. Why?" "You were gonna probe us in the ass, you bug-eyed son of a bitch." I growled, launching a luge across the room towards the monster. "No, only test. Test what? What in the fuck do you shit as one for us?" "You are sick, very sick. So, just a damn flew nothing serious. Do you know?" "No, what?" Not flew. Much worse. She ever didn't ram my fingers over the goosebumps on my arms. I could feel a rushing in my ears, as though I were about to vomit. "What is it then?" I whispered, trying to keep the contents of my stomach down. "Going to die soon. Need a test." "Die from what?" The silence in the air rang loudly at my ears. I noticed that the alien was alone. The creature paused before writing down its answer. "Play!" I shook my head and laughed, though the motion caused me to wince from pain. "Play!" "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think we have plague?" "Does it look like I have bugles all over my body to you?" The creature wriggled its ears and antennae, as though in agitation. "Not bugonic plague. Newonic plague. More deadly. No bugles. Deadly." My chest suddenly became hot and my mind raised to the cat John had found before. He said that it was covered in black cysts, dying and rotting away. I thought about the symptoms. They were in my lungs, and indeed this had been worse than any flu I'd heard of. I realised then that we'd been dying without even dying it. My head pounded. "How do you know?" I gulped. "Track plague to you. Found plague nearby in animals." I shook my head. "Why plague, though?" I asked. He hasn't been a threat for hundreds of years. "Why, sick. Millions die. We help humans. Humans need help." "No," I corrected. "That was a long time ago. That was..." I thought crept into my hands. "How long have you been here?" "One earth year. Studying language and tracking plague. Now found you." I coughed and said, "Have you been here before?" "Yes. Long time ago." "How long ago, exactly? Almost seven hundred earth years." A sudden realisation dawned on me. "Did you come during the Black Death?" I asked. "Yes. One to hell. One to cure. Humans still have no cure. But why did it take you so long to come back? It took a long time to get home, but to have better machines now can get to earth quicker, almost instantly." I stood up with legs trembling and approached the alien. "But why not just give us the cure?" I asked. "Need test and make sure humans ready for us. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest." "Who? Who are you?" I asked. "No translation. Aliens." I sighed and put my hand against the glass. I could feel my body dying. "How did you know our names?" "Had you say them?" "It was as fair enough an answer as any, I guess." I then asked the real question I was wondering. "How long do I have?" "Two days, most. Probably one." "That's it?" I cried. "How long have I been in here?" "A few hours. New monarch plague kills in days. Too late for hospital. Die soon." "But you have the cure, right?" I asked. My legs were going numb and my heart was beating and throbbing in my chest. "Yes." "Well, can I have it? Please, I don't want to die. I'm sorry we killed your friends. We didn't mean it." The alien paused and looked down. It's antennae twitching, a low gurgling coming from its mouth. My lungs began to heal and I could feel my eyes watering. He didn't want to tell me the answer. "Well," I urged, my voice cracking. "Can I?" "Sorry. Deep sorrow. Don't like death. Death always tragic. Even John." "We all grieve death." My heart soared. "So, so you won't let me die?" The alien gurgled louder for a moment. A pain toned in his voice. "Sorrow is in me. Want to help. Count. Not allowed. Human is not ready for us. You kill us. We want to test, but you kill. Count fixed plague." "What do you mean? I promise I'll behave. Just cure me, please." The creature shrieked and turned its hands. "Want to. Not allowed. Human is not ready. May be never. I not control." The creature put its hand to mine on the other side of the glass and I knew then that these were not monsters. These were creatures of benevolence. They were beyond humanity's corruption, beyond our greed and bloodlust. I realized that they'd only killed John out of necessity, out of self-defense. And yet they still grieved his death, despite the fact that he killed two of their own, and the one with whom I spoke still pitied me, even though I killed two myself. "Please," I whispered. "Don't let me die. Please." The alien cried again and withered, girping in distress. "Have to. We take you home now. I am sorry, Zach. But not ready for us. Might not return to us. Too dangerous." I heard the hissing of gas again and clutched at my chest as it burst into pain. My body collapsed to the floor, and as my mind was sinking back into darkness, the alien suddenly became beautiful in my eyes. The designs that covered its clothes and the intricate markings of its fur were otherworldly and stunning. The ship itself was a work of art, writhing the best of Renaissance architecture. The creature leaned down and put its hands on the glass, and the last thing I did before succumbing to sleep was reach out my hand to touch the glass. But my hands never did reach. I woke up on my front porch, my clothes in a neat pile next to me. The morning sun beat down on my naked back, and I stumbled my way back to my feet and went inside with the clothes bundled in my quivering arms. I put them back on. My body weak and agonized. My skin was splotched and red, and I knew I needed to get upstairs quickly. I needed to get to a hospital. But the cause wouldn't go through. Neither would any texts, I sensed, despite using various social media platforms. Only enough, though, I could still use the internet. I imagined it was a moth creature purposely keeping me from getting help. In a hot flash, I became enraged and threw my phone across the room, but then calmed down on a thought occurred to me. One that I realized made sense and was on a scope beyond myself. I realized that they knew I couldn't be cured. They knew that even if I got to a hospital, I'd die all the same. But if I escaped my house, then I could spread the illness, and they wouldn't want to risk me causing another pandemic. Not if they'd seen the black death with their own eyes. I became calmer and begrudgingly respected their decision, though I didn't like it. And all do I now? I thought about going to a neighbor's house, but just the act of ascending the stairs it was most simply keeling over to the floor. There was no way I could force my body to drive to a neighbor's house, much less the hospital. And there was no way I could walk the journey. And that's where I am now. I briefly researched the pneumatic plague, and the aliens were right. There is no hope. The only hope would have been if I'd sought out help within the day of the symptoms, as I should have when I discovered John hacking blood from his lungs. But it's been three days now. I've been writing this on the verge of death, but I need to tell this to the world. And I'm not going to ask for help. My life is over. I have hours left to live. I can feel my body shutting down. Yet I need to tell the world of my experiences because because we are not alone. We are friends in this universe. We just don't know it yet. These beings want only to see us flourish, but I can't cope with the guilt of knowing that I may have single-handedly ruined it all. Because of my actions they may abandon Earth entirely, leaving us alone to deal with our wars and disease, alone to deal with our self-destruction and murder. Maybe they were right. I never gave a second thought to killing them, and it was me who told John to cure them too. I became so afraid that I abandoned my humanity and felt to see that they were more human than I could ever be. But I'm dying. I can feel my life slipping away from this living corpse I call a body. 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The four regiments under the deep strike operations command of the JSOC or joint special operations command were tasked with finding fixing and destroying domestic threats to the nation and to our particular DSL company was given the most important mission in the history of the nation. Captain Jenkins our unit commander had briefed us on the mission which we'd been assigned to and we spent weeks practicing exactly how we'd execute the operation. Lieutenant Maiton's first platoon would attack the rebel's main defensive lines from the north with the support of the mortars and heavy machine guns from Lieutenant Lynch's heavy weapons platoon. Once the rebels were engaged with the first platoon, Captain Jenkins and Lieutenant Wilson's second platoon would breach the rebel lines where they were weakest in the east. Once the rebel lines were breached, I would leave my third platoon through the breach and to the rebel compound, killing every rebel we saw and securing the objective. The rebel base was roughly two miles square consisting of a concrete compound located somewhere on the rolling pastures of Killeen, Texas, just outside of the great army base of Fort Hood. He was surrounded by triple strands of razor wire and concrete barons. Behind this were walls of Hesco barriers and emplaced fighting positions. Four concrete bunkers surrounded a group of multi-story buildings which were used as barracks to house the estimated 300 to 400 rebel fighters at the base along with an unknown number of rebel civilian terrorists. All total, we assume that around 1,000 rebel terrorists were occupying the base of a half being civilians. Our S2 intel guys speculated that the cowardly rebels were using their civilians as human shields in case of an assault just like this. Near the center of the compound was a two-story concrete building with machine guns in place at each corner. It was in this one building where our S2 guys said that the rebels sacred parchment was located. Once we secured it and got out, the very reason for the rebels existence would vanish. Without the parchment's almost hypnotic and demonic control over the rebels mines, this wall would be over. My platoon, along with Lieutenant Wilson's second platoon, was charged with securing that building and finding that damned parchment. Nothing else mattered, and all the rebels that we encountered were to be eliminated. The very importance of this mission meant that we would not have time to secure prisoners, even if we were inclined to do so. If we were swift enough and violent enough, we could be in the building, secure the rebel document, and get out before the rest of the rebels knew what had hit them. If we could kill the rebel's stinger anti-aircraft missile teams, we'd call in our supporting Apache helicopters from nearby Fort Hood to completely obliterate the entire terrorist bank. The leader of this particular rebel faction was a former army major general named Lincoln, the traitors of the party and the nation. Most of his armed fighters were also traitors, former soldiers who'd served with various army units from the first infantry in Kansas, the first cavalry in Texas, the 101st from Kentucky, the 82nd Airborne from North Carolina, and the 29th Light Infantry from Virginia among others. In fact, it was traitorous soldiers of the 29th Light Infantry Division which had stolen the parchment from our possession, killing many innocent people as the traitors brought the parchment from Virginia to Texas. We could also safely assume that this rebel faction was also bolstered by traitors from other branches of the service, such as the U.S. Marines, the Air Force and the Navy. They were traitors, all of them. And just like we did to the commanding general of the 29th Light Infantry Division, we relentlessly hunted down and executed every military traitor we found. We were the patriots who were fighting to save the nation, and our values from their evil and hatred. The rest of General Lincoln's fighters were made up of fanatical civilian militiamen, but also fallen under the sway of that vile and corrupt parchment. General Lincoln commanded several groups of these civilian militiamen who were in turn led and trained by cadres of former military members turned treasonous insurgents. These militiamen were nothing more than domestic terrorists, attacking our supply convoys and bombing government and vital infrastructures such as roadways and bridges. Their anti-government terrorist activities kept many of our local units occupied with chasing down their various militia groups as they blended in with the local civilian population after their cowardly attacks against the government. But after over a decade of civil war, in which countless good right-thinking citizens had been murdered by these brainwash rebels, it would all end today. The war would end today. Our unit was committed and determined that no sacrifice would be too great to defeating the rebels and finally entering the suffering of the nation. We would finally be free of the yoke which threatened our way of life and finally be masters of our own destiny. Today, at all costs, the nation would finally be united under one government, one belief, one people, one way of thinking and one flair. Over the past few months the rebels had been steadily losing ground all across the country. Many of the rebel units had gathered here around Fort Hood to make one final stand, fanatically protecting the last vestiges of their vile and evil historical artifacts. Of all the despicable relics of the treasonous rebels history, the most wicked and evil of their artifacts was a secret parchment which spoke evil thoughts and wicked desires into the hearts of the rebels. Once we captured that accursed parchment, we hoped that the rebel spirit would break and the war would finally come to an end. It was 1700 hours in late spring when our platoons were in position to finally hit the rebel base in Kalim. We suddenly opened up on their defensive positions with 81 millimeter mortars and heavy automatic weapon fire. We hadn't used helicopter gunships in the opening assault as the sound of the aircraft would have alerted the rebels of the coming assaults and we didn't want them leaving and taking the parchment with them. Besides, our S-2 guys gave an intelligence briefing stating that the rebels may have sting a surface to wear missiles which they'd stolen from the National Guard Armory near Fort Hood and it would have given the rebels so much needed morale boost to have shot down one of our Apache attack helicopters. In addition, our intel guys informed us that the rebels had M-250 Kalim and Machine guns, MK-19 automatic grenade launchers and even a few armored Humvees and tracked vehicles all looted from the Texas National Guard. We were in position hidden below low rolling scrub and sand dunes roughly 200 meters from the western perimeter of the rebel base when Lieutenant maintenance first platoon began their diversionary assault on the Rebel Northern perimeter. Immediately, our mortars fell on the known rebel fighting positions, collapsing bunkers and trenches and their checkpoints. From my position, I could see a rebel checkpoint take a direct hit from a mortar round. The two enemy guards stationed their blown to bits and their Humvees completely destroyed. Lieutenant Maiden and his man were making good progress, easily blowing holes in the rebels perimeter wire and breaching the base perimeter. The rebels were caught completely off guard as there was very little return fire compared to the devastating fire we were pouring into them from 1st platoon and Lieutenant Lynch's heavy weapons platoon. To our satisfaction, we could see groups of rebel soldiers yelling and running towards the breach in their defenses as a heavy thum-dum-dum-dum of our M-250 Kal machine guns slammed into the charging rebels. "That's it!" yelled Captain Jenkins. "Go! Go! Go! Go!" The inlet tenant Wilson's 2nd platoon raced towards the rebel base's western perimeter, which was guarded by two strands of razor wire and a chain-link fence topped with some more barbed wire. Strangely, they received only sporadic return fire from the rebel defenders, as Wilson's men made it to the perimeter fence without sustaining any casualties and quickly blew a wide, gaping hole in it. I led my third platoon closely behind Wilson's platoon as we infiltrated through the gap which they'd made. Returned fire from the enemy was gaining steadily, while Wilson's platoon provided suppressive fire against the rebel fighting positions. My platoon breached the perimeter fence and entered the rebel compound. Breathing heavily as I ran towards the objective, I had a warning yell off to my right, followed by the grunt of one of my men. I turned to see one of my soldiers crumpled with the ground, a bearded rebel traitor wearing a US Marine Corps uniform standing a few meters away. We fired again and dropped another one of my soldiers. I spun around, raised my M4 rifle, and dropped the former US Marine with three shots. Before I could react, the door to the one-story building next to me flew open, and a little girl, around five years old, with tightly braided golden hair and wearing a light blue sundress, ran towards the traitorous Marine whom I'd just killed. She was screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" I allowed the child to make it to her father's dead body before I yelled, "The little girl has a gun!" Immediately soldiers around me echoed, "She has a gun!" as I put three rounds into her mat. Her body stood up from the impact of my rounds, and she fell forwards over her father's body. As part of our rules of engagement, the government would not allow us to shoot unarmed civilian traitors unless we identified that they had a gun. This allowed us to cleanse those traitorous enclaves, such as this one quickly and efficiently. A scream echoed behind me as a young woman stood terrified of the doorway, several other small children behind her. She was screaming, "Cady! Katie! Oh my god! Katie!" Apparently Katie was the name of the traitorous little terrorist gun. "A school?" I thought. An indoctrination center where these rebels brainwashed the next generation of rebel terrorists into their wicked, hate-filled ideology. Sergeant Ergard, I yelled to my platoon sergeant. "Carl Gustav," I said, pointing at the indoctrination center. "I'm on it," said Ergard, on slinging the Carl Gustav, a recoilless rifle from his broad shoulders, quickly firing an 84 millimeter rocket into the doorway of the building, which the rebels were using to brainwashed children in the ways of the wickedness and evil. Sergeant Orgard yelled, "She has a gun!" The soldiers around him echoed, "She has a gun!" The young teacher was still standing there at the doorway, and she took the brunt of the rocket, which blew her to pieces. The rocket detonated inside the building, blowing out the walls and caving in the roof on the next generation of potential terrorists. As I rampassed the building towards the target objective building, I tossed an incendiary grenade into the school for good measure, again yelling. The survivors have guns. It's better to kill terrorists while they're still little children rather than have to fight them when they get older. Around, pinged off the concrete next to me as another of my men went down, wounded. I looked towards the target building a hundred meters away from me, a rebel terrorist firing from one of the first floor windows. I took cover beside one of the bunkers and fired into the window as Sergeant Ergard came up behind me. "Medic, take care of Private Stern," said Ergard. "Specialist driver, get that 240 bravo going. Sit up behind that truck over there and cover the building." The specialist driver was 10 meters to my left to cross the concrete quad next to another bunker and took cover behind a parked rebel two and a half ton truck before firing at the suspected rebel positions in the target building. The medic had dragged Private Stern to cover behind us, along with the help of three other soldiers from my platoon. "Ergard," I said, pointing to the heavy double doors of the target building. "You're down," yelled Ergard, as he fired the cargo stop at the doors. The entrance to the building blew apart as a glass and debris blew out of the surrounding first floor windows. "Follow me," I yelled, and without looking back, charged towards the building, tossing smoke grenades in front of me to cover our 100-meter sprint towards the objective building. Grabbing a high explosive grenade from my vest, I tossed it into the broken window where I had seen the rebel terrorist firing at us. A half-second later it exploded. I am my platoon and rushed into the concrete building. We were met with rubble and debris and rising clouds of dust and smoke as we entered. The bodies of three dead rebel terrorists lay broken in the hallway. Two terrorists, female civilian middleish men, and a traitor wearing a U.S. Army uniform, all were armed with assault rifles. I entered the first room to the right, where we had taken fire. A dead rebel terrorist fighter wearing an army uniform lay blown apart. I destroyed M4 rifle laying next to his body. "Look out," yelled Ergard, as he tuck on me from behind, just as a round passed inches from my head. I heard shots from behind me as I rolled over. Especially his driver's 240 Bravo machine gun was smoking as he stood over the dead body of a female rebel terrorist wearing a U.S. Navy uniform, and then nine pistols still clutched in her dead hands. "Thanks, Sergeant," I said as Ergard pulled me out. He glanced over at the dead Latina female wearing the U.S. Navy uniform. That little bitch must have only been wounded when you frag the room, sir. Especially his driver's spat at the dead Latina. Secure this floor quickly. I commanded. That parchment must be here somewhere. Radio. I turned to specialist Felaka, my radio man. He handed the field phone to me. "Six, this is five," I said, calling Captain Jenkins over the secured network channel. "Five, this is six. Go," replied Captain Jenkins, identifying me as five. "Six," I said. We are in the objective building and in the process of securing the first floor. I have two KIA and one WIA. Six hostels are KIA. They're conducting the search for the target. Over. Roger five, said Captain Jenkins. We're about 200 meters from the objective building. The rebels hit us from the north and south as we were closing in behind your platoon. We lost first sergeant sunshine in the Rambush. The rebels recovered quickly after we breached their perimeter. "Six," I said, suddenly concerned. "Do you need us to pull out and support you?" "Negative five," said Captain Jenkins. "Negative. Secure the building and find that goddamn parchment. We'll take care of the rebels here and secure the perimeter around the building." "Roger six," I said. "Five out." "Let me know once you've secured the target item five," said Jenkins. "Six out." I heard gunfire coming from the rear of the building. Towards where Lieutenant Maiton's first platoon was conducting their diversionary attack. Our mortars were impacting closer. This first platoon moved deeper inside the rebel base, running into the debris strewn hallway. We passed a relatively secure room to the left. Medic, a yard as a rampast, take private stoning there instead of a makeshift aid station. The hallway ended at a T-junction, which ran right and left. On the right was a hallway which passed two other rooms and ended at a flight of stans. Four of my men were already clearing this site. To the left was a similar hallway which ended at a set of heavy exit doors next to another set of stairs leading upstairs. The exit doors were opened and three of my men were firing out the open doorway. Behind them, the bodies of two enemy soldiers, like along with the wounded body of one of my men, around to my fallen soldier. "Talk to me, Sergeant Schumer," I said. "I'll lift, sir," said Schumer, clutching his chest where the enemy rounded his body armor. We caught them when they were trying to run out the back. They unstained to put up a fight. The terrorists took off out that door. "Medic," they yelled back down the hallway. I patted Sergeant Schumer on the shoulder. "Medic is coming to take you to the aid station. I'll come and check on you when I can." "Just get that damn poshman, sir," said Sergeant Schumer, wincing. The body armor prevented the round from puncturing his chest, but it was most certain that Sergeant Schumer had a few broken ribs at the least. I nodded and ran down the hallway to where my men were firing out of the door. In a side room next to the doorway by the stairs, four more of my men were shooting out of broken windows at the retreating terrorists. I ran into the room and caught a glimpse out of the window. The body of one enemy soldier wearing a US Army uniform lay dead a few meters from the exit, and another enemy, this one a female wearing a US Air Force uniform, also lay unmoving. In a concrete drainage ditch about a hundred meters distance, a mixed force of rebel terrorists wearing army and marine uniforms along with a handful of civilian militia men with firing backs was a building we'd just occupy. They were providing cover fire for a pair of rebel terrorists who were trying to carry a third injured one over open ground to the safety of the drainage ditch. Specialist Driver, who had crouched down behind the concrete walls, reloaded his 240 Bravo machine gun, stood up and fired out the window. Inextrably, his 762 millimeter rounds walked towards the retreating rebel terrorists, stitching the backs of the two female US Army traitors who were probably medics and the traitorous male US Marine who they were carrying. The three traitors fell forward to the ground as we increased our fire at the rebel terrorists in the drainage ditch. As I joined in on the shooting, I happened to peer over at the bodies of the three rebel terrorists which driver had just shot in the back. The Marine traitor was still alive. He painfully rolled over, clutching a bloody M16A4 rifle in his hands and fired a single shot back towards us. Driver's head snapped back with a loud crack and he slumped at the floor. Enraged at the traitor marines cowardice, I emptied the remainder of my magazine into the terrorist marine, ending his threat to the nation once and for all. Outside of the room, I had a loud crack as one of my soldiers shooting out of the exit door fell backwards, half of his head missing. They're in defellate, I yelled. We need to get to the second story to fire down on them. We'll keep their heads down sir, yelled Sergeant Airgood, grabbing driver's blood soap machine gun. "Right," I answered, grabbing the Kyle Gustav from Airgood. "Give me a few minutes to get upstairs." "Felaka," I yelled to my radio man, "come with me." I ran out of the room, grabbing my two remaining soldiers who were shooting out of the exit door, ordering them to follow me. Stepping over the body of my dead soldier, the four of us raced on the stairs. There were windows at regular intervals which lined the stairs and the rebels, catching onto my plan, began shooting at the windows as we dashed up to the second floor. As the windows shattered behind me, I heard one of my soldiers grunt and tumbled down the stairs. I didn't turn around, instead I kept running along with my remaining two soldiers up to the second landing. They leapt through the open double doors and dove behind the sturdy concrete wall under the windows lining the hallway. Four soldiers came up from the stairwell at the other end of the hallway, about 20 meters away. Relieved, I saw that they were my men who cleared the right side of the building downstairs. I motioned them to get down, then using hand gestures, signal my rifle men to return fire down at the rebel terrorists in three, two, one. All seven of us got up as one and began firing down at the traitor's positions. I saw three of them fall backwards into their ditch from our fire, but most of them were still under such good enough cover that even at our elevated positions, we still couldn't gain fire superiority over them. Suddenly, from the rebel terrorist right flank came the doodle doodle of an M240 machine, made stitch the right side of our hallway, and the upper torso of one of my soldiers at the other end of the hallway exploded. We all took cover again under the windows. They brought up a 240, I yelled as the terrorists raked the entire length of the second floor windows back and forth. We were showered by shards of glass and debris of concrete and aluminum. I covered my face from the shower of glass as the machine gun rounds, zipping only three feet above me, hit a wooden door behind me and blew it inwards. I looked back to see it with some sort of maintenance room, with a metal ladder leading up to a trap door to the roof. "Cover me!" I yelled as I grabbed up the calgustor for the coilless rifle and low crawled into the maintenance room. I didn't have to look back to know that my men were already up on their feet and firing down at the traitors, as I heard the return of our M4s returning fire. I made it into the maintenance room and rolled over, seeing a padlock securing the trap door. Immediately I fired at the lock with my rifle, ignoring it as it fell behind me as I got up, abandoned my rifle and scrambled up the ladder, catching the calgustor. Once on a roof, I carefully peered over the side. From this vantage point, I could see down directly into the terrorist's ditch. There were seven of them, two traitor US Marines, three civilian terrorist militia fighters, and two traitor army soldiers manning the M240 machine gun. They were trapped and couldn't leave the ditch without us shooting them. In contrast, we could not secure this building with them still outside. The two traitor Marines and the three militia men were preparing to assault back into the building, under covering fire of their M240 machine gun. They hadn't noticed me. I carefully rolled the muzzle of the recoilless rifle over the edge of the roof, aimed the launcher at the enemy machine gunners, and fired. The two traitor US army soldiers disappeared in a black cloud of high explosive and dirt. The impact knocked over the three terrorist militia men just as the two traitor Marines started their charge towards the open door. I pulled an M68 frag grenade and threw it directly into the ditch where it exploded amongst the militia men tried to recover. One of the fanatical terrorist militia men tried vainly to jump on the grenade. A long brown hair whipping about her head and right shoulder like a bloody pinwheel as she was blown apart. The two traitorous Marines died defiantly only a few feet from the door in a hail of my men's rifle fire, but before dying, the bastards managed to wound three of my men. I had no time to celebrate our victory. We had secured the terrorist rebels prize building when a bright flash of light erupted from the direction of where Lieutenant Maiden and his first platoon were conducting their diversionary attack. White hot gas and smoke blossomed 300 meters to my left. I instinctively ducked at the sound of the blast, then seeing a huge bloom of smoke rising behind the air conditioning units and ran across the roof towards the north side of the building. As I reached the edge, I was hit by a wave of intense heat as if I'd opened the door of a huge oven in hell. It burned my eyes and eyebrows and smelled of oil and fuel. The accurate smoke choked me and my eyes began to water. Looking down over the edge of the roof, my view was partially obstructed by one story concrete buildings and bunkers. But I could see that a very large explosion, perhaps some sort of incendiary explosion, a detonated where Lieutenant Maiden's first platoon had occupied the terrorist rebel fighting trenches. 300 meters away. The trench line for a full 100 meters was a wash in billowing clouds of flames and white smoke. From my vantage point, I could hear the screams of Lieutenant Maiden's burning and dying soldiers. Then, to the northeast about two kilometers away, towards low foothills lined with trees. I could hear the faint of high explosive rounds impacting, followed by smoke blooming above the treeline. That was where Lieutenant Lynch's heavy weapons platoon was positioned, providing fire support with the mortars. 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Live the Chumba Life at ChumbaCasino.com. BTW room, no purchase necessary. Avoid web prohibited by law. See terms and conditions, 18 plus. Including you, we have 12 operational. The building is secure, sir. And sir, Captain Jenkins has been trying to raise you on the horn. Damn it, I yelled, grabbing the radio from Private Omar. I should have kept the radio close to me. 6, this is 5. I yelled into the radio, expecting Captain Jenkins to chew my ass out for not responding to his call sooner. 5, yelled Captain Jenkins. Thank the government you're alive. Have you secured the building? I could hear yelling and heavy small arms fire from his position over the radio. Yes sir, I answered. We took some casualties, but the objective is secure. Have you found out a cursed parchment fire? Captain Jenkins with a hopeful turn in his voice, said. In the background, I could hear the voice of Lieutenant Wilson Shout. Sir, they're flanking us. We need to pull back to the bonkomide. Negative sir, I answered. You've just cleared the last of the terrorists from the building and in the process of searching it now. 5, yelled Captain Jenkins. You need to find that parchment. The fate of the nation depends on you. Look, continue Captain Jenkins. General Lincoln set a trap. Somehow they knew we were coming. Whether the first platoon assault deep into their defensive lines, putting up just token resistance, then detonate bows or food gas which they dug into their second line defensive trenches. They've completely taken out our first platoon. Shit, I cursed silently. And weapons platoon? They've been hit by M1 tanks out of Fort Hood, answered Captain Jenkins. "What?" I said. But the three corps commander at Fort Hood swore allegiance to the rifle government of the United States. A three corps commander lied, answered Captain Jenkins. The Army 1st Cavalry Division and the Army 3rd Cavalry Regiment have joined the traitorous rebellion. The soldiers loyal to the government are being rounded up and detained. I cursed loudly. The U.S. Army garrison at Fort Hood, the largest U.S. Army post in America, had joined the rebellion against the duly appointed government to the United States. What kind of wickedness and evil was ridden on that damp parchment that would cause our brothers and sisters in arms to turn to treasonous addition? Well, it didn't matter. There'd be a terrible reckoning coming. All those traitors would die. Their families, their children, all of those traitors would die. I could hear the violent firefight from Captain Jenkins' position being echoed in my radio, raising in volume and intensity. I strained to see what was going on, but my view was blocked by smoke and burning structures and vehicles. To the north, I could catch glimpses of rebel terrorists, both former military and civilian militia, closing in on Captain Jenkins and what was left of the second platoon. Five came Captain Jenkins over the radio. We're pulling back. We're going to try and bring as many of the terrorists after us as we can. You have to find that damp parchment. Roger, six, I answered before handing the receiver back to private Omar. "Sage and air good," I yelled. "Turn into my platoon, Sergeant." We lost first platoon and weapons platoon. I knew we were coming. The commander's pulling back with the rest of the second platoon to try and draw the terrorists away from it. Sergeant Allgood nodded in concern. And I left out the part about fault of joining the rebels, although Sergeant Allgood probably already figured it out. Take first, second, and third squadrons to secure the first floor and search for that parchment. I'll take specialist Tefra, private Omar and private Anne from Four Squad and search the second floor. Okay, Omar. Omar, I yelled to the little soldier. Stay glued to me with that radio. We all ran back down a ladder to the second floor as random small arms fire ricocheted across the roof behind us. Sergeant Allgood boomed the third squad leader to take his team and follow him down to the first floor, where first in the second squad had already taken up defensive positions. "Let me know ASAP if you find that fucking parchment," I yelled. "Roger that, sir," answered Allgood as he led the three soldiers down the stairs. Meanwhile, I grabbed specialist Tefra and private Anne. The two soldiers from Four Squad who followed me up the stairs earlier and commanded, "Follow me." I'm going to do a thorough room by room search of every inch of this floor until we find that goddamn parchment. I'm finding the parchment was ridiculously easy. It was in a conference room, which was just two doors down to the right. Private Omar saw it first. I was looking into a room slightly offset to the left of the hallway. When Private Omar ran ahead a few steps and looked into the conference room on the right. "Sir," he said, "there is something in this room that you must look at." Private Omar's Filipino accent always got to me. I angrily ran towards him and threw him hard against the wall. I told you to fucking stay next to me with that damn radio. If you even think about going beyond my arms reach, I will blow the brains out of the back of your goddamn head. Do you understand? Private Omar looked up at me, nodding furiously. I spun around and entered the conference room, and there it sat. It was a dark tanning color, about 18 inches wide, brittle and ancient looking, rolled into a tight scroll and tied by a red ribbon. It sat on a sturdy, open table, surrounded by other evil and wicked historical artifacts which were the heart and soul of the irredeemable and deplorable terrorist rebellion. There it was, the inspiration of hundreds of years of horror and hatred and pain and slavery, the sole cause of all the suffering which has been inflicted on the United States ever since it was written. And hanging on the wall overlooking the parchment was the vile flag of the rebellion. It was the rallying symbol of hatred and horror for these vile anti-government traitors. The rebels hid his flag hung between two wide windows facing Sam. Looking out the window, 300 meters away I could see at least a company of rebel terrorists rapidly advancing across the base towards our captured building. They were all wearing the US Army first cavalry patch. I spat at the cowardly traitors. They'd enslave themselves to this parchment, this damned parchment. Tifa and Anne burst in behind me. Sir, we didn't find the parchment down the other end of it. Specialist Tifa fell silent. His mouth, the gate. Is that started private, Anne? Get out, I yelled. Get out and secure the next room. We got hostiles approaching from the south. Move. Our orders were very clear. Once found, absolutely no conscripted soldier was to touch the parchment, much less go near it. Only the senior officer in charge is authorized to secure the parchment and get it out of rebel hands. Omar, I yelled. Get that radio off and give it to me. He shrugged out at the backpack which contained the radio and handed it to me. I grabbed it out of his hands and yelled. Now, get your little asshole into the next room with Tifa and Anne in it. Private Omar's eyes went wide and he jumped forward. His arms outstretched towards me. "Sir," he screamed. I clenched my fist, ready to punch this traitors little asshole in the face. I knew it was a mistake to let that kind be conscripted into the military. But the little guy was on me quickly and he pushed me to the ground just as the window behind me exploded. Over my eyes, ears ringing. I was lying on my back staring up at the ceiling. A weight of private Omar's body was on me, but he wasn't moving. I painfully rolled him over, broken glass rolling off his back. He'd saved my life, although a bullet had blown half his face away. I knew it was a good idea to let these loyal little bastards be conscripted into the military after all. My secondary Motorola, which were used only for inter-platoon communications, came to life and, despite my ears still ringing from the sounds of small arms fire coming all around me, I could hear Sergeant Olga's voice. On the first floor, I could hear my man engage in a furious firefight against the rebels. "Sir, we've got hostiles approaching from all sides, traitor infantry backed by Bradleys." An explosion outside rocked the building. I appeared down over the broken window and saw one traitor Bradley armored infantry fighting vehicle belching smoke from its side in the quite below. The left track and road wheels had been severely damaged by the man's anti-tank fire, but the weapon was still active and firing into our building. Three more Bradleys and about 40 traitor infantry soldiers were steadily approaching. "How much anti-tank do we have?" I yelled into the radio. "We've got three laws and one 84 left," answered Olga into his Motorola. "What about the Carl Gustav?" I said. "Ah, that was our last round," answered Olga. "Don't let them in," I yelled. "I'll see if I can get some fire support. I just need a minute." "We'll hope for a while, sir," said Olga, as the building continued to shudder from the impacts of thousands of enemy rounds. "Yeah, but uh, hurry." I rolled over, ripping Private Omar's rucksack open, remembering that he still had two rounds for the Carl Gustav in his pack. Finding them I scooped up the two rounds and ducked and ran out of the room towards the adjoining room where specialist T for a private an were firing down at the enemy, intending to have one of them take the two anti-tank rounds down to where Sergeant Olga was fighting with the rest of the platoon. However, as I turned the corner, the war behind which they were firing from erupted. 25mm autocannon fire from one of the M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicles ripped an and T for into bloody ribbons, leaving little more than viscous and red spray on the wall and floors. A large gaping hole was punched into the hardened concrete wall, which I looked through and could see the enemy armored vehicle steadily moving closer before coming to a stop about 200 meters away. All of the other vehicles had stopped and the traitor soldiers also quit advancing and took cover. I scrambled back into the room which held the parchment, trying to think of a way I could extract it from my man. Before I could get to the radio, I heard a voice speaking of allowed speakers, which had been set up outside. Attention! Soldiers of the third platoon dealt a company, first deep strike battalion of the Reich's first Special Operations Regiment. I am Major General Donald Lincoln. I gasped and ducking low appeared over the edge of the broken window. There, standing between two enemy Bradleys was a tall, thin man dressed in an army combat uniform. He looked tired and hagged, almost sad but stood confidently and exposed over open ground. On either side of him I could see over a hundred enemy traitors in covered fighting positions. More than a few of them looked over at their commanding general as if he were crazy. "Son, please," General Lincoln continued, his voice calm but tinged with sadness. He held his hands out as if offering some kind of sacrifice. "Please, my sons, it doesn't have to be like this. You've been lied to and brainwashed for over twenty years. Your history, your memories, have all been perverted." "Oh, that's son of a bitch," I said into the Motorola to Sergeant Allgood. That's exactly what our instructors at West Point told us the rebels would say. This only proves that the government was right about those filthy murdering animals. "Sons," continued General Lincoln. "What you have in your possession is the last vestige of who you really are and where your values truly come from. I am asking nothing of you." I'm only requesting that you read the parchment which is in your possession. "Please," but the senior member of your unit read the parchment. "That is all I ask." And you can go and take the parchment back with you to the capital where it belongs. "We'll even give you supplies and fuel if you need." "Just, please," read the parchment. I sat in silence, just staring at the enemy commander, hatred filling my heart with each passing heartbeat. "Oh, such propaganda, such smooth, talking propaganda." "No, I would not read that filthy parchment, nor would I allow myself or my man to be brainwashed by the filth which was written in it." "Sir," said Allgood over the radio. "What do we do?" "We carry out our mission, Sergeant," I answered. "I can still attempt to get supporting arms fire if I can contact Captain Jenkins. On my mark, I want all of you to..." "If, my sons, in the back of your mind things don't seem right," continued General Lincoln. "As if, all of a sudden, everything went completely upside down, and what was once considered good and decent and pure is now evil. And what was once considered evil and cruel is now considered good, then perhaps it's time to take a good long look around you and see what's going on. And if you can see the destruction that has been wrought on this country, I pray that you have the courage to walk away." "Walk away! Walk away!" I yelled into the motive. In order for the rightful government of the United States to be established, we must first bring the minority groups the "unter mention" into our fault. Once we've enslaved their minds, bodies, and votes, we were done with them. Their revolution only brought about their subjugation to us. Now this fool expects us just to walk away. I left my M4 at the General's head. This would be the signal for my men to open fire. In the confusion and the loss of their commanding officer, I should have enough time to call in supporting fires. As I scented my scope on my target. I remembered how, in the past, another vile and despicable man named Lincoln, who would still against everything we're fighting for today, have been assassinated by one of our party's greatest heroes. A split second before I could fire. One of my soldiers burst from the downstairs floor, waving a makeshift white flag in his hands and walking towards the enemy general. "I do not have your parchment," my soldier said, "but I have wounded. Please let us deliver them into your care and I will go with you, sir." Well, I took aim and fired. Sergeant Olga's head exploded and his traitorous body fell in a heap of few feet in front of General Lincoln. Almost immediately, the remainder of my man opened fire at the rebel traitors, as General Lincoln scrambled to get behind one of the M2 fragments. The return fire was worse than before, as I teed up the mic on my radio to call Captain Jenkins. To my surprise, his voice came up on the other hand. "Five," he exclaimed. "Is that you?" I pulled my radio closer to my man. I am in possession of the parchment, but escape and extraction will not be possible. There are more rebels than we thought and our position will be overrun soon. Do we still have apaches on standby? We need immediate air simple. Negative five, said Captain Jenkins. Our apaches were seized by the first cavalry when they turned rebel. Lieutenant Wilson is dead and I only escape with three of his men. We hold up about 200 meters south of the terrorist base, just inside the treeline. The sound of incoming rebel fire increased, as the building shook violently from an explosion. The rebels were in the building. She asked my man echoed at the stairs as their returned fire against the rebels faded. "What are my orders?" I asked. Five are on a secure channel to Washington, D.C. There's someone there who needs to urgently speak with you, said Captain Jenkins. Wait one. As a brief pause, his Captain Jenkins said to someone on the connecting line to Washington. "Sir, he's on the line." Lieutenant Marx, how are you there? A new voice boomed from my radio. My ears were ringing from the noise of gunfire and explosions, but I could recognize that voice from his many inspiring and uplifting speeches. His words had captivated a nation, uniting the right-thinking people in our war against those who refused to think properly ought to conform. "Mr. Prime Minister," I said. Lieutenant Marx, the Prime Minister said, "Your nation will be eternally grateful for the courage and sacrifices of you, and your men. Can you get out with the parchment?" "Sir," I said. They offered to let us go and allow us to bring the parchment back to Washington, but only on the condition that I read it to them. "No," said the Prime Minister. Then, in a more subdued tone, he said, "No, Lieutenant. Under no circumstances will you read that filthy parchment. And there's no way you can escape." "No, Prime Minister," I said regretfully. I am in possession of their recursive parchment, but we are being overrun, sir. I'm afraid that I cannot exfiltrate from my position. I understand," said the Prime Minister solemnly. Lieutenant Marx, son, I need you to understand the extreme importance of your mission. If you cannot get out of there with the parchment, you must destroy it at all costs. Destroy it in every other terrorist artifact which you see there. It is important to the nation that utterly no evidence of the rebel history survives. "It shall be done, sir," I said, resolutely. "To end this war, I'll do what needs to be done, my Führer." "Thank you, son," the Prime Minister said. "Your name will live on in the Reich for a thousand years." I felt immensely proud. I looked at the rebel flag hanging on the wall beside the heavy oak table and, pulling out my zipper lighter, set the flag ablaze. I watched as the broad red and white stripes of the flag, with the blue field of 50 white stars in the upper corner. A symbol of hatred and evil for nearly 300 years became engulfed in flames. I then grabbed a ceramic statue which stood over the parchment, a bleeding man nailed to a cross, another symbol of the rebellion's barbaric hatred and evil intolerance, and I smashed it to bits on the ground. I stepped on the vestige of the man's head, who wore a crown of thorns over and over again until this symbol of hatred was nothing but powder. Finally, with shaking hands, I picked up the parchment on which the most vile and evil words were ever written by man. What was it which was written on this ancient scroll that turned men into raving animals? What was it about this parchment that made people turn against the government? I had to know. I slowly unrolled the dry and decaying scroll. It was slightly burned on the sides, and I could see flecks of dry blood on it. Apparently this murderous scroll was so sacred to the rebels that some had died to protect and preserve the filth through it. What I read sent shivers up my spine. Nothing so vile and so abhorrent to man should ever have been put to paper. Much less red. What was written here was a direct threat to everything our nation and our dear leader had fought so hard to create. Ever since the election of the nation's 44th prime minister, he was a man whose powerful name meant he who descended like thunder from the heavens, and all right-thinking Americans worshipped 44 as if he were gone. I rolled up the vile scroll and touched the edge to the burning rebel flag and smiled as the scroll which began with the words "we the people of the United States" and was reduced to ash. There was no more return fire from my men. They were all dead, but we had won. The heart and soul of the rebellion, their history, their bitter clings of their god and their constitution have been erased from history. As the first of the rebel soldiers burst into the room, I raised my rifle to my chin and fire. General Lincoln was the first to enter the room and saw the last of the fascist government soldiers blow his own brain down. He was swiftly followed by a dozen other soldiers, each wearing a patch of the American flag on the right sleeve of their combat uniforms. An American soldier quickly came up beside General Lincoln. "Sir," he said, "we've secured the building. None of the fascists allowed themselves to be taken prison." General Lincoln looked down at the dead fascist lieutenant. "They rarely do, Captain," he said in a tired, gravely voice. "I want a status report ASAP. I need to know the number of casualties we took, especially amongst our civilians. We need to start evacuating the combat and get our stinger teams on the roof, just in case the fascists have any air support." He looked around the room, seeing the burned remains of the flag of the United States. The crushed crucifix, which had been rescued from St John's Church in what was once the nation's capital, and the precious parchment reduced a little more than ash. General Lincoln looked down at the second body lying next to the fascist lieutenant, and quickly now beside it. He grabbed the fallen soldier's hand and said to Solomon, "Prepare a burial detail for this man." Lieutenant Colonel Omar was the best counter-intelligence officer in the brigade. "You'd have never known that the fascists were coming, if not for him." They did all this, just to destroy the original constitution of the United States of America. Said an American Marine, who is carrying a stinger missile launcher. "Fascists do this to erase history, so they can rewrite it, Sergeant," said General Lincoln. "Destroy the past, and you can reinvent the history to suit your narrative." That's why they desperately invited the constitution either returned or destroyed. And that's why we made more copies. General Lincoln looked out of the broken window, and down to the compound below, with a concrete building relatively untouched by the fighting. By which held America's most precious secret weapon, one of the very few copying machines left in the United States, which have not been confiscated by the fascist government. General Lincoln nodded slightly, as American soldiers and civilians exited the building, loading armfuls of scrolls into an awaiting convoy of trucks and armored vehicles for distribution across the state of Texas and across the border into Mexico, where Americans were preparing to retake their nation. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast, where thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories, and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words, and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. 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