Creepy - 50 Foot Ant's First Story Chapters 11 & 12

Episode Date: April 28, 2020

The first story...***Written by 50 Foot Ant and narrated by Atticus Jackson***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is the bloody disgusting podcast network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories make me. contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. 50-foot ant's first story. Credited to 50-foot ant on something awful and narrated by Atticus Jackson. Chapter 11 My brother's voice yanked me out of the warm water, and I recognize the warm feeling. feeling for what it was. Shock.

On your feet! My father's voice rang in my head, and I jerked involuntarily as the words my father used to wake us boys up, and that were used to call attention to an officer entering the room rang in my head, impossible to deny. Someone had propped my feet up with something, which I kicked away when I jerked. I opened my eyes, aware of how they felt gluey, almost like my eyelids were stuck together. My jaw throbbed with agony, and someone had a hold on my hand and was pulling it something inside of it. My ribs ached, and my head felt like it was full of glass, but I was wide awake, staring at the dimly lit room. Adrenaline flooded my system as I

fought that warm, languorous feeling. With a groan, I tried to push myself up, and a hand pressed against my chest, pushing me down with a force I couldn't resist. Stay down, aunt, a voice ordered. I'd heard those words plenty of times, after getting an ass kicking in a new school, or when some of my brothers ganged up on me. Three or more on one, and I'd usually ended up on the ground, and when I tried to get up, they always said the same thing. It provoked the same response at that moment as it had in the past.

And I yanked my hand free, smacked away the hand pressing on my chest, and sat up, spitting what I knew was a mouthful of blood out and glaring around me. Instead of a school locker room with the backyard of the house, I was in the barracks room. It took me a second to realize where I was. Nagel was sitting on the bed next to me, dressed in a set of PT sweats that didn't quite fit her. She was glaring at me while Jacob stood next to her holding a flashlight. Are you done? She asked, reaching out and grabbing my hand. Stupid boy.

She chided. She looked at my hand under the light and sighed. You pulled the thread out of the needle, you dumbass hick. Thread. I was still a little confused as to what had happened, and I was having trouble focusing my vision. You gassed your hand pretty bad. Jacobs answered.

She's trying to stop the bleak. I held still while Nagel threaded the curved needle she had in her hand and then put two more stitches into my hand. How long was I out? I asked. It's almost 0-800. You were out for about half an hour. Nagel said, lifting up my hand and using her teeth to snap the thread after she made a complex little knot. Long enough to take care of most of your injuries. My fucking mouth hurts. I bitched, running my tongue along my front teeth.

There was some jagged stumps there, and I counted three teeth broken off on the bottom and one of my front teeth on the top. Not surprised. Your lips are fucked up pretty good, and I think your nose is broken, too. She sat the needle down in the small brown sewing kit, and then scrubbed her face with her hands. And I think you have a concussion. I smiled at her, feeling the pain as the expression pulled at sore spots in my face. I'm good.

I lied. My left eye wasn't focusing very well. Why is it always the left eye in my family? Two of my uncles, my aunt, one of my sisters, and one of my brothers all had eye patches. All of them on the left eye. One of my grandfathers had lost his eye fighting in the Pacific. I looked around at the room. The curtains were drawn over the windows, but at least it felt warm.

The other two-way radio was on the desk, Hernandez sitting next to it, staring at the door, with one of the heavy axes we'd taken from the motor pool in his hands. Lewis and Carter were still snuggled up on the bed across from me, but I could see that Carter's face didn't look so pale, even if the one earlobe I could see looked blackened. That reminded me. How's your nipples and toes? I asked Nagle.

She flushed, then smiled. Nipples are sore, but okay. But you, me, and Balmer, have frostbite on our ears and toes. She told me. Your pinky looks like it's in bad shape. There was a crash from above us, then another, than a scream. I looked at Nagle and tried to lift an eyebrow, but stopped when the pain in my forehead spiked.

Yeah, that's been going on the whole. time. Hernandez offered. How's John? I asked, turning to look at him. He was curled up in the fetal position, holding his stomach and shivering. I think that hit busted up something inside of him. Nagel said, shaking her head. He's got a bad bruise on the right side of his stomach. He's lucky, Jacob said, towing the pile of clothing in the middle of the room. It should have split him in half. Not down yet. Bomber groaned and tried to sit up. I held up my arm and let him use it.

The thing that had been bugging me suddenly crystallized as John sat up. Where's Hewitt? I asked, looking around. He wasn't gathered up in the room, and I doubted he was in the bathroom, taking a shower, leaving a dump. Nagel looked around and swore. He left about 20 minutes after you did. Jacob supplied, and I cursed. What?

Daniels, what color are his eyes? Nagle's asked when Daniels looked up from where he was sitting on the chair. How the fuck should I know? It's not like we're fucking. Daniels answered. Why? No reason. Nagle lied, and I nodded.

Anyone got a plan? I asked, swinging my feet off the bed and slowly standing up. The world tilted to the left for a moment, and I put my hand on Nagle's shoulder. to steady myself. Yeah, put some fucking clothes on. Jacobs laughed, moving over to the dresser and digging in it. Oh, right.

I waited till he threw me a pair of boxers, then went and took a piss. My dick was red and painful, and my balls still ached. I winced at the fact that the soft tissue on my penis looked chapped. Nagel, check bomber's dick, make sure it doesn't have frostbite. I said loudly, making sure there wasn't any blood in my urine. The ass kicking I'd taking during the night, I needed to make sure. Oh, sure, ask the chick. She laughed.

It looks red and raw. She called back as I staggered out of the bathroom. No, sure. Tell everyone about my dick. Bomber bitched, his voice low and pain-filled. Do we know what the fuck is going on? Hernandez asked. From the radio there was a steady moaning noise, once in a while broken by a shriek.

The door to the stairwell must have still been open down there. They've got a fucking psycho on the loose, Jacob said. We already knew that. But who the fuck is it? And why are they doing it? Hernandez asked, looking at each of us in turn. I mean, I can understand wanting to kill you, Aunt, but for fuck's sake, most people don't even know you're in this unit. He smiled at me.

and I tried to smile back, wincing at the pain in my mouth. I nodded as he continued. I mean, what the fuck did we ever do to him? This shit is just crazy. Yeah, it's just that. Fucking crazy. Jacob shrugged. It's not like the unit hasn't had its share of crazy people.

We probably wouldn't understand why he's doing it even if he told us. He's doing it because he can. Nagel said. He's getting off on it. She shivered, and I knew she was remembering when we panicked down in the orderly room. So what if some assholes playing games? We can all take them, Jacob said. Except he won't hit all of us at once, Nagle pointed out. He hit Bomber with the axe and tried to run off. Aunt chased him, and as soon as he had Anne alone, that's when he fucked Anne up.

He got our safety lead. Balmer grunted, slowly swinging his legs. off the bed. Oh man, my stomach hurts. He wretched again, just bringing up a thin string of bile. Lewis was going to have a hell of a time G-Iing his room. He stole our cold weather gear and wrecked a bomber in Ant's rooms as well as made it so we can't get into the Ants Brothers room. Nagle added, he may be fucking with us, but that doesn't make what he's doing any less deadly. And the stairwell was covered in blood. Jacobs added. It sprayed on the wall by the door.

I think whoever was killed someone in the stairwell. All right. Who do we know it couldn't have been? Hernandez asked. Bomber, me, aunt, Carter. Nagel stated, I'll extend all of you the benefit of the doubt. That's all of us. Daniel said.

Shit. No, the guy's on CQ. I added. They're either part of this or got taken out. Someone's using a master key. When I went down there with all the shit first started, they were gone. Bomber pushed himself to his feet and staggered to the bathroom, stopping once to lean against the wall lockers and a wretch again. Could it be?

Daniel started, looking around nervously. Don't even say his name! Jacobs yelled. On the other bed, Carter stirred sleepily and Lewis Ray's, his head out, blinking. No way. I told them. It would have ripped me apart.

I would have killed us out in the snow. The blizzard wouldn't even phase him. Whoever is doing this is alive. In the bathroom, it sounded like Balmer was shitting his guts out. He groaned loudly, full of pain, and we all looked at each other. Nagel was chewing on her lip, then looked up. What about First Sergeant Quentin? She asked, standing up.

The cold wind blew across all of us at the mention of the former First Sergeant. No way, he's still alive. Hernandez said, pointing at the curtains, The blizzard would have killed him. Besides, nobody's seen hide nor hair of him in months. I could hear Nagel reassuring bomber and heard bomber wretch and shit loudly at the same time. Yeah, but he never was found either. Lewis piped up, looking around.

He sure is. Fuck, hooked Till's ass up. We all nodded. Lewis got up from the bed and grabbed a pair of boxers to match the one I was wearing out of the drawer and pulled them on. Then he started getting dressed. Nobody's come back either. We'd know. I added.

Aside from us, everyone lives off post or over in main post and housing. Nagle led Bomber out of the bathroom. He looked like death warmed over. I could see the bruise Nagle was talking about. It was dark red, obvious against his pale skin, just to the right of his navel and going almost all the way across to his hip. He was sweating and shaking, obviously weak, his navel led him back to the bed. There was another crash, followed by the pounding of footsteps moving from above us and fading away. I say we go out there, find them, and beat the shit out of him, Lewis said.

I'm sick of the racket he's making. Go on ahead with your bad self. Nagel told him. My head throbbed and I sat back down next to Bomber, who had curled up in a ball after Nagel had tucked him in. I was waiting for the dizziness to pass, but it seemed to be getting worse. My stomach clinched with nausea. I spit blood on the floor and tried to ignore the way my teeth throbbed.

Hey, I've got to clean that shit up. Don't spit on my floor. Lewis yelled. Sorry. I said. I laid over on my side. I wasn't thinking. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt someone pressed something in my hand. Here, Aunt, spit in this. Lewis said, his voice a lot more gentle. I opened the eye not pressed against the mattress and looked. It was an empty beer can. Thanks, I said, closing my eye again and pulling the can to my chest. I could feel someone tucking

a blanket in around me. When I opened my eye, I could see Lewis's legs. My head was pounding, and my jaw was throbbing with agony. I kept playing with the broken teeth. Each time my tongue touched part of them, it sparked agony through my mouth. I could feel the splits in my lower lip, all three of them, and the split in my upper lip at the corner. I'd taken more kicks to the face than I'd thought, or that one kick had been really effective. I remembered the feeling of the heel of the boot crashing into my mouth. Mm, wake Anne up every hour or so. Nagel yawned.

I'm going to take a nap. I'm fucking exhausted. Keep an eye on bomber. Wake him up when you wake up ant. Keep an ear out for noises on the radio. Roger that. Jacob said. I heard some rustling and bedspring squeak. I knew that Nagel was curling up on the other bed.

and briefly thought about pushing myself up and snuggling up with her. Don't leave the room. Nagel finished, yawning again. He's out there. He knows where we all are. A loud crash from somewhere in the building made me twitch. He knows, followed me into sleep. Chapter 12.

My dreams were full of pain, and I kept getting woken up. I just wanted to sleep. I was exhausted. My fingers, toes, nose, and my ears burned like fire. My cock hurt, and my mouth and head felt like someone was kicking me in the face repeatedly. I kept dreaming of my 18th birthday of fire and flame. In the dreams I inhaled and the fire streamed into my mouth and swirled around in my skull. When the light shined in my eyes again and someone was calling my name, I managed to roll over on my side and push myself up into a sitting position. Easy hand, easy. A voice said, Jacobs.

I'm good, I said. My head was ringing, but my vision wasn't as blurred as it was before. My brain felt like it was working again. I'd gotten my ass kicked by someone on the stairwell pretty good because I charged into an ambush. That was nothing new. I'd had my ass kick before. Hell, my own mother had almost caved in my skull when I was 13 by sling me a cast iron skillet against the back of my head.

The hell you are? Jacobs answered. Your face is one big fucking bruise and you weren't too good a little bit ago. I looked up and noticed that the room. was lit up. The curtains opened to reveal nothing but swirling white outside that was glowing with proof that the sun had risen while I was sleeping.

You were crying in your sleep, Hernandez added. I looked over at him, the pain in my face telling me that I was snarling. He saw my look and raised a hand. I'm not calling you a pussy dude, I'm just telling you. Yeah, I've been told that. I sighed and went to rub my eyes.

My head exploded in pain, and I jerked my hand away with a hiss. He went back? No, Hernandez shrugged. Think he's gone? He's fucking toast. Jacobs answered, and I nodded. I looked around and noticed that a few people were missing. Where's Nagel?

I asked. Her Lewis and Carter went down to refill the generator. Jacobs told me. How long have they been gone? I asked. There was a thump outside. Jacobs went to answer when there was a banging on the door. We heard Nagel yell for us to open the fuck up.

By the time I got to my feet, Jacobs had the door open so the others could get in. He then slammed the door and locked it behind them. How's it look? I asked, moving over to Nagel and grabbing her in a hug. She was ice cold and I held her for her first. a moment while she shivered. Bad. There's not much snow on the ground out there, but the wind is awful.

She told me, stripping off the park as she was wearing and dropping it on the floor. I looked outside. We've got zero visibility out there. Temperatures up, but not by much. She folded the parka up and rubbed her hands together. And I've got good news. What? I asked, pausing on my way to the bathroom.

Lewis was waiting outside the door and I figured Carter was in there. We grabbed some MREs out of our platoon's war stocks. She said, and my stomach rumbled. How's your mouth? It hurts. I admitted, stepping forward when Carter came out of the bathroom carrying his parka, and Lewis went in. I'm going to check on bomber, she told me.

And I waved to her. I heard another thump and started to turn around when Lewis came. back out, buttoning up his pants. I took a leak, noticing it looked like my dick was peeling and came back out. Everyone but Nagel and Balmer were tearing into the MREs, Lewis and Carter arguing over the ham slices. I looked and Nagel was waving me over. He's in trouble, Nagel told me when I bent down to her. Feel.

She took my hand and pressed it to his forehead. He was burning up. When I took my hand away, he muttered and went to roll over, crying out from pain. His eyes opened for a moment, rolled back in his head, and he went limp again. Outside, the thump sounded again. I think the hit with the axe ruptured something inside of him, she whispered. I got to do something. I told her, sitting down.

Nagel smiled sadly and wiped the bottom of my lip. Speaking had split open my lip and all it could taste was blood. What are you going to do? Carry him out on your back to the main post? She asked, wiping my chin again. Damn, man, he really did a number on your face. Could have been worse. He could have stabbed. My voice trailed off and I looked around the room, pausing from where I was picking up my clothing from the night before. Where's the knife I was carrying?

On the desk. Jacobs told me. I stood up ignoring the dizziness and moved over to where Jacobs was pointing. I heard that thump again, but was concentrating on the knife I'd taken from whoever attacked me in the stairs. The knife was a bayonet, standard issue for the unit, and the number was engraved on the back. The bayonet was someone's standard issue, and I wondered if whoever's it was could have been the one who was roaming around the barracks. Still, it told me more than a little, and concentrating on it helped clear the cobwebs still clogging up my brain. I pulled my t-shirt on and then buttoned up my flannel. It wasn't who we were all afraid of.

If it had been, he wouldn't have used a knife. He would have ripped my guts out in the stairwell, and he would have taken us one at a time in the snow. Whoever it was, I knew the following. They were male. they were injured. They were a member of the unit. And they weren't about to take us on more than one at a time. It already killed one person.

And they had a place to layer up where they weren't worried about freezing to death. I bent down and pulled on my socks and boots, feeling the pain in my toes. There was a weird feeling I knew was my pinky toenail peeling off. I jumped when Nagel slid up next to me, warming under my arm. I hugged her and kept staring at the bayonet while there was another thump outside. It was pretty rhythmic, so I figured something had torn free and was banging up against the side of the building. What? Nagel asked, reaching down and flicking the bayonet with a fingernail.

I noticed that the skin under her fingernails was black, just like mine. Frostbite. Nothing. How long was I out? I dimly remembered asking that before. A couple of hours. You should be resting. You look like hell. I'm fine, I answered.

Jacob's laugh from behind me, and I noticed his laugh had a kind of braying sound, almost horse-like. That crossed him off. You're just like your fucking brother! He laughed. I turned from the bayonet, trying to smile and feeling pain in my mouth when I did.

I looked at Bomber who was moving around on the bed moaning in delirium, his cheeks flushed. Then at the others who were all eating, then down at Nagel who was in the crook of my arm. I opened my mouth to speak when there was the sound of shattering glass. The curtains billowed out and Jacobs fell out of his chair with a shout. Cold air billowed into the room with snow following and the temperature dropped suddenly. A hammer was laying on the floor and Jacobs was holding onto his head, cursing. The MRI scattered around the tile.

Hernandez was yelling and so was Lewis, both of them moving over to the window. Carter had bent down next to Jacobs trying to pull his hand away to get a good look at the wound. Nagle had run over to Bomber, making sure he was tucked in, and I almost tripped over the chair running over to the window. I couldn't see shit outside but howling. snow. Lewis turned and ran for the door, and Nagel jumped up and grabbed at him.

Don't Lewis! Nagle yelled right as Lewis reached for the lock. Hernandez was next to me, looking into the snow, squinting his eyes. Behind us, Lewis was arguing with Nagel. He wanted to go after whoever just threw a fucking hammer through the window. I realized that while you couldn't see too far from the windows, that didn't mean anything. I opened the window, ignoring the glass it fell onto the floor and leaned out to look. I could faintly see the window below. Visibility was around 10 to 20 feet, not far, but... We're going to have to find somewhere else!

Nagel yelled over the howl of the wind whipping into the room. We've got to get bombers somewhere warm. Roger! I yelled back, grabbing the coveralls I'd worn the night before and putting them on. They were still damp, but they were warm, and I grinned when I felt the stiffness of the Kevlar in between the sets of coveralls. Lewis had grabbed his rucksack and was busy unlocking his roommate's TA-50 lockers and grabbing down their rucksacks. Our unit insisted that everyone have their shit packed for alert, and had been winter long enough that the ruck should have been packed for cold weather. At least all three had the waterproof bags at the bottom that I knew would have the cold weather sleeping bag stuff

into them. There was a banging of metal on metal that made me spin around. The radio on the desk. Nagel! I called out, quickly zipping up the last cover-all. I hear it. She answered. You guys head down to the platoon offices. Ant and I have to hurry. She called out. Her hands busy zipping up the cold weather gear she'd just taken off. I grabbed the bayonet. I grabbed the bayonet. in the knit ski cap that was on the desk while Nagel told the others to be careful with bomber, not to jog them around too much. The door opened up into a pitch black and freezing hallway. There was about a half inch of snow on the tile, and the wind blew it around as the currents changed from the door being opened up and letting the wind blow in. My ears and nose started to ache,

and pulling the air over my broken teeth made my eyes tear up. I've got to hurry. Nagel said leading the way. She knew I was hurt, that I was slower than her, all the injuries I'd taken stiffening up while I had slept. But she also knew me well enough to know I bounced back pretty quick, and, like my brother, at a high pain tolerance. We took the end stairwell to the first floor, and I led the way, my stomach muscles tightening involuntarily at the thought of an axe coming out of the darkness.

Nothing happened, and we quickly headed down to the hallway to the middle stairwell. I'd been right. The middle hallway doors were wedged open, and the wind blew down the hallway. Pulling the door open, the wind snatched it out of my tingling burning hand and slammed it against the wall with a boom. From the darkness below, we could hear the impact of metal on metal. Leaning forward, I put my mouth near Nagel's ear. Keep back from me. Don't come in unless you have a clear shot.

I told her softly, and she nodded. I led the way, aware of the blood that had run down off the second floor landing and then down the wall next to me before it froze. Too much blood for someone to lose and survive. I could hear the banging below, and knew it was echoing through the stairwell, and I smiled in the darkness. Down below I could see light,

and knew that whoever was down there had opened the door to the end of the loading dock, either to give themselves light, or that's the way they'd come in. Round two, asshole. I moved silently down the stairs, Nagle keeping a little ways back, and I stopped when I could see the doorway at the bottom. Someone had wedged it open, dropping the chalk, and snow covered the floor, ice on the steps. Whoever had done it was beyond, and I could hear the door. them banging on the locks to the basement.

I could also faintly hear the roaring of the little one-and-a-half-k generator. So far it had held up like a champ. I tightened my grip on the bayonet and went down the last set of stairs, pausing at the bottom, unwilling to blindly charge again. A parka with the hood up, stained with something dark, Mickey Mouse boots, heavy gloves, and an axe being swung with both hands. the last two locks on the four bomber had installed on the heavy security door.

Beyond him, the door to the loading dock was wide open, revealing the swirling wide of the snow, and I saw a length of 550 cord on the end of a D-ring swinging from the push bar. Something clued him in, the crunch of snow maybe, or perhaps some six cents that only the bat-shit crazy get. Whatever it was, he spun in place. The axe held in both hands. He was wearing a cold weather mask, completely hiding who he was,

only the strip across his mouth unsnapped and showing bared, white teeth. One eye was closed and purple behind the slit, and I knew I was grinning at the sight. I hefted the bayonet, feeling warmth on my chin as I raised the naked blade. His one good eye widened as he saw me. Miss me. I grinned, watching his axe, his feet, his whole body. To use the axe, he'd have to get his feet under him right, or he'd overextend. I fully intended on killing him.

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