Creepy - He Was Stored on the E-Row

Episode Date: April 27, 2020

New job jitters...***Written by Courtney Valerie with guest narration by Danielle Hewitt, Steve Blizin, and Nichole Goodnight***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin***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. This podcast and the bonus content we've been able to provide during the week is made possible thanks to our patrons. Please join me in welcoming and thanking new patrons. Lorelei, James Jarvis, Selena Rhodes, Kyle Anderson, Wiley Rollins, Trixie Brown, Stephanie Davidson, Mae Pasolino, Sarah, Megan Wick, Red Scary Ninja, Stacey Ray, Nicole Antoinette del Rosario, T.W. Grimm, Terry Crows, Jenny Lee Dobertyne, Danielle Anderson, Tara Elizabeth, Whitley Stivison, Michael Delwing, Jessica Finch, John N., at no underscore genius, Angelica Gardner, Piler Furman, Cortez, Spitfire Christian, Kevin Newman, Giggles, Mark Fuller, John Carpe, Sarah Leighton, James N. W., Karen Rose Humber, Shank, and the Wanderlust, Jessica Mabry, Chef Randy, Fat Ghostbuster, Colin Lamond,

Terrick Atkinson, and Mandy Hendricks. Our patrons mean everything to us, and we do all we can to give back for their generosity, as you may have noticed during the week. Starting for as little as $1 a month, their reward tiers include bonuses like early commercial free access to all episodes, shoutouts, weekly Patreon bonus episodes, immediate access to our entire back catalog of almost 500 Patreon exclusive bonus episodes, coffee cups, t-shirts, and logo hoodies. If you'd like to see how you can support the podcast and get rewarded for doing so, please check out our reward here at patreon.com slash creepypod. And a quick thank you to all our listeners during us.

This podcast is a bit one-sided in that it's just me speaking most of the time, but I really do appreciate interacting with listeners on social media or email or on the Patreon page. We're working really hard to provide all the content we can during this week on top. of our normal Sunday and Patreon schedule. And hearing words of support really means a lot. And it's not just me and the crew that appreciates it. Thank you for listening. No.

This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrication. is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy Presents He was stored on the E-Roe. Written by Courtney Valerie with guest narration by Danielle Hewitt, Steve Blisen, and Nicole If you are reading this account, it means that I have included you, amongst those I trust to do what is right in the event of my sudden disappearance.

I am safe for the moment, at least until the inevitable happens. My options are grim, and I'm not sure whether I prefer them finding me, or that thing finding its way here first. I don't know if I can get it all out in time. And this sweat, fueled by terror, keeps burning my eyes, making it almost impossible to read what I'm typing, as crazy as it may seem. Everything you are about to read regarding the events that took place in the early morning hours of January 6th, 2018,

are true. Those monsters who call themselves doctors at the Zizzik's physician, facility need to be held accountable for the events of that night. It may be too late for Ethan and me. That doesn't mean that they can continue manufacturing the covert nightmares going on behind closed doors. Nobody knows what's out there. Nobody knows what's coming. I started working for the Zizzik's research facility three weeks ago as a yard jockey.

I found it a little strange at first that a research facility would need dedicated drive. to haul containers on the property. Surely they could get a better deal, hiring a third-party company to move some storage trailers. I mean, how many moves could a facility such as this require in a day? I had not heard of the ZRF up to this point, but I hadn't exactly been looking either. Desperate for work in the stagnant California job market,

I pushed these questions to the back of my mind and jumped on the opportunity at an interview. I was surprised to get a call from the ZRF Human Resources Manager just a few days after submitting my application. Am I speaking with Val McDaniel? Said an authoritative yet monotone voice. I was instantly reminded of one of the agents from the Matrix film and fought to keep my inner smart ass from responding with, Yes, I am the one.

Catching a glimpse of the stack of past two bills on my disheveled kitchen table, I figured I'd better keep the sarcasm on a short. leash. Yes, this is she. I responded with a bit too much eagerness in my voice. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth in embarrassment. Too many years in the retail industry had led to the existence of customer service vow, and she still reared her ugly head from time to time. The voice continued in a bemused tone. Before I got a chance to speak, think abruptly cut in. I paused for a long moment. But I, I haven't. Don't, don't you need to interview me first? I said, tripping over the words as they exited my lips. We hear it's referenced out with our own check. Think said with a

hint of boredom in his already robotic voice. Think of this as your interview. Not wanting to offend the man or seeming ungrateful. I blurted out a, yes sir, and a thank you. I was not too pleased with the sexist undertone of his comments, but I was desperate and willing to swallow my pride. I inquired about the pay and the schedule, and I was elated to hear that I was needed on site as soon as possible since they were short a driver, with only one remaining in the yard. The schedule was three 12-hour shifts, Saturday through Monday from 5 p.m. to 5 a.m. Not an ideal time frame, but the pay was excellent. And if anyone could have seen my reaction to the figures,

they would have practically seen the dollar signs reflected in my bloodshot eyeballs. I hope you find it more suitable than the last future. Think trailed off at the end, almost speaking to himself more than me. Before I got a chance to ask him what he meant, I heard a click on the other end and he was gone. I glanced at the time, 8.45 a.m. I set out a pile of fresh clothes, hopped in the shower, and jumped into bed to prepare for the first overnight shift at CRF. My alarm blared and jolted me awake after what seemed like just an hour or two of sleep. I shuffled like a Romero-esque zombie and got myself together for work.

After a quick Google search to get my direction straight, I set out on Interstate 15 through the Mojave Desert toward my destination. After driving for what seemed like an eternity on a two-lane road off the interstate, the facility came into view in the distance. The size of the property was expansive and intimidating. It reminded me more of a military base than a research facility. After signing in at the gate, I ventured into the front of the facility and was greeted by what I assumed to be a human resource employee. I say assumed, as the man did not speak more than a few words to me other than,

sign these papers and you're good to go outside. Pretty straightforward and to the point, huh? I chuckled as he flicked a swipe card at me. He did not react to my con. remained stone face before turning on his heels and disappearing down one of the clinically bright hallways. The building was like a ghost town, although I was not too surprised as it was a Saturday and only two days before Christmas. When I opened the door to head outside, I bumped right into a man coming in. He was as surprised as I was. The man stood about six feet tall, wearing a light blue

work shirt with long sleeves and a pair of worn out jeans. His jeans were so worn that I could distinctly make out the line of a can of skull chew in his right front pocket. I noted the name Ethan, stitched into the upper right corner of his workshirt. I take it you're my new driver. Said Ethan with a grin as he eyed me up and down with his hands on his hips. I examined his face as he evaluated my appearance. I would say he was in his early 60s judging by his tired red eyes and the light-colored hair that poked out from beneath his baseball cap. Although his eyes were bloodshot and tired, they had a distinct kindness to them, like the shape of a person's eyes when they smile, but only natural in his case.

You got it, I said as I playfully placed my hands on my hips, mimicking his initial movements. Oh, a smart ass, huh? You and I are going to get along just fine. Ethan chuckled as he waved for me to follow him outside. My name's Val, by the way. I said as I trailed behind him. I was surprised by the speed at which Ethan navigated the yard. He was an older man, but he still had quite the pep in his step. He showed me to a row of yard trucks and told me I can choose between any of the five,

except for the truck labeled number three, which he lovingly referred to as, my girl. The first half of the shift was smooth sailing. Ethan showed me the ropes and how to navigate the rope. rose in the yard. I was shocked to see just how many rows there were. The rows were labeled alphabetically from A to E. The first four rows contained trailers that had various company supply logos. The E row, however, housed containers that were wider and longer than the others and had no distinguishing marks on them. Each trailer was a flat back and had a refrigeration unit attached. Another unique aspect of the E row was that it was darker than the other rows.

and contained a steel structure in which the trailer sat underneath. Now, when I say darker, I don't mean just a little harder to see. It was pitch dark. And there were absolutely no artificial lights lining the entirety of the row. The first call for one of the E-Roe chalers came in at around 3 a.m. I could see on my monitor that all the E-Row calls were going strictly to Ethan and not to me. It was around this time that Ethan's demeanor.

changed. His smiling eyes had retired, replaced with massive agitation. Thinking he must be tired from the long hours, I offered to pitch in, figuring it might improve his mood. I was wrong. I lifted the CB radio mic to my mouth and said, Hey, Ethan. Want me to help knock out those Eros? I think. And before I could finish my sentence, Ethan cut me off. Ethan scolded. Several emotions hit me at once. I was shocked, embarrassed, and a little more than angry. How could Ethan talk to me like that? I mean, we didn't know each other too well,

considering this was our first shift working together, but that does not give him the right to bark at me this way. There was a long moment of radio silence while I composed myself. My voice tends to shake when I'm upset, and I'd be damned if I would let a man who already thinks I can't adequately do a job, detect any womanly emotion in my voice. Ten-four, I replied not wanting to push the issue.

I looked at the monitor and realized that the remaining calls were all designated for E-Roe. Just as I was about to bring this up to Ethan, he spoke over the radio. Reverting to his kind tone from earlier in the evening, Ethan said. All right, Ethan, I think I'll take you up on that. I am getting a little sleepy, and I do have quite a commute. I sighed. I drove home trying to figure out this puzzle of a man. What caused his feathers to ruffle so easily?

I chalked it up to him being a cranky old man. In the nights leading up to January 6th, I noted a pattern in Ethan's behavior. I would look forward to our lunch hour together, as he was witty and always made me laugh. However, any talk of family was a sore subject for Ethan. I made the mistake of inquiring about his wife after I noticed his weathered wedding band

that stood out on his rough, dirty hands. I had a wife. Her name was Winnie. She... I lost her. Let's talk about something else. Actually, I think it's about time we get back outside. Ethan gathered his things,

and put them into his lunch bag, his smiling eyes diminishing into distant sadness. I followed Ethan outside, back to the nightly grind. Toward the end of the shift, when the E-roll call started to come in, I would return my truck to the parking area. One evening, I parked my truck on the edge of E-Row, killed the engine and the lights, and watched Ethan. There was one trailer that he would connect to for more extended period than others.

I watched his shadow to send the truck stairs and walk around the back of a container. He would remain back there in the dark for 10 to 15 minutes, ascend the stairs, and pull the trailer out toward its assigned door. On the evening of January 5, 2018, I decided to invite Ethan to an early morning breakfast after work. I told him that I wouldn't take no for an answer, and that it wouldn't hurt to have a late Christmas breakfast since we both worked through the holiday. He hesitated, and with a smile forming at the edge of his mouth, agreed to breakfast. I am for it, as long as you let me pay. I know some of you gals are all about being independent, but I'm still old-fashioned. Well, just old in general.

He said with a chuckle. I sure am glad you stuck around the last few weeks, unlike those other guys who couldn't follow simple instructions. They all ran off during the first week. Ethan said, shaking his head. The night seemed to drag on as I looked forward to having a hearty breakfast with my new friend. He might be complicated, but I sure did enjoy his company. As usual, the calls for Ero came in, and I sat back while Ethan took care of them.

Finishing up faster than usual, Ethan pulled up alongside my truck and asked if I was ready to head out. I smiled and nodded in agreement. All right. Ethan said, pointing toward the B-Row, with a sense of urgency. Ethan hopped down from his truck and made his way to the bathroom inside. I laughed to myself and turned the truck around to head toward the parking area. Just as I was nearing B-Row, a call appeared on my screen. It was a call for E-Row.

A call for Ethan's E-Row trailer, to be exact. A sly smile crept across my face and my eyes narrowed. I'm going to show that old man that I'm more capable than he realizes. I whispered to myself. I moved toward the E-Roe with haste and connected the trailer. As I raised the fifth wheel, I noticed the usual clanking that accompanies trailers equipped by thereby. I began to haul the trailer away from the E-Roe to its assigned door. While I drove, I noticed that the clanking noise started to sound more like banged.

And before I was able to stop the truck, an inhuman screech began to admit from inside the container. I threw the truck in neutral. and applied the brakes and jumped down to the ground. As I approached the back of the trailer, the doors on the end flew open with such force that it caused me to stumble backward and fall flat on my back. I scrambled to my feet and stared in horror at the large, animalistic claws on the inside of the swing doors.

While I stood, like a statue, frozen in place, a tiny voice spoke behind me that caused me to nearly jump out of my skin. They locked me in, you know. said the small boy matter-effectly. Still speechless, I stood and stared, dumbfounded at the whole situation. I noticed that the boy,

appearing no more than six years old, did not look quite right. His skin was sallow and full of needle marks. More disturbing than his skin or his eyes. His eyes had no white in them, but instead were utterly black like the night sky above us. The light emanating from my truck glinted off the sea of black that filled his eyes. Looking right into my soul, who locked you in?

I squeaked, not sure how to address the child. The bad man in the scary building? He said, sounding less like a little boy as the anger began to rise in his small voice. My daddy and mommy brought me here when I was sick and now they won't let me leave. Mommy tried to take me home, but the bad men made Mommy go away. Daddy talks to me every night, but he says he can't let me out, or the bad men will take him away like they took Mommy. Ethan? I whispered his realization swept over me.

Just as I had breathed his name, Ethan appeared in his truck, driving like a madman across the yard. He stumbled out of his truck landing hard on his knees. What have you done? Ethan sobbed, staring at me with bloodshot and teary eyes. David, son, you need to get back into your room before they see you outside. Ethan stammered as he picked himself up off the ground. Before Ethan could fully stand, a spotlight came to light and shined directly upon us where we stood.

Before I could even gasp and surprise, we were surrounded by men holding guns, all of which were trained on the small ball. boy, David. In a moment of sheer frustration, rage, and heartbreak, Ethan charged the nearest man whose gun was aimed at David. Before he came within a swinging distance, a deafening shot ran out. And Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped to his knees, with eyes full of tears,

turned to face me before whispering, Protect him. I flew into hysterics as Ethan fell onto his stomach. All movement within him ceasing. The circle of men parted, and a man in a white lab coat stepped over Ethan as he approached David and I. The name on the badge, hanging from his neck, read Dr. Winston Fink. I had such plans for you, Val. I thought that maybe bringing a female into the picture might make David more compliant when we need to collect our samples.

Said Fink disappointedly, sensing my obvious confusion. Think continued. You see, David here has remained his six-year-old self for the past 30 years. Ethan and his wife, Winnie, tried to hide the boy but sought help when he started to become violent in recent years, letting the cat out of the bag, so to speak. We've been trying to pinpoint what it is in David's blood that allows him to remain young. Can you imagine the opportunity associated with discovering the first of the body. bone of youth.

The answer lies somewhere in this boy, and we won't let anything or anyone get in the way of that. Think said and gestured toward Ethan's lifeless body. Before we figure out what to do with you, we need to get this boy back into his container. Fink said as he waved a hand ordering his armed men to put David back in the trailer. David turned to me and said, Tell me.

With a voice that sounded like multiple voices of different genders and ages all at once. There was nothing I could do. And I stood frozen in place as the men approached David and grabbed him by the arms. As soon as the men touched David, the ground beneath him began to pulse. A burst of invisible energy sent the men flying in all directions. Think stood his ground with an amused snobes. smile growing at the corner of his lips. As the men raised their weapons to fire, David moved with lightning speed.

And before he even blinked my eyes, they all laid dead at David's feet in a pile of unidentifiable gore. The smile faded from Fink's face as David approached him with small steps. Each step David took with his bare feet, left bloody footprints behind him on the pavement. David stared hard at Fink for a long moment, and suddenly Fink dropped to his knees wincing in pain. David grabbed a hold of the lanyard around Fink's neck like a leash and began walking him like a dog toward the facility. David stopped suddenly and looked back at me. It's Dave right here. I will be back for you when I am done. You should have at least tried to help me and my daddy.

He said, again with the multiple voices. As soon as David and Fink entered the building, I jumped to my feet and ran as fast as I could until my lungs burned and screamed for a break. I reached my car, shoved the keys in the ignition, and peeled out of the parking area toward the highway. I watched my rearview mirror all the way home, expecting to see David gaining on me at inhuman speed. That was four hours ago. I'm hunkered down in my apartment. Why didn't I say something or try to intervene? Why was I chosen by these sickos?

To be some kind of freaky mother figure for this thing? I have a feeling that David will reach me before anyone at ZRF. That is, of course, if any of them are still alive, all I can think about is how sorry I am, how I always seem to have something to say until the moment arises, when it would do some good in the world. I plan to ask David what's in those other containers. I hope I get an answer, almost as much as I hope he has mercy and ends me quickly.

For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. At CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. or email us at creepy. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikia.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated. The Bloody Disgusting Podcast Network, home of creepy

for disturbing and terrifying creepypastas. archives with full cast storytelling, horror queers, genre commentary from the LGBT perspective, the boo crew for horror-centric interviews. Listen free, wherever you stream audio, and at bloodydiscusting.com slash podcasts.