Creepy - Welcome to Bedside Manor Part 4

Episode Date: January 27, 2022

Oh Jack...***Written by Jack Townsend with narration by: Owen McCuen, JV Hampton VanSant, Cole Burkhardt, Alicia Atkins, Nate Dufort, Megan McDuffee, Michelle Kane, Jimmy Ferrer, Heather Thomas, Nichole Goodnight and Joe Stofko***Check out Jack's other podcast The Snake's Paw at: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-snakes-paw/id1438590701***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Steve Blizin of Black Crow Audio***Title music by Alex Aldea 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.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. 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 fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of books. violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy Presents. Tales from the gas station. Welcome to Bedside Manor. Part 4. Written by Jack Townsend, with performances by Owen McCune, Megan McTuffy, Nate DuFort, Nicole Goodnight,

Joe Stofcoe, Michelle Kane, Jimmy Ferrer, Cole Burkart, Alicia Atkins, and J.V. Hampton, Van Sant. The following story was written by Jack Townsend, author of the four-volume book series Tales from the Gas Station. Now available on Amazon, Kindle, Audible, and everywhere else books are sold. To learn more about Jack's work, visit his website at gasstationjack.com. Said the detective, It seems you lot have managed to cock up quite a bit.

In such a short amount of time. He was a tall man with arc hair, wide frame, and a black goatee. He wore a three-piece pinstripe suit fitting the period of bedside manner, complete with a lilac bow-tie matching pocket square. He stood in front of the fireplace as he spoke, one hand on his hip, the other clutching a pocket watch, which he inspected briefly before continuing. Shall we try this again? The rest of us had formed a semi-circle around him. Tobias and Lauren refused to sit.

Nathaniel smiled from his regular spot in the armchair. I sat on a love seat. Jerry was relaxing on the arm of said love seat. I didn't really get a good look at where the others were, but the detective had us all together as this captive audience. I mean that quite literally. We were captives here. This group meeting was hardly a volunteer event.

No, we fought at tooth and nail every step of the way. When we first saw the detective, when we saw his clothing and realized he wasn't a real police detective, When it clicked that this man was just a further extension of the game, we collectively lost our tenuous composure. Jerry threw a chair. The detective knocked out both of his front teeth. Lauren tried stabbing him. She had a busted lip and swollen eye to show for it. Tobias fired the last bullet remaining in his gun, but the detective still broke both his trigger fingers.

I'm not going to even pretend I tried anything valiant. The moment I saw him take a bullet without reacting, I decided not to waste the energy. The detective pocketed his watch, smiled sinisterly, and said, As you have no doubt gathered, the mystery of bedside manner spans further than any of you anticipated. But I'd like to simplify things. Here's what I propose. Solve the mystery, and you will be free to go. Lauren scoffed.

Here's a counter-proposal. How about you go fuck yourself? Jerry spat another mouthful of blood under the puddle on the side. the floor and said. Actually, fucking is a lot of fun. This guy doesn't deserve it. Counter-counter-proposal. How about you go shit yourself?

Unlike his smile, Jerry's perennial good spirits were still intact. Even though his pronunciation made it sound like he was trying to say... Fucking is a lot of fun. This guy doesn't deserve it. But we all knew what he meant. I held up my hand and said, I seconded that proposal? Lauren chimed in.

Thur did. It's official, sir. Go shit yourself. A gunshot wound did nothing to hurt the man, but he wasn't completely invulnerable. He could hide it behind his fake smile, but we all knew he was furious. I feel confident that this group will find its motivation in time. But until then, allow me to offer a few hints. There is no reason to venture outside the compound.

Every action will have consequences. If you miss a clue, you'll have. have a chance to. I cut the shit. Jerry exclaimed, jumping to his feet and charging into the parlor. I wasn't. Finished. The detective yelled after him.

Jerry returned almost immediately, a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. Given the circumstances, I don't think any of us would blame him for getting his drink on, even if that was a truly counterproductive measure to take. Jerry spat out another mouth full of blood, took a pull directly from the bottle, and Winston Payne. The detective snickered and continued. As I was saying, you'll need to hear every clue in order to... Higher than 80!

Jerry howled, filling in a cup to its brim. The detective snarled. If you don't stop interrupting me. Tobias turned and gave Jerry a wink. I didn't know what was about to happen, but I braced myself. What pray tell? Does higher than 80 even mean? The detective asked.

Jerry walked up to him and splashed the contents of the drink in his face. Perry spat blood again and said, Anything hard in 80th hoof is flammable. As he spoke, Tobias stove for the fireplace. Grabbed a burning log, pulled it out, and smashed it across the detective's head. He instantly went up at flames. Jerry lugged the remaining alcohol at the ground. The bottle shattered and the contents erupted in a tiny fireball.

Detective skin bubbled and burned as he stepped forward. and grabbed Jerry by the throat. I jumped up and charged as fast as I could, but the burning man was too fast. His free hand grabbed me by the shoulder and squeezed with machine strength, tight enough to dig his fingers through the cloth and skin,

to the muscle and tendon, only stopping when it hit bone. I couldn't even scream before he pulled me into the air and flung me like a rag doll against the wall. I shouted, grabbing my shoulder. It didn't hurt anymore, but the pain from the memory hadn't yet faded.

Everyone was screaming, yelling over one another from their spots around the dinner table. What just happened? Dude! Jerry grabbed me into a bear hug. I thought you were dead! Oh shit, my teeth are back too. I can finally say fuck again. Double win!

Eventually the chaos settled down, and we were able to take turns explaining how we all died. Evidently, I was the first to go this time around. The detective killed Jerry and Tobias. fairly soon after. Wolfgang and his mother made a run for it, but a pack of eight-legged squirrels tore them to shreds before they could reach the end of the driveway. Lauren, Claire, and Bridget made an honest attempt to solve the mystery, but Jerry's fire got so out of control that half the manner burned down before the rain could put it out. They sought shelter in the kitchen, but then the doors locked behind them in the room began to fill with water. Nathaniel instructed

them to solve the puzzle before time ran out. The three of them drowned about an hour later. Honestly, it seems like I got off pretty easy. The sound of a loud chime echoed through the house. The hell was that? Nathaniel answered with a smile. Ah, goody. It seems the detective has finally arrived. Perhaps he can help us sort out this ghastly affair.

We didn't attack the detective this time. We didn't need to. Because this time, we didn't even open the door. Tobias and Jerry Musilers. to barricade a furniture against the entrance. Then we tied up with Daniel, rolled him into a rug burrito, and shoved him into the parlor.

It was probably unnecessary, but we turned off the lights behind us for good measure. Next, we all gathered together in the dining room to take stock of our situation. Where are we on weapons? Tobias asked as he pulled out his gun and removed the magazine. And why am I out of bullets?

I threw Wolfgang a dirty look, but decided it wasn't the time or place for this particular battle. We used them early, I answered. So ammo was expendable? That's inconsistent. Lauren pulled out the blade hidden beneath her glove.

This is back, but I think we've already established it doesn't do fuck all against these guys. Tobias. Bridget grabbed her husband by the arm and pulled him to face her. What are these things? Tell us what we're up against. The way she asked made me think she expected him to know the answer. He didn't say anything. He was still hiding something.

Perhaps even something important, but before I could call him out, Claire let her a painful scream and fell to the ground. Lauren dropped down next to her, trying to figure what was wrong. Everyone was talking now. Everyone was distracted. Everyone except for me. Because I could feel what she was feeling. I already knew what she knew. I recognized this buzzing energy in my stomach.

Someone was about to die. I looked at Wolfgang just. in time to see him plunge the kitchen knife into his mother's throat. She fell in stages, first putting both hands on the table. The reality hadn't quite sunk in for her yet. She tried to speak. Blood poured from her wound. Her face turned ghost white and then her legs gave way.

I reached aside just in time to catch her. I went to my knees and held her head in my lap. She looked up at me with fear in her eyes. The hilt of the knife moved in tune with her weakening pulse as torrents of blood erupted down the front of her dress. Wolfgang had already escaped from the room. Hope grabbed my arm and tried to form words, but choked on her own blood. She didn't have long left.

Before I knew it, Bridget was next to me, pushing the fabric of her own dress against a wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleed in. Hope recoiled in pain and dug her nails into my arm. She was crying. But not just from the physical pain, but from the emotional torment, the humiliation, the worst fear realized. Whatever clear done to me, it was an overdrive now. My mind was wide open, and hopes wouldn't stop screaming into it. She tried so hard to be a good mother.

She wrestled with this demon for years. She built a wall around the truth because it. that was the only way she could survive. Her perfect wolf gang, her precious angel, was sick. And it wasn't his fault. There was nothing she could do to make him better. So she did the next best thing. She protected him.

She hid the evidence, the graphic drawings, the animal bodies, the truths. What other choice was there? She didn't truly understand what choice was until this moment. where all choice was truly taken away. It was almost a relief. There was a kindness and failure. Death was a mercy. Now she didn't have to pretend.

She'd done her best. And finally, she was allowed to rest. She's suffering. Why don't we just... You know? I mean, it's not like it matters. We'll just see her again when the whole thing repeats. Hope's eyes grew wide as a surge of terror went through my body like electricity.

The last thing she heard before consciousness left her. The final lingering thought in this poor woman's mind was that obscene reality. She wasn't free from anything. She was still a prisoner. The idea was too much to bear. I almost screamed for her. But the instant she died had severed the connection and I came up gasping for breath. There was no sadness left in me.

Only pity and anger as I wiped the tears from my face and said, Someone helped me find that kid so I can fucking kill him. Not worth it. Tobias said as he helped his wife to her feet. Why not? I mean, if we're just going to keep dying and repeating this pattern over and over, what's a point of saving time anyway? I have a theory about that.

We all remember dying, right? But we also remember other things. Impossible things. Remove the impossible and whatever's left, no matter how improbable. Must be the truth. Okay, I'll bite. What's left?

Our memories are fake. See, memory isn't some ethereal concept like a soul. No. It's a physical manifestation. A chemical process caused by amino acid chains within our brains. Find a way to alter that process, and you can convince someone that they experienced something they didn't.

Or you could make them believe something didn't happen when it did. Lauren picked up his thread and ran with it. You're implying that somebody got us all here together and implanted the last few days, that we've been tricked into thinking we can't leave and we can't die? Why? He leaned against the table, put a hand. into his chin and stared at the floor for a long, uncomfortable moment before responding. It might be worse than that.

If we're all victims of implanted memories, the damage could go way beyond just the short-term, last few days. Not a single moment before now can be trusted. He slowly looked around the room, pausing to give each of us a few seconds of eye contact. Then he asked, do any of you have any memories before today that would objectively be considered impossible, anything that doesn't make sense based on our understanding of the universe. I looked at Claire. She was already looking at me. I heard her words without seeing her lips move. Don't tell him about me.

Why not? I thought. Because he would kill and dissect me if he got the chance. No. I lied. Nothing comes to my immediate recollection. Lauren added. Nothing too out of the ordinary for us either. Sam'sies. I'm just a boring old Instagram model with six million followers.

Well, I said quickly hoping to end this conversation before he wised up. What's the plan then? Tobias crossed his arms. The most important thing we can do now is contact the outside world. I can build a crude signal booster for our cell phones, but I'll need some equipment. We'd probably find everything we need in the kitchen, but according to our memories, the kitchen is booby-trapped. So what do we do? We go to the kitchen.

He answered with a smile. If my theory's correct, that memory was just a device to keep us out of the off-limits areas. If my theory's wrong, we'll know right away when the room starts to fill with water. He'll never believe it, but turns out his theory was wrong. On the bright side, he was the only one to drown this time. We tried blocking the door open with a couple of chairs before he went in on his own, but when the door automatically slammed shut, it sliced through the furniture like a guillotine through hot butter. We stayed on the safe side of the kitchen door, trying to communicate through a series of bangs.

He and Jerry were both fluent in Morris Code for some reason, but it didn't get us anywhere. An hour later, the banging stopped. We tried to give Bridget a chance to mourn, but we'd already wasted so much time. As soon as she seemed up to answering, Lauren gently began. Bridgett, I need to ask you a few things. She was sitting in a chair by the fire, shaking, staring dead ahead, clearly traumatized, but functioning, and just communicative enough. I always knew something like this would happen.

What does that mean? Jerry handed Bridget glass alcohol. She took a gallop and said, It's Lisa. I knew they would get him eventually. Who's Lisa? You mean you really don't know? I thought, maybe that's what all this was. Maybe you were all from the Institute, that you were testing us,

seeing if we'd break and give away the secrets. That's when a big missing piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. Lisa wasn't a who. It was a what? L-I-S-A, the acronym for some shadowy organization that Tobias apparently worked for. I knew he wasn't just some lowly business consultant with a working knowledge of bomb schematics and Morris Code. Bridget took another drink. He's been with them since before we ever started dating. But I knew something was wrong. He talked in his sleep. He left papers out,

emails open. I don't know the full extent, but I knew enough to understand. what my husband really did for a living. Her eyes were red and puffy, tears walling up behind the weakening dam. Tobias was a good man, but he worked for some very powerful people. That's all I know. I swear. Claire took her spot next to Lauren, right in front of Bridget, leaned down and said, Liar.

Bridget looked at her in shock. What? You're a liar. Bridget shook her head. No, no, it's true. All of it. I loved him. I...

I... She dropped the glass, put her hands on her eyes, and began sobbing uncontrollably. But then, the sobs changed, morphed into something else. Something that almost sounded like...

Laughter. And then she took her hands away and revealed a huge grin on her face. Oh my God. Do you have any idea? How long I've been holding that in? Another round of delirious laughter later, she said. Jesus Christ, I deserve an Oscar for that performance.

I couldn't believe the transformation. I couldn't believe I ever felt sorry for her. What the hell is going on? Bridget pointed to Claire. Why don't you ask the psychic? She ought to know. Lauren pulled her sister back and stood between her and Bridget. Oh, don't act like it's a big secret.

Bridget mocked. You couldn't have made it any more obvious. That's the thing about secrets. Sooner or later, they all come out. And what's your secret? She sized me up, then she stood and squared off against me. Suddenly I felt very weak and exposed, and I knew this woman standing before me

could kill me ten different ways if she wanted to. Show me yours, and I'll show you mine. Claire explained. She's a spy. Bridget sounded almost proud. It's a little more complicated than that, but yes, I think you have the gist of it. Tobias was my assignment.

He may very well be the smartest person alive. But like most men, he has one weakness that was very easy to exploit. And Lisa? The Lizkov Institute for Societal Advancement, a global think tank specializing in the application of the paranormal, in lack of a better word. This has to have something to do with it. As soon as the old Crone died,

Tobias called his handlers to let them know what was happening. He's too important for them to leave in the middle of a small town murder investigation. They should have had a rescue team here within the hour, but they didn't. The only explanation I can think of is that they're the ones running this thing. Maybe it's all just a ploy to vet me, or get a confession. If that's the case, I don't care anymore. She held her middle finger to the sky and shouted, You hear that, you arrogant fucks, I don't care anymore.

You win! I just want, off this ride. As she continued to spiral, a thought occurred to me. I was right. Tobias called for backup when we were locked in our rooms, but that was before the first reset. Could the phone call like our injuries have been undone? I have an idea.

Bridget fell back into her seat. Well, that makes you the one in charge, doesn't it? This might be the stupidest plan I've ever come up with. But I think it needs to be tested at least. I'm in, Jerry exclaimed. I didn't even tell you what the plan was. You had me at stupidest plan I've ever come up with. I sighed.

Well, what is it? I think we need to try the landline again. Maybe we'll get lucky and we can call for help. Knock yourself out, but I'm staying right here until this is over. I've died enough times to... tonight. Now I just want to get drunk and sleep. Great, I thought. We're splitting the party again. What could possibly go wrong? I left Lauren and Claire to keep an eye on Bridget and shout down the stairs in case we saw Wolfgang or the detective.

When we reached the basement, it held my breath in anticipation for the door slamming shut behind us. When no obvious traps were engaged, I beeline for the phone, took it off the cradle, checked for bombs or needles, and put it to my ear. Amazingly, there was a dial tone. So far, so good. I nodded to Jerry. He gave a thumbs up. Next, I dialed the number to my town sheriff's station for memory.

Rang so many times I'd almost given up hope, but then someone answered, Holly fucking lulia. Sheriff's Department. She said with a cheerful voice and southern accent. I didn't recognize her. She must have been new. How can I help you today? Hi, I need to talk to the sheriff right away. It's urgent.

Is everything all right, hon? Not in the least. Please put me through to the sheriff. Oh, I'd love to, but he's not available right now. It's the middle of the night, you know. But if you have a message, I'll be sure to get it to him as soon as he comes in. I looked at Jerry and shook my head. No. He made a jerk-off motion. I'm not really sure what that was supposed to mean. Fuck you! I said it into the phone.

"'Excuse me?' "'You went through all this effort to trap us, "'to build this house, to convince us all we're going crazy, "'and you couldn't even do your basic research? "'What kind of Mickey Mouse bullshit conspiracy job? "'Are you running here?' "'If this is some kind of joke, I am not amused. "'I'll have you know that it is a crime to call the—'

"'The sheriff isn't the guy, dipshit. "'Her name's O'Brien. "'The woman on the other end didn't say anything for a long time. "'Why, and she finally spoke again, And the accent was gone, along with the good cheer. What is wrong with you, Jack? Why can't you just be normal and play the fucking game? It's not that hard.

I'll even make it easy for you since you're down a couple of people. All you have to do is work together and find the attic key before Coda finds you. Simple, right. Who the fuck is Coda? The line went dead at the same time Jerry asked. Hey, Jack, wasn't there a stuffed polar bear in here earlier? This time, when we came to her on the dinner table, the screams were almost entirely subdued. I went from getting my head crushed beneath Cota's mammoth paw to sit in an exigerian in a confused instant.

But in the moment before I died, I started making plans. Bridget and Tobias slept to their feet and embraced. My darling! She screamed with crocodile tears. I thought you were dead. I also jumped up. except I went on to the table. Before I could dive across, Wolfgang already had his knife out.

I screamed for Hope to move to get out of the way, but she just sat there, resigned to her fate. Wolfgang stabbed her in the throat, and I speared into him. His chair rolled backwards, when he crashed to the floor, and somewhere along the way he shoved his bony knee into my face and ran out the door. Little bastard was quick, and he was getting better. Hope died almost instantly this time. Fuck!

I screamed getting to my feet. He's just going to keep doing that every single time! Tobias looked around and asked. What happened? I answered, still in screaming mode. A fucking polar bear aides, because we couldn't find the stupid attic key. This game's bullshit. I heard a growling noise and shut right up.

It was coming from nearby. No, worse. He's coming from inside me. The seriousness of the situation slowly dawned on me in a jumbled message. of thoughts. That was my stomach growling, which makes sense. I haven't eaten in days. But that means our hunger level, like our memory, doesn't reset after each generation,

which means we're probably all starving right now at different rates, depending on who stayed alive the longest. But then what happens when the hunger gets too strong? What happens when we don't have the strength to continue? Do we just start dying and restarting and starving over and over forever? A loud chime interrupted my thoughts. Ah, goody! It seems the detective has finally arrived. Perhaps he can help us sort out this ghastly affair.

Everyone screamed some version of shut the fuck up at Nathaniel. Not surprisingly, he didn't seem too bothered by it. We charged into the Great Hall, but before we could start barricading the door again, the detective let himself in and began screaming at us. Everybody listen! Stop screwing around and solve the damn. mystery. Make us! Jerry yelled before walking up and spitting into the detective's face.

You consistently underestimate the seriousness of this situation and overestimate your own competence. I will not continue to spoon feed you help. If you fail, you shall have no one but yourselves to blame. And I promise, I will let you fail. in the meantime. If you have any questions, Mr. Tramondolay

is at your disposal. Much star's surprise, he then turned around, opened the door, and left, slimming the door shut behind him hard enough to make the chandeliers rock. Jerry turned back to look at us with a triumphant wind face and said, Ha! That's one problem solved.

What's next? Nathaniel tapped his way into the room, saying, I believe now would be an excellent time for all of us to come together and work as a team if we are to solve the mystery of bedside manner. Oh, shut the fuck up! Spat, Lauren. You're not even real. She picked up the poker by the fireplace and proceeded to thwack him over the head repeatedly

with enough force to decapitate any normal human. Daniel just stood there and took it with a smile. Feel better? A little, actually. Yeah. You want to try? She offered him the poker. He accepted, as she added.

It's quite therapeutic. Before Jerry began his turn on the human punching bag, my stomach rumbled again, loud enough to get Claire's attention. You're hungry. She said without moving her lips. So were you, I thought. She nodded. I have a big of trail mix in my room, I said to the group.

Split six ways won't go far, but at least at a little. hold us over until we're forced to eat Nathaniel. It's probably not safe. Tobias announced as if we needed someone to state the obvious. Jerry responded, It should be fine if we cook him well enough. I meant leaving the Great Hall. How about we put it to a vote?

Lauren suggested. All in favor of going to Jack's room? She raised her hand. Jerry raised both of his. Claire was next. Then Bridget, then finally Tobias. I guess it's unanimous then. Nathaniel, with his head,

almost completely flattened, spoke up with the same detached cheerfulness we come to expect from him. I recommend we stay where we are. I believe we haven't yet found all the clues in this area. Perhaps if we were to continue our search, we could blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I didn't hear the last part of what he was selling. We'd already left by then. We stuck together as a group, finally. Not that it really mattered. I'd already seen what one bear could do to a half dozen able-bodied people. If there were more booby traps or saw games waiting for us, no amount of teamwork would guarantee our safety. We stayed quiet until we reached the landing of the third floor,

when Lauren asked her sister if it was safe. I don't know. It's like listening for a whisper in a room full of screaming. I turned around to see if Tobias noticed. I was rather brave for them to be speaking so candidly around a spy and a member of a supernatural exploitation think tank. That's when I realized none of them were moving their lips. Lauren asked Claire if we could trust everyone.

There's a darkness here like I've never seen. Hiding, hiding deep inside one of us. Like the boy, only worse. Lauren understood. She told Claire to stay close no matter what. I probably should have been a little more interested in the fact that Lauren was tapped into our mental Wi-Fi network. But the thing about traumatic paranormal murder disasters

that no one ever tells you is this. Eventually, you hit a plateau, where nothing really surprises you anymore. When we reached the Woodrow Harper suite, Jerry made the valiant offer to go in by himself. He had the fire poker resting over his shoulder and a big, dumb smile on his face. I realized with equal parts annoyance and admiration

that he was actually having fun with this. I'll go with you. Me too. We all go. Lauren stepped up. Jerry walked up to the door, took a deep breath, and said, All right, let's do this. Then, with a short charge forward, he kicked the door open.

Oh, shit, that kind of hurt. He muttered under his breath before rushing inside. He kept the fire poker extended, making lightsaber noises as he swung and pointed it. in the direction. The rest of us followed closely. A few seconds passed, but spikes didn't fall from the ceiling. The room didn't start filling with sand, and the door didn't slam shut of its own accord.

It appeared as if we were safe. For now. Bridgett looked around and commented. Your room is a lot smaller than ours. Jerry lowered his weapon before responding. This is a weird time to flex, but go on with your best self, Bridget. I found my stuff right where I'd left it, in a pile in the bathroom. The bag of trail mix was sitting on top of my crumpled up t-shirt and jeans,

not much left in the way of sustenance. Plus, Jerry had already picked out most of the M&Ms. But if it could stave off hunger for even a few more minutes, I'd take what I could get. Then, quite suddenly, another thought occurred to me. Jerry's pants were on the floor by the shower. But that wasn't where he left them. No? he carried them back into the room when we grabbed the stun gun.

But was that before or after the reset point? I checked his pocket. Sure enough, the stun gun was still there. And more importantly, it's still had a cartridge in place. Things were looking up. Tobias called from the bedroom. You good in there, Jack? I had the weapon in my waistband under the suit jacket and returned to the others.

Found it! I said just before a surge of electricity ran up my spine. Claire pointed at the arm more next to me and screamed. Jack, look out! The door opened and Wolfgang lunged at me with an axe. I barely managed to fall back in time to miss a direct hit to the face. Wolfgang had found himself a new weapon. It was a bold decision that was going to cost him dearly.

He wasn't so practiced with this one. And as soon as the swing missed, he lost his balance and hit the floor. I could have he jumped on top of the axe. Wolfgang grabbed the hand. handle and pulled, but he wasn't strong enough to wrestle it away from me. His next go-to-m move was a desperate charge towards the door, but Jerry cut him off before he could escape. He held the poker out like a rapier and said in a calming voice,

"'All right, buddy. Time for you to chill out. Now, we aren't going to hurt you, but you need to—' This was all the time it took for me to line up my shot and fire the stun gun. The prongs landed in the center of his back and immediately sent him into a seizing, electrified bit on the ground. Tobias wasted no time grabbing the bookshelf, pulling it free from the wall and toppling it over on the boy, pinning him in place. Jesus!

Calm down, guys. I think we got him. I dragged the axe over. Wolfgang was trapped beneath the shelf and books, all except for his head and a portion of one of his hands. He was screaming, cursing, thrashing, repeating himself over and over about how much he hated us and how he was going to cut our faces off and gut us and, et cetera. He was an annoying little shit, and an objectively terrible person. But he was also still a kid, and I took absolutely no pleasure in what I was about to do. Jerry saw the weapon in my hand and the look on my face.

Whoa, whoa, dude. He stepped over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. You don't have to kill him. Oh, I wasn't going to kill him. Wolf King suddenly stopped screaming. There's an unusual note of concern in Jerry's voice. Well, what are you going to do? I whispered back to him.

It took a little convincing, but Jerry managed to get the rest of them out of there. I locked the door behind us. No, it was just me and Wolfgang. I took a seat on the ground next to where he was still struggling to break free. It was a noble, but futile effort from a broken body. There was blood pooling around his neck, and he smelled like he probably pissed himself. I'm not fucking afraid of you. He said, rather menacingly, for someone in his predicament.

I know. Go ahead and do your worst. I took my time finding the right words. I stared at the axe in my lap. Of all the weapons Wolfgang could have chosen, he went with this. If he'd jumped out at me with a knife, or a Molotov cocktail, or even a sharp pair of scissors, we probably wouldn't be having this conversation. But he'd overestimated his own ability.

Lucky me. You've been alive the longest of any of us, haven't you? What? He tried to move his head to look me in the eyes, but at the shelf at his neck locked in place. I just been thinking, you lasted a couple hours the first night. Who knows how long you really made it after the squirrels got your mom?

And then what? How did you stay alive inside the house by yourself after Coda got the rest of us? I'm just saying, you've probably been hunting for a while now, burning a lot of energy, and you never even got to eat dinner. Why are you still talking?

talking to me. I took a handful of trail mix out of my jacket pocket. This would have been my portion, about one-six of the bag, mostly raisins. But in that instant, it looked like Christmas dinner. I poured it all into a pile in front of Wolfgang's face, right where he had to look at it, close enough that he could smell it,

but impossibly far. I could feel his hunger. It was ferocious. He struggled to move, but the broken bones held him still. He screamed and stretched out his tongue, but the food would stay there just out of reach, until he bled out or starved to death.

I climbed back to my feet, wished him well, and went to join the others in the hallway, hoping the door would be enough to muffle his screams. Claire couldn't look at me in the eyes, which I took as proof that she knew what I'd done. Jerry took the axe from me and said softly, Dude, why don't you just let me go in there and, you know, finish him off? It's not even a big deal, and life is meaningless, remember?

You didn't have to do it like this. But I did. I needed Wolfgang to hate me. I needed him absolutely blindingly furious with me. I needed his hatred of me to overcome his senses so that when he died, when he came back, the only thing he could think of was revenge. That was the only way we could save hope. Tobias took charge and changed the subject.

I think we can take this experience as evidence that bedrooms aren't trap rooms. Might be a good idea to continue searching for supplies. Maybe there's something in Hope Suite we can use to get out of this mess. I was already headed for the stairs. What are we waiting for then? Hope Sweet was even bigger than ours. Not that I was jealous or anything. I just found it interesting.

There was plenty of space to experience. floor. Tobias and Bridgett started raiding the kitchenette. The sisters checked the walking closet. Jerry went to the bathroom. I went straight for the bedroom and found exactly what I was looking for right away. My backpack was sitting there on the mattress like it was waiting for me. I unzipped it and hastily threw everything out onto the ground. It was all there, just like she said, my socks and underwear, my phone charger, my rolled-up t-shirts, and the bag of medicines. I reached in and pulled out the first prescription bottle. But noticed right away that it felt lighter than it should have.

I popped off the lid to confirm my worst suspicion. It was empty. So was the next bottle. And the next. All my medicine was gone. Where did it go? Did Wolfgang do this just to screw with me? Did the house do it?

Why? Knock knock. I looked up to see Bridget standing in the doorway. She was alone. I didn't like that fact one bit. I held it together for now and asked, Can I help you? We understand each other.

Right. I waited for an elaboration a little too long before saying, What? Don't play dumb. I'm not playing. This is the way God made me. Look, I need to make sure we're all on the same page. And what page is that?

There's a lot at stake, Jack. We all have secrets. Tobias doesn't need to know mine. And nobody needs to know yours. I got to my feet and returned her accusatory stare. What exactly do you think you know about me? I know what you are. I've seen your type a thousand times.

Never met one so clever, though. It's quite the act. You've got them all fooled. Even little Claire. Although, I think she's starting to suspect. Listen, Rigget, if I can speak candidly for a second, I don't give a single solitary fuck about you and Tobias. She smiled.

Good. Great. On that note, she turned in left. A half second later, I felt something touching my ankle. I looked down to see a long green arm reaching out from underneath the bed. The fingers twisting into a vice grip around my good life. It yanked and I hit the ground And it retracted pulling me across the floor with it

I screamed for help as loud as I could As the thing dragged me into the dark space below the bed The light got further and further away The hand pulled me deeper and deeper Soon I was immersed in complete darkness It was cold I was still moving And then I wasn't

I tried to open my eyes only to find that they were already open wherever I was there wasn't any light anywhere I waited for the world to stop spinning before I tried taking a step I couldn't find my footing embraced for the fall but it never came I was already down lying on my back the floor below me felt like refrigerated wood I sat up and instantly regretted it my forehead smacked against something solid

I fell back and put my hands against the swelling knot from the impact and felt something solid with both my elbows. I reached up and felt the surface I'd just smacked into. Cold wood. Then I touched the walls on either side of me. Cold wood.

Oh, shit. It finally came to me. I'm inside a coffin, aren't I? An unwelcome, but familiar voice emerged from a speaker close to my feet. Hello, and it would appear that you want to bed's dangerous trap, indeed. But not to worry. There is still time for your fellow investigators to solve this puzzle and save your life. You are currently buried somewhere on the manor's property with exactly one hour's worth of oxygen remaining.

Well, this sucks, I thought. But at least I have some time to relax and gather my thoughts. And if I know Jerry, he'll have me out of this trap in the next ten minutes. I close my eyes and tried to get comfortable. Bastard! The lights were all back on. I looked around to find myself once again sitting at the dining room table. Evidently, my time had run out and I'd suffocated in the coffin.

That sucked. I would have very much preferred not dying. Still, there were much worse ways to have gone. Maybe this time we could do it better. That voice had come from directly across from me, from the furious boy clutching a knife in his hand. The one who just jumped onto his chair, then on the table. There was a bloody murder in his eyes. Oh, my plan worked!

He'd completely overlooked his mother, and he was now running towards... Oh shit! Anything that far ahead! I thought. I thought I'd have more time to figure it out. More time to know how to react. Well, Wolfgang was charging me faster than I could think. He clenched his teeth and stabbed at my face.

The preceding story was written by Jack Townsend, author of the four-volume book series Tales from the gas station. Now available on Amazon, Kindle, and everywhere else books are sold. To learn more about Jack's work, visit his website at gas station jack.com. Music, sound design, and dialogue editing for this series was provided by Steve Blissen

at black crowadio.com. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through Creative Commons Sherrillite licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.