Creepy - Welcome to Bedside Manor Part 5

Episode Date: January 28, 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 pastas 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 5. With performances by Owen McEune, Megan McDuffey, 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 gas station jack.com. Jerry swung a mean right hook across Wolfgang's cheek. It connected with enough force to send the boy flying off the table.

Boom, baby! Jerry exclaimed, as Wolfgang and the knife both collided with the floor. He walked over to where Wolfgang was trying to pick himself back up. Uh-huh. You know, I promised my lawyer I'd stop punching kids in the face, but for you, I think I'll make an exception. Wolfgang made a desperate charge for the knife, but Jerry caught him in a headlock and pulled him away. Shush and calmly. It's okay, relax.

We're just going to leave the weapon. Talk about this like adults. We're going to be like Fonsi, okay? You probably don't get either version of that reference, but trust me, it's okay. Hope is already running around the table. Let go of my child. Before any of us had time to react, Hope had already pulled the gun out of her clutched purse, put it against Jerry's head, and pulled the trigger.

His lifeless body fell to the ground. Wolfgang gasped for air. Hope dropped to her knees and reached for his son. It was the last mistake she'd make in this life. He quickly picked up the knife, turned, and plunged it into her eyeball all of the the way to the hilt. By the time she collapsed, the rest of the way to the ground, Wolfgang was already halfway out of the dining room. I ran to Jerry's side, but there was nothing I could do for him. The bullet had gone straight through. It was a clean kill. You never saw it coming and hopefully

didn't feel a thing. What the fuck? Where did that gun come from? Tobias walked over, knelt down, and pulled the weapon from Hope's dead fingers. He turned it over a couple of times, then he gave his assessment. It's a Ruger 380, a purse gun, designed to be discreet. I tried not to lose my temper. You mean to tell me that this woman had a gun on her this entire time? And what? I was screaming at Hopestead body now. You just chose not to defend yourself? Maybe that I can understand, but you freaking killed Jerry just because he was trying to help you? Lauren grabbed my arm. Jack, calm down.

You're not helping. I tried to calm down. I really did. But then a chime rang out, and Nathaniel said with a smile, Ah, goody, it seems that the detective has finally arrived. Perhaps he can help us sort out this ghastly affair. Shut up, Nathaniel! Nobody likes you. You're worse than a hangnail!

Tobias walked up to Nathaniel and draped his jacket over the old man's head. Ignore him. Now, let's talk about a game plan. Next time we respawn when the boy attacks Jack, I'll subdue the mom. Lauren, can you help Jerry? Sure can. Great. In that case, I propose we skip ahead right now.

There are six bullets left in Hope's gun. Any volunteers? That was taken aback. Wait. Hang on. You're all suddenly okay with the idea. The of dying? It's not death.

Tobias explained. We've been busy. We learned a lot after your disappearance. For instance, we learned that this isn't a solid timeline. It's an incursion. We built an echo locator out of the radio and some spare parts from... Did you guys even look for me? Tobias made a face like you heard me speaking in comic sands.

Why would we? Your trap gave us an entire uninterrupted hour to experiment and learn exactly what we're up against. What about Jerry? Did he at leastroy? Lauren answered. He did, but he got struck by lightning a few minutes after you disappeared. Tobias shook his head.

I told him not to bother. But, Jack, you are missing the point. We figured out so much. See, this house, it's a vacuum in time, all right? Something about Tobias' explanation was nagging at my subconscious. I asked, does that mean you know how to get out of it? No, but I think you're failing to understand the implications. It completely rewrites quantum theory from the ground up.

There's still something there. Beyond the techno babble. Something he said that I couldn't let go. Does any of that get us closer to getting home? It will. The scientific process is just that. A process. There aren't any eureka moments without extensive work and study.

And we're only at the beginning. Hang on. I interrupted. It finally clicked. You said respawn earlier. A frown overtook his expression. Yes? What's your point?

I laughed softly to myself. I know what's going on. I sincerely doubt that. I was about to explain when Claire started to cough. Lauren grabbed me by the arm and said, Guys, I think we have a problem. Tobias was already moving for the door before I even smell the smoke. Claire struggled to get through her coughing fit to spit out the words.

Oh, wait. Don't. But it was too late. Tobias stepped into the smoke-filled great room. The carpet, bookshelves, and couches were all burning up. Tobias stood there staring at the flames, likely working out the best plan to extinguish the fire. It was exactly what Wolfgang was counting on.

For the smartest man in the world, Tobias sure was stupid as hell sometimes. The boy leapt out from his hiding spot and smashed the fire poker over Tobias' head, dropping him instantly. Before I knew it, he grabbed his mother's gun and put a bullet into Tobias' back. Then he set his eyes on us. Lauren pulled me to the back of the dining room and screamed. Run!

Just as the next shot rang out. I saw Bridget fall to the ground. Then we were flying through the door behind us, into the parlor. We ran without thinking, deeper into the house, through the doorway on the far end, into the nauseatingly long hallway with a lime green and purple wallpaper. The sisters ran in front of me. I stopped to look behind to see if we were even being followed, but all I saw was an endless stretch of checkered carpet. It seemingly went for miles and miles.

I closed my eyes and tried to remind myself that it was just an optical illusion. A shot rang out. I opened my eyes and saw Wolfgang standing there. I couldn't figure out how close he was. That damned hallway made it impossible to know if the space between us was a few feet or a few hundred yards. My ear stung. The bullet must have grazed me, I thought. I put my hand to the side of my head,

pulled back at the searing pain, looked at the handful of blood on my palm, and reassessed. The bullet did more than just graze me. Wolf King was running now. I turned around and did the same. Lauren was calling my name from somewhere up ahead. For the first time, I noticed an irregularity in the repeating patterns against the wall. A break.

No, a door. Lauren leaned out and gestured for me to hurry up. But she was so far away, and Wolfgang was gaining. I'd never make it in time. Another shot echoed down the hall. And then, inexplicably, I was there. Lauren pulled me through and slammed the door shut behind us. My heart was about to beat its way out of my chest.

My lungs were ready to explode. But this was no time to rest. We had to keep running. I looked forward to see what kind of a room we'd ended up in and immediately said, Fuck! It was more of the same. An impossibly long, thin hallway with green and purple wallpaper and checkered carpet. The walls were littered now with doors, arranged endlessly down the corridor,

all identical to the one we'd just gone through. Which one do we pick? There was fear and uncertainty written all over Claire's face. She didn't want to tell her sister she didn't know the answer. Instead, she pointed at the closest door. A goodest choice as any We all ran through and saw More

More hallway, more doors More green and purple wallpaper I could hear Wolf King screaming from behind the door we just closed We couldn't stop now I pointed at a door at random and said That one They didn't question it They just followed me as I pushed it open and ran into

More hallway More doors, no end in sight. I shut the door behind us as the sisters raced through. Claire fell out of the groan, gasping for error. Lauren was at her side right away. It's okay. He's not going to find us. We lost him.

No, we didn't. Claire said, crying. I turned around to make sure the door was locked, but it wasn't there anymore. The door had vanished, replaced with more of the never-ending hallway. I took a couple steps forward and felt the air in front of me to make sure the door hadn't just turned invisible. Sadly, there was no such luck. The house was rearranging itself, forcing us to play along with this stupid game.

I heard Lauren gasp and turned around to see Wolfgang standing behind her. One of his hands was wrapped around her hair, the other holding a gun to her head. His eyes were on me. Wolfgang, wait! I shouted. You don't have to do this. Nobody has to die anymore. That was, evidently, the wrong argument.

He executed her right in front of us. Claire screamed his Wolfgang, raised the gun, and pointed it at her. Wait! I shouted with even more desperation. Amazingly, he gave me a chance. What can you possibly say that I'm going to want to hear? I got down on my knees. I know what's going on.

I figured out the mystery of Bedside Manor. I can get us both out of here. I don't want to get out of here. I had no response. All I could do was look to Claire. She returned my gaze. Her piercing blue eyes held nothing back. She was afraid.

She was terrified that I might be wrong. She was terrified of Wolfgang. And a surge of electricity ran up my spine. She sent a message that only I could hear. Follow the smoke. He pulled the trigger and cleared. There was dad. Why?

I screamed. They didn't do anything to you. Why can't you just leave everyone else alone? It's me you want to kill. I don't want to kill you, you idiot. I want to make you hurt like you made me hurt. I was stuck in that room all alone for days. Do you know what that kind of pain feels like?

Well, to be fair, you also murdered your mom and tried to kill me and almost killed everyone else, so maybe get off your high horse and quit being such a dick about it. He aimed the gun at my crotch, smiled, and pulled the trigger. A second later, his smile turned into a frown. Nothing happened. Oh God, I'm so glad I didn't screw up my bullet count there. He shrieked and threw the gun at me, but I'd already started moving for the closest door. I pushed through, slammed it behind me, found another identical door nearby and ran through it.

I repeated this step a few more times and stopped to relax against the wall. To my right, as far as I could see, were identical doors. Against an incalculable horizon of lime, green, and purple. To my left, the exact same thing. Somewhere, far off in the distance, I could hear his screams echoing in every direction. I was trapped in this labyrinth with a monster and no clue how to escape. Then, I smelled smoke. It can't be that easy.

Can I? I started walking. This time, the smell became stronger. I was heading in the right direction, passing door after door, pausing every few steps to take a deep breath to make sure I hadn't lost the trail. The screams of the young psychopath were definitely getting closer by the second, tempting me to run away. But I ignored them and took my time.

When I fell in the right door, I knew immediately. It smelled like I was standing next to one of Jerry's New Year's box. bonfires. When he'd throw in plastic, electronics, old tires, and anything else he could find to burn. I tapped the door handle. It was warm, but not hot enough to scull my hand. As Wolf King's voice continued to bounce around the endless hallway, I opened the door and stepped into the parlor. The fire blazed out of control. The smoke was so thick I couldn't breathe or see further than a few feet in front of my face. A crashing noise erupted over my head like the building was ripped in too.

I looked up, just in time to see the ceiling cave in on me. Suddenly, I found my breath. The pain in my ear was gone, and the world came into focus all over again. Jerry was at my side now, shouting something that sounded like, Whoa, Nelly! Across the dining table, Wolfgang was clawing his way over to me with a dinner knife in his hand. Lauren leapt to her feet, picked up her chair, and broke it into pieces against the boy as soon as he was.

close enough to hit. Jerry quickly grabbed him by the feet, pulled him off the table, and threw him into a headlock while Hope screamed for them to let her child go. Let go of my child! She took the gun,

aimed it, and pulled the trigger. Yet nothing happened. Hope was alive. Wolfgang was subdued. I was almost proud that we'd survive the first 30 seconds as a group. But now wasn't the time

to relish the minor victory. As the rest of them screamed and fought with one another, I left and went into the Great Hall. There was someone I needed to talk to. I opened the front door to find the detective standing there staring at his pocket watch. He looked up and said, Hello.

With a note of surprise. I wasn't expecting to see you already. We need to talk. He put his watch away and asked. Are you going to try and hurt me? Because I can save you the trouble. I'm not... I figured it out.

He crossed his arms. What, pray tell. Do you think you've figured out? I stepped outside, closed the door behind me, and said, The mystery of bedside manner. No, you haven't. Jack, you haven't even come close. Hear me out.

I've known something was wrong here since the moment we arrived, only I couldn't understand what it was. Every time I tried to look Maggie in the eyes, I could sense that something was off about her. Like uncanny Valley kind of off. Then there was the way that she and Nathaniel teleported whenever they weren't being watched. There was the rain that came from nowhere, the rearranging forest, the guardrails to keep us from leaving. It all finally came together when I heard Tobias called this dinner table fiasco, a respawn. You know what a respawn is, don't you? It's a video game term.

You gave us save points. You gave us NPCs. You built your own custom physics game. Oh, it's so obvious now. The reason we can't stay dead is because none of us are even here. Betside Manor's a simulation, isn't it? I told you to play the game. You're not playing. You're meta-gaming. But am I right? Do you know how many iterations of Bedside Manor I've personally overseen?

Billions. Literally billions. I have helped to build a model of this game across virtually every version of your reality. And never once has a team failed so uttered. weirdly and completely. Not one time. In your case, you didn't hear me, billions, honestly. I'm impressed by your sheer ineptitude.

Thanks. It doesn't matter. You will play the game eventually. Even if I have to personally play along with you, sometimes the players need a little hand holding to get them on to the right track. And you will get on. the right track. There's far too much

at stake to give up now. I knew it was pointless to ask, but I tried anyway. What's at stake? Much to my surprise, the answer freely. You're close, but not close enough to understand. This isn't a video game. It's psychological reconnaissance. A compatibility test to determine

if a world is ripe yet. Ripe for what? He chuckled under his breath. This, evidently, was one secret he wanted to keep. You won't even know we're here, child. Our presence is a symbiosis. The same way a farmer feeds and protects his livestock. We can make you happy.

Fat. Immortal. Anything you can imagine and more. All you have to do is play the goddamn game. I crossed my arms. I don't want to. With the fate of both of our species hanging in the balance, did you really think I'd allow you any choice in the matter?

He didn't give me a chance to answer. The next thing I knew, we had already reset. For a brief moment, I forgot where I was supposed to be. Well, don't you stand there. Come on over and set a spell. I looked up for my book and took in the new surroundings. I was no longer on the porch with the detective. I wasn't at the dining room table.

I was back in the great hall. The old-timey phonograph filled the air with dulcid instrumentals. A bookshelf stood in arm's reach before my eyes, the very same piece of furniture that once served as a secret door to the explosive library. The game had reset again, only in a different place. They must have decided to switch things up this time. That voice had come from the old man with a walrus mustache. He smiled at me from his seat by the fireplace, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

Like the poorly trained piece of AI he was. I shot the book in my hands and returned it to the shelf, but not before reading the title on the cover. The King's Lunacy by Edgar Allan Poe. Too bad none of these books here are real. That actually sounds like a good one. I left the worthless Nathaniel where he sat and went to the parlor to find Jerry. He would know what to do. I surmised from the sound of the voices that the rest of the group would respond together.

Fortunately, nobody was screaming or fighting, which could only mean they got Wolfgang under control before his killing spree started. As soon as I walked through the pocket doors, Hope stepped into my path, saying, Hi, my name is Hope. I froze momentarily losing my train of thought. She seemed so cure-free all of the sudden. Missedress must have finally made her snap. Poor thing.

I know who you are, Hope. There's a glass in her hands and a smile on her face. I wanted to ask you for your help. See, I'm here with my son, Wolfgang. He's a very bright boy, extremely talented. But he isn't the most outgoing. He's had a hard time making friends back home, and I was thinking maybe the...

this weekend would give him a chance to come out of his shell. She raised the glass to her lips and took a large swallow. Oh, God. What's happening? Hope, I need to ask you a stupid question. Do you know who I am? She laughed and said. No, I'm sorry, have we met?

Oh, is this part of the game? I've never done one of these before. She tried on a silly accent. banded her eyelashes and said, Hello there, old friend. Fancy running into you in a place like this. I laughed a little too hard, patted her on the shoulder and said, Your child's a serial killer.

She returned the laugh, but cut it off short with it confused. Wait, what? Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Maggie was still alive. She was currently talking to Bridget, probably warning her that not everyone here was who they seemed. I turned and searched for Jerry, but he wasn't in the room. Instead, I saw Wolfgang leaning against a wall, looking bored out of his mind. Tobias said it himself.

Memory is just a chemical process. A predictable, malleable result of amino acid gene reactions. Any group sophisticated enough to build a world like this probably had the technology to do whatever they wanted to our humble little brains, and we'd never even know. At the far side of the room, Claire stood by her sister's side, watching me silently. If there was anyone here who might understand what was happening, it was her. I cut straight across the room and said, Claire, you remember me, don't you? Her piercing blue eyes very clearly answered for her that no, she did not remember me.

Claire tried to move away, but I took her by the arm and turned her to face me. I had to make her understand. I needed her to read my thoughts. to know that I wasn't crazy. I needed her to tell everyone I wasn't crazy. I needed her to tell me I wasn't crazy. But there was no understanding that look she returned. There was only confusion and pity.

Get away from her, you creep. I don't know how I'd already forgotten about, Lauren. Next thing I know, she'd punched me in the face hard enough to start a trail of blood pouring out of my nose. Other than Bridges gasped from the other side of the parlor, the room had gotten deathly quiet. Okay. I deserve that.

I shouldn't have grabbed you, Claire. I apologize. I turned around and looked for something to cork my bloody nose. Once I spotted the clutch purse on the city's sofa, I changed plans. Oh, excuse me. Hope said as I picked up her purse. That's mine. I laughed it off and said,

Oh, I assure you, this is totally mine. We must have gotten them at the same place. I opened it and reached inside. Walmart Black Friday sale, 2018? Am I right? My fingers touched a metal. Eureka. I grabbed the weapon, pulled it out, and tried to hide it in my jacket pocket, but I wasn't fast enough.

The moment it came out, Bridget shouted, Is that a gun? Hope screamed to confirmation. He has a gun! Help! Before I knew it, Bridget planted a kick square, my solar plexus hard enough to make an MMA fighter consider retirement. I hit the ground, gasping for air. The gun escaped my grip and slid under the nearby chair. For one second, nobody moved.

And then, utter chaos, as we all bolted for it at the same time. Wolfgang swooped in with the precision and speed of a bird of prey, snatching the weapon up like he just recovered a fumble. As soon as I got back up, I gave chase. He saw me coming and bolted out of the room like a cockroach in a spotlight. I knew from experience it had to be faster than me in a fair race. I was busy trying to figure out what I could throw at him when I got lucky. He reached the base of the stairs and tried to hook an angle,

but his dress shoes must have had less traction than he was used to. He skidded into the wall, paused regain his balance, and crumpled like an old soda can once I slammed into him at full speed. Wolfgang and gun hit the floor. I picked up the gun and left the boy. The others were already pouring out of the parlor. Within seconds, I was surrounded.

Maggie was screaming for someone to call the police. Hope was shrieking bloody murder. I tried to yell over them to get them to calm down. I may as well been trying to nail water to a wall. Hope charged at me until I pointed the weapon, stopping her in her tracks. The front door opened, and Tobias rushed inside. Jerry was close behind. They both froze at the side of the gun.

That isn't part of the game. Madyke yelled. That boy has lost his mind. Jerry took the cigar from his mouth and held out his hands. Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? Talk to me, Jack. What's going on? What did I miss?

Finally, a chance to explain myself. I just need to make sure I don't screw it up. We got Jumanjid, I said. Judging from the reaction on his face, I don't think Jerry fully understood what I meant. Judging from everyone else's faces, he wasn't alone. Only one person was alone here. And it didn't feel so great. Lauren took a step closer, asking,

What exactly do you mean? I aimed a gun at her. They were all closing in on me at different speeds, only stopping when the gun made them. I was losing time. To make matters worse, Wolfgang was coming to, groaning and exaggerated pain. I knew he was manipulating them.

I mean, I barely knocked him out. That's a big deal. I tried explaining again. This house! It's just one of those, you know, Jumanji situations. I think it might be aliens or something along those lines. You don't have to make that face, Jerry. I can hear myself.

I know how it sounds. Hope took another step towards me. I pointed the gun at her, but this time it didn't stop her. She took another step. Stop! I yelled. Everyone just stop moving for a minute. I'm trying to tell you what's really happening,

and I've never been very good at public speaking, so I'm kind of nervous, and if you can all just chill out, I can prove it. That was out of time. There was now or never. In a moment of utter desperation, I did the only thing I could think of. I shot Nathaniel twice in the chest. Predictably, everyone reacted as if I just shot an actual human. There were gasps and screams, and before the dust could settle,

and everyone had a chance to see that I was right. Tobias did what Tobias does. I tried to take control of the situation. and made things worse. Jerry saw it coming a half second before I did, Tobias pulling the gun out of his ankle holster, and delivered a perfect left hook across Tobias' face. I have enough time to move my gun. Tobias had already hit the floor, and Jerry had relieved him of his weapon.

I tried to raise my voice above all the others, screaming for them to just look and see. Nathaniel wasn't dead. I pointed at the body slumped in the seat by the fireplace to show them that I wasn't crazy. I wasn't crazy I couldn't figure out any way to make everyone shut up and listen If I could whistle this might have been a good time But then Jerry fired three shots into the ceiling And that did the trick splendidly

It was the only voice in the now silent room Jack buddy You know I'm your ride or die bitch But I'd have to say I'd prefer more of the ride and less of the die I look closer at the man I'd shot For the first time since I met him I was hoping Nathaniel might have something to contribute.

However, he remained motionless and kept his mouth shut. I stepped away from the spot where Wolfgang was regaining his composure on the ground, crossed the short distance to Nathaniel and poked him in the head a couple of times with the barrel of the gun. He stayed stubbornly still. It didn't take long for me to understand that Nathaniel wasn't coming to my rescue. The house wasn't about to make this easy. And why should it? They spent untold amounts of time.

and resources on this thing, only for me to come by, stomp all over their sandcastle, and force them back to the drawing board. Those who engineered this simulation must have been advanced to a degree beyond my understanding. But there's one emotion that has persisted as long as there's been intelligent life. And no amount of utilitarian logic can override it. Simply put, the ones in charge were being petty. I took a deep breath. Jerry, I know how this looks, but hear me out. I've been to the future. Sort of.

I know things. There aren't any other people in the house. It's a trap. All of us are here because our cars mysteriously broke down and we needed to make a phone call. It was strange how nobody reacted to that bombshell the way I thought they would. Way less shock in horror. Way more confusion in horror. I looked at Lauren and said,

Right? She made a non-committal shrug and said, Sure. Whatever you say, crazy man. No, it's not like that. I'm telling the truth. Why are you all acting like you don't already know? None of you are meant to be here, right?

A long, uncomfortable moment passed before Hope asked. Is... Is this part of the game? Because I am not having any fun at all. Okay. I see what's happening here. They took their memory trick a step further. Instead of erasing, they rewrote.

They added together a story that would make me look like a raving lunatic. Or maybe. Jerry said, stepping closer to me. You just imagined it all. What? No, no, no, not you too, Jerry? Think about it, bro. What's the likelier scenario?

That we were all unwittingly recruited into a supernatural whodunit simulator, or that your mind is playing tricks on you? Again. In an instant, Tobias was on his feet charging him to Jerry from behind. Upon impact, Jerry screamed... Hot potato! ...and flung the pistol into the air. By some miracle, I managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

I now had exactly two more guns than I ever felt comfortable holding, which made me the de facto man in charge. Tobias was on top of Jerry, hands around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. I yelled for him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. I swear, I meant to fire a warning shot. But as I raised the gun, it went off in my hand. The others fled the room running for their lives. Tobias made a noise a gasp, then fell to his side.

A circle of blood rapidly saturating the back of his coat where the bullet had struck. Jerry sat up, coughing. As soon as he could breathe, he was doing chest compressions on Tobias' lifeless body. I dropped the weapons. Then I fell into the scene. to cross from Nathaniel and waited for whatever was going to happen to go ahead and happen. Jerry's shirt was drenched in Tobias's blood when he finally gave up and walked over to Nathaniel's corpse.

I thought he was going to check for signs of life, but instead he just reached into the old NPC's coat, pulled out a cigarette tin, and helped himself to a smoke. I watched as he lit a wooden match on his zipper, took a drake, then said, How about going to sugarcoat it? He just killed two. dudes. Probably a little too late to unfuck this donkey. He walked over and knelt down in front of me. But we can't explain to the police what really happened.

You had another one of your episodes. You forgot to take your medicine. It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault. He was really starting to remind me of Hope's internal monologue. There aren't going to be any police. What part of we've been Jumanji, do people not understand. You still think you're in a simulation? He sighed with disappointment,

picked up one of the guns at my feet, and put it in my hand. Well, if that's the case, then why don't you just kill me now? Huh? I mean, if you're so certain that none of it is real, what's even the point to going on? He grabbed my hand and pulled it up, pressing the gun against his head. Come on, Jack. Put your money where your mouth is. Either it's all real, where none of it is. Pick a lane and make a decision. His fingers clamped around my hand, holding it in place against the gun.

I used my free hand to poke him in the eyes. With a loud yelp like a kicked chihuahua, he released his grip. Sure. Maybe I was crazy. I might even go so far as to say, I'm probably crazy. But something didn't add up.

Even in the midst of a time-bending psychic murder mystery, there was one thing that I couldn't wrap my mind around. Jerry was not acting right. By which I mean Jerry was not acting like Jerry. I thought back to when I called out a bedside manner, the woman at the sheriff's station who didn't know about Sheriff O'Brien. The illusion of this place was incredible, but only on the surface. They could lie to us, make us remember things wrong, but they couldn't see inside our heads. That was one huge advantage. we still had. Jerry, you remember Lucy, don't you?

He answered slowly. Lucy? Yeah, sure. Why? What about her? Lucy was a friend we met under strange circumstances a while back. She was a sort of person one might call paranoid, avoiding social media like the plague, only ever using a burner phone, keeping to herself whenever she could help it.

She trusted very few people. But for some strange reason, she trusted us. I asked the question slowly. What kind of pet does she own? He stared blankly forward as he held out the word. Like I wouldn't realize he was buying time. I pull back the hammer of the gun, forcing him to take his guess. Cat?

I shot him in the foot. The reaction was not at all what I expected. He just laughed and said, Dog. She has a dog, huh? I shot his other foot. Who are you? In one quick gesture, he put his hands to his face, curled his fingers into the skin,

and ripped it off like a fancy Halloween mask made of gum. The smiling face underneath belonged to the one who called himself the detective. He'd said it himself. You'll play the game eventually. Even if I have to personally play along with you. Fascinating. How did you know? You're acting sucks.

You weren't supposed to remember. How can you remember? Oh, I wanted to forget everything. There was a part of my mind that I could feel inviting me to let it all go. To release the past few days into the nothingness beyond existence. To fill the vacuum with a new memory about how Jerry and I planned a trip to bedside Manor over a year ago as a retreat from our boring existence back home. That memory was pleasant and warm and fake.

I don't pretend to know exactly what's wrong with me, but my memory's never been normal. I probably forget more things in a single day than most people forget in their entire lives. I constantly struggle to know which of my memories are real or imagined. My doctor tried countless remedies to help with my confusion, and I doubt you could ever understand how much effort goes into maintaining normalcy. How much of my day I spent trying desperately to remember all the things I forgot. I guess after all this time, I've built up a slight tolerance to fake memories. I let the useless gun fall to the floor, then ask,

Are we done yet? Done? He laughed. Oh, no, Jack. No, no, no. We're just getting started. Why? I think I've pretty much proved I'm not compatible with whatever this is.

That's perfect. This is a success. We wanted to see what would happen if someone broke the game. Do you think it's a coincidence you're all in here at the same time? A spy, a black hat hacker, a super genius, a complete maniac, a class, one psychic at her prime. A child who would grow up to be the most proficient serial killer of his generation. Wait, which one of those things is supposed to be me? The participants for the stress test are always selected exclusively for their chaos markers.

We needed to know if everything would work beyond the limits of normal operation. And if they don't, then we catch our mistakes and fix them before the colonization begins. If we can make you conform, we can make anyone conform. Why would you tell me all of this? as the tides ebb and flow. So too does all knowledge. Empires rise only to fall. Life begins only to end.

We put thoughts in your head just to see how easily we can take them away. At that point, I forgot exactly what I was doing. I was only moderately aware that this man, whoever he was, was talking to me. I couldn't remember where I was. was or why I was there. I'd zoned out completely. But I smiled and nodded along politely, just like I'd been trained to do. Even as my mind continued to wander.

This felt just like whenever a customer prattled on way too long at the gas station. Come on, dude, you're holding up the line and nobody wants to hear your opinion. Yes, the weather changes a lot. Yeah, sports are full of unpredictable moments. No, I didn't watch the game. Something chittered loudly as it ran across my foot. We can change it up if you want. The man said.

I blinked a few times. How long have you been talking? Do you like zombies? We can do zombies. What the heck was he going on about? I could feel the new memory trying to form inside my mind. It was like a warm bed on a cold night, comfortable and seductive. But I knew better than to let it take over and push the harsh truth out of place.

But I caught a piece of it. We were trapped here, cut off from the rest of the world. Our car hit something on the road, something that looked human but wasn't. It attacked us. We barely made it to the house in one piece before those things started swarming us. Tobias sat up, a deep guttural growl emanating from his chest. He got to his feet and began shambling towards me, arms outstretched, mouth open wide. The detective acted like nothing was out of the ordinary.

We prepared for our final stand, but tensions grew hot. Tobias wanted to be in charge. He's going to get us all killed. I looked for the gun. I needed to end this monster before it reached me. He's infected. And in a moment, I shook the thought out of my head. The smile on the detective's face disappeared.

Okay. Forget the zombies. Tobias instantly evaporated in a puff of smoke. Why don't we make things a bit more interesting? 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, Audible, and everywhere else books are sold. To learn more about Jack's work, visit his website at gas stationjack.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 Share-A-Lite licensing or with written consent from the authors.

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