Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S3 Ep126: Episode 126: Hell Hounds and Chili Dogs

Episode Date: May 25, 2023

Today’s phenomenal opening tale of terror is ‘Muffins’, an original work by Taxi Dancer, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/Taxi_Dancer/ We round off this evening with an epic tale of the macabre, ‘My Brother Ate a Gas Station Chilli Dog: This is What Happened to him’, an original 5-part work by scribaphobia, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/scribaphobia/

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Bizarre is a word that's used to describe something that's extremely unusual, odd or unconventional in a way that may be surprising, puzzling, or even unsettling. It refers to things that deviate significantly from what is considered normal or expected in terms of appearance, behavior, ideas, or circumstances. Now bizarre can be subjective.

It's what one person finds bizarre, another may find intriguing or fascinating. It often implies a sense of strangeness, eccentricity, or peculiarity that stands out from the ordinary or familiar, as we shall see in tonight's two terrifying tales of terror. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language as one of those descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. Muffin. Look it.

Said the older security guard with the sloth. slightly pudgy beer belly, which threatened to pop out of his dark grey button-down shirt. This job is real easy. The name Pontiac Security Services was emblazoned on a black and red patch on his left shoulder. Over his left breast pocket was a badge which read, Pontiac Security, reliable, effective, always ready. Over his right breast pocket was a name tag which read Schmit. He ran his right hand over his boarding head and stretched.

Yeah, kid, this is easy money. Another security officer sat on a well-padded chair staring at a huge black wraparound desk which faced a grey-painted wall at mounted banks of CCTV monitors. Each monitor was labelled with a white number from one to 46, and each showed various locations of the surrounding building and grounds. Bradford Kiefer Shaw, the other security officer, not as slightly as he took in the panorama of monitors. and locations. At 24, Bradford was much younger than the veteran security officer, lean with curly reddish-brown

hair indicative of his Scottish heritage. The security office was 15 feet by 35 feet, a large office for a single person, but that was necessary because of the banks of monitors which lie in the walls, and although the security office had no windows, it was well lit. As you can see, with 46 monitors that cover roughly 80% of this complex, as well as the parking garage in the main entrances, continued the older security card. Cameras cover the stairwells, access doors to the various departments, break areas, and, well, just read your post-orders. In it, you'll find a list of cameras and what areas they're covering.

Security Officer Schmidt reached into a drawer at the desk and handed Bradford a white-laminated bind amount, Pondiac Security Services' post-orders for the car building. 700 South Flower Street, Los Angeles, C-8. You, um, said that the cameras cover 80% of the area, said Bradford. Since moving to the States a little over a year ago, he still retained a slight Scottish accent. Will I be expected to go out and check on the other 20% that the monitors don't cover? Nope, said Schmidt.

We'll spend the majority of your 10-hour shift here in the security office monitoring. Your job is simply to observe and report. If you see anything unusual, illegal or dangerous to the building's occupants, you'll call the emergency contact number and report the incident. Otherwise, the only challenges you'll likely face are boredom and sleepiness. Schmidt checked his watch. He was coming to the end of his shift and this new kid seemed bright enough. He'd be fine on his own for the first night with just a brief orientation. The room next to the security office is one of the brig rooms.

There's actually three on this floor. They've refrigerated drinks, snacks, and microwavable meals. Feel free to get yourself an energy drink if you need to. Just, for goodness sakes, don't fall asleep. And if you do, don't get caught. Most of the day shift people usually leave it around 6pm. Skeleton crew might work a little overtime, but all of the office workers need to be out by 9 p.m.

It's pretty much a ghost town during that time, and emptier after that. Well, do you have any questions? Bradford flipped over the first few pages of his post-orders, eager to familiarize himself with his duties in his new surroundings. No, I should be good. Stay in the security office, monitor the cameras, report any suspicions or dangerous activities to the emergency contact number,

and don't fall asleep. Yep, said Schmidt. Oh, a couple more things. before I forget. Cleaning crew comes in at around six tonight. Usually four of them, or Mexicans, and they're usually done by nine. Keep an eye on them when they go through the office cubicle spaces

because, well, we don't want any of the employers complaining that their stuff aren't missing when they arrived to work in the morning. Okay, replied Bradford. Seriously, said Schmidt. Old bloody ne'er got fired because six computer managers and the money. bunch of laptops came up missing. Turns out people from the last cleaning company had snatched them up

from one of the training classrooms. Cleaning company was run by a bunch of people from Albania. Anyway, we found out old bloody nerd was asleep at his post, so he was booted from Pontiac secured. Ah, I see, said Bradford. Also, before you clock out when your shift ends, you need to take the video recording disc out of the mainframe and replace it with a blank one. Schmidt pointed at another black table to the left of the main desk where the computer tower sat that held the discs which recorded everything the camera was monitored. After every shift, we need to replace the DVR recording disc with a blank one. We keep the recordings for about a month, then purge the data and reuse the blank disc again, continued Schmidt. See the DVR and put it in one of these white plastic sleeves and put it in this outgoing mail basket.

Or be sure to label it with the date in your time of shift. then replace it with one of the black discs in the incoming mail basket. Any questions? Um, at the end of my shift, make sure that the cleaning screws out and replace the old DVR recording disc with a new one before leaving, said Bradford. Correct, said Schmidt.

I report anything unusual, hazardous or suspicious to the emergency contact number, or remember, don't fall asleep. Right, don't. Don't fall asleep. Stay in the security office. Don't let anyone in unless I'm told. Don't come out unless you or anyone else comes to get me. Smirk Bradford in his best British comedy accent. Huh? said Schmidt. Bradford smiled awkwardly, seeing that his attempt at levity failed. Oh, a Monty Python reference, you know, from that movie where they go looking for

the Holy Grail and they get attacked by a hungry big-tooth bunny rabbits. Son, did you pass your "'Bruck screening test?' said Schmidt. "'Is that some of that new young people humor, "'you college-age folks think so funny?' "'Bradford had never graduated college, "'having only gone to a few community college classes in Ohio "'before he got bored. "'Ah, yeah, new college humor.

"'Ah, Bradford said, weekly. "'Oh, never understand you, young folks,' "'replied Schmidt, picking up its lunch cooler "'and an old desk fan, "'fishing his car keys out of his pockets. "'Okay, kid, I'm out. "'You got the bridge.' "'You got the bridge, get it?

"'That's real navy-lingold there, kid. "'Maybe you should think about joining the military.' "'I got the bridge. "'Got it, Captain Kirk,' said Bradford, saluting. "'Schmidt wiped his access card at the reader "'next to the windowless double doors "'leading into the security room. "'It beep softly before unlocking,

"'and Schmidt stepped out, "'mumbling something about back in the day, when men were men and girls were girls. Comys were the bad guys, John Wayne was the good guy, and real cowboys were real. Bradford decided that he liked old Officer Schmidt. He reminded him a lot of his old clueless grandpa back in Ohio. The drive from Ohio had been long and arduous, especially since he had to take a lot of rural highways and back country roads. But here he finally was on the west coast in the great city of Los Angeles. Admittedly, he was, was tired from the long journey, having arrived in the city only four days earlier, and he hadn't

got a decent chance to catch up on any good sleep. He'd used almost the last of his savings to rent a cheap hotel in an equally cheap neck of the city, and was living on cans of beanie weanies and Vienna sausages, but at least he was fortunate enough to answer an ad on Craigslist for this security officer position on the morning he arrived. Antiac security services was hurting for people to work, as the COVID-19 pandemic was keeping people at home and collecting more in unemployment per week than if they actually got a job. So after a day and a half of security guard training, Bradford found himself from the graduate of the Pontiac Security Officer Institute, class of 351 p.m. Wednesday afternoon. It was now a Thursday, and Bradford's 10-hour shift ran from

4 p.m. in the evening to 2 a.m. in the morning. Normally his shift would start at 6 p.m., but he was required to come in two hours early today for orientation training for this site. Officer Schmidt's security orientation training barely lasted 15 minutes. Bradford began reading the binder which held his post-orders, the car building, which stood at the 700 block of South Flower Street, Los Angeles. 9-017 was a tall, multi-story building of dark, tinted, thick glass. It was built atop several glass-franched stores and was built atop several glass-fronted stores and was actually connected to a shopping plaza. A parking garage was also connected to the car building,

which went up to the first three floors of the 15-story building, including one level below ground. Above the first-floor stores and shopping plaza, the building provided sectioned office spaces for several businesses and services. Pontiac Security was responsible for providing security monitoring for the first three floors above the shopping area and monitoring for the parking garage. The first floor above the shops consisted mostly of maintenance rooms, stockroom and storage areas for the shops below.

The second floor consisted of legal offices, accounting firms, travel offices and a few medical practice services as well. The third floor was entirely dedicated to an asset recovery business, a nicer term to describe a debt collection office where dedicated people call the indebted at all hours of the day and night, demanding payment. The other parts of the building was segregated by security locked doors and elevators, and only people with the right access cards were allowed to use them

to access the different parts of the building. Therefore, theoretically, anyone without the proper programming in their access card would not be able to gain access to a part of the building which they did not have access to. Other security services also provided security to the different parts of the building, not covered by Pontiac Security.

and it was considered taboo to cross into another company's area of responsibility. Basically, Bradford was only to monitor everything within his scope of responsibilities and let the other security services monitor theirs. Bradford looked at the rows upon rows of monitors mounted on the wall in front of him, matching them to the list of monitors in his post-orders. As it turned out, they were arranged in a very easy to understand pattern. the first six monitors on the top row were cameras mounted on the top floor of the parking garage the following 12 monitors were located in various areas inside the third floor of the building

the first six monitors on the second row were cameras mounted on the middle floor of the parking garage and the following 12 monitors were located in various areas inside the second floor while the bottom first six monitors were connected to cameras mounted on the first floor parking garage while the following 12 monitors were located inside the first floor. The last four monitors were set separately and were connected to cameras which were monitoring the main entrance to the ground floor elevators and stairs. Soon, Bradford had pretty much memorized

where all the cameras were located in which areas they surveyed. If you had anything required particular watching from a specific area, Bradford simply had to type in the monitor's number into a keypad the desk and pressed the manual control button on a joystick. He then would have manual control of the camera and would be able to track anyone he wanted, alternately zooming in and zooming out as needed. Radford practiced this by using the monitors to zoom in on the rear end of a particularly attractive young blonde female wearing cut off denim shorts and a pink tank top as she walked

from a gynecologist's office on the second floor and tracked her as she took the elevators to the first-floor parking garage until she got into her white Honda accord he did this a few more times next following two young Latina and Asian ladies as they walked to one of the breakrooms on the third floor then by zooming in on a fit looking girl walking at the stairs in tight-fitting pink Capri pants white sandals and a yellow blouse before he remembered that everything he did was being recorded on the DVR he scanned the monitors for the next few hours alternately watching the parking garage, then the offices on the second floor, then the collection agency on the third.

The security monitoring office was located at the end of a large hallway next to a break room on the first floor above all the fancy stores. It wasn't as populated on this floor as this was where the offices of the store managers were located, as well as building maintenance workers, cleaning custodians, and a few store workers who would bring down more stock merchandise to the stores. The collection agency on the third floor was expansive and was divided up into several sections, such as collections, disputes, training, and so on. It was a cubicle farm for literally hundreds of determined people sitting in front of a computer,

calling people across the United States and demanding that their debts be settled. Getting bored, Bradford decided to try his vehicle in the parking garage. If he remembered correctly, it was in Lot E on the second floor of the garage as he took control. of the garage cameras on the second floor and began searching. As luck would have it, his vehicle was parked in part of the 20% of the areas not covered by the cameras. It was creeping past six, and Bradford noticed that it wasn't getting any cooler in the security office.

In fact, it seemed to be getting warmer. He got up, stretched, and looked around the office until he found the thermostat mounted on the wall. He looked at the little box and saw that the indicator was at 85 degrees. underneath the thermostat was a handwritten note which read thermostat broken do not touch maintenance has been notified it was dated one week ago oh great thought bradford that's why schmidt had the desk fan what else did he forget to tell me needing something to cool himself off and keep himself alert he decided to go next door to the break room to get an energy drink walking out into the hall out into the hall, he swiped his access card and heard the breakroom door beep as the magnetic lock disengaged. Upon entering, he was hit by the refreshingly chilly air of the air-conditioned

room. Several snack and soda machines lied the pristine white walls. Refrigerators filled with microwavable foods lined a separate room, along with sinks and counters on which sat three microwaves. Two men were in the break-room, sitting separately at different tables because of the social distancing restrictions. By the look of their light-gray uniforms, Bradford figured that they were either part of the maintenance or custodial crew. They looked Hispanic and were speaking amongst themselves

until Bradford walked in. The television mounted on the wall was tuned into a Spanish-speaking channel. He said hello, and they nodded towards him courteously, although they said nothing. Bradford somewhat self-consciously walked towards an ice-cold soda machine

looking for an energy drink and was surprised to find that the cheapest caffeinated drink in the machine cost three dollars, where the energy drink he was looking for costing even more. He reached into his pockets and pulled out two crumpled one dollar bills and 86 cents. Things are a little bit more expensive here, they say, said a young Latino male seated at the table, smiling. The name embroidered on his shirt, said Carlo. Bradford smiled back, wondering what it was about him that gave it away. that he wasn't a native of L.A. The cup and ice water are free, I see,

said an older Latino man, pointing at the separate room with the refrigerators of pre-packaged meals and microwaves. Manuel was the name embroidered on his shirt. Oh, uh, thank you, said Bradford, sheepishly walking into the next room. Sure enough, there were plastic cups

resting inside a cup dispenser next to an ice maker and a water machine. Taking a cup and filling it with iced water, he downed it quickly, feeling a little bit refreshed. He drank another cup for, then filling the cup one more time, he walked out. By then the workers were walking out of the door and Bradford followed them out. Turning left, he walked back to the security office, swiping his badge and entering. There was no window to the outside to open, and the air was beginning to get stifling.

Thinking that it really wouldn't hurt anything, Pratford decided to take one of the rolling chairs in the office and used it to prop open the door. The cooler air from the hallway would help circulate the warmer, staler air in the room, and there was a camera monitoring this hallway to alert him if anyone else was approaching. Besides, it was nearly 8pm, and just like Schmidt said, the building had rapidly turned into a ghost house. Where the parking garage was nearly full when he arrived at 4pm, there were now only a handful of cars left.

The water and the open security office. office store only helped a little bit in keeping Bradford alert, but he found that his eyelids were getting heavy. Bradford finally had to admit that his days of driving cross-country and his whirlwind schedule once he arrived in L.A., combined with his lack of sleep, was getting the best of him. He was losing focus, even after he noticed the same fit and petite girl from earlier with the pink caprice and yellow blouse, leaving the third-floor offices heading towards the stairs that led to the parking garage. He wasn't. even interested in turning a camera to follow her as she bounced down the stairs.

Groaning, Bradford saw that it was a little after 8pm. He had to find a way to engage himself mentally to stay away for the rest of the shift. He picked up a copy of today's LA Times newspaper, which he figured Schmidt had left behind, because who but old grandpa's read the newspaper anymore? Reading back in his chair, he went to the front-page headlines and began to take in the news of the day. Amanda really didn't lie to her husband when she said she'd be working late she actually did work late today it's just that she told her husband that she'd be coming home at around ten even though it was just after eight o'clock she didn't care her husband was almost twice

as old as she was and he was loaded she only married him for the money he knew it too and it benefited him to have a pretty trophy wife when he had to go to his stuff he get to with other old rich guys with their pretty young trophy wives besides was almost never in the mood to satisfy her and danny the intern at the lawn firm downstairs was a sexual tyrannosol skipping down the stairs she emerged on the second deck of the parking garage as she figured the garage was nearly empty and her sandals clicked and echoed as she made her way to a parking spot which she knew from experience was not covered by the prying eyes of a security camera. Her husband had recently bought her an SUV,

one of those nice ones with the big, spacious back seats, and even had the windows tinted. It was used, but only a couple of years old. She turned a corner, walking past a concrete post and paused. An ugly pale blue-and-rust-colored van had parked next to her SUV. Mm, she thought. Probably one of the Mexican cleaning crew's shone. shipmobiles. Usually they'd park their vehicles closer to the entrance of the building.

But thinking that the vehicle might be an added wall to shield from prying eyes, Amanda pressed the button on her key fob, which unlocked the doors. She couldn't wait until later. She wanted it now. And then later after dinner with Danny, maybe after that as well. Instead of climbing into the driver's seat, Amanda opened the rear door of her SUV and took a seat, quickly undid the buttons of her blouse and unbuttoned the buttons of her caprice. She didn't want any clothing restrictions when Danny finally came down to ravage her. She reached behind her, pushing her hands underneath her blouse to unhook her bra when a dark shadow loomed up over the shit van that had parted

next to her SUV. Amanda looked up from the back seats. Too terrified to scream. Damn it, honey. What do you get off my back? The elevator doors closed behind. behind a well-dressed young man wearing wire room glasses. He didn't need the glasses to see, but it made him look more sophisticated when he worked with the lawyers at the firm of Fagas, Wormack, and Klein as a legal assistant. I'm not going to have this conversation with you. When I say I'm working late at the firm, I'm damn well working late. I'm not cheating on you.

He threw his blue jacket over his shoulder and loosened his tie. Look, honey, Danny continued. I'm working my ass off here trying to make a name for myself and provide for your future and the kids. How do you repay me? You repay me by accusing me of cheating on you. Of course I'm cheating on you, you fat cow. Thought, Danny, you haven't been the same since the twins were born. Always complaining and nagging and getting on my back for every little damn thing. And you never lost that pregnancy weights. It's been like one year since the twins were born and you haven't lost any of the 20 pounds you gained. Hell, you actually added weight.

and he've never been in the mood. Of course I need a chick who can satisfy me. This young prince got needs. He wanted to say these things into the phone, but he held his tongue. It wasn't his fault that he was a virile stud that was going places while his wife was as listless in bed as a wet sock. He hurried down the hallway to the stairs which led to the parking garage. When Amanda wanted it, she didn't have time to waste taking off clothes.

He looked down at his watch, and seeing it was past eight o'clock, Danny picked up the pace. "'No, honey, I don't have time to talk,' continued Danny. "'Why am I breathing so hard? Because you're strangling me, that's why. Is that the babies I hear crying? Why do you spend some time taking care of the babies instead of nagging me to death? Maybe then I'll have the time to come home.' Danny hung up abruptly and shut off the phone in case that fat cow called back.

He was out of the door and walked forward. fast across the parking garage towards that familiar parking space, an excitement growing in the front of his trousers as he imagined. Amanda, waiting in the back seat for him. Danny turned the corner of the concrete pillar, which blocked the view of the camera monitor to that particular back corner of the parking garage. An ugly, windowless, rusty blue panel van was part next to Amanda's SUV,

looking like the vehicular version of the beast next to the beauty. Amanda's soft, white, supple legs stuck out from the back seat towards the van, one of her white sandals already on the floor. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Danny hustled over to the back seat of the SUV, unbuckling his trousers as he went. Amanda was ready to go tonight. Eagerly glancing down into the back seat, Danny suddenly shrieked. Amanda was lying in the back seat as he'd expected. but her right arm and head were completely missing. Danny's trousers fell to his ankles as he stood frozen,

looking at the decapitated corpse. All of a sudden, a low growl and the thud of heavy footsteps coming from behind him caused Danny to slowly turn around. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was slowly stalking behind him. When he opened his eyes, he shrieked again, ignoring the warm sensation of urine running down his legs. Abruptly he turned and attempted to run back towards the entrance of the building, nearly tripping from his pants being around his ankles.

He pulled them halfway up to his knees, turned to see if he was being followed, and then shrieked again. Trying to pull his pants up with one hand, he turned the corner around the concrete pillar and began waving frankly at the video camera with the other hand. hobbling for everything he was worth Danny successfully reached the doors which led back into the building

but ran face first into the glass greeting a loud clanging noise which echoed across the parking garage suddenly remembering that the sliding glass doors automatically lock at 8pm he waved both hands over his head at the security video camera mounted on the ceiling just inside the doors

before finally remembering that employees could get in after hours by using their access cards Desperately, he reached down into his pants, which was still wrapped around his feet and fished around in his pockets for his access cards. Suppressing a yelp of victory, he ripped the cart out of his pocket and swiped it over the pad. The door swung open and down he heaved himself inside just as his world went black.

The last thing he heard was the crunch of his own ribcage and shoulder blades. The metal buckled and glass shattered as a little. something big and black entered the building. In the section of the second floor which led to the law offices of Vegas, Womack inclined, two men stood facing each other across an ornately carved oaken desk. Lining the walls of the dim room were oaken shelves similarly carved as the oaken desk and filled with various legal and criminal justice books. A lamp in the desk was the only light, casting harsh shadows around it. A tall, slender elderly man were a tan suit pushed four small rectangular packages wrapped in thick plastic toward a smaller man

wearing a light gray jumper uniform of the cleaning staff the smaller man picked up one of the packages eyeing it nervously weighed about one pound or a little less than half a kilo and this will be the last time signor fagos said the man in the cleaning uniform this will be the last time you promise lewis j fagas senior of the law firm Fagas Wormack-enclined, narrowed eyes filled with contempt at the little Hispanic night labourer standing in front of his desk. However, when Fagas spoke, it was with the same conviction in his voice that swayed many a split jury to acquit an obviously guilty defendant and set them free. "'Why, to hear, friend,' said Fagas, "'my dear Mr. Manuel Hordangle, "'of course I shall keep my part of the bargain. I know the struggles which your family have had

to face, and I'm not going to insult you by saying I understand the financial hardships which you face, but I will tell you, but I am here to help. Vegas leaned in closer. You just do this one last thing. You just take those small packages to our MS-30 and friends down at the Redondo Beach Pier, and I'll do my part. I'll talk to some of my friends at the DA and file some motions with a few immigration and naturalization court judges that I usually play golf with, and trust me, Mr. O'Dango, you will be reunited with your grandchildren soon. Adango nodded doubtfully, but what choice did he have? When his daughter and her children tried to cross the border into Southern California,

she was taken by human traffickers, forced into drug addiction and been sold into prostitution. Thankfully, O'Dango's four grandchildren were rescued by the U.S. Border Patrol and CPS, but were now living in the confusing and frustrating red-tape limbo that is the United States immigration system. And with O'Dango being an illegal immigrant himself, trusting this highly respected lawyer was his only chance to save what was left of his family. Okay, Signor Fagas, said O'Dango, slipping the four packages into the large cargo pockets on either side of his pants,

I'll deliver your packages to your friends at midnight, just as we agreed. Fagus smiled and nodded, lifting his hand and gesturing towards the door. The dark shadows cast by the lamp frame the sharp angular features of Fagas' face in such a way that it made him look somewhat devilish. Odango, taking his cue, nodded and turned to leave Fagas' darkened office and was grateful to emerge into the well-lit common area of the law firm. The glass doors to the firm opened automatically for him as he emerged into the hallway. Vegas didn't trust maglock doors and preferred to lock the doors using old-fashioned lock and keys.

The sound of movement attracted the monstrosity as it stalled the corridors of the second floor. It stopped suddenly, sniffing the air then quickly turned as it followed the noise into the main hallway which led to the law firm of Vegas, Wormack and Clive. It rounded a corner in time to see elevator doors closed behind a person with a light. Ding, said. The massive thing moved down the hallway towards the closed elevator doors, when a part of its form pressed up against a green button mounted on the war next to it. To the thing's right, two sliding glass doors opened.

Fools, thought Vegas. Find a way to enslave a person, and there'll be your fool for life. Vegas lit a Cuban cigar as he stood at the tinted bay window of his office. looking outside as darkness engulfed the city. It was relatively easy to alter evidence documents which would allow a few kilos of confiscated coke to fall through the cracks here and there. The LAPD doesn't get paid nearly enough

for what they do to protect and serve and any opportunity to spread the wealth, including to Louis Vegas himself, benefited everyone. Besides, if Ordango does get caught, are the feds really going to believe that an illegal immigrant was actually trafficking drug, to MS-13 through a respected criminal defense lawyer. Oh, no, Mr. Adango.

Tonight isn't your last delivery, not by a long shot. I'll give you a little bit of hope and little indications that things are progressing, but you'll never see day two of your journey. You and your grandchildren will be running these deliveries for a long, long time. Vegas took a long puff of his Cuban cigar, relishing the smooth, rich taste as he exhaled slowly.

Suddenly the dim light of the lamp behind him disappeared as the shape of something massive rising behind him was reflected in the mirror. Fegas blinked at the reflection in the window, thinking, Oh, did I just grow horns? Thank God for the California gut. I thought Wilroy Jackson as he stretched out on a chair in the back room of the largest sports clothing store on the ground floor plaza. He put his feet up on the desk, taking a drag on a joint.

Yep, thank you, Governor, and thank you, coronavirus. Two months ago, he'd been caught lifting merchandise out of a high-end department store in a part of the city where protesters were setting businesses on fire, and he hit some mother and a child with his car when he tried to escape. It wasn't his fault, though. If the cops hadn't been chasing him, he would have been more careful. Well, fortunately, bleeding-heart Hollywood social justice. Justice Warrior types had raised enough in criminal defense funds that Jackson was able to hire Lewis Fitts.

Vegas was able to get the looting charges against Jackson dropped, and all of the more serious homicide charges were reduced to involuntary manslaughter. Yeah, Jackson still had to do a little time, but that was better than doing life. But even that sentence was commuted when the governor of the great state of California released thousands of nonviolent offenders back out into the streets for fear of spreading COVID-19. Jackson was a loving life. Thank God for social justice warriors. Jackson's girlfriend was an assistant manager of this fine purveyor of high-class athletic clothing and shoes, as she'd secreted him into the manager's office shortly before closing time and had given him her access card.

All he'd have to do is to chill out until about nine o'clock when the building was empty, then take the stairs to the first floor, or the store's stockroom was the first one on the left. He'd have to be quick to get in. Janice should have left a cart for him there, and all he'd have to do was load up the merch and get out of there. The only danger was that the security room was on the other end of the same corridor. But if the guard was actually awake and paying attention,

Jackson would be out at the back long before some dumbass low-end renter cop could stop it. Chaz was a bleached blonde young man working at the third-floor deck collection company. He was relatively new, having only been hired six months ago, but he'd already won two monthly cash awards for collecting the most money for two of the six months he'd work for the domestic economic management solutions company, or Dems, for short. On his second month with the company, he recovered over $42,000, and on his fifth month, he'd recovered nearly $53,000. Chaz decided to work a little late tonight, as the end of the month was only a week away, and he was in the running to win the monthly cash award again for the Dems. The only way to get ahead in the Dems' employ was to successfully redistribute that wealth, and Chaz was quickly proving that he represented the best that the Dems had to offer.

He was now alone in the cubicle city, which, during normal business hours, employed hundreds of debt collectors. Rosa and Rita, the young twin Latina cleaning crew girls, came into the large office, locking behind them vacuums in a cleaning cart. Chaz gave them a friendly wave and a big smile. "'Working late again tonight, Signor Shaz?' said Rosa, or Rita. Chas could never tell them apart. "'Of course, ladies,' said. "'Got to make that money.'

He then turned his attention back to the computer inside his cubicle, speaking into his headset. "'Look, Mr. Wallace, you already told me that your business was set on fire during the peaceful protests, and the bank is going to foreclose on your home. That has nothing to do with me. Your first priority is to pay off your debts.' How hard is that to understand? While MF13 was one of the largest, if not the,

largest Hispanic drug cartels operating in Los Angeles, they were far from the only one. There were others, like the Los Zetas. Carlo hid just inside the stairwell on the second floor, waiting for Manuel to finish cleaning the offices in the law firm. It took Carlo a few minutes to figure it out, but somehow old, innocent, hard-working Manuel was employed as a mule for MS-13, dropping off kilos of coke usually at the piers or dockside.

Carlo didn't know where old Manuel was getting his stuff, but he knew that if he could intercept Manuel and take his stuff before he made another drop, Carlo would make a name for himself with Los Zetas. Carlo peaked around the corner of the stairwell, watching Manuel past the glass door towards the elevator. He'd give Manuel a few minutes to get to the parking garage. Then Carlo would follow. After a few minutes, Carlo opened the door and stepped into the hallway, looking towards the elevators to his right.

Suddenly a loud crash caused him to jerk his head to the left. The tall, pale elderly white man wearing a tan suit was thrown through the glass doors of the law firm. His body flew across the hallway and slammed against the reinforced windows which overlooked the plaza. The body stumped down on the ground, but to Carlo's horror the elderly man got to his knees, clutching a hole in his abdomen where his guts used to be.

The man reached forwards towards Carlo, with bloody hands and pleading eyes before slumping down, unmoving in a puddle of his own gall. Carlo bit down on his fist, too shocked to move, when something emerged from the law offices. It regarded the dead Fagas lying on the hallway floor, and then suddenly looked up, noticing Carlo. Carlo gasped, and then turned running towards the elevator doors.

Hearing the thuds of heavy steps looming closely behind him, Carlo ignored the elevators and instead ran down the hallway, taking a quick right and running past the gynecologist office to a set of double doors on the left, quickly scanning his access card. He threw open the glass doors and ran inside, praying that running up the stairs instead of down would slowly, down his massive pursuer. He took the steps two at a time headed to the third floor.

His heart sank when he heard the glass shattered behind him and the thudding of footsteps following him upwards. Rounding a corner which gave him a split second to look down, Carlo screamed. Although the narrow stair wall was only just wide enough for the monstrosity to navigate, it was actually gaining on Carlo as it bounded up the stairs. Harlow scrambled up to the third floor landing, access card in hand and threw open the door. But before he could step through, the crushing weight came down on him,

splintering his spine and upper back and pulverizing his heart and lungs. Blood shot out of his mouth and eyes. Carlo's body kept quivering, long after he died. Rosa, Rosita, whichever one of you is making all that noise, Would you please stop? I'm trying to have a convo here. The monstrosity turned to the direction of the noise.

Sniffing the air, he stalked down a wide hallway towards an open gallery of hundreds of cubicles, completely forgetting the broken form of Carla. Chaz was seated in one of the cubicles along a wall made entirely of glass which faced the hallway. His back was to the entrance of the gallery from the hallway, and he was talking loudly into his headset

and animatedly waving his arms. "'Look, Miss Thomas,' he said sternly. "'Again, I heard that you lost your job due to the pandemic.' "'Cad had given up on Mr. Wallace, the deadbeat who blamed his lack of good business skills on the peaceful protesters. Chas thought it might have been better if Mr. Wallace had burned down along with his business. "'Yes, Miss Thomas,' continued Chaz. "'I realize that you live in out of your car, but you have to put your priorities in perspective.

If you don't pay off this debt that you owe, the dams will have no choice but to pursue litigation. Look, Miss Thomas, here's my suggestion. You can sell your car and use the money to quickly pay off your debts. Then with the money that you have left over, you can get your kids something nice to eat like a McDonald's. Chaz was so close to taking the daily lead. Collecting debts was a highly competitive dog-eat-dog game and Chaz played to win. He just needed this, good. bitch to bite. He intended this to be his last call of the night and his blood was up for this

kill. So much so that Chas didn't notice the horrible thing creeping up slowly behind him. Ah, Miss Thomas, I'm trying to put food in your family's belly, but all you're saying is that you don't want to force the Dems into suing you. Is that correct, Miss Thomas? Am I hearing that your kids have to starve because your priorities are all jacked up? Oh, Miss Shakina Thomas, mother of three children age two, three and six were living in their 2002 Mazda Hatchback on the ghetto corner of Kansas City, Missouri. She'd been laid off from her job at the IHOP when the pandemic hit and was reduced to working odd jobs here and there.

It barely fed the children and put gas in the car, but it was the best she could do for now. And this person called from the debt collection agency. Well, if you tried to explain she was doing the very best that she could, But the man just wouldn't listen, and she began to cry over the phone. Miss Chiquina Thomas suddenly heard what sounded like a shriek, followed by a large crunching noise over the phone, before the battery went dead.

Roetzer and Rosita had just about completed mopping half of the hardwood floors out in the hallway, and were returning to the maiden's closet to dump the dirty water and refill their rolling-mob buckets with fresh water and pine cleaner. As they passed the gallery of cubicles, they were met with a sight of blood and gore. As something which should not exist was feasting on the annoying young white man who always made snide comments to them behind their backs.

Either Rosa or Rita screamed. Chaz would never have known which, and the horror looked up. In two bounds it crashed into the glass wall which divided the gallery from the hallway, but the reinforced glass held. Rosa and Rita abandoned their mop buckets and raced down the hallway as the monstrosity launched itself at the cracked glass again. Turning right at the end of the hallway, Rosa and Rita screamed as they saw the smashed shell of what was left of their co-worker Carlo blocking the stairwell going down.

They screamed again as they heard the glass partition behind them shatter, followed by thudding feet following close behind. Running halfway down the hallway, Rita stopped at the elevator. fractically pressing the down button. The monstrosity turned the corner just as the elevator doors open. Rita pushed Rosa inside the elevator, then jumped in herself just as the black monstrosity leapt. Rita was screaming, frantically pushing the door close button, but the doors were slow to respond as the thing crouched outside

and made to burst into the cramped elevator space. Suddenly, Rose and Reuters, to each pulled out a small 380 handgun from holsters which were strapped around their ankles underneath their grey workpants and began firing at the horror just outside the doors. As the doors finally started to close and the elevator began to descend, the twin Mexican cleaning girls yelled at their tormentor, Los Zetas bitches. Though confused at what had just occurred, as it wasn't used to prey escaping,

the monstrosity sniffed the air around the elevator doors then turned to the stairwell. Once again stomping on poor Carlo's body as it passed, the unearthly hunter bounded down the steps, eager to catch up to its prey. Wilroy Jackson checked his watch and, seeing it was past nine o'clock, knew that it was time to get the show on the road. Using the pass card that his girlfriend had given him, he opened the door to the back room which led to the private stairs up to the first floor. Once there he peaked out the window of the door to make sure that the

coast was clear. Then he looked up to the ceiling and spotted the surveillance camera. Jackson had dressed all in white, white sweats, white hoodie, white sneakers and white gloves. When he saw that the coast was clear, he put on a white mask and poured the hoodie over his head. This wasn't Jackson's first rodeo, and he knew that it was difficult to identify suspects who dressed head to foot in white, especially with the low-resolution cameras which most security companies used. In less than three seconds, Jackson was out the stairwell door, turned right, swiped the access card and was inside the treasure room that was the storage room of the sporting goods store. As promised, Jessica had left a push-cart for him just inside the door which he immediately

began to stack with boxes of Air Jordans, Nike Air and Adidas sneakers, each pair of sneakers costing several thousand dollars each. In less than a minute, Jackson had about 20 pairs of sneakers stuffed into the sturdy plastic cart, and soon he burst out of the story-troom. Pushing the cart in front of him, Jackson turned left and raced down the hallway. If the security guard was on his game, Jackson figured that he had a one-minute head start on the rent-a-combe. At the end of the corridor, he pushed the cart to the right and continued down the adjoining corner running past the maintenance closet, the water meter regulator closet, an electrical room and another stock store room.

He just had to get past the break room and the stairs on the right and reach the service door at the end of the corridor on the left, which led to the parking garage. Once outside, all he'd have to do is take an immediate right and squeeze himself in the cart between a retaining wall and a concrete pillar and push out from behind the bushes surrounding the first-level garage area, which then led to the side. sidewalk with Flower Street on his right. Just up the street, Jessica had parked the van, which they'd stolen to make their escape south, to get on the Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway and Freedom. Jackson had just passed the break room.

The door to the parking garage was just 20 feet to his left, when the stairwell doors to his right exploded outwards. Jackson was thrown against the wall opposite, along with about $100,000 worth of high-end stairs. sneakers. He slumped at the ground, and before he could recover from the shock, felt an incredible pain below his waist, accompanied by a loud, crunching sound. Confused, Jackson turned over and poured himself as far along the ground as his arms could take him, wondering why his legs weren't working. He died, not realizing the entire lower half of his body was missing. The thing

bowed its head, nudging the corpse and sniffing. Suddenly, lifting its head, it froze. It took a deep breath and jerked around and raced down in the direction that Jackson had come from. The horror turned the corner and stopped as it began to stalk the corridor past the break room to its left. Near the end of the corridor, the thing saw a door that was propped open by a sliding chair. What? Bradford awoke with a start. momentarily confused as his world was covered by a suffocating filter of Hayes Gray. He reached up and pulled Schmidt's newspaper away from his face as he stood up abruptly. He looked at the clock on the wall, showing that it was past nine o'clock.

He'd been asleep for over an hour. He cursed, trying to calm himself down. What could have happened in an hour? Bradford sat back down to view the monitors and was horrified. at what he saw. Monitor 19 showed a man's ripped course, bloodying the entrance to the second-floor parking garage. Monitor 26 showed the disembowed body of a thin, older man wearing a tan suit, sprawled out on the main hallway of the second floor. Monitor 41 showed someone that looked like one of the cleaning crew guys that Bradford had seen earlier, crushed and mangled in the stairwell

on the third floor, while what looked to be the remains of one of the office workers was live, in the deck collections gallery on monitor 42. Bradford stared unbelieving, throat dry and eyes wide as he continued to scan the monitors. He knew that they had to call for help. He knew that he had to call for help, but what would he say? His fingers were too frozen to move anyway. He scanned the first floor monitors. The floor he was on and saw two young women dressed in cleaning crew uniforms.

running out of the parking garage, both pointing handguns behind them as they ran. Panning to monitor 42, Bradford galt dryly as he saw the gory half-eaten body of a young man lying in the hallway, surrounded by piles of bloody sneakers. Wait, that was just around the corner. Oh my God, that means that... A hot breath enveloped Bradford from behind, followed by the stench of blood and uncooked flesh. Bradford turned on his chair and came face to face with a terrifying beast of nightmares. The thing stood over him with a mask like that of a bull, only much larger. It stood on four legs, with its muscular front legs standing seven feet high at the muscular shoulders and ending in

massive paws at least a foot and a half across. Its shoulders were as wide as its legs, at least seven feet across and it supported a head that seemed almost too big for the rest of its body. The head resembled that of a bulldog, but four feet wide, with a flat snout and a wide nose, but with an oversized mouth that extended as if on unhinged jaws that revealed dagger-like teeth about three inches long. It had two massive horns which protruded from its temples like a bull, and they hung over wide spaced eyes which glowed a fire. very deep red. The body tapered towards the rear and ended at a long, muscular tail. The tail itself ended in a spike which seemed as strong as steel, which scraped, sparked and gouged as it waved

around the room, randomly smacking into objects in the ground. Bradford leaned so far back in his seat that it almost fell over, resting his arm behind him on the desk to steady himself. Bradford raised his left hand up protectively across its face and smacked the monstrous black beast across its fanged muzzle. The beast yelped in surprise and then turned, fleeing towards the far corner of the room with its tail between its legs. Reaching the corner, the beast turned, faced Bradford and flopped down on the floor, plopping its massive horned head down and covering it with both of its massive front legs. Its flaming red eyes peered out from underneath his his paws, whimpering pitifully.

"'Ah, muffins!' yelled Bradford, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at the hellish beast. "'What did you do?' The beast yelped again and covered its eyes as Bradford stormed over to it. The beast kicked its rear legs, trying to back its rear end further into the corner, as if trying to make itself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Still hiding its head under its paws,

the beast shivered as it panted and licked its mouth. Bradford stared down at his poor little friend, hunkered in the corner, all shaking and confused. Oh, he tried to be angry, but how could it be angry at the little girl? She was just a pup, for goodness sakes, and hellhounds are known to be especially hungry when they're growing pups. Bradford thought back to the cross-country journey which eventually led him here to Los Angeles.

He picked up his pale blue, windowless panel van, from New Jersey, from where he began his drive, to his grandparents' farm in Ohio. It had cost him a pretty penny to ship it from Scotland, and he'd managed to get a flat tire somewhere in Pennsylvania in the middle of the night. While he was changing to the spare, muffins somehow got out of the van and ended up in a restricted U.S. Army training area, where the military were conducting some kind of nighttime land navigation for cavalry scout trainees. Fortunately, Bradford was able to attract muffins back to the van before she ate one of the soldiers, although the local papers did print a short blurb about one of the Army scout trainees being tracked by a Bigfoot. A Bigfoot? Really? Their muffins had been known to get up on her hind legs to sniff around.

No one could mistake her for a Bigfoot. Bradford laughed when he read the story at a local garage where he got his tire replaced. If muffins really wanted to eat that soldier, she would have found him. What a big mess that would it be. Once in Ohio, Bradford stayed for about a year with his grandfather and grandmother on their farm in Jefferson. It was one of those communities where most of your neighbours were farmers and homesteads were separated by vast tracks of rolling foothills. Radford's grandparents owned a large enough farm and had an expensive enough plot of land

in their rural and quaint farming community that a neighbour missing an occasional chicken or goat or hunting dog didn't raise much of a concern muffins was practically just a newborn back then and she only stood as tall as a great dame plus her coat was still a pale grey with streaks of darker grey along her flanks instead of the pitch black fur that it is today

It wasn't until a few weeks ago when the remains of the runaway Smith girl was found on the outskirts of his grandparents' property that they got suspicious. The Smith girl went to the Jefferson Area High School and her parents had grounded her when they found out she was dating the shoeman boy. She ran away two weeks ago

and her bloody clothing and shoes was all that were found on a lonely stretch of road which ran parallel to the eastern boundary of Grandpa's land which led to Mill Creek. Soon after the police investigators had left, Bradford's grandpa began asking questions which Bradford had no good answers for. Why haven't they seen Scooter, their pet Basset hound for the past week? Why were the cows and pigs going missing at their neighbour Winslet's farm? Most of all, after only a year of living on the farm, why was Bradford's dog so big that it was now a full two heads taller than molasses,

grandpa's Ohio State Fair Blue Ribbon Award-winning giant steer. And what were those two pointy things growing out of Muffin's forehead anyway? Bradford thought he was doing his grandparents a favour by releasing Muffin at night to hunt beyond the boundaries of their farmland. But apparently that would not be a viable solution anymore. That night, Bradford went to the ATM in town and cleared out his bank account. He put his clothes in an army surplus duffel bag, before whistling for muffins

and stuffing her in the back of his old but trusty windowless van. obediently she climbed in. The van's rear shock squeaking in protest. Seeing as muffins barely had the shoulder room to move, Bradford resolved that when he could afford it, he'd purchase a bigger van, perhaps even a bus. They drove south for the rest of the night across the state. after crossing the Ohio border

they stopped in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where Bradford got a cheap motel room on the outskirts of the city next to a truck stop the taste of the skinny, crack-addicted prostitute that Bradford picked up at the truck stop didn't agree with muffins and she spit out the body parts licking her butt to get rid of the poison taste

muffins gave Bradford an annoyed look but he just held up his hands and shrews truck. They left Pittsburgh right before evening and continued driving south, and the unfortunate residence of a mobile home located on a lonely stretch of land in the mountains, satisfied muffins for a while as they crossed into West Virginia. They'd travel south through Skyline Drive and the Shenandoah Valley, where Bradford allowed muffins to get out and stretch her legs. Only a lone camper went missing that weekend, who probably wouldn't be found for a long time after Bradford and Muffins had left West Virginia.

Westwards they drove, through Kentucky, southern Illinois, and Missouri, Bradford avoiding as many of the major populated towns and cities as he could. In Kansas, muffins managed to wrangle down a heifer on a lonely field in the middle of the night. She didn't eat again until Utah. When early one morning Bradford happened to spy a portly, middle-aged fisherman pushing a small boat out into the Provo River for a little pre-dawn fishing. Well, that was, what, seven days ago? Bradford put his palm to his face, kicking himself. Oh, muffins, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it had been so long since you'd last eaten.

No wonder you were so hungry tonight. Muffins tilted her head, staring at Bradford and whimpering. Come on, girl, let's get out of here. But first, Bradford walked to the little. the black table, ejecting all of the DVRs which had been recording the day's events. Muffin's eyed him curiously, wondering if she was still in trouble. Here go, said Bradford, tossing the DVRs at the hell-held. Muffin sleeped up, easily catching the discs in her mouth. She chomped down on them as if they were crunchy doggy treats. Then with a confused look on her face, spat the broken and chew plastic pieces out and began

licking her butt. Those tasteless, crunchy treats weren't yummy at all. She looked at Bradford, confused. Bradford picked up the newspaper he was reading earlier, before he dozed off. In bold black letters, the headlines of the Los Angeles Times blazed a story about rioters and looters in Portland, Oregon were being snatched up by men wearing uniforms and badges and being dragged into unmarked vans. Bradford smiled down at his security guard uniform, badge. Well, he thought to himself, here's a bunch of folks that no one will miss. Come on, girl, said Bradford, snapping his fingers and whistling. Do you want to go on a road trip? Do you want to go to Portland? Come on, girl. Muffins jumped up and down excitedly, happy that

all seemed to have been forgiven. Her mouth flopped open, and her tongue wagged as slobber and spittle flew everywhere. The heavy thuds of her excited bouncing, knocked monitors off the walls and toppled computers onto the floor, while her horns accidentally dug huge gouges into the walls. Bradford laughed, grabbing muffins by her scruff and hugging her,

saying, Who's a good girlie? Who's a good girl? My brother ate a gas station, chilly dog. This is what happened to it. The things crawling around in my brother's guts have baffled every doctor we've taken him to. Every second his condition worsens

and I'm afraid if we don't find the cause soon, we'll lose him for good. I always knew he'd pay for eating that shady food. I just thought it would end with him on the toilet, not a stretcher. My brother and I share a dorm at the same college. Being twins, you can probably guess we're almost the same person. From our green eyes to our names, Jaden and Jordan.

I had to start going by Jays just to hear it from getting mixed up with him. Well, a few days ago we hopped in my crappy used Toyota and headed back home for our family reunion. As Jordan weaved in and out of the different lanes, I wondered how he ever managed to pass his driving test. Well, our Walmart salaries don't really allow for breakfast, so when we saw the dusty old gas station at the edge of town,

he looked at me and smiled. Oh, no, I said. Oh, come on, man, I'm starving. No way. You know gas station. probably used dog meat in their food. Hey man, don't knock it until you try it. Before I could think, he'd whip the wheel to the right,

launching us into the parking lot. As I recovered from my mini heart attack, he jumped out of the car. Oh, you can starve waiting for Wendy's if you want, but I'm hungry now. I followed him in to grab a water, but reconsidered as I looked around. It looked like something out of a zombie apocalypse.

The gas pumps were crawling with orange rust and weeds poked up through the cracked pavement. Well, when I'd spotted it, I felt the sign had red speedway, but on closer inspection it actually said speedster. The logos were so similar, I could barely tell them apart. The condition was even worse inside. It looked like it was cleaned maybe once a year, and the cashier didn't even look up from his phone on our arrival. As Jordan picked out his order, I started wandering around the shelves. As I was inspecting a dusty water bottle, what looked to be a millipede scuttled over my shoe, I hop back, disgusted, and set the bottle back down.

Went back to the counter, and Jordan was still looking around. Once he decided, he pointed at the menu and made the worst mistake of his life. Five minutes later, we were back on the road. Jordan sat next to me, pigging out, and a greasy, chilly dog slathered with cheese. A few minutes into his feast, he stopped. abruptly. I nodded at the pile of grease and cheese in his hands. You regret it yet? Oh, his stomach gurgled. Oh, yeah, he said, tossing the hot dog back in the bath. And it was fine for the first few hours, but by the time it was his turn to drive, he was at

least three shades paler than usual. We kept complaining about being too hot no matter how much I cranked up the AC. That night we made it to our Airbnb. We met by a shotgun, with a hunting cap. He glared at Jordan. Your power looks like he's got a fever. You ought better not have COVID. Don't worry. All this dummy's got is a stomach bug from some bad gas station food. Looking back, it's almost funny how wrong I was. That night in the guy's guestroom, Jordan tossed and turned on the pull-out mattress. He clutched at his stomach and sweat, beaded on his forehead.

The next morning Jordan was really quiet. As we packed our things, he kept rubbing at his arms. His skin was becoming a sickly yellow, and he kept rubbing at his hands. Outside, he walked toward the driver's seat. Wanting him to rest a bit more, I said, Hey, no worries, man, I'll drive. He waved me off as he stepped inside. I'm fine, I promise.

No way. You don't see more there, but I'll just... I said I'm fine, he insisted, cutting me off. It's my stomach that's messed up, not my brain. He looked at me with eyes that were sharp and alert, so I reluctantly agreed, but only for an hour. Well, that mistake almost cost us our lives. I hesitantly got in the passenger seat, and we got back on the highway.

I watched him as he drove. Now that I was closer, I could make out tiny bumps all on his skin. They were faint, but still there, scattered all over his forearms. One particularly large one sat on the back of his hand, right in the middle. It was when I was studying his face that I noticed two things that made my heart drop. One was that we were going extremely fast, even for him. The second was that his eyes were closed. He suddenly slumped to the left, arms falling to the seat, limp, heart dropped.

as I saw we were moments from rear-ending the car in front of us. I had no control of the brakes, so I grabbed the wheel and yanked it to the left, nearly clipping the car as we passed. The momentum flung Jordan and me, and his foggy eyes opened a bit. Jordan, wake up, you need to pull over, I yelled. He sluggishly mumbled.

Your face needs to pull over, and slumped over again. I switched the gear into neutral and switched on the hazards. I waited for an SUV on our right to pass before guiding the car to the side of the road and letting it slowly come to a stop. It was all a blur from there.

After calling 911, an ambulance arrived and took him away. I followed it and soon found myself in the ER lobby, pacing back and forth. Eventually I was led into an examination room where Jordan sat in a blue medical gown. I was horrified by what I saw. In the few hours we'd been away from each other, the bumps on his skin had worsened drastically. His bumps had swollen into huge, fleshy lumps. An older woman walked in and introduced herself as Dr. Willows.

Hi, son. How are we doing today? Well, my brother almost killed me and himself, so how do you think? Oh, okay, I replied. Do you know what's happening to Jordan? Oh yes, your brother seems to... She paused, breaking eye contact. Seems to have a bit of a parasite. I gaped at her.

A parasite? What type? We don't know yet. I felt the urge to panic but fought it. The coffee I was sipping wasn't helping my nerves much. How do you not know? She looked at some documents and slowly said, Well, even with his blood tests and echo.

We can't determine the exact type. You see animals pick up so many parasites, many aren't completely understood. Now, although they're usually restricted to one species, on rare occasions they can host jump to humans when food isn't cooked thoroughly. Although we've narrowed Jordan's parasite down to the Ascarus family, we aren't sure what its specific characteristics will be. You handed me what looked to be an x-ray. At first it looked completely normal, but on close,

inspection, I found something disturbing in his abdomen. There, in his stomach, I saw three or four long, skinny worms. The thought of those things slithing around my brother's guts made me sick to my stomach. She cleared her throat and said, however, that's not the only issue. There's more, I cried, fear seeping into my voice. Normally when this species lays eggs, they pass through the stool, however, we didn't find any in your brother's stool sample. Okay, that's good, right. It means it's not laying eggs. She gave me a pitying look and said. Not quite. We know it's in its reproductive cycle from the blood tests.

The issue is that the eggs aren't leaving the body. Based on a CT scan we did, they appear to be stuck to the walls of his stomach with some sort of biological adhesive. I looked over at Jordan, who was sitting on the chair, staring foggy-eyed out of the window. They must have told him already, how many eggs did these things lay? I asked. Well, again, we aren't quite sure, but it's typically about 200,000, she replied. A year? A day, my head pounded.

How was I supposed to tell Mom? Yeah, hey, Ma, Jordan's caught some weird parasite, and it's going to pop out of his chest like alien. Oh, by the way, what's for dinner? What happens when they hatch? I asked. Dr. Willows looked at her feet. We don't have enough information on this strain of Ascarus to be sure. Not sure.

I'd been getting more and more panic throughout the conversation, and it finally bubbled to the surface. I slammed my hand on the counter beside me. Well, then just cut them out or something. She remained composed, saying, Those eggs are buried in the walls of George. stomach we'd need to kill the eggs first and then remove them if our team had a sample of the parasite we'd know how how long do we have before the eggs hatch after pausing for a beat to check

her nose she took a deep breath and replied the blood test shows they're already in the intermediate stages of development if you also account for the warm nutrient-rich environment the eggs will hatch in at most five days tension hung in the air as we both dealt with the news in our own way. In five days, two hundred thousand worms were going to hatch in my brother's stomach and do God knows what. And there was nothing he could do about it, but wait. When I looked over, I saw him wiping away a tear. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've seen Jordan cry in my entire life, and yet he was crying now. I looked at Dr. Willow's pleadingly. There has to be something we have to be something we have to be.

can do in a dull monotone jordan piped up saying did you not hear her unless you're a magician or something we're not getting these things out he sighed all this because i had to have that stupid chili dog we sat in silence for a moment suddenly my head picked up wait the chili dog they both looked at me confused I continued. You never finished eating the chili dog. It's still in the back seat. And, Jordan said, and it's probably still got the parasite inside. Dr. Willows, if we brought a sample of the parasite to the hospital, would you be able to do the surgery?

Willows, his eyes brightened a bit, and she said, Well, no promises, but yes, if we could determine the exact characteristics of the parasite, we may have a chance at killing it. Jordan turned to me, regaining some of the life in his eyes. Well, let's go get it, he said, hopping up. We practically ran to the car, people in the lobby giving us bad looks as we did. Once we got there, Jordan threw open the back door seat and started rummaging around.

I watched as he did, saying, I can't wait to figure out what this thing is. Willows is going to be... This isn't right. He muttered, cutting me off. Before I could ask what was wrong, he showed me something incredibly strange. The half-eaten chili dog was filled with holes. They were scattered all over the hot dog like Swiss cheese and looked like tiny moleholes.

I could tell it had been made by something very small. I told him to scooch over and soon we were both sitting in the back seat. I had a scraping noise and looked over to see Jordan wiping chili off the rear window. There were bits of chili splattered all on the inside of the bag, and even some dripping from the ceiling. There was even more on the inside of the bag it had been kept in, like something had popped out. I asked Jordan to hold the coffee I'd been drinking, picked up the discarded bag. In one of the chili stains, I noticed a few tiny white balls. I shuddered and disgust as I confirmed my suspicion.

They were eggs. Good thing they needed a host to hatch, right. The squeaking from Jordan wiping the rear window was grating my ears, so I told him to knock it off. What? he said. I thought that was you. My eyes widening. I whipped my head around to see the impossible thing crawling on the rear window.

It was white and segmented like a tapeworm, but scuttled along the windshield with long spider-light legs, making that horrible squeaking noise as it did. I opened my mouth to scream, but as I did, it jerked what I assumed to be ahead at me, and crawled in a spiral pattern. In an instant it launched itself like a spring at my open mouth, white body squirming in the air. I jerked my head out of the way just as its wriggling white body flew past my face, like a slimy missile.

I pushed the car open and stumbled out of it, heart racing. As I slammed the door shut, I saw the worm's body fly. at me through the open window. Arms flailing, I tripped backwards over the curb and landed on my back. This time the worm found its target, its sticky body hitting my stomach. Its hundreds of legs scuttled as it crawled toward my face at lightning speed. I smacked it and it went out of sight. Before I could celebrate, I saw it scuttling up my arm, its arms tickling my skin in the worst way. In an instant, I've heard its cold, slimy body on my face. Despite my attempts at holding it back, I let out a scream. Just as the creature was racing towards my open mouth, I heard Jordan's

voice cry. Sorry, bro. Before I knew what was happening, I've heard a splash of coffee hit me in the face, spraying the creature off me. Through squinted eyes, I saw Jordan smash the creature to bits. I would have sighed with relief if it didn't feel like my entire face was on fire. The coffee wasn't scolding or anything, but it definitely wasn't cold either. After I'd switched out my soaking shirt for a new one, we showed Dr. Willows what was left of the creature. Unfortunately, Jordan had smashed it to pieces, and it wasn't much use. We tried showing her the eggs, but she said they'd been dead for hours.

We were going to need fresher samples. Feeling defeated, I said, How are we going to find another one? And that's when Jordan said, What if we go back to the gas station? Well, after thinking about it, I remember the bug that crawled across my shoe back at the gas station and recognized it as one of those creatures.

If we could catch one of those things, we could bring it back to Willows. We've already dealt with them once. I'm sure we could easily do it again, right. Looks like we've got a new destination. I'm not crazy about going, back there and facing those creatures again, but Jordan's only got four and a half days

before the eggs in his stomach start hatching. I plan on letting you all know exactly how it goes down, so keep your eyes peel. Part two. The parasite that's been ravishing my brother's body has been getting stronger every second. Every medical textbook says that the symptoms he's experiencing shouldn't even be possible.

A lot has happened in these past few days. I'll try to get down as much as I can before I run out of time. I need to go get Jordan out of some serious trouble soon, so I can only write so much. Anyways, after the fight with a creature in my car, Jordan and I crashed at a hotel for the night. Holy crap, man, I said.

How are we going to catch one of those things? From his bed, Jordan made a pf sound. What are you stressing for? It's just a little bug. That's easy for you to say. He wasn't trying to crawl down your throat. Well, that's not the worst place it could have crawled in, he said. I shuddered and said, well, we need weapons.

Uncle Kevin's got a flamethrower. Way too overkill. That's like cutting a chicken with a chainsaw. He's got one of those two. I gave him a look. He shrugged. Just saying. We spent the next day driving around town looking for the weapons we needed.

after quickly realizing that net launches were a little out of our price range we wound up at Walmart looking for butterfly nets jordan and i were in the kids toy section when jordan began acting strangely his skin was still a pale yellow and the lumps on his skin had grown to the size of pennies despite this his mind didn't seem messed up or at least not more than usual he picked up an american girl doll wow cindy will love this I can't wait for us to get to the reunion. I raised an eyebrow at him. What?

No, we have to skip it. You know, so we can catch one of those bugs and save you. He turned to me and I realised his right eye was bright red. I could see the network of veins running through its pink glistening surface. He gave me a confused look and rubbed his right temple. Oh yeah, I guess I forgot. Are you feeling all right, Jordan? I asked him. He slowly.

shook his head. No, I've been getting headaches all day. This is the worst it's been. It goes away quickly. I just need a few minutes. I sent him to the bathroom to splash from water on his face, even though I knew it wouldn't do anything in the long run. Whatever was in his stomach was messing with more than just his skin. I was looking for Tylenol when I noticed two white vans pulling into the parking lot. I watched on as two normal-looking guys walked out. The tall one, pointed at something in the parking lot and I realized it was my Toyota. I started heading for the bathroom so we could get out of Dodge but I couldn't find the sign for it. I heard footsteps behind me and whipped around thinking it was Jordan. It wasn't. Not Jordan, smiled at me and said, Hi buddy, Jamal if I'll talk to you for a quick second. This phrasing made it seem optional but the golden FBI badge around his neck told me it was not.

"'Of course not. And you are?' The guy was tall, but not that tall. His brown hair was formal, but not too formal. He seemed like a guy who could blend into pretty much any crowd without being noticed. The only thing even a little interesting about him was his pink dress shirt. I had no clue why, but he almost reminded me of my dad's. My name is ancient Michael Falconer. The hospital called us when they couldn't identify what was plaguing your brother.

"'Oh, great. So do you know what's wrong with him?' "'His blue eyes lit up.' "'Oh, not yet. We just need to clutch your brother. We can get started with our tests.' I took a step back, images of Jordan being dissected, flashing through my mind. "'C.' "'Where'd you be taking him?' "'And just back to the CDC for observation. "'Will we be able to see each other, at least?' I asked.

He gave me an office and put a hand on my shoulder. We'll hold him at the hospital for a day or so while we arrange his transportation. You can see him then, but after that, no more. I brushed his hand off of me. One more time. Then what? He's just your lab rat until that parasite kills him. He began talking to me like a dad, explaining to his son why he isn't allowed to eat crayons.

We don't know anything about this infection. if your brother isn't contained he'll continue to spread throughout the population well guess what I said turning around and beginning to walk away Constitution says you can't take him against his will I was feeling like a badass when a strong arm grabbed me and spun me around

well guess what Falconer said smile nowhere in sight the CDC says I can I suggest you tell me where you're brother is. There was no way of getting out of this. There were laws against things like this, and this Falconer guy was wiping his ass with them. Don't do this often, but I sent up a prayer for some way to get Jordan out of this. Faulkner continued. We know he's at the hotel on Pine Road. We just need the room number. Hallelujah. They didn't know he was in the store with me.

It's room seven. That's it. and he took the bait. Falkner was just turning around to leave the aisle we were standing in. To my horror, Jordan strolled into view. Wait, I practically shouted. Falkner stopped and turned back to me, eyebrow raised skeptically. I just remember the seven was actually my room, not Jordan's. He poured out a phone.

I wrote it down. Here, I'll check. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jordan notice me and start walking toward us. I opened messenger and started furiously typing. Just as Jordan was halfway to me and Falconer, I hit send. Jordan froze and checked his phone. It said, Don't let him see you. A moment later Jordan turned around and speedwalk back to where he'd come from as quickly as possible.

Well, Falconer noticed me. staring behind him and turned around just as Jordan disappeared around the corner. There we go, I said. I guess it was actually room eight. After Falconer and his partner had left, I found Jordan hiding in one of those circular shirt racks. I explained the situation. As we finished our bug hunting shopping spree, I wondered what sort of tests Falconer had in store for Jordan. Will they do the surgery to get the eggs out of his stomach? Maybe they wanted them to hatch so they'd have more specimens to observe. I decided to push that to the back of my mind.

We had a monster to catch. We ended up checking out with a small flashlight, tennis racket, butterfly net and some bug spray. Not as badass as I'd imagined, but he'd get the jobbed up. The drive to the gas station was long and tense. My imagination was filled with terrible images of what was waiting for us. Our plan was. was to search around the back of the gas station for those creatures. If that didn't work, we'd have to start looking around the forest that surrounded the building. However, when we pulled up to the gas station, we realised something strange. Despite it being noon on a wedding day, the lights were completely out.

We made our approach, the building looming over us, the dirty glass door hanging slightly ajar. The interior was a wall of darkness. I called in. Jordan shouted, Hey, you guys open. I listened for a response, but all I heard was my own heartbeats pumping in my ears.

After a few more moments of waiting, I raised my butterfly net and crept into the gas station. I remember the flashlight and flicked it on, a narrow cone of light cutting through the darkness. I was met with shelves and shelves of off-brand items.

Aside from our footsteps, the building was completely silent. There wasn't even the hum of unseen pipes unheaters. I scanned the flashlight around the floor, looking for one of those creatures slithering across it. The thought of one of them sneaking up on me and launching its squirming body at me put a knot in my stomach. We eventually made it to the counter. I illuminated it with a flashlight,

half expecting to see the cashier being munched on by those creatures, but it was empty. Jordan asked, Do you think he ran out when the crab hit the fan? I sure hope so, I muttered. One after the other, we searched each shelf. I caught a few glimpses of white squirming bodies glinting off the flashlight, but they always disappeared around corners before we could react.

They're here, I said. Keep your eyes peeled. When there was no response from behind me, I noticed Jordan's footsteps had stopped. I turned around fast enough to give myself whiplash. Jordan's face wasn't covered in bugs as I expected. Instead, he was doubled over, clutching his head. You're all right, Jordan, I asked.

I'm fine, he said, just inspecting the floor for clues. If the headache's too bad, we can try it again tomorrow. No, he said, straightening up. We both know it's just going to be. going to get worse from here. It's now or never. All right, let's get these things, I said, pumping my fist in the air. Jordan opened his mouth as if to say something, but froze. At first I thought the headache had turned out to be a precursor of a stroke or something, but then I saw where he was looking. When I pumped the air, a flashlight had pointed up like

a triumphant torch into the night. I followed Jordan's gaze up to the paneled ceiling, My blood froze as dozens of tiny eyes stared back at me. The ceiling was crawling with them, having both the slick wriggling body of a tapeworm and the tiny legs of a centipede. They crawled over each other like bees in a hive. The instant the light touched them, they began making that sickening, squeaking noise

we'd heard in the car, a mix between the chirp of a cicada and the squeak of a rat. They froze and began crawling into that familiar spiral pattern, that signalled an attack, and Jordan voiced what I was thinking. Run! They began raining down on us, their white bodies flying through the air. One flew past my right ear, chirping the whole way and hitting the floor with a wet plop.

Then another one hit my left foot and began scuttling up my leg. I whacked it with the net I suddenly remembered I had. Jordan and I, in our panic to escape the creatures, had run to the back corner of the store on the opposite side from the door. It was a dead end and we were trapped with our backs literally up against the wall. I turned to find two of the centipede creatures jumping at me one after the other. One came inches from my face before I caught it in the net. The next one was coming for my neck and I smacked it across the room. To my right I saw three creatures coiled on the wall. They must have squirmed up there when I wasn't looking. Just as they prepared their attack, Jordan sprays.

them with his surprisingly long-range bug spray. Have you caught one yet? Jordan shouted, swatting a bug with his tennis racket. Yeah, but how are we going to get out? He pointed, I saw an emergency exit this way. We'll just have to... Before he could finish, his face contorted into a mask of pain, and he grabbed his head once again.

And a bug leapt at him from the wall. I swatted it away an instant before it hit his ear. Hey, stay with me. let's go find that exit he trembled with pain and barely managed to say maybe after a nap please try to focus i shouted grabbing his hand come on let's go but before i could make it one step he whirled on me his right eye once again blood red and shoved me back it wasn't that hard but it was the last thing i expected and i stumbled backwards I slipped on something squishy, probably a dead bug, and fell forward back over the counter. I slammed onto my head and nearly saw stars from the pain. Looking around, I soon realized that my head was the least of my concerns.

I was level with those things, and the centipedes had wasted no time crawling all over my arms. Shrieking a few octaves higher than usual, I frantically pushed myself to my feet and threw off my jacket. I looked up and found Jordan. gone. The beam of my flashlight found a red door marked basement hanging ajar. His bug spray lay there, thrown aside at the foot of the door, indicating he'd decided to make a detour. Well, I'll be honest, I almost just walked right out of there. Going into a dark, scary basement is about as safe as jumping into an active volcano. The deathworms chirping behind me ultimately convinced me to make the descent. My steps creaked as I made my way down. My steps creaked as I made my way down,

the wooden steps. My flashlight was all but useless down here, casting light about five feet in front of me. A few steps in, a particularly rotten board made a horrible cracking noise. Fearing it would snap, I drew my foot back and skipped over it. Eventually the wooden creek of my footsteps turned to a wet squishing. I didn't know what I was stepping on, but I knew they were probably ruining my shoes. my fingers went to grab the hand railing and immediately recoiled it was cold and slimy to the touch i shone my light on it and almost gagged the wooden railing was covered in eggs just like the ones i'd found in the chili dog that jordan had eaten except these ones were the size of gumbulls they were slightly translucent and although i couldn't quite make out what was inside them i had a pretty good guess Finally, after an eternity of creaking boards, I finished my descent. I walked along the concrete, swept the beam of light across the room, already knowing what was to come, but dreading it all the same.

The walls of the room were red brick, and on the cold concrete floor were even more eggs. There were hundreds of them piled and stacked up to three feet high. They were anywhere from the size of a golf ball to the size of an orange. There in the middle of it all was Jordan. You owe me a pair of converse, I said. No response. Using every drop of concentration I could muster, I carefully made my way across the floor,

taking care to avoid every glistening monster egg. The egg clusters got denser the closer I got to the centre, and I had to walk on my toes for much of the time. The slime I'd gotten on my shoes made this difficult, and I nearly slipped, several times. Eventually I navigated my way over to him. Once I was close enough, I used a special technique for getting people out of trances that totally wasn't just me smacking him in the back of the head. His head snapped up and he looked at me. His eye was pink, but no longer red.

Where'd everyone go? He asked, dumbstruck. Where'd who go? He looked around saying, we were back at the reunion everyone was there mom Cindy uncle Kevin you can tell me about that later I said interrupting him right now we have to get out of here

without waking any of those things up he blinked if you say so now listen carefully don't step on these things I don't know what happens if you do but I don't want to the sound came from behind me

I turned to find Jordan frozen midstep foot planted on a cluster of eggs. What the hell are you doing? I screamed. Oh, wait, you made the eggs? He asked. I was in the middle of asking what else I would have meant when the eggs under his foot began to quiver.

My eyes widened as I swept the light around the room. It had triggered a chain reaction and soon every egg in the room was twitching and shaking. Suddenly, a cluster of eggs in the back corner exploded, splattering goo everywhere. Centipedes, the size of baby snakes, burst out in every direction. That sure as hell broke me out of my trance,

and I spun on my heel. Jordan did the same, and soon we were running full tilt at the wooden staircase in the far corner of the room. I heard more of those gooey explosions behind me. That was a messed-up game of dominoes. The eggs were triggering their neighbours, creating a tsunami of twitching,

chirping centipedes that were gaining on us with every second. We were about to reach the stairs when a cluster of eggs in front of us splattered to life, releasing its slimy residence into the world. Jordan went left around it and I went right. It was almost around when something landed in my hair. Slimy, cold. Legs, the size of my fingers, scuttled through my hair.

My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment my soul almost. left my body. You got a little something in your hair, Jordan yelled, swinging a tennis racket through the air. The creature went flying and I shuddered at the thought of what it wanted to do to me. We finally reached the steps and raced up three at a time, arms pumping furiously. As we did, the unnatural chirping of the hundreds of creatures nearly deafened us. Five feet away from the exits, I remember the rotten step from earlier.

But I was the second too late. I plunged through the rotting wood. Leg dangling, I turned around. My eyes were met with a wave of twitching, slimy bodies round in the corner and rushing up the stairs. Just as the flood of creatures was moments from reaching me, Jordan thrust his tennis racket in front of my face. I latched onto it, and he pulled me out of the stairwell and back into the gas station.

The second I was out, Jordan slammed the door shut. There was a booming thud as the insects crashed into the door, and for a few moments Jordan and I just stared, waiting for it to burst open. After a few horrible seconds, I let out of breath that I didn't know I was even holding in. We were done. The bug in my net was still there, trying to squirm free of its stringy prison. We just stood there in the gas station for a few moments, processing what had just happened. Wow, I said. Remind me to get the dorm sprayed down. Suddenly Jordan had me wrapped in an embrace. Caught off guard, I took a step back.

Thanks, man, he said. You're about to try and lay eggs in my head or something? No, really, he said. I would have been bug food if you hadn't got me out of there. I hugged him back. Come on. Mom would have killed me if I let you get. get eaten. He let go suddenly. Um, did you call the cops? He asked. No. Why? I turned around to see

red and blue lights filling the gas station. No less than three cop cars filled the parking lot. What's going on? He asked. I pointed at the familiar white van that was pulling up right in front of us. Oh, he finally found us. And out of the van, clad in that stupid pink. And out of the van, clad in that stupid drink dress shirt stood Michael freaking Faulkner. He smiled at me but not the pleasant kind of smile. It was the way a wolf might smile

when it catches a rabbit. Sorry, buddy, he said without an ounce of sympathy. Say goodbye to your brother. And with that three of the policemen walked up and dragged Jordan, kicking and screaming into the white van. I screamed and shouted for them

to let go, but before I knew it, the cars were gone and I was alone. The dorm's being pretty quiet here without Jordan. There's no one to hog the TV or leave wet towels on the bathroom floor. A week ago that would have sounded like a blessing to me, but now that he's actually gone, I feel awful. During these past few days, I've done a lot of thinking, and I may have gotten an idea.

Well, if it works, John will be back home by lunch. But if not, a lot of people might die. If I survive this, you'll hear from me. within the next few days across my heart. If not then I guess you can assume the worst. I hope heaven has Wi-Fi. All right, wish me luck. Part 3. I never thought eating a chili dog would land my brother in the CDC. These past few days have been some of the most stressful in my life. Better just get into it. After the FBI brother napped Jordan to use him as a lab rat, I went back to my dorm to feel sorry for myself.

The entire morning was spent eating a family-sized Cheetos and watching Netflix. Volkner had said today was the last time I'd be able to see Jordan before they take him back to the CDC for testing. That's what they said it was for, but well, I have my doubts. They could put a bull in his head the second I left and I would never even know. I had a wad of Cheetos halfway in my mouth when I got the idea. falcona told me over the phone that we were allowed to pack a bag of belongings to take with him i could use that to my advantage but i'd have to be quick i stopped by walmart to pick up some

very important items before shoving them in a red suitcase and heading to the facility to see jordan it seemed very very normal it's just a nondescript white brick building without anything i catching about it at all looking back i guess that was the point as i walked in my suitcase wheeling behind me, I was met with white walls and fluorescent lights. In the lobby I saw two people who I immediately recognized. My mother and Agent Falconer stood there arguing. My mother's face streaming with tears. Falconer is a mask of fake sympathy. I'll press charges, she screamed. You can't hold my boy in there like some sort of animal? I completely understand why you're upset, ma'am. But your son is considered highly contagious and is a threat to the public. We can't

allow him to leave until we understand the exact characteristics of his disease. When my mom noticed me, she wrapped me in an embrace so tight, I think she cracked a rib. Tell him, Jay, she said. Tell him he can't take Jordan. I'm sorry, falconer said. There's nothing to be done. Jordan is scheduled to leave for the CDC in an hour or so. If Jay wants to see his brother, it has to be now. Mr. Weaver will escort you out. A blonde man walked up to my mom. Let's go, ma'am, he said curtly. I turned to my mum's tear-street face. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week, and the sight of it broke my heart. Don't worry, I said quietly. I'll make them see reason. She nodded, and the man walked her out. Falkin has silently led me

through a hallway, his usual pink dress shirt contrasting the white walls. We made our way to a white wall and he turned around staring me down yeah fifteen minutes no questions relating to its experiences here i braced myself for what i might see and pushed open the door there sitting on a makeshift hospital bed was jordan the room was large and clean however the lack of windows made it seem very claustrophobic when my eyes finally fell on jordan i was taken aback his skin was almost completely yellow now huge clusters of bump Scumpt scattered all over his skin. He was unshaven and the weather look in his eyes made him seem like someone twice his age. Hey, buddy, I said. How are you holding up? Well, you know, can't complain. Food's pretty good.

That is, if they feed you at all. They didn't feed you, I said, hands bawling into fists. Not since yesterday, he said with a cough. They wanted to observe the parasites. Their reaction or something. Jesus Christ, I said, this can't be legal. Anything else? Jordan looked down at his feet.

Yeah, he said quietly. They kept asking me about my eye. Your eye? Yeah, they asked if it's been throbbing. I denied it, but it reminded me of what happened yesterday at Walmart. Or when you attacked me at the gas station. Yeah, he said. Sorry about that, by the way.

I don't even remember it. It's like I blacked out or something. Whatever it is, it's very interesting to Faulkner and his team. I love my voice. Well, don't worry, buddy. I'm getting you out of here. Whatever you do, don't let Falconer open that suitcase. Once we...

Just then, Falconer opened the door and walked in. Now, what did I just say, guys? He said, trying and failing to mask his annoyance. That information about your eye is. classified. I think I'll just stay here for the rest of your visit. He showed no indication that he'd heard what I said. Thankfully, I told Jordan the most important part. If Falconer saw what was in the suitcase, it would ruin everything. Falconer struck down almost every question I tried to ask Jordan, and in the end we were restricted to talking about sports and

music. I was only half paying attention to the conversation, though. In my mind, I was amping myself up for what I had to do. Hopefully, Faulkner didn't notice the sweat running down my face, or a slight tremor in my hands. After a few minutes of hyping myself up, I realized I was wasting precious time and went for it. I asked Faulkner if I could go to the bathroom. Of course, he said.

He was smiling, but I noticed his eyes slightly narrowed. He was suspicious of me, but couldn't quite figure out why. The blonde man from before, I think his name was Weaver. Walk me to the bathroom. Eyeing me the way a zookeeper does a lion. I got the impression if I made one wrong move, he'd have a gun trained on me in an instant.

Does the FBI even carry guns? Oh, I always thought they had lasers or something. Either way, the closer we got, the more nervous I became. What if Faulkner searched the suitcase while I was gone? The second I shut the door, I took a deep breath and began my work. I tore out tons of paper towels and began throwing them into the trash can. Next, I grabbed the little bottle of hand sanitizer from my pocket and dumped it into the bin. Kindling, check.

Fuel, check. The last thing I did was pull out of Marlborough, light it, and toss it into the trash. A giant flame didn't burst to life in the bin. Instead, it just began to smolder, producing thin wisps of smoke that snake their way up toward the ceiling. Phase one of Jay's genius master plan was complete. I exited the bathroom and greeted Weaver. The entire walk back was nerve-wracking. What if he smelled the smoke on me?

What if Falconer had opened the suitcase and was waiting for me with handcuffs? What if they had cameras in the bathroom? Well, maybe not that last one. Pretty sure that's illegal, and gross. When I returned to his room, Jordan immediately knew something was different. I didn't know what I did, but he did. He knew I'd done something. The plan was to wait for the smoke to trigger a fire alarm

and then run out in the confusion. The only problem was that I had no clue how long it would take for that to happen. If it took too long, someone would smell the smoke, and I'd be busted. I continued talking to Jordan, but only to stall. The fire alarm wasn't going off for some reason. All right, son, Falconer said.

Time's up. Just five more minutes, please. I pleaded. Ah, you said that five minutes ago, he replied. Falconer stood up and led us both out of the room. We began leading Jordan away, and I realized I had no other choice. Although I knew Plan B was incredibly dangerous for everyone, Falconer had given me no other choice.

Sorry, son, Falconer said. You're going to have to say goodbye to you. Suddenly, an ear-splitting beeping ran out. forcing Falconer to clap his hands over his ears. Jordan looked around in confusion, but when he saw the poorly hidden glee on my face, he realized that this was our time to go. People poured out of every door and down the hall like a flood.

Within seconds the hallway was filled with dozens of black suits and white lab coats, obscuring my view of Jordan and Falconer. I navigated through the forest of bodies, fire alarm screeching in my ear. Suddenly, a hang with a hand. grabbed my shoulder. I turned to find Jordan. I can't believe he started a frequent fire, he said. I shrugged. What else are brothers for? Now let's get out of here before falconer wises up. We breathed through the scientists until we found an empty hallway. We went down it,

turned a corner, and was soon out of sight. I saw a big red emergency exit door and headed there. As we approached the door, he said. So, what's the wall? wild-like now. Do you guys have flying cars yet? Dude, you've only been in there for a day. Oh man. So you're saying there aren't any robot servants at the dorm? No, I said. And you're not going back to the dorm. You're staying with Uncle Kevin. No way. That guy's not right. Remember when he brought squirrel meat to a cookout? Okay, first of all, it wasn't that bad. Second, I can't let you lead them to me. what if they have a GPS tracker up your butt or something i promise they don't you can check if you jordan never finished his sentence he were seconds from reaching the exit when falconer stepped in front of us

his face was twisted into a look of rage and sweat was pouring down his face what do you two think you're doing both took a step back neither of us offering up an answer he pointed a finger at me I knew the timing of all this was convenient. You started the fire, didn't you? I shook my head quickly. He gave me a sickening smile and said, Oh yeah, so if I look in that suitcase, I won't find anything suspicious. Again, I shook my head.

Give it to me, he said, holding his hand out. I reluctantly gave it to him, as Jordan stared at the bag with a look of defeat. As Falconer fumbled with the zipper, he said, "'What a stupid plan you two had. "'Did you think we'd just let you walk out?' "'Come on,' I said. "'It's not like I didn't have a plan B.' "'Falconer unzipped the bag,

"'revealing a few neatly folded shirts and pairs of pants. "'He flashed me another smile, oozing with pride. "'Oh, and what might that be?' "'I nodded at the suitcase. "'Oh, you're holding it. "'Suddenly, out from the suitcase, burst a blur of scuttling legs and antenna. Falconer's eyes widened to saucers

and let out a terrified shriek as three black centipedes crawled out all over him, each the size of my arm and twice as long. Right, that's our cue, I shouted, turning on my heels and bolting in the other direction. Jordan followed my lead and we ran back the way we'd come. Falconer's screams echo behind us as we flew through the halls. Hey, Einstein. "'Jordan shouted, looking behind us.

"'Looks like one of your little friends is after the wrong person.' "'I followed his gaze, and sure enough, "'one of the creatures was crawling on the ceiling "'about ten feet behind him, "'and was rapidly closing the distance. "'The scuttling of its tiny legs almost sounded like typing on a keyboard, "'and the side of its black, Balba's eyes made me stutter. "'Suddenly it leaped at Jordan,

"'pinsers opening and closing in anticipation of its next meal. "'I shouted a warning. and before it had a chance to sink its teeth into the back of his head, he ducked out of the way. It flew over him and landed on its back directly in front of him with a heavy thud. Its spider-light legs kicked above it as it tried to wriggle back to its feet. No time to turn. He mustered his strength and jumped. He'd almost cleared the creature when it scuttled to its feet and grabbed onto his right leg.

It wasted no time crawling up his leg and coiling around his torso. Oh, the insect lunged at his neck, no doubt looking to tear out a nice, meaty chunk, but he grabbed its head. As he wrestled with the thing, he noticed me staring at him, dumbstruck. Do something, he screamed. Bad centipede.

Get off Jordan, right now. Do something useful. I took a deep breath and grabbed the creature's squirming body. I planted my feet and began pulling with all my might. Just then I heard footsteps. walking down the hallway. Boys! I heard Falcon a scream.

His voice was raspy from all the screaming he'd done and it was dripping with rage. Don't make me look for you. It'll only make it worse. He'd turn the corner any second and see us. Opened a random door and shoved Jordan inside, centipede and all. Quietly shut the door and turned back to Jordan.

The giant bug was currently wrapped around his arm and snapping at him any chance it could. Boys, Falconer screamed again, voice muffled from the closed door between us. I'm not messing around anymore. As he slowly stomp closer, I heard a click that was unmistakable,

even through the door. It was the cocking of a pistol. You better come out right this second, he screamed. Are you all going to have a real bad time? Was that a gun? I whispered. "'I think so,' Jordan said.

"'And he's going to hear us in about five seconds "'if we don't get this thing under control.' "'He was right. "'Falkaner was moments away from passing the door, "'and Jordan's fight with the centipede was still way too loud. "'I grabbed the head of the creature "'and began pulling it away, "'uncoiling it as I did.

"'Jordan held the tail end of it, "'ne nearly slipping and letting go "'due to the grey slime "'that was coating it from head to toe. "'Once completely uncoiled, "'the centiped was almost so. six feet long. His body twitched and convulsed in the air, but was harmless for the most part.

I was hugging the head to my chest in an attempt to immobilize it. His terrible insect face was so close to mine I could see the thousands of tiny hexagons that made up its eyes. I held my breath as I heard footsteps approach. The creature made a lunge at my neck, and I had to grip my teeth to keep from shrieking. "'Hold still,' Jordan whispered. "'That's easy for you to say. "'You only have to hold the tail.'

"'Just then, the footsteps abruptly stopped. "'My heart froze in my chest, "'and I stared at the door waiting for falcona to burst in. "'Ah, the second stretched into infinity "'as we stood there with bated breath. "'Just when I couldn't take it much longer, "'footsteps started again and faded into the distance. After we were sure he was gone, I released my breath and said, I think it's safe.

Suddenly, while my guard was down, the creature made a violent thrash and squirmed out of my hands. It landed on the floor and pulled its tail free of Jordan's grass. But instead of making a lunge at me, it just made its sickening, chirping noise and crawled away. It half climbed, half slivered up the wall, pried off a vent with its pincers, and disappeared into the dark tunnel. Hmm, I said. I guess he's had enough excitement for one day. This is it, Jordan said from behind me. It was holding a fire with a strange symbol on it.

It was the infinity symbol inside of an upside-down triangle. This is one of the folders they were always writing in. Do you think it has information on what's wrong with me? Just then I heard Falconer's voice echoing down the hall, too far away to distinguish specific words. How about we take a look at it when an FBI agent isn't hunting us? He grabbed the file and we began making our way to the door. I slowly opened the door back up and poked my head out.

Jordan poked his head out just above mine, like we were in a damn Scooby-Doo cartoon. Once we confirmed Falconer was gone, we ventured into the desolate hallway, making sure to stay silent. We slowly made our way down the hallway, stopping every so often to look around like rabbits in the forest. We've been dealing with those insects for the past two days, but now we had a human to deal with too. We eventually escaped the labyrinth of hallways and stepped into another hallway. We approached the glass door and looked out at the empty parking lot. The staff must be it back at the building. I said quietly, we have to get out before the fire trucks get here. You oughtn't throw open the glass door and made a run for it. I stayed back for another moment

to check the surroundings. When I was sure it was safe, I opened the door only to be violently yanked back by the collar of my shirt. I was thrown backward and fell on the ground painfully. The fake smile falconer usually wore had been stripped away to reveal pure malice. His hair was messy

and his trademark pink dress shirt was now torn and tattered. Ew, he screamed, you almost killed me. Do you think I'd just sit there and let you kidnap my brother? I shouted, pushing myself to my feet. My head exploded in pain, and I fell back down.

I touched my head, and my fingers came away bloody. Looking up, I saw that he'd hit me with the butt of his pistol. We had to, he screamed at me. We need him because he's the only one who can stop what's coming. What are you talking about? It's classified, he said quietly. Who else knows about the bugs? It's just me, Jordan.

We'd sound crazy if we told anyone. Good, he said, cocking his gun. That makes things simpler. My blood turned to ice, and I suddenly realized I was never meant to leave this room. I raised my trembling hands at him, saying, Hey man, you don't have to do this. My lips are sealed, I swear. Sorry, buddy, he said, raising the gun.

But that's just not good enough. I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared myself for whatever I might find on the other. side. At that moment the only thing I could do was hope that he didn't catch Jordan. A deafening bang rang out and my heart seized in my chest. I opened my eyes and looked down at my body. An existential wave of relief flooded my entire self as I realized there wasn't a speck of blood on me. I looked up to see falcona standing over me. His face contorted into one of shots. In the center of his chest a red flower was beginning to blossom. He could have been

clasped onto the ground like a falling statue, gun clattering to the floor. Behind him stood two men clad in black police uniforms. Jordan lingered behind them, face as pale as a ghost. You okay, son? One asked, rushing to my side. Did he hurt you? I shook my head, slowly. My mind was freezing up, the reality of what had just happened, finally sinking in.

The cop tried leading me away, but something grabbed my leg. I reeled around, expecting to find a centipede, and nibbling at my foot, but it was a hand, the hand of Falconer. He spotted and gargle on his own blood. I tried to pull away, but he gripped me with surprising strength. He inhaled a hitching breath and tried one more time to form words. It was almost entirely unintelligible, but I did make out one word. Omega.

Before he could say any more, paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher and began hauling in. away. Even as they carried him toward the ambulance, he never broke eye contact with me. The cops took our statement and asked some questions. Once they were satisfied, they sent us back to the car. We walked back to our car in a daze. We'd done it. Soon I was behind the wheel, houses passing by on the other side. My phone suddenly began screaming. Jordan had set the ringer to an audio clip of him shouting, pick up your goddamn phone. And I never figured out how to change it back.

Hello? Hello, dear, came a female voice. This is Dr. Willows. I snapped to attention. Although the FBI had gotten Jordan, yesterday hadn't been a complete waste. I'd still caught one of those centipid creatures, and I'd turned it into the hospital for study.

As I climbed into the car, I asked. Have you been able to study the sample? Do you know what it is? Our research is inconclusive about the exact species. You suspect its mutation of Ascarus lumbrochrocytus. My spirit sank. They still had no idea what this thing was. However, despite this, we feel confident we can extract the eggs from your brother's stomach before they hatch.

The sample you brought in provided helpful insights on the nature of the parasite. You scheduled for a specialist from a different district to perform the surgery on Saturday. That's two days from now. I couldn't believe it. We were approaching the finishing line. Jordan was close to being cured. I turned to Jordan, who was now in the passenger seat of my car. It's Willows, I said excitedly. She says they can get the eggs out. We're almost done with this nonsense. Jordan just stared out of the window. I raised an eyebrow at him. What? You can't hear. I said we can get those eggs out of your stomach. Jordan continued staring out of his window.

I don't know, man, he said dreamily. Maybe we should let them hatch. I've always wanted to be a dad. I just stared at him, perplexed. Hmm, I said, you're not serious, right? He whipped around to look at me, and in an instant it was completely clear what was wrong with him. His right eye wasn't just red.

It was bleeding. It was so startling, I nearly swerved off the road. "'So what if I am?' he screamed at me. "'Those eggs never hurt anyone.' "'He was breathing heavily now. "'His eyes were those of some kind of crazed lunatic, "'not my brother.' "'Okay, listen,' I said.

"'You're not yourself right now. "'If those eggs hatch, you might get seriously hurt. "'Think about how mum and I would feel if that happened. "'Think about your family.' "'Jordan broke off eye contact with me "'and looked down at his feet. "'Family,' he said. said as if he'd never heard the word before yeah i said family he looked back up at me his eyes had turned to burning coals of rage

my real family lives underneath the gas station he screamed grabbing me by the neck with both hands let go of the steering wheel and tried to pry his hands from my throat my world shifted to the side as the car swerved to the left out of the corner of my eye we were drifting into oncoming traffic moments away from hitting a grey Cadillac when I grabbed the wheel yanked it to the side again the car swerved and soon it was barreling off to the side of the road and into a field suddenly pain exploded into my head and everything went black hours later I slowly came to looking around I came to the realization that my car had crashed into a telephone pole the passenger seat was empty and the door was hanging a jar I noticed something lying on the floor It was the fault of Jordan has stolen

from the FBI research facility Now I'm sitting at home with a bandage around my head Won't do anything for the concussion I probably experienced But I think I have bigger problems to deal with The parasite that's inside my brother Is craftier than I thought Whatever it is, it's taken a hold of his mind

And I don't know how to stop it I thought getting Jordan back would be end of our problems. But now, I know, it's just the beginning. Part four. If you told me all this would happen five days ago, I wouldn't have believed you. That's the thing about disasters, though. It all comes down to luck. At the end of the day, my brother was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That being said, if I'd handled the situation a bit more responsibly, maybe it would have turned out different. You remember that Jordan's mind

had been almost completely taken over by the parasites. After making me crash my car, he ran out to do God knows what to God knows who. The surgery to remove the parasite from him was set to be done at 11 the next day, so the clock was ticking. Luckily, Jordan left me a goldmine of information in the form of the folder we stole from the FBI.

I stayed up all night pouring over the documents from the folder. Slogging through all the nerd speak wasn't fun, but I think I've got the gist of it. The first thing I searched for was the name of the organisation Falconer work for. The last thing he told me before he died was the word Omega, so that was my first guess,

but it turned out not to be the case. I couldn't find the real name, but its code name seems to be the Sopona project. Each document was marked with a golden, spider web, so I guess it's their symbol. The earliest documents all relate to the 2013 Ebola outbreak, so I believe that's what they were originally created for. No, they didn't create Ebola, or something dumb like that. They were just trying to ensure it wasn't a form of biological warfare. Once they confirmed it wasn't, they took on a more preventative role, trying to find new

diseases and contain them before they got out of hand. After I'd looked at that, I, I found a section for her lab reports. There was only one for the day Jordan was taken, so I'm fairly sure it was about him. I found a summary of the experiment, and we'll copy it below. Experiment C-27. Effects of a scaropoda on the nervous system. Abstract.

Although our knowledge of this parasite is limited, it's generally understood that within three to four days of ingesting it, the parasite begins to take hold of the host's nervous system. effectively hijacking the brain. The parasite leaves higher-level brain function relatively undamaged, keeping personality and memories intact. Although 41 different compounds were tested, the only compound that reversed the effects was lavandolyl acetate.

I said lavandolyl acetate about 20 times so I could remember it. I had no clue what it was, but I had an idea of where to find it. The next day I climbed back into my toe, I went back to the FBI Research Centre Jordan was being held at. The parking lot was deserted. My guess is that the head agent pulling a gun on an unarmed college student made Uncle Sam rethink its funding. I went around back and busted open a window, trying hard not to impale myself on broken glass. I climbed in and landed in an empty room.

It looked like it had been left in a hurry. There were papers and equipment left behind on the counters. as I made my way to the door the only sound I heard was that of my own footsteps the door moaned as I pushed it open and looked into the dark empty hallway the only light was trickling in from the room I just entered the thought of leaving the safety of my room

made a pang of fear radiate through my stomach I felt as if something was crouching out there patiently waiting for me to walk out and let my guard down This is silly, I thought. Falcon is dead. Everyone's gone, I'm safe. After a few moments of deep breaths, I pushed the fear into the back of my mind and stepped out.

My fingers probe the darkness, looking for a doorknob, but all they met was more wall. I was slowly shuffling forward when I heard a skittering behind me. My head snapped around, but I was met with a wall of impenetrable darkness. I listened closely, but all I could hear were my own rapid breaths.

No, I thought, that's not right. I listened more carefully. My heart sank as I confirmed my suspicions. There was another person breathing, and they were right behind me. I instinctively ducked just as something big and heavy was swung above me, missing my head by an inch. I turned round to find a fire extinguery. already swinging it a second time.

I grabbed the hydrant and began trying to wrench it from him. Hey, chill man, I said. You don't know what you're doing. Jordan used his free hand to land a punch to my stomach that sent me stumbling back, gasping for air. Sure I do, he said, winding up for another swing. I'm kicking your ass. Hopefully chalet for a zombie, I thought.

I ducked beneath a swing and grabbed him by the collar, the fire extinguisher clattering to the floor. He need me in the gut and I flew back, doubling over. He lunged at me, probably to kick me square in the head, but I grabbed the fallen fire extinguisher and swung it up at him. It missed, but it kept him off of me. Ah, swinging a miss, he said. You always did suck at baseball. You're right, I growled, kicking him in the stomach. I've always been more of a soccer person.

He fell to his knees, sputtering and coughing. I raised the fire hydrant over my head, preparing to end this. If it didn't knock him out, it would at least debilitate him. Wait, wait, he screamed, looking up at me from the ground. Please don't do it. It's me, man. Despite knowing he was 110% lying, I still couldn't bring myself to do it. When I looked into his face, I didn't see some terrifying parasitic nightmare.

I saw my brother. In that way it made him worse than a zombie. This is silly, I thought. He'll be doing him a favour. Just do it, you idiot. I swung the fire hydrant down at his head, but before it could connect, my legs were swiped from under me. I crashed to the ground, and again the fire hydrant clattered on the tile floor.

The parasite smirped at me with Jordan's face, that terrible bloody eye glinting in the low light. Too slow, it growled. He slowly rose to his feet, that unhinged smile never leaving his face. Out of options, I turned and ran. I spared down the corridor and ducked into one of the doors, locking it behind me. If I could just find that compound from the lab report, I'd be able to cure him just in time for the surgery.

As he approached, I had the stomping of oncoming footsteps. I was opening every drawer and cabinet when I found a stash of plastic cases. Skimming them quickly, I found one marked experiment C-27, anti-parasitic. Yes, I whispered, setting it on the desk and opening it like a briefcase. The white plastic container held syringer, of all types. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember the name.

Lavandula acetate. I began searching for it, but my heart quickly sank. They'd all been labelled with code words. They were labelled anything from Nova to Goldilocks, without any way of knowing which was which, I was doomed. I heard the crash of splintering wood as Jordan kicked open the door. His eyes were. were wild and his hair looked like a rat's nest. As he rushed at me, I threw one last glance at the counter. And that's when I saw it. Sitting there on the counter was a syringe with the label, Omega.

I grabbed it, and just as Jordan grabbed me, I jammed it into his neck. Within minutes his eyes had lost their fire, and he started wiping blood from his eye. Dude, he said, I had the crazy. It involved you bidding the crap out of me? Yeah, actually, it did. How did you... He looked up at me, all bruised and cut up. Not a dream?

He asked. Not a dream, I said. He apologised for about five minutes straight, despite me insisting it wasn't his fault. What day is it? he asked. I suddenly realised. something and check my watch. It's time for you to have your surgery, I shouted.

You're about to have this parasite out of you for good. How long before that stuff you injected me with wears off? He asked. About an hour, but you'll be sedated by then. I drove him to the hospital, doing about 20 over the speed limit. When I didn't get out of the car to follow him, he looked at me funny. What? You got a date or something, he said.

No, I said, I'm going back to that gas station. I need to burn it down. What? Why? I've been thinking, I said. Agent Falconer told me something was coming. That basement is still filled with those bug creatures and if they keep growing bigger and bigger, then eventually bust out. Jordan's eyes widened as he put it together. They could infect the whole town in a matter of days, maybe hours. I nodded.

I have to go destroy it before it happens. Text me when they're about to start. We parted ways and I made one final stop at Walmart. I poured up to the gas station with a huge red gas can. It was still abandoned and dark. A chill went up my spine the second I saw the basement door. When I put my ear to it, I could hear scratching and scuttling. I was running out of time.

I quickly began splashing the interior with gasoline and within 20 minutes the entire place was full of that acrid stench. But before I burned it down, I washed the gasoline off my hands in the bathroom. I checked my phone. Still no text from Jordan. It's been two hours. Shouldn't they have started by now? I thought. I exited the bathroom and navigated through the dark gas station to a window.

I looked out of the deserted. parking lots. No. That wasn't right. There was another car there. Had it been there when I got here? There was a trail of something leading from the car to the door, and through the gas station. I shivered.

It was beginning to blend with the gasoline, but it was unmistakable. It was blood. Miss me? Came a voice from behind me. I turned just in time to get. kick square in the chest. I flew back into a shelf of candy and it toppled over. Jordan stepped into view, wearing a blue hospital gown. It was street with something dark, but he didn't take a genius to figure out what it was. Through the pain in my chest and back, all I could get out was,

how'd you get out of the hospital? He shrugged. Let's just say I had some help. Now it's time to release my little friends. They're not your friends, I coughed. That's where you're wrong, bro. You'll understand once they make you like me. Like him, I shuddered. He walked over to the basement door, and even from there I could hear the insects inside buzzing and chirping and crawling. The world's about to get a whole lot more interesting, he said. The only thing that separated us from that dank world of scuttling, creeping monstrosities, was a flimsy basement door, and he was about to destroy it. No, I screamed, jumping to my feet.

As he raised his foot to kick the door down, I tackled him. I was raising my fist when I felt pain, shewed up my arm. Something was tearing into my right forearm. I looked down and found one of the gigantic centipy creatures ripping into my arm with its pincers. I then realized its body was coiled around Jordan's arm. I leapt back in disgust. What's going on? I squinted at him in the darkness and realized he was crawling with the creatures.

Three centipede the size of snakes scuttled over his body. Oh, he said smirking. I guess you met my pets. He patted one of the insects on the head. Who's a good boy? You're sick. I screamed. He reared back and punched me in the throat.

I grabbed my neck, struggling for air. Yeah, but at least I'm winning. He sent me sprawling with a devastating uppercount. I really ought to thank you, he said, laughing a little too hard. These little guys burst in through the windows and saved me from the hospital. You really should have seen them. They shredded through all those surgeons in seconds. You're insane.

I screamed. Funny, he said, grabbing me and slamming me against the wall. That's what all the surgeons said. How'd they get out of the basement? I screamed. You tell me, he said. You were the one who let them out. My blood turned to ice as I put it all together.

I'd use those creatures on Falconer while trying to save Jordan. They must have tracked him to the hospital, burst through the windows out. "'Oh, God!' I moat. "'What did I do?' As he pressed me to the wall, one of the centipies crawled around my arm and began digging its mandibles into the flesh of my stomach. I clasped to the floor, writhing in pain.

"'Don't worry, bro,' he said. "'You'll feel much better soon.' I watched from the floor as he walked over to the basement door for the second time. He raised his foot and kicked the door. It held firm. As he raised his foot again, I pushed myself up and began to climb onto one of the nearby shelves of candy. Then, with a sickening crack, Jordan kicked the door again. This time it busts wide open, spilling its tidal wave of black, twitching legs and slimy bodies in all directions.

Just as the wave of insects was about to hit me, I pull my leg up onto the shelf. The roar of insects was deafening. Despite its size, the three-foot-high mass of chirping monstrosities couldn't seem to get through the windows and locked door. The relief I felt when I realized this was indescribable. Jordan turned to me, wading through the insects like it was a kiddie-pool. He seemed a little pissed that I wasn't full of monster eggs, but he kept his composure. Oh, he said beginning to climb up onto a shelf of his own.

I can play the floor is lava too. Please, Jordan, I said, come back to your senses. He hopped at the shelf I was standing on and lunged at me. As he did, the centerpiece crawling all over his body opened their pincers hungrily. I inhaled and pulled all my energy into jumping back onto the shelf behind me. The shelf wobbled dangerously, but didn't fall. Oh, come on, he said. I thought we were on the same side.

You've helped me so much. I took a step back. My foot landed on a box of Cheerios and almost slipped out from underneath me. Arms waving frantically, I regained my balance, but just barely. I couldn't help but notice how quickly the box of Cheerios was shredded.

That's a lie, I said. I've never helped you. Again he hopped onto the shelf I was standing on. "'Ah, don't be modest,' he said grinning. "'If it weren't for you, I'd be trapped at the CDC "'and probably be getting ripped out of your brother's head. "'But now I'm here doing all this.' "'He made a broad sweeping motion,

"'gestering at the insects swarming the floor. "'A dark cloud settled over me "'as the realization of what I'd done sunk in. "'I discovered the most deadly virus known to man "'and when the authorities tried to try to, to contain it, I'd used it against them. In 24 hours, hundreds, if not thousands of people were going to be eaten alive or worse, and all their blood would be on my hands. He planted a firm kick to my stomach and was flung backward. While stumbling back, my foot hit open air instead of something

solid, I almost went sailing into the black twitching abyss. Soon, he said, walking toward me, That glass door will crack and this whole world will get a makeover. I looked at my bloody arms and the gaping wound on my stomach. I didn't have any more fight left in me. There was no way for me to win. Unless, I thought, what if I'm not supposed to? The corner of my mouth turned up. Jordan's smile faltered.

What is this? he asked. some kind of psychotic break i pulled out a marlborough and lit it jordan's eyes widened and he grabbed me by the collar just wait wait for just a second jordan said he doubled over and grabbed his head after a few seconds of rapid breathing he gasped and looked up jay he said looking around what's happening man i just stared at him for a moment took a drag from the cigarette and began raising it over the ocean of skittering bugs below hey he said what are you doing jay please don't do it jay but please We spread this thing every chance we got And now it's time to end it I dropped the cigarette It ignited an impact and the fire spread like a blooming red flower Consuming everything it touched

The insects squealed and shrieked As the gasoline they've been crawling around in began to erupt Within seconds the ground looked like a squirming pulsating inferno The thing wearing Jordan's body grabbed its head and let out in an inhuman screech that I'd never heard him make in all my life. Before I knew it, he stumbled backward and disappeared over the edge

into the fire pit below. Well, I'm still sitting on the shelf, feet dangling over the flames beneath. My skin is beginning to sting and my lungs are burning from the smoke, but that's okay. I made a lot of mistakes since this whole ordeal started, mistakes that have gotten people kill.

I can't bring any of those people back, but at least I can stop more from getting hurt. Even so, there's one thing that bothers me. There's one question I meant to ask Jordan ever since we got into this mess. Despite how important it was, we were usually too busy fleeing danger, or fighting unholy abominations for me to ask. Was it at least a good chili dog? God, I hope so. Well, I guess I'll get my chance.

to ask him real soon. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review

as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye bye.