Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Halloween 2022 | Part 1

Episode Date: October 26, 2022

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Before we get started, thank you to my new patrons Jarrett, Megan, and Rachel. Now back to the story. My headacheed as I awoke in my unwilling slumber. I rested on the car's shattered dashboard with a dying fire blazing just a few feet away. I coughed from the fumes, dazed, but otherwise unarmed. Once I could gather enough air in my lungs, I attempted to push myself up, checking my surroundings for clues as to what had happened. Only then did I realize that my car was lying in a ditch,

partially wrapped around a tree. My last intact memory was my departure from work. I checked myself for injuries, trying to decide whether or not I should call an ambulance. But apart from a throbbing pain within my head, I felt more or less fine. I peered out the window, looking around for another involved party.

But I appeared to be the only victim of the crash. How long had I been out? Brilliant sunshine glistened through the shards of broken glass. It was a sunset I would have appreciated any other day of the week. But on that day, its presence alone unnerved me. It lit up the insides of my broken car, including my broken phone in the seat next to me. Even had I wanted to, calling for help was not an option.

Help! I let out in a pathetic whimper, my voice hoarse from the smoke inhalation. But it was no use. The road I had crashed on was abandoned, lying miles away from civilization. It wasn't a path I traveled often, but due to ongoing construction taking place on the main roads, it remained as my only intact route home from work. I had been in a rush. I remembered that much.

But for what reason remained a mystery. I only had a faint memory of speeding down the road towards an intersection, followed by little more than a blank void in my mind. By the minute, the sun grew closer to the mountain range in the distance, consumed as the horizon ate it bite for bite. It was an uneasy reminder of something terrible to come, something my fractured mind was unable to bring forth to attention. That's when it hit me.

The reason why I'd been in such a moment. a rush towards the center of town. I hadn't been on my way home that evening. Instead, I had been heading for one of our town's designated raid shelters. It was the 31st of October, a date dreaded by each and every inhabitant of our godforsaken town. With that realization, a surge of adrenaline put my body to purpose. I pushed the car door open, crawling out onto the ground. I prayed for another vehicle to pass by, knowing it was a futile pipe dream. By now, I knew the raid shelters were ready to close, which meant anyone half intelligent would have gotten their asses off the streets. I was alone, and would remain so until the raid finally arrived.

For that was the curse of Silverwoods, that during the night of Halloween, something horrible emerged from the depths of the earth. The creatures, praeters, were the would emerge into the darkness of the night, seeking out each and every unfortunate soul still outside. Our only refuge were emergency raid shelters spread across town, and a few bunkers constructed by the rich and wealthy for their own protection. Alas, the closest shelter was several miles down the road. A sanctuary had never reached in time. Still dazed by the crash, I started rushing along the empty road. My only solace was a small gas station about a mile's walk down the road. Though it wouldn't stand a chance at keeping the praetors out, it might serve as a decent hiding

place as I awaited the break of dawn. With a quick estimate, I guessed I had 15 minutes before the last rays of sunlight vanished below the horizon. A fit man might have easily made it to the gas station by then, but in my current condition, I knew I didn't. didn't stand a chance. Despite that fact, I kept limping my way down the road, practically betting on a miracle to happen. All the while the memories of years past haunted me, knowing exactly what would happen if the praetors would find me. Long shadows were cast by the trees along the road, obscuring the mysteries of the forest. Though no one had been able to confirm it, some believed it to be the creature's origin.

Thus it was a place avoided by most, not even visited on sun-filled summer days. Strange whispers started to emerge from the treeline, marking the beginning of the raid. The sounds resembled human chatter, speaking in incomprehensible words, mimicking familiar voices, but filled with eerie yelps and broken groans. I tried to shut them out, a task that would become excruciatingly easy as another sound penetrated the air, pummeling the rest of the world into silence. It was an old tornado siren, one program to mark the last five minutes of daylight. It rang with an overwhelming sense of imbending doom,

giving people one last warning to get to the nearest shelter. But reaching safety was not an option. So I had to settle for the next best option. I was about two-thirds of the way to the gas station when I felt the pain in my head intensified. With it, I started to feel dizzy, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground. Yet I had not given up,

so I tried to crawl, anything to escape the clutches of the praetors. I stared up into the sky just in time to witness the last bit of daylight vanish in the distance. With that, the siren finally stopped its foreboding song. The raid had begun, and I was trapped outside. A blanket consisting of a strange, dark substance crawled across the sky, swallowing not only the hidden sun, but the emerging stars, the moon, and with it, the only

remaining semblance of hope. All the while, the pain inside my head got stronger, until I could no longer fight it. I stopped crawling, letting my wound take its toll, once again bringing me to the of sleep. I'm not sure how much time passed between the beginning of the raid and my second awakening. Without a sun or a moon, there was really no way of telling. The darkness had effectively created a timeless void, one filled with terror and death. Yet, I could see an unexpected glimmer of hope, the dim outline of a light shining in the distance. Using what little remained of my strength, I got back on my feet, moving towards the light on shaky legs. For a while, I wondered if I'd been killed. I thought the light might be my entrance into the afterlife, but as I got

closer, that hope was brutally shattered. Down the road, I could recognize the outline of the gas station, illuminated by a car parked a few hundred yards further ahead. It essentially left me with two options, either run for the car and attempt a futile escape, or hide inside the building. Considering my dazed state, I opted for the latter, knowing that praetors would be quick to investigate the unexpected light source. Using the gas station's back doors, I could enter the building out of view of the lights. I was depending on the place being empty, hoping the bright lights had attracted the praetors away from my chosen hiding spot. Holding my breath, I tried to turned the handle to open the door.

It produced loud creaks as I pulled it, a sound that shattered the otherwise silent atmosphere. But before I could even get it halfway open, I felt something punched me in the chest, shoving me to the ground. Coughing for air, I could only stare up at my assailant, waiting for the next blow to tear through my flesh. But instead of more pain,

I was greeted by a voice filled with a mixture of fear and anger. Stay the fuck down, A man whispered aggressively. In spite of the darkness, I could tell he was a well-built man, most likely in his mid-forties. He held a revolver to my face, his hands trembling as he held the gun. I could tell he was terrified, but I also knew that I wasn't the object of his fear. Are you one of them? he asked, a bit louder this time. Had he mistaken me for one of the praetors?

Or was he blinded by the darkness and confused? Nevertheless, I was too frozen in fear to even form a coherent response. Only once he asked me a second time, did I find the words to beg for mercy? Please, I just need a place to hide. The terror in my voice seemed to disarm him. He mumbled a couple of profanities under his breath, before holstering his gun and grabbing my hand. He pulled me inside, carefully closing the door behind us.

I let out a brief sigh of relief, confused. but glad not to be alone. Stay quiet, the man said, before leading us into a small office, lit up by a dim lamp. Within, stood a terrified-looking woman, holding tight onto a boy that couldn't have been older than five. It was a family, hiding in the gas station during the raid.

Though I was thankful to have found other survivors, why hadn't they taken refuge within one of the shelters? Roger, what's going on? The woman asked with a jittery voice. Her son sobbed silently, deathly afraid, but equally exhausted. I'm figuring it out. Just stay quiet. Roger mumbled in frustration. He ordered me to sit down, putting a firm hand on my shoulder.

Then he bent down to my level, making sure I noticed his hand resting on the gun. What's your name? he asked. David, I said. He inspected my face, almost. as if expecting me to change shapes and attack him. Though Praters could poorly mimic human speech, there was no way he could have mistaken me for one of them. Only when he noticed the blood dripping down my temple,

did he appear to calm down. You hurt? He asked, showing a bit more concern. I touched my wound, feeling its sting upon contact. I could tell it wasn't serious, and though my mind still lingered in the haze of the crash, I felt mostly functional. I'm fine, I mumbled, just a bit frazzled.

Did these things do this to you? He went on. No, I began, still trying to figure out what had led up to the accident. I was in a car crash. As I spoke these words, a faint memory flashed before my eyes. I remembered speeding towards an intersection I had expected to be empty, only to get cut off by a group of trucks speeding down the road, trying to avoid teaboning the trucks, I swerved off the road, landing in a ditch.

Still, there were details missing. Why hadn't anyone stopped to help? All right, David. Do you have any idea what the hell is going on here? Roger asked. It was a peculiar question, not because I actually had the faintest idea what the praetors were, or why our town was cursed,

but because of how honest the question was. The man before me, Roger, hadn't the faintest idea what was going on. He didn't even seem surprised by the monster's very existence. Only then did it hit me why they hadn't sought out safety in the shelters. You're not from around here? I asked in shock, knowing that no visitors had been allowed into town for over ten years. He shook his head. No, we were heading to Arlington, but we got lost.

I don't even know where we are. Silverwoods, I explained. Silver Woods? Roger asked. Never heard of it. His obliviousness was understandable, as our town hadn't been marked on any maps for decades, nor had it been open to the public since the night of reckoning,

13 years ago. The roads had long since been blocked, which begged the question. How had they even gotten into town? I'm sorry, you never should have come here, I mumbled. feeling pity for the unaware family. No shit.

This place is a nightmare. We were just driving down the road as those things. Those animals attacked. They killed my brother, Roger said. His voice getting louder with each spoken word until he finally caught himself. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Listen, if you know what's going on, you better talk right now.

Though I fully understood the gravity of the situation, I lacked the vocabulary to properly explain just how screwed we were. I hesitated, trying to find my best to find a reasonable explanation. Every year, on the night of the 31st, I began, still not sure exactly what to say. Something happens to Silverwood. It's like the world falls away, collapsing into a dark abyss. The sky vanishes, and these creatures, prays. Prater's emerge from the dark.

People that hide in the bunkers are usually fine, but for the rest, people like us, they get taken. Taken? Roger asked to clarify. When the praetors attack, they don't kill you. They just form deep wounds that refuse to bleed. No matter how much you suffer, no matter how much you beg for death, they won't let you go. Only way out is to cremate the bodies before they're used to.

the spare parts for those monsters. We've tried to fight back, but our weapons barely do anything to them. The woman looked at me with terror in her eyes, begging for me to reveal that it had all been a cruel joke, but such a relief would never come. What do we do? she asked. There was no reasonable suggestion for me to give her. Hiding would be our best bet.

But if our hiding place were to be discovered, We'd have no choice but to run. What's your name? I asked her, just trying to bring a nominal amount of normalcy into the conversation. Cassandra, she said. This is Derek, our son. She paused, looking at me with begging eyes. Can you help us? Any amount of hope I could provide would be a thinly veiled lie.

But when death was all but a certainty, false hope was all I had to give. We'll hide here until sunrise. If we stay quiet, we might have a chance. She nodded in agreement. Just slightly relieved by my hollow reassurance. My thoughts wandered to Roger's brother, who he thought was dead. Truth be told, I knew the man was stuck inside the car, suffering from wounds that should have been fatal.

But as morbid as it might have been, his suffering could have been the only thing keeping the praeters distracted from our presence within the gas station. How many times have you been through this? Cassandra asked. Her voice still shaky. Thirteen, I said without needing to think twice about it. Thirteen? Why would you stay here? Why not just leave? She whispered in a hail of questions. It's not that simple, I simply stated, hoping she wouldn't pry too deep. Roger sat by the wall, staring into the dark, threw a crack in the door with his hand on the revolver.

I didn't even dare tell him how inefficient it would be. be at keeping the praetors at bay. Best case scenario, he could slow them down, but keeping that information from him just might have left him with the slightest sense of control in an otherwise hopeless world. About an hour past as we sat in silence, none of us daring to speak a word, lest the praetors find us. I counted the seconds, trying to calculate how long we'd have to sit before being greeted by the first rays of morning light. But our bout of silence would be a abruptly interrupted by the distinct sound of knocking. Shocking us all back to attention,

it was coming from the back door I'd used to sneak inside. Three successive slow knocks, followed by a tiny voice calling out through the cold night. Let me in. I'm scared. It said. Did you hear that? Cassandra asked. It sounded like a little girl,

Roger said with panic in his voice. We didn't dare move. Each of us wondering if we'd imagined the whole thing. But that glimmer of hope was quickly shattered by another set of knocks, before the voice called out again. I know you're in there. I want to come inside. She said.

Her voice young and innocent, yet without emotion or soul. Shit, there's a kid out there, Roger said, instinctively getting up to help the girl. I quickly jumped to my feet, grabbing onto Roger's arm to stop him. He stared back at me. His eyes filled with anger. I could only shake my head. No. to keep him from investigating the sound.

Don't, was all I dared to mumble. As we stood there, another three knocks emitted from the door, and once again the little girl called out for help. Help me, I will die. Her voice cracked between each iteration, a poor copy of a child's voice. The creature clearly struggled to maintain the facade. Despite its initial display of innocence, that was no child.

But for those unaware of the praetor, capabilities. It could be enough to fool them. Get your hands off me. I'm not letting a little girl stay out there to die. Roger growled as he pulled away from me. It's not a damn child. I whispered loudly, grabbing onto his arm again. With that, he punched me in the face, causing me to stumble towards the wall. Before I could regain my balance, he grabbed my shirt, putting his gun to my face. Touch me again. I fucking dare you, Roger said. The other sat speechless. on the floor. Derek wanted to cry from the commotion, but Cassandra kept him occupied. She could only stare helplessly at the unfolding situation with her mouth agape. And once again, three knocks

were heard before the little girl called out for help, each time sounding slightly less human. Listen to it, Roger. That's not a girl, I explained. It's a praetor. If you open that door, we're all dead. He stared at me in disbelief. And I could. He wouldn't blame him. He'd most likely spent his life in relative safety, unaware of the true horrors hiding in the darkness. The mere existence of monsters challenged his understanding of the world, leaving him in a state of horrific realization and confusion. Come on, Roger, you know I'm telling the truth, I begged. Do not do this.

We waited for the same, three knocks, followed by the broken voice begging for our attention. I'm scared. That time, Roger finally seemed to understand what was going on. He lowered the revolver, looking at me with pleading eyes as the truth finally dawned on him. At that moment, I was staring at a man on the brink of utter desperation. What do we do about her? he asked. There's nothing we can do, I explained. It's a mimic.

They seek out survivors and alert the rest. If it's knocking on a door, it's just a matter of time before the rest comes. So we keep hiding? Cassandra chimed in. No, it's too late for that. There's only one option left, and it's not a good one. What? Roger asked.

We have to run for our lives. Do we exit through the front? Roger asked. No, we'll be in direct view of the light, I explained. Let's take the back door. The mimics aren't as dangerous. They just alert the others, but we have to be quick. We exited the office, moving towards the back doors with a hint of

hesitation. The mimic was most certainly expecting our presence, but if we were lucky, we could surprise it. Is your car still working? I asked. Roger glanced in the direction of the front windows, the lights still casting shadows inside the gas station. While the battery hadn't yet given in, the car might have been damaged during the attack. It should be working, but... He began. But what? Oliver is still inside, he mumbled. It took me a while to figure out that he was talking about his brother. He hadn't mentioned him by name up until that point, which had helped me dehumanize him and the horrors he must have been going through.

Though I had often heard stories about the Prater's victims, I had never once seen them up close. You said he was killed? I asked. Did they leave him in the car? Roger nodded. Though I knew what we were about to face, I kept my mouth shut. My brief explanation earlier still didn't seem to have hit them. But if the praetors really had gotten him, I knew he would still be alive, despite all evidence

pointing to the contrary. It's the only shot we have. They all realized taking the car was the best option, but seeing the mangled remains of someone they loved was enough to break anyone. To spare them the sight, I offered to go first. Roger handed me the weapon, and we gathered by the back door. Once again, the mimic knocked three times before calling out for help. But that time we would answer the call.

I kicked the door open, which shoved the mimic back slightly. At a first glance, it looked like a hooded girl, short and skinny. But as it stumbled back, its face was revealed. In place of its eyes, nose, and mouth, it only had a gaping hole with a tendril resembling a tongue. I didn't even attempt to shoot it, knowing the sound would only attract the praetors faster. Run! I yelled, sprinting past the Mimic before he could regain its footing.

We rushed for the car, making sure to stay in a ditch by the road, hidden from the car's headlights. On the side of the road, we could see the first Prater's heading to the Mimic's location. Unlike the Mimic, they didn't make any attempt at copying the human form, instead using various body parts to extend their own, twisted beings. Luckily, they didn't see us. And once we got halfway to the car, we heard another horrific sound penetrate the silent atmosphere. Help me!

A guttural, agonized voice called from the car. Roger and his family had stopped dead in their tracks, horrified by Oliver's voice begging for their assistance. No, no, no, no, I saw him die. Cassandra led out in shock. They tore his chest open. I told you, they don't let their victims die. I explained bluntly. Please, I don't want to die.

Oliver called out again. How is it possible? Roger asked and disbelief. His pleas for help disturbed me too, but we were running out of time. I had to take action, even if it meant traumatizing the survivors. Though I wasn't sure whether or not it would work, I knew exactly what I had to do. Stay back, I said. You don't have to see this.

What are you doing? Cassandra asked. I left the ditch, walking quickly towards the parked car. Roger and Cassandra remained by Derek's side, confused by my actions, but following my instructions. It hurts! Oliver cried from the car. He sat in the front passenger seat, unmoving, but clearly in agony. He groaned, desperately calling out for help that would not come. I walked over to his side, finally getting a view of the man who had allegedly died in his seat. What I saw shattered something primal inside me, tearing away the weakly.

facade of bravery I had mustered. His chest and abdomen had been torn apart, and most of his organs were missing, leaving only parts of his lungs and heart back. An arm, and both his legs were gone, leaving him unable to even attempt to fight back. The praetors had been gathering spare parts before the mimic called them away, leaving him with the only thing they didn't care to consume. His head, despite his mortal wounds, he was unable to die, aware, and awake enough to suffer. Help me. He begged as he saw me.

Not a drop of blood was anywhere to be seen. His only way out of misery would be cremation, but it was something I couldn't provide. It hurt so much. He cried. Do something. Don't worry. It's going to be over soon.

I said as reassuring as I could. That was the moment he realized just how broken he was. He knew that relief could only come through death. But even death was a mercy I couldn't grant him. Still he had hopes for it, seeing the gun in my hand and all. Acceptance filled his eyes as I raised the revolver. I could only pray that my actions would give him the slightest hint of relief. I pulled the trigger without a moment's hesitation.

It was the least I could do for a fellow human being. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the air. If the praetors didn't know of our presence before that point, They sure did now. Without wasting time, I pulled the broken body out from the car and tossed it unceremoniously onto the ground. His muscles still twitched, but I hoped the damage to his brain was enough to render him unconscious,

even if he was still technically alive. Let's go! I ordered. Roger ran to my side. I saw the fear in his eyes, but as soon as he saw the state of Oliver's body, I knew he understood. Don't come here, Cassandra. Put Derek in the car.

he demanded before turning to me. He wanted to speak, but there were no words that could explain the act I'd just committed. Instead, he just took the gun back and sat himself in the passenger seat, letting me drive. As I sat myself in the driver's seat, I had another brief moment of lucidity. A few memory flashes came back to me,

the setting sun, the convoy of trucks speeding down the road. They had been military vehicles, carrying troops and weapons towards town. It was an odd sight, considering the fact that our town didn't possess a military base. But the way they were driving, neglecting to check on me after the crash, they were there for a reason, one outweighing the risk of collateral damage. What are you waiting for? Cassandra asked. Drive! They're coming!

I shook myself back to attention, giving our rear a quick glance. Dozens of praetors were rushing down the road, finally aware of our presence. I hit the gas, just barely gaining enough speed to escape their clutches. We had made it, if only for the time being. We were on the outskirts of town, with the nearest shelter five miles away. But to risk entering the center during a raid was a foolish idea. Instead, I tried to rack my mind for alternative hiding spots. Only one came to mind, though, the bunkers of a nearby, wealthy district.

David, Roger said, after we'd been driving, in silence for a few minutes. Yeah. I appreciate what you did for my brother back there, he explained. But I can't bring myself to thank you. I glanced over to him, seeing tears in his eyes. He didn't dare look at me. I couldn't blame the man.

Shooting your family in the head isn't something one usually appreciates. But considering the circumstances, it was the best relief I could have given him. Where are we going anyway? He asked. There's a residential neighborhood a few miles down the road. If we're lucky, one of the rich bastards living there has a bunker we can use. I just hope they open up, I explained. On the way, we drove past the vast forests of Silverwoods,

seeing the occasional, tall figure among the trees. Those weren't the praetors we were hiding from, but something else entirely, something even I didn't have a name for. Then we came upon a T-junction in the road. road. One marked with a simple sign pointing in both directions. To the right we had the city center, leading past the many residential neighborhoods we sought after. But the other led to Fortune Fields. What's to the left? Cassandra asked, noticing the road leading into the forest. Fortune Fields, I said coldly. We don't go there anymore. Why not? she asked.

It's better if you don't know. We're turning right anyway. They didn't push for more answers, already overwhelmed by the horrors we'd collectively experienced thus far. We just continued down the road in silence, heading to the nearest possible site of refuge. Calvin Place was the name we were looking for, a small commune populated by the wealthiest people of Silverwood. It would be the best place to look for raid bunkers. How else to display one's wealth in such a hopeless society? On the way, we came across several of the military brank trucks I'd seen in the convoy. All of them unmarked.

Their presence was enough to clarify the memories of my crash, confirming that the military had started operations in our town. But if the truck was here, where were the men it had carried? Nevertheless, we weren't about to stop to investigate. We just kept on driving until finally finding a sign that read Calvin Place. This should be it, I muttered as I turned onto the street. Our headlights flowed down the neighborhood,

illuminating another heap of stranded vehicles on the side of the road. What is the military doing here? Roger asked, almost relieved. No idea. But I have a feeling they're not here to help us, I said. I slowed the vehicle down, peering down each side of the road for a visible bunker. The lack of praetors surprised me.

But with all the possible victims gone, It was possible that they'd moved on towards the town center. Hey, I see something, Cassandra announced, pointing to a concrete structure between two of the houses. It was one of the bunkers, slanting into the ground. For a brief moment, I thought we'd found possible salvation. But the hope was quickly stripped away as I noticed the doors. They'd been torn apart from the outside,

as if the praetors had simply dug through them. They're dead, I led out in a shock. Gasp. How? Through 13 years of raids, not once had there been a report of a broken shelter or bunker. Something this year has changed. The only thing different this year was the presence of the U.S. military. Did they do this? Roger asked. Ignoring his question, I put my car back in gear. I knew there would be more bunkers hidden in the area, and I could only pray they were intact. We kept driving down the neighborhood, scouring it for any place to hide. We found two more bunkers, each more broken than the last. I was about to give up, stop the car, and suggest we'd just hide within one of the

houses, but that wasn't an option. Then I saw it, the sole, intact bunker of Calvin Place, standing unscathed in an otherwise hopeless world. I hit the brakes hard, causing Roger to fly forward in his seat, but it didn't matter. We'd found solace. That's it? The bunker? Cassandra asked. A sickly growl shouted the silent neighborhood, one akin to a human-like, animalistic shriek of pain. They must have hurt our car.

We better hurry. I said as I rushed over the bunker, not hesitating to knock hard on the metal doors. Hey, is anybody in there? I shouted. I knew the excessive noise would only serve to attract more of these monstrosities, but I had no choice.

Please, we need help. Praying the people inside didn't mistake us for mimics. There was no real locking mechanism on the exterior, meaning that someone had to be inside. They refused to respond to our pleas all the while, allowing the praetors to get closer. Come on, you bastards! Roger joined in as well, kicking and hammering on the doors.

Then we heard a distinct clumpur coming from the inside. We took a few steps back, wondering if we'd both heard the same thing. Roger raised his revolver as a precaution, not sure whether we'd be greeted by our saviors or something else entirely. A few seconds passed, before the door finally shot open at impressive speeds. Two soldiers stepped out with their rifles raised, both equipped and advanced gas masks. Neither spoke a single word.

They just menacingly kept their rifles pointed at us. Roger threw his hands up in panic, knowing we stood no chance at taking them both out. Only once they saw Cassandra carrying Derek, did they gesture for us to rush inside. Still not speaking a word. They locked the doors shut behind us, still keeping an eye on Roger and I. Only then, did one of them decide to talk. Names?

He simply asked. The shock had rendered us speechless, which only prompted the soldier to yell out his order even louder. Names. I'm David Wilson. We're just looking for a place to... No sooner had I spoken my name before the soldier redirected his attention to Roger and his family,

ignoring any sort of explanation I could offer. He repeated his question once more, to which Roger listed each of their names. It seemed to put the soldiers at ease, but they still seemed to be on alert. They both had names on their uniforms, Avery and Perez. Are they on the list? Avery asked. Perez pulled out a small device, typing in a few words before responding. He is, he said pointing to me.

But they're not. The response riled them up again, raising their rifles, but only pointing them at Roger and Cassandra. Whoa, what are you doing? Roger asked in shock, placing himself between his family and the soldiers. Identification. Avery ordered. Now! With a trembling hand, Roger pulled out a worn-out driver's license and handed it to Avery,

who attempted to compare the ancient picture of a much younger Roger. He looked back and forth a few times, before finally confirming that he was, in fact, who he claimed to be. All right. Every side. Let's go. You might have been. I made it this far, but I can promise you this night ain't over yet.

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