Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - They Come From Below

Episode Date: March 6, 2023

👕 New Dr. NoSleep Merch: DrNoSleep.com - Free shipping within the U.S. 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3juM1og ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's something else here now. Something new. From. Exclusively on Paramount Plus. It's the series Stephen King calls scary as hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi Vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules.

Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. Experience fear like never before. Join my Patreon and get exclusive access to early releases and bonus episodes. Plus, your support helps me continue to produce quality horror content. Now back to the story. I'm tempted to pull my phone out again, to use it for illumination in the dark underground tunnel.

But I don't. Not yet. I can see well enough to watch the man as he walks stiffly down the tunnel. I follow along, seeing him. seeing where he goes. Something skitters in the tunnel ahead. I glance past the man into the impenetrable darkness ahead.

I see nothing. I tell myself it's just rats, but there's an unmistakable doubt creeping into my mind. We're not alone down here. Something is there, just beyond the bounds of my vision. Maybe they aren't just rumors.

Maybe people really are disappearing down here. Maybe lots of them. The man I know as Ted slows and then stops as he approaches a mound of bricks piled against a spot on the left side of the tunnel. I stay back, watching. He gets down on his hands and knees and starts moving bricks out of the way. Soon, I see that there's a hole in the wall. It was hidden by the bricks. When he's cleared the hole enough, Ted crawls inside.

Something moves in the darkness down the tunnel. Somehow, I know my friend is in through the hole. What I don't know is if he's alive or not. I move up to the hole and glance in. I can't see anything. So I pull out my simple flip bone and open it, shining the pale blue light into the hole. I see the souls of Ted's shoes as he moves through the narrow, irregular tunnel.

The stench of rotting flesh invades my nostrils. And before I can talk myself out of it, I crawl in, Determined to find my friend. Pulling my tattered coat tight with one hand, I used the other to press the button on the call box. While I wait for a response, I hug myself tight against the frigid breeze that kicks up long dead leaves from the sidewalk and gutters.

Yes, who is it? A man's voice says. It's Jaron, I say. Can I please come up? I have some news. The several long moments of silence speaks volumes. I had a 50-50 chance of getting late in when I called up. Luck wasn't in my favor. But all is not lost, the voice says.

The tone won of quiet exasperation. It's 10 o'clock at night. We've been over this before. You had your chance here. Now it's time to find your own way. I got a job. I say once I'm sure Tim is done talking. No shit. I got a job.

Where? Tim asks. Can I come up, please? I want to talk to you both about it. There's more silence. I can picture Tim and Layton standing next to the intercom in their hallway, arguing. Layton for letting me up. Tim arguing against it. Some things never change. Finally, the telltale buzz sounds at the door. I smile and grab the handle, opening the door and stepping into the warmth of the lobby. My friend's apartment is on the fourth floor.

I take the stairs. I don't want to get into an elevator with anyone. I know how bad I smell. The door is already cracked when I come to it. I push it open and step inside. Hello? I say, shutting it behind me. Hey, Jay.

He says, smiling sadly. He goes in for a hug, but I stop him. I stink, I say. And I'm dirty. Layton can't hide the relief on his face. I try not to take it personally. You got a job? he asks. I did, I say, smiling.

Then I look around for Layton's husband. Does Tim want to hear this? I ask. Layton waves a dismissive hand. He's getting ready for bed. Here, let's go into the kitchen. Are you hungry? I give him a look. Stupid question, I guess, he says, turning to lead the way. Two minutes later, I'm sitting at the dining room table with a bowl of grapes, strawberries.

and blueberries in front of me. I've washed my hands and I'm scarfing down the fruit. One thing about being homeless as you don't often get berries. Apples, sometimes, bananas occasionally. But berries don't make their way into the food banks much. I savor each bite before gupping it down. It's a stocking job at that grocery store on fourth, I tell Layton, who sits across for me.

He's wearing sweatpants and a lightweight hooded sweatshirt. He looks comfortable, and clean, and very much the man I've known for nearly 20 years. It's only part-time, but it's a start. I'm lucky to get it in this economy. That's great, Jay, he says. I'm glad to hear it. When do you start? That's the thing. That's why I'm here. I start tomorrow. And I need to show up clean and ready to work bright and early. I was hoping you could help me out.

Layton's eyes flick toward the hallway. toward where Tim is on the other side of the apartment. I don't know, Jay. We discussed this last time you were here, remember? I know I overstayed my welcome. I know that, and I'm sorry. But I was looking for jobs almost every day. You know that.

Not every day. Some days you were out getting drunk, he says. That's true, but I'm done with that, I tell him. I haven't had a drink in two weeks, not one sip. I swear to you. but if I don't find a way to shower and get a fresh change of clothes, the job won't be mine anymore. The guy made that very clear when I interviewed today. You interviewed looking like this?

Leighton says, shocked. I nod. The hiring manager knows Father Flanagan, and he knew I'd be showing up like this. But I assured him I could show up clean tomorrow. I assured him because I knew my old friend Leighton would help me out one more time. Why didn't you go to one of the shelters tonight? You could have gotten a shower and a change at any one of them. I pushed the bowl of fruit aside as I leaned toward my old friend.

The interview was at 7.30. You have to be in line at those places before 8 to even have any hope of getting in. There was no way I could have made it. I didn't leave the grocery store until 10 after. Leighton studies me. Then nods. Just one night, he says. One night.

Thank you very much. This means so much to me. I will pay you back for everything when I get back on my feet. Everything. Layton smiles, leaning back in his chair. You really haven't had a drink in two weeks? Swear to God, I say, placing a hand over my heart. Then I look back over my shoulder, making sure Tim isn't hanging around.

Turning back to Layton, I say, You won't have to sleep on the couch for letting me stay tonight, will you? You're going to be sleeping on the couch, Layton says with you. with a smile. I'll be sleeping on the floor, probably. I smile. I've never really liked Tim, but Layton loves me, so I can't really say much. They are a good couple, even if they're opposites in many ways. Suddenly, a ringtone sounds from my coat pocket. When did you get a phone? Layton asks. Last week, I say, reaching into my pocket to grab this simple flip phone. Father Flanagan said he'd pay for it for a couple of months while I get on my feet.

I didn't recognize the number. Then again, I haven't put many numbers in the phone yet. No need. But I answer it anyway. Hello? Jared. A familiar voice says. It's Susie.

She's one of the homeless people I've been kicking around with for a few months. We look out for each other. She sounds stressed. Hey, Sus, Sus. What's going on? It's Darren. We can't find Darren. My throat thickens at those six words. What do you mean?

Who was with him last? I was last night, but when I woke up, he was gone. I figured he'd turn up at the Ark or St. Christopher's, but he never did. Do you know where he'd go? He's been missing all day, I say, nearly shouting. Why didn't you call me earlier? He's done this before, but he always shows up to get a bed. I thought it would be the same today.

He's off his fucking meds, don't you know? know that? He could freeze to death out there tonight. That's why I'm calling you, Susie says, getting defensive. Where have you looked? There's a moment of silence. Just here at St. Chris's, he's not here. I also called the other shelters. He's not at any of them. Jesus Christ, I say. So you're in for the night? You're not going to go looking for him? More silence. It's my bed. She whines. It's cold out there tonight. I hang up on her. Unbelievable. Veillethe's me in a fashion responsible.

The conditions apply. What's going on? Leighton asks. Who's missing? You remember I told you about that kid, Darren? I ask. Leighton nods. The 19-year-old?

The one you took under your wing? I nod. Thoughts whirling. That's him. He's on the spectrum. And he has some mental health issues. For some reason, the state stopped covering his meds. If there's anyone who needs help from the state,

it's him. But of course, they stop. stopped his meds for some bullshit bureaucratic reason. I stare down at the half-eaten bowl of berries, looking right through them. Then I stand up. I think I know where he'd go, I say, heading toward the door. Wait, Leighton says. Che, I can't have you coming and going at all hours of the night.

And you and I both know that Tim would divorce me if I gave you a key. He trails off, unwilling to say the words. Fine, I say. I'll figure something out. What about the job? Fuck the job. I'm not going to stay here while Darren's out there somewhere. I can't do it.

You should know me better than that. I open the door and step out. Layton follows me into the hall. Just put my number in your phone, he says. Call me later and let me know you're okay. I have your number memorized, tell him, still walking toward the stairwell. Be careful out there, he says to my back. The news says there have been some strange attacks the last few nights.

I put up a hand in acknowledgement. Then I rushed down the stairs, heading back out into the freezing temperatures and the dangerous wind chill. It takes me nearly an hour and a half to check the normal spots. But I don't find Darren. In fact, I don't find much of anyone. I wonder where everyone is. Maybe they all made it to a shelter tonight.

Doesn't seem likely, though. My hands and feet are numb as I trudge toward the only other place I can think of. My face stings as the wind blows. The sirens seem to be non-stop tonight, which is strange because most people are indoors, staying warm. I duck into a doorway of an old building slated for eventual demolition, and I take a moment to look around. Satisfied that no one's around,

I pull out my pocket knife and use it to unlatch the jerry-rigged and damaged door mechanism. The door is covered with wood and plastered with no trespassing signs. but people like me have been using it for more than a year. If they ever actually destroy the building, I don't know what the desperate and downtrodden will do on nights like tonight. Closing and latching the door behind me, I pull out my phone and use it to light the way. Before Father Flanagan gave me the phone,

I used to stand in the dark and wait for my eyes to adjust every time I came in here. But not tonight. I want to get down into the tunnels as fast as I can to see if Darren is down there. If he's not, I go into the basement, stepping over and around broken bottles, crushed cans, syringes, fast food wrappers, and cigarette butts.

Hidden in the boiler room behind a piece of warped chipboard is a small hole on the wall, just big enough for a man to slip through on his belly, which is just what I do. I go feet first because the floor on the other side of the hole is further down than the building's basement. That's because the hole leads to one of many abandoned tunnels under the city. After pulling the chipboard back into place, I head down the shaft, walking for nearly

five minutes before reaching the domed tunnel I'm looking for. As I turn the corner, I'm surprised to see only two-person-shaped lumps curled up next to the steam pipe running the length of the tunnel. On a night like tonight, I would expect to see two dozen or more. I hurry up to the nearest person, using my phone to illuminate them. It's not Darren. I know the woman. Her name is Patricia.

Continuing down to the next person, my heart falls as I realize it's a guy named Ted. I back up against the wall and slide down onto the dirty floor, telling myself to stay calm. I shut the phone and hang my head. I'm out of places to look. Aside from hospitals or jails, I've had a very much. exhausted all the normal spots. At least it's warm here. The insulation has been ripped off the large steam pipe, allowing some heat to escape as the vapor is transported across the city to help warm old buildings. After allowing my eyes to adjust, I crawl forward and shake

Ted's shoulder. Ted, I say. Ted, it's Jaron. Wake up. He stirs from his heroin stupor, and then jerks back. Get away from me, he says. before realizing it's me. Then he calms, lying his head on his cardboard mattress. Jesus, Jaron, he says. What do you want? You seen Darren? I ask.

Ted raises his head and looks around the tunnel. Huh. He was here when I fell asleep. Where the hell did he get off to? Matter of fact, where the hell did everyone go? When was that? I asked. When did you see him?

I don't know, man. Ted says. I ain't got. matter what? I opened my phone. It's nearly midnight now. When did you come down here? Must have been around 11 or so.

Darren was already down here, along with four other people. I nod, looking around as if the kid will suddenly appear. Then I turned back to Ted. There were only four when you came down. Where's everyone else? Ted scoffs. Puntcha pussies. Talking about people disappearing from down here at night.

Just here at night and gone and gone to the night. the morning without a trace. It's bullshit. Since I quit drinking, I haven't been sleeping down in the tunnel, but I have heard people in the shelters talking about disappearances. I never really gave the rumors much thought. By nature, homeless people are always disappearing. Some of them leave the city for somewhere warmer. Some of them get their shit together and try to get back into life. Some are arrested or hospitalized, and others simply die. But the lack of people down here on a night like tonight makes me nervous. If that many people are avoiding this spot, it means they really believe something is going on down here.

And if three people have wandered off tonight... What have you heard? I asked Ted. Man, it's bullshit. Nothing's happening down here. People are just stupid. What have you heard, Ted? I ask, an edge in my voice. He sighs. You know, Burma.

right? Well, he said he saw old Luther just get up and walk down the tunnel one night, left his little backpack and everything, never came back. But he said Luther was walking kind of funny, stiffly, kind of, like he was sleepwalking or something. He walked that way, I ask, pointing further down the tunnel. That's what the man said. There's a network of tunnels that way, but not until after a long walk. Most of the tunnels that branch off this one are much too small for a person to fit inside. They're tunnels for smaller pipes that branch off the larger steam pipe. I've walked down that way once, but saw nothing of interest.

When I came to a lower tunnel full of sewer water, You got more questions for me. Can I go back to sleep? Ted asks. I was dreaming I had about a kilo of dope when you woke me up. I hope I can get it back. No. I say, go back to sleep.

Ted turns onto his side, facing toward the steam pipe, and settles in for sleep. I stand up and walk down the tunnel, looking for any sign of Darren. After walking for several minutes, the tunnel walls turn from the concrete to brick. I keep going. The only thing of interest I pass is a pile of crumpled bricks against one wall. I can't tell where they came from, because I'm not. there is no visible damage. They're piled knee-high against the wall. It almost looks like they've been placed there intentionally. I shrug it off and keep going. Once again, I come to the lower

intersecting tunnel that's full of slow-moving sewage water. I know Darren wouldn't have gone in there, not even in his most manic state. So I turn around and head back. There's nothing I can do for And now, I try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I'll check jails and hospitals. I don't know how much I can trust Ted's word about seeing Darren down here tonight. He doesn't have the most reliable memory. Years of heroin use will mess with your brain. I pass the pile of bricks again.

When I'm about 10 yards past them, I hear them shift. I hear them shift. I freeze and look over my shoulder. I haven't been using my phone to see down here, and it's too dark, and I'm too far to make out specifics. As I turn fully around to look at the bricks, I think I see a dark shape move swiftly down the other side of the pile. About the size of an animal, like a large raccoon or something. My heart rate rising, I step closer and closer. It does look like the bricks have shifted at the top, revealing a small hole in the wall there.

I look on the other side of the pile, but there's nothing else. there, no raccoon, no nothing. And a glance down the dark tunnel reveals no animal. Of course, I can't see very far. Something could be out there, sitting 15 feet away, and I wouldn't be able to see it. I head back down the tunnel to choose a spot to sleep near the steam pipe between Ted and Patricia. There are flattened cardboard boxes all along the length of the pipe, and I choose one that looks fairly clean. Lying on my back, I close my eyes and wait for sleep. Eventually, it comes.

I have no idea how much time has passed when I wake up to a choking sound. Blinking the sleep away, I sit up and glance around. Patricia is still asleep, but Ted is convulsing in his spot some six feet away from me. His legs are scraping and kicking along the ground, and his arms spasms stiffly at his sides as he is. he writhes, banging his head onto his cardboard mattress. I scramble over to him, pulling my phone out and flipping it open to get a good look at him. But I flinch away when I get a glimpse of his face. His eyes are open, but all the blood vessels in them have ruptured, turning the whites of his eyes,

bright red. Blood spills out from between his lips, flowing down his cheeks. Getting over my initial shock, I put a hand on his chest to keep him from smacking his head anymore. What's happening? What's going on? I ask him. He looks me in the eye, but continues convulsing. I look at my phone, seeing that I have no service this far under the city. Too much concrete between me and the cell towers. And even if I could call 911, I couldn't really tell them how to get down here.

I'd have to go meet them outside the abandoned building. As I'm considering my options, Ted stops convulsing. His eyes shift away from mine, looking up at the roof of the door. tunnel. You okay? I ask. Can you walk? He doesn't answer. And after a moment, he moves to sit up. I push him back down. Just stay down, I say. Talk to me. Where does it hurt? He tries to sit up, and I push him back down again. But this time, he shoots his left arm out, shoving me hard in the chest. I fall onto my back and watch as Ted stands up and starts watching. And he starts watching. walking down the tunnel.

Ted? I say. Where are you going? He ignores me, walking stiffly away. I get up and hurry after him. Where are you going? I ask, coming up beside him. I see that the blood coming out of his mouth has slowed.

His eyes are still bright red around his irises. He doesn't seem to notice me at all. I pick up the base, getting in front of him and stopping. He sidesteps me and keeps going, so I get ahead of it. so I get ahead of him again, this time putting my phone away and using both hands to stop him. He stops walking and looks down at my hands on his chest. Then he knocks them away and shoves me hard. I stumble back, but manage to keep on my feet. He keeps walking, but I stand aside and let him pass before falling in a few yards behind him. I stay safely behind him, resisting the urge to pull

my phone back out for illumination. Something skitters head in the tunnel, but when I look, I see nothing. Soon, Ted slows down at the pile of bricks against the tunnel wall. Standing back, I watch as he gets down on his knees and goes to work moving bricks out of the way. The bricks cover a hole in the wall that Ted crawls through after making enough room. Crawling to the hole on my hands and knees, I peer inside, but it's too dark. I pull out my phone and flip it open, casting pale blue illumination into the hole. I see the souls of Ted's shoes as he crawls through the narrow tunnel there. I'm crawling over the bricks and into the hole before I really have a chance to think about it.

A powerful stench invades my nostrils and causes me to gag, but I keep going. I have a terrible feeling that I'll find Darren in here. I have to be sure. After about six feet, the tunnel. opens up into what feels like a wide space. Ted is still crawling ahead of me, but I stop and turn my phone toward the ceiling, seeing that there's not enough room for me to stand.

There's a strange sound coming from deep in the space, like someone eating slobally. I shine my light to my left, illuminating a decomposing human head, lying face up on the ground. It's attached to a body, but I don't take the time to investigate further. I yelp like a frightened child and drop my phone as I scramble away.

The phone stays open, the light shining up at the low brick ceiling. Crab walking backward, I panic, bypassing the small tunnel without thinking about it. But I stop as my right hand tears into something sinewy, wet, and cold. I turn my head slowly, dreading what I'll see. There's just enough light for me to make out old Luther's sneering face, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The same old Luther, Ted was telling me about. My eyes tracked down from his ghastly face to his chest cavity. My right hand is inside of it.

I busted right through the rotting skin of his stomach. Before I can react, something moves inside of him, something hard, brushing wetly against my hand. This time I let out a scream, yanking my hand out and rushing over to grab my phone, shining it at old Luther's body. He's shirtless, allowing me to see clearly as part of his stomach. stomach bulges. Something's moving inside his corpse. Something fairly large.

What's happening? I whispered to myself with mounting hysteria. What's happening? I shine the light around, revealing the human-shaped lumps of more bodies. So many more. Darren! I cry. Unable to control the volume of my voice. Darren! Something skitters in the darkness, adding to my ballooning terror. As I'm turning to leave, I notice a pair of sneakers I recognize on a body. at the edge of my phone's illumination. Red and black sneakers.

Darren sneakers. Without thinking, I clamber over to the body, shining the light down on my friend's face. He's shirtless, like the other bodies down here. I can see his shirt and jacket discarded nearby. He doesn't look dead. I touch his cheek, feeling his warmth. He's still alive.

His eyes are open, but they're bright red around his irises, just like Ted's. heads. Streaks of dried blood line his cheeks from the edges of his mouth. Darren, wake up! I shout, shaking him. Wake up! Then I notice his stomach. There's something sticking out of it.

A small, yellow-white cone that looks shiny with slime. It's about the size and shape of the tip of a football. His stomach bulges underneath it, as if there's more to the thing, and I'm just seeing the top. I reach a finger out and touch the thing. It moves. squirming, undulating. I suddenly realize what it is. It's a larva, a football-sized insect larva. Something skitters in the darkness, this time much closer to me. I whip my foam that way, seeing Ted as he tosses his shirt aside and lies down on his back between two decomposing bodies.

As soon as he's down, a giant insect scurries onto his chest. It has four sharp legs, glossy black in color. Its teardrop-shaped body is emerald green. on top, and it has two short black arms ending in pinceres at the front. But what draws my attention is the hook-like tail hanging down from the back of its body. It looks like a stubby version of a scorpion tail, but instead of curving up over the body, it curves down under it, between the long, segmented legs. And instead of ending in a bulbous stinger with a sharp tip, the creature stinger bypasses the bulbous portion and simply tapers to a wicked point. To the end, Two black eyes on dark green stalks move around as the thing positions itself over Ted's

stomach. The stinger pulls up and then shoots quickly down, piercing the middle of Ted's stomach. He convulses but makes no move to fight the creature off. The thing pulls the stinger back out and something happens to the tip. The sharp point seems to retract into the tail, disappearing completely. The creature jams the tail back into Ted's stomach, right into the hole it made a moment to go. It goes very still for several long moments. I watch, transfixed in terror, as the base of the tail expands. A lump moves down through the tail until it disappears into Ted's stomach.

Then the creature pulls its tail out, revealing only the tip of the larva it is just inserted into the man's body. The sharp point appears at the tip of the tail again, settling back into place. As I finally come to my senses, I wonder how long it takes for these people. to die. I wonder if Darren can feel what's happening to him right now. I wonder if he can feel the larvae eating his insides. But most of all, I wonder how many of these things there are, and whether they're in other cities across the globe. Tears form in my eyes as I pull out my pocketknife and ready the blade. I look at Darren, fighting back the breakdown that wants so badly to take over. I can't let it. I just hope he can't feel it. I hope to God he can't feel it as I

open his carotid arteries with the knife. The larva in his stomach seems to sense this as the blood drains from Darren's body, pumped by his still beating heart. It begins to squirm. When I'm sure Darren's dead, I jammed the blade into the larva, killing it. But as soon as I do this, a squealing sound erupts from all around me. I don't bother looking around. Phone in one hand and knife in the other. I clamber toward the exit. As I get closer to the hole, I hear scurrying sounds growing near. I shine my light toward the source of the noise, seeing a creature back quickly away into the darkness. I keep moving, more scurrying, this time from the other direction. I continue to press buttons on my phone, keeping the screen lit, and each time I

pointed out at the darkness, the creature is back up. By the time I make it to the tunnel, I've seen at least ten of the things hiding out at the edge of the light, with my back pressed up against the brick wall next to the narrow tunnel. I take a breath, readying myself for the mad scramble out. I'll be vulnerable from behind. Gripping my phone and knife tightly, I turn and shove into the hole,

coming face to face with the creature. The thing squeals as it jumps at me. The vicious stinger poised to strike. Acting on reflex, I back out of the tunnel while slicing out with the blade. The knife misses, but I strike the creature's underside with my fist, sending it momentarily back.

It doesn't. hesitate. It jumps at me again, but this time my head is out of the tunnel. I move and it misses, coming to a stop near my foot. I kick out, sending the thing falling onto its back. It uses its tail to ride itself quickly. I can see the other creatures rushing me now. I clamber into the narrow tunnel, moving as fast as I can on my elbows and knees. I kick out when I feel the creatures near my feet, and it seems to work, keeping them back. Getting to the exit, I launch myself out, painfully on the carpet of bricks. I scrambled to my feet and I run. I can hear the scurrying of dozens of legs behind me as I flee down the tunnel, back the way I came. Soon, I can see Patricia

ahead. She's lying on her back, and there's a creature poised over her head. It must have come out before me. Or, God forbid, it came from somewhere else entirely. As I approach, I see the creature using its hind legs and pincers to hold Patricia's mouth open. Its tail shoots between her parted teeth, piercing the roof of her mouth with its sharp point. Whatever it's doing, it turns people into zombies whose only goal is to get to the nest and wait to be injected with a larva. Maybe it uses some kind of mind-control venom and then directs them to the nest with pheromones. The how doesn't really matter. What matters is stopping them. I don't slow down as I run past Patricia and the creature. I don't slow until I reach

the hole in the wall that gets me into the building's basement. I'm not sure when, but the creatures have stopped following me. I glance over my shoulder as I run up the stairs, but I don't see any of them. The sound of sirens is overwhelming as I reached the ground floor. It sounds like the entire police force is driving around the city. I unlock the front door and step out onto the sidewalk, just as a police car and an ambulance scream passed. As I run in the direction of the nearest precinct, I hear gunshots and screaming from nearby.

I turn the corner onto 4th Street and come to a halting stop. The creatures are everywhere. They pour out of a nearby sidewalk storm drain. They scuttle up the sides of buildings. A police car that is crashed into a bodega is on fire. Several people are running away, off in the distance, pursued by a group of the large insects. An eight-story window breaks up ahead,

and I see a creature fly out into the night to splatter on the sidewalk. People are screaming. More gunshot sound. There's too many of them. They're everywhere. They're everywhere.