The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 136 : From Beneath The Trees (Chapter 2 of 2)

Episode Date: July 16, 2026

Lot 136 : From Beneath The Trees (Chapter 2 of 2) Consigned by Christian Wallis Starring Conan Freeman Jessica McEvoy Jarret Griffis Trevor Shand Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique Dealer ��� Much obliged for using the Shopify and Mint Mobile link below. It lends a helping hand to our little shop, and we’re truly grateful for the support. 📦 Shopify: https://www.shopify.com/tash 📱 Mint Mobile: https://mintmobile.com/SINISTER   Theme music by The Newton Brothers   Produced by Kevin Seaman   Additional music by CO.AG ([e-mail])   Clement Panchout   Vivek Abhishek   SUBSCRIBE to them on YOUTUBE: / vivekhsihba   LIKE them on FACEBOOK:  https://rb.gy/nhgn0i Follow them on Spotify/ iTunes/ Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/rxdcjqt   From Beneath The Trees appears in the collection Shattered Teeth by Christian Wallis Published by Velox Books Visit veloxbooks.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

For an ad-free experience, visit the obsidian covenant.com. H equals cube. Welcome back. Please mind the shelves. We've had a few incidents lately. Now then, today's acquisition is a curious little thing. A patient identification wristband. Plastic class.

Synthetic paste. standard medical issue. No name or date of birth remains. Most of that information appears to have been intentionally removed, which is unfortunate, because whoever wore it left behind a rather extensive account of their circumstances. An account that, according to the paperwork, accompanying the donation, was never meant to leave the building where it was written.

The title attached to the manuscript reads, From Beneath the Trees, Chapter 2. A rather dramatic title, wouldn't you agree? Still, I've learned not to dismiss these things. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Alfred Chayino, Louise Francis Hinder, Mackenzie Saxon, and Scotty. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the order. Go to the Obsidian Covenant. covenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now, where were we?

Oh yes. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. I didn't go to school the next day either. Some men from the government came to take dad in the morning, and mom ordered me to my room when they arrived. She asked him a thousand questions, but the replies. were short and stern. All I managed to over here were a few muffled phrases.

Please stay put, ma'am. Someone's going to be in contact with you shortly. When I ran to my window to look at them walking down the drive, I saw that they all wore masks. One of them saw me staring. I thought he was going to wave, but he didn't. There was a biohazard symbol on their clothes. After they left, Mom focused on making dinner and looking after my sister.

She'd get me close the whole time, barking, anxious questions every time I tried to leave the room. Where are you going? Just to the bathroom. Oh, okay then. I felt like she was painting normality on a tissue paper, desperately afraid of breaking it. I tried my best to seem like I was okay. Last thing I wanted was to feel like some kid who needed his mommy. We mostly just talked about mundane things, but it was,

was hard for both of us. The only time the atmosphere seemed to change was when she asked me something strange halfway through dinner. Did your father, when you both went hunting a few months back, what did you do with the meat? I don't know, I shrugged. Dad took care of all that. Why? The men who took him asked a whole bunch of questions about it. Then with a fragile smile. Have you done your homework? They told me your teacher. would send you some assignments online? Just like that, the thin pretense of normality came back. But I was left with a wriggling feeling in my stomach.

It didn't go away as the evening marched on. In fact, it only grew worse until I found myself in bed, rolling from side to side and thinking about mom's question. Men who'd bundled dad off hadn't seemed like the kind who'd mess around. They must have had some idea. what was going on. So why ask about meat? On some level,

I knew the moment she asked me why it was relevant. Dad left to hunt, and he always brought meat to parties and barbecues. Wasn't it obvious? He'd brought something back from the woods, hadn't he? I hadn't gone hunting for a long time.

Nearly three months. Every time he asked, I'd refused. And I think he knew why. On the very last trip, Dad shot three deer, but we only brought back two. One for us, one for the town barbecue. The third he shot, but we left it on the forest floor because by the time it had died, I was pale and shaking, and even Dad couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice. Neither of us had expected the deer to stand up on its hind legs,

walk towards us like a man. It's gait a heavy and broken thing as it lumbered over the forest floor. and kept coming, even after Dad shot it six more times. One of the rounds struck it in the head, but still, it shambled forward on two misshapen legs as its brains painted the ferns, a pestil and gray. When it finally fell, even Dad had gone pale. And in the silent aftermath, I had gone to go off and be sick in a bush.

After that we cut the trip short Dad gently walked me back to the truck where the two deer we'd shot and trust earlier that day lay waiting in the pickup I don't think either of us even remembered they were there until later he'd still ask if I wanted to head out with him each weekend but he never seemed surprised when I made some excuse

the only time we talked about it was not long before the barbecue when he drove me to school one day he didn't deal with it head on He skirted the topic. Sometimes deer gets sick. A little like old folks, too. Remember Grandpa?

He got real scary towards the end, didn't he? Well, deer gets sick, too. But we don't have to worry. All right? Same way you couldn't catch what grandpa had. Well, we can't catch what the deer had. Us humans are safe. Just an uncomfortable part of nature.

It had come out of the blue, or at least it seemed like it. I figured it was Dad's way of trying to. to get me back on board with him hunting. I knew he liked me going with him. I'd like it too, at least until I'd seen that deer walk towards me on two legs. But lying in my bed that night after Mom had gone to sleep, I started to wonder if maybe he hadn't really been trying to convince me. Maybe he carried a little doubt in himself about something he was going to do. What if he'd been trying to convince himself it was okay? Too dear. I tried remembering what they'd been like. I hadn't checked him after we got in the truck. Why would I? It seemed as normal as any

others as we tied him down, but I hadn't really been paying attention either. I had been hunting since I was seven, helping Dad was automatic to me. And to top it off, I hadn't known what I was meant to be looking for. I squirmed beneath the sheets and tried so hard to remember every detail of that trip. Most of all, I tried to remember what the first two deer dad had shot were life. It'd gone down so quick they'd seemed normal. But grandpa had been sick with Alzheimer's, a long time before he got scary. I had to figure the same could be true for those deer. It was to say the one on its hind legs was the only sick creature in the woods that day. I couldn't have forced these thoughts out of my head with a crowbar. At some point I accepted I wasn't getting

sleep that night and I settled down to torture myself some more until I realized it didn't have to be that way. Dad had an old freezer in the shed and he sometimes kept meat in there. Not for long and usually not for eating. He'd use it for things he wanted to skin or try and make a trophy out of it, which he rarely did since mom didn't like that kind of thing in the house. But if the deer weren't in the freezer in the kitchen or in the garage, then they might be in the shit. If I open up that chest and saw two deer bodies in there, that meant whatever. Whatever was going around and making people hurt themselves couldn't have come from our little hunting trip. I snuck out of my room as quietly as I could. Mom was on the phone with my grandma and she was crying.

Stop briefly by her door and listened to see if maybe they knew something I didn't, but after she started talking about how scared she was, I just felt bad and moved on. At least it meant she was too busy to notice me creeping down the stairs. I never liked the shed at the end of the yard. It was rarely used. Even by my dad. He kept the lawnmower and some old junk in there. It wasn't the kind of place he kept food. But I had this feeling he didn't keep these deer with the rest of the meat and he got from hunting.

So I opened the back door and looked over the shadow-covered yard. I found myself thinking about the tunnel and what I'd seen back there. With everything that had happened since, I'd done a good job of convincing myself that had never really happened. A man with no legs who dragged himself out of the darkness had become a little more than a half-remembered nightmare. A moment out of time that was incompatible

with all logic and reason. But suddenly, it was back with me. All the emotions and thoughts that raced through my head as I stared at his rotten, fleshy and glassy eyes, A walk to the shed wasn't easy. I fought the urge to turn around the entire way there. Each step was like walking on feet made a lead. At the door, I paused with my hand poised at the lock.

The house seemed so distant behind me. And I became painfully aware nobody knew I was alone and out in the dark. Inside was nearly pitch black. My phone helped me lighted up a little, but I didn't touch the nearby switch in case moms. saw it from her window. Cobwebs hung low from the ceiling and shadows crawled across the floor and walls as I moved closer to the freezer. The entire time, I kept expecting something to happen. I even imagined that deer rising from beneath the lid, pushing it open to stand unnaturally tall on its hind legs, or looked down at me with the same dead eyes I'd seen in my father.

The thought scared me so badly. I nearly hyperventilated myself straight to a panic attack. But before I had time to really worry about any of that, I found my hand on the freezer latch. I pushed it open and looked inside. The misty vapors cleared to reveal a pile of meat and fur encrusted with ice. There was only one head visible, but I so badly wanted confirmation there were two animals in there that I took a deep breath and reached into try and pry some of it loose. Some of it came away from the sides with a sound like duct tape. No matter how deep I rooted around in that mound of bone and handlers and raw, hard flesh, I couldn't see a sign of the second deer. Had dad really served everyone's sick meat. Was that really why Larry Sitkins, Mr. Straub,

and all those other people had killed themselves? The thought made me feel ill. I saw, I see, Slam the freezer shut and walked back to the door in a haze, trying with all my might to swallow the painful weight that settled in my gut. I had one foot outside when the freezer door rattled against the latch. The entire world spun around me. My heart sank. My skin froze in a sensation that was growing increasingly familiar. I turned to face the sound.

Both hands braced against the door. Watch as the hatch slammed into the lock once more. The light inside the chest came on for the briefest moments. I glimpsed thrashing fur and teeth. When it happened again, and again, each time I saw bits of hoof and bone and strange musculature that frightened me so deeply, I fell down onto my ass and didn't even realize. Hatch finally gave way.

The lid flew open and stayed there. Light poured out of the box, and I waited. Breath held for that. thing to emerge, to come roaring out of sight, and bear down towards me on unnatural legs. But nothing happened. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. Until... My apologies. Something requires my immediate attention. Please don't wander off. I'll only be a moment. Forgive me. As you are well aware, there are certain responsibilities that come with maintaining a collection such as this.

Shall we? Light poured out of the box, and I waited. Breath held for that thing to emerge, to come roaring out of sight and bear down towards me on unnatural legs. But nothing happened. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. Until, at last, was a crash louder than any before.

The entire freezer rocked back and forth and slowly fell over. The deer, or parts of it, fell out with a hard, wet thumb. Fits of its chin and face shattered on the hardpack ground, sending little shards of meat and bones skating across the floor on melting streaks of blood. Some of them even reached my feet. The thing inside moved with the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet. Its thick neck and broken head twisted side to side.

side, scanning the shed's interior with faulty eyes. I've never seen anything move like that, not before or since. This was worse than the man at the tunnel, worse by a thousand times. The deer was still mostly frozen. Some impossible force was making it fight the crystallized water in its own cells. And the result? He was a skin would rip like tissue and muscles that cracked and crunched as they tried to flex and contract. lifted its head and tried to scream. Breathy sound, left its fuzzy black lips, made my heart start skipping beats while my bladder emptied. I couldn't help it.

I couldn't stop myself. When I looked down and saw the pieces of melting flesh start to writhe and wriggle, I tried with all my might to stifle the cry building up in my throat. It still escaped as a desperate, high-pitched wine. The deer turned his head towards me for the violent swing. Another breathy shriek, and then it began a thrash and stiff and frozen legs in a terrifying attempt to get closer to anything. To say it had a predatory look could be inaccurate. Anyone who's seen a predator in action knows that nature is mostly indifferent when it kills.

A bear tears into its prey with the same dull look of someone opening their McDonald's. Predators don't hate the things they hunt. This thing is nothing like what I'd seen in my dad's eyes, or even in the eyes of the man in the tunnel. but it had spent months in that box, hadn't it? This was the disease when you skipped three months ahead. Anger, hatred, Jesus Christ, I couldn't even say if it was going to eat me. That's what you think when you see a zombie, right? It's going to try and take a big bite out of you.

This frozen clump of hair and meat. Braying lips dragged itself across the floor with an expression like murdering. rage. Look at someone ready to beat another living thing to death, using its own hands if it had to. Unable to face it a moment longer, I dragged myself back onto my feet and flat, shutting my eyes as I entered the cold night air. I made it three steps before I slammed into my dad. It was like I had run full speed into a tree.

I bounced back and hit the earth, pain flaring up in my coxics. as my father loomed over me. He'd felt cold for the brief moment where we'd made contact. My mind blocked out the sound as something hideous scrambling in the shed behind me. The entire world narrowed until it was just the face of the man who'd raised me, looking down with pale dead eyes. Dad? I think I'm dead.

He swallowed, then briefly examined his hands. When did I die? I pulled myself up and grabbed his hand. It was cold. His pulse was racing. He could even see the veins in his forearms throbs sickeningly. Dad? You okay?

They told me I'm sick. His eyes gazed vacantly at the empty space behind me. I think they're right, but there's more. He looked at me. The intensity of his gaze so powerful that I let go of his hand and took a step back. The first time in my life, I was scared. I'm not alone in here. His voice, pleading for help, slowly his expression twisted into a grotesque mask of agony and desperation.

Oh, Jesus, it isn't just me in here. I tried to move, but he was a big man and his arms wrapped around me like steel bands. Dad! I cried, struggling to pull myself loose as he sobbed louder and louder. Dad! Jesus! Gotta let me go. There's...

The shed door burst open. I managed to twist around just enough that I could see what came out. And I felt an urgent terror crawling up my flesh. The deer had pulled itself loose from the freezer. And I now stood in the doorway on two legs. Its body looked all wrong at that posture. Like when you twist the limbs around on a doll. Probably not far from the truth thinking about it.

Dad didn't react. But I began to scream as the nightmare. or coalesced around me. My father gripped me, holding me in place as that horrible thing lurched towards me on two legs. It moved like a claymation or a puppet shell gone wrong. But it was quicker than I feared. As each step brought it closer, I found myself losing what little control I had. Started to scream.

Started to shriek. I beat at my father with my fists, but he didn't budge an inch. My clenched hands just bounced off his strong. shoulders and it was like I was trying to hurt a punching bag. He started to swear too. I started to scream things I thought were bad than worse than so bad I'm not even sure I can blame other people for putting those words in my head. I told my dad I hated him. I called him a son of a bitch. Called him even worse. All that commotion got the attention of others. Neighbors lights started coming on. My mom emerged from the back door wrapping her

around herself as she squinted at us in the dark. Hell is going on! She cried as she stuttled towards us, but when she saw that deer, she started screaming too. I don't know why, but I thought that other people appearing would help somehow.

But as two, three, half a dozen people came to stumbling into the open lawns appearing over waist-high fences, it would stop the slow but inevitable onslaught of that monster. It did no such thing. They didn't listen to their Confused shouts and cries while gesturing and begging for help the entire time,

the sound of the creature was in my shoulder getting closer. Meanwhile, my hands tried to pry away my father's thick arms, but each time I got leverage, he simply flexed. This grip tightened around me. It was muttering something the whole time. I couldn't hear it. Finally, my mom screamed and ran, swinging an old rake at the space behind her.

I heard the impact, splintering of the wooden handle. Then she stumbled backwards. And I had to twist to get a look at the deer that was now just six or seven feet away. Spokes of a rake still sticking out of its face. The monster looked right at me, opened its mouth, and I swear to fucking God it was going to talk. But right then, someone shouted, For the love of God, Alice, get away from that thing.

Alice was my mother's name. She fell to the floor just seconds before an explosion broke the night, silencing all voices and shattering the deer's head like a crystal ball in the ground. My heart raced so fast that I thought for a moment I was going to die. And I looked down at Dad and finally heard what he was mumbling this whole time. There isn't us, and it wants us. It's in a sudden it wants us. There isn't much left to dad these days.

I got to visit a couple times. Fat lot of good it did. As far as I'm concerned, he died the day in the kitchen when he first tried shooting himself. Treating us in this special hospital. Mom was real upset that visitors are limited, but I think it might be for the best. Her and my sister tested clean. Most people did. I didn't.

Mom snuck me this phone a couple weeks ago, and I've been using that to write. Funny thing is, one of the or the ordeal he saw me on it a few days ago and just laughed. I think that maybe the government aren't too worried about this story getting out. At first, I didn't really get why until I started actually putting all this down in writing. To the part where that half man came out of the tunnel. I realized no one's going to believe me. Still, I got to try. Partly because I want to protect people, whatever this disease is.

It's a hell of a lot more than some twisted prisons, and I think the government knows that. Dad certainly did. Most infected did too. That's why they killed themselves. They want it out. The voice that comes with this illness is like, It's like if your brain is just words in a book and then someone dip that book in a can of used motor oil.

You just want to give in, hand it all over. It wants your body. So whatever you do, don't fight. That's worse. Give it up. In hindsight, we should have let Dad kill himself. What he went through was, well, It was probably a lot worse than the others who got to die.

I sometimes think about going into his room with a pillow, but security is pretty tight around him. As for me, infection is still in its early phase. It takes everyone differently, and for me it's taken quite its time. They think it's because of my age. Still, I can sort of feel it under there, growing. I think it's why I'm writing this. wants me to. The sickness, it lives out in the woods, way, way out, in parts of the soil where the sun

hasn't shone in millions of years. It's old enough to remember a time you could walk from Appalachia to what's now called Glasgow. It's been fumbling around out there, and the brains of deer and other things. The sickness tells me this. It tells me it's learned. It tells me it's learned. about this new world. Tells me how my mind tastes. Most of all, tells me closer. QN.

Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history. It does come with our usual warning, however. Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable

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You have a good night now. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings. Lot 136, from Beneath the Trees, Chapter 2, consigned by Christian Wallace, starring Conan Freeman, Jessica McAvoy, Jared Griffiths, and Trevor Shand. From Beneath the Trees appears in the collection Shattered Teeth by Christian Wallace, published by Vellox Books. Visit Vellox Books.com, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Produced by Kevin Seaman. Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by Coag and Vivek Abbas. Check. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.