It’s been three days since I last saw the light. Three days, I’ve been sitting by the window, waiting to see it again.
I first noticed it a week ago. I was keeping watch while the others slept. We have to sleep in the daytime now, because we need to be ready to move at night if there’s an attack. During the day, it’s quiet, too quiet sometimes. That’s when they sleep too, or that’s what I assume. At night they hunt.
I was sitting on the window ledge at the top of the stairs, my rifle in my lap, when I saw the light flick on and off in the window of a building two blocks from here. It used to be a clinic, once upon a time, before all of this. Before the world went to hell.
Now it lies empty, long since raided of any useful items. But was it empty? At first I thought I imagined the light, my eyes were burning with tiredness and the sun was bright and unyielding overhead. It was easy for it to reflect off objects. Then it came again. I watched for the next couple of hours, there was definitely a rhythm to it. Two flashes close together, then one two seconds later. It had to be a signal of some kind, although I didn’t know what. Maybe Morse code. I wouldn’t have a clue. Before this I worked as a waitress as I tried to put myself through college.
I thought about telling the others. There were five of us hiding out at the school, three women including myself, a teenage boy and a man in his forties called Carter. He actually had been in the army and had appointed himself leader of our ragtag band of survivors. I think the others were happy to have someone in charge, but I didn’t like the guy. We had to do things by his rules, scavenging for food and supplies on his timetable. He just liked ordering everyone else around. I planned on ditching the others as soon as I could.
If there were other survivors hiding out at the clinic then maybe I could join them.
“Cass, I’m going to get some shuteye, you good up there?” Carter barked from the bottom of the stairs. He had dark blonde hair, cut short, broad shoulders and a scar along his brow line.
I nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good, if you need me, you know where I’ll be,” he gave me the once over, making me feel sick to my stomach.
It was no secret that Tammy was already sleeping with him, trying to keep him onside. Then I saw Fiona sneak into his room too. How long before it becomes the price of being part of this group? No way in hell am I waiting around to find out.
I caught a glimpse of the light again. The same pattern as before. Someone is definitely over there. Even if it is a lone survivor who needs saving, I can’t ignore it. There are only a handful of humans left in this city, maybe even the whole country. The world went quiet a couple of days after they showed up. No more television, radio or the internet.
I was already knee deep in it, before I even knew what was going on. I was working at the diner, serving coffee to the usual early morning crowd. The news was on and the first reports were coming in of violent attacks across the state.
I was bringing a customer an order of eggs and bacon when it happened. Outside the diner, a hitchhiker was walking along the road. He was young, early twenties, with a rucksack on his back.
He had his thumb out, hoping to hitch a ride. A truck came down the road and began to slow down. I assumed it was going to stop for the guy. Then the truck had picked up speed, the driver aimed the truck at the hitchhiker and I watched in horror as his body struck the grill, then dropped under the truck. The driver didn’t even stop.
I don’t remember the plate falling from my hands, or screaming. Most of the people in the diner raced outside for a better look. I stood where I was, still in shock. Why would someone do that? Kill a human being like they meant nothing? The depressing part is – that incident was tame compared to what I’ve seen since.
There was a commotion amongst the people outside. I watched as the crowd parted and someone walked up to the diner and inside. It was the hitchhiker.
Blood covered him from his head down to his waist. He walked with a limp and his rucksack was missing. The worst part was, he was completely calm. He wasn’t crying or shaking, he acted like nothing had happened at all.
The hitchhiker took a seat at one of the tables, as people came back into the diner. I expected them to be all over him, asking him if he was okay, offering to call an ambulance or the police. Instead, quite a few of them grabbed their belongings and left. The ones that stayed kept their distance. I think they knew then that this was no ordinary man. That something otherworldly had taken place, even if they couldn’t put it into words.
My boss, Mr. McQuaid, was staring at the guy. He came over to me and started picking up the pieces of the broken plate. I bent down to help him. His hand snapped out and grabbed my wrist.
“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it. Get him what he wants, then hopefully he’ll leave,” Mr. McQuaid whispered.
“He needs an ambulance,” I said.
“It was offered outside, he refused one. Just ask him what he wants. I want him gone.”
I think I hated him for that. I didn’t blame him for being scared and not wanting to talk to the guy himself, but to send me instead? That was cowardly.
Lifting my notepad, I approached the table slowly. The hitchhiker stared straight ahead, hands folded on the table in front of him. He made no move to wipe the blood off him, which had now congealed on his clothes and face.
“Can I-I get you anything?” I asked, trying my best to keep my voice steady.
He glanced at me in surprise. Lifting one of the menus he scanned the list.
Is he seriously going to order food after what just happened?
“I’ll have some ice cream,” he said.
“Ice cream?”
He looked up at me and I felt a chill run through me. His eyes were…I don’t even know how to describe them. Cold? Empty? Devoid of emotion?
“Yes, it says you offer vanilla ice cream. I want some.”
I nodded and hurried into the kitchen, eager to get away from him. Mr. McQuaid was waiting for me.
“Well?” he asked.
“He wants ice cream.”
“Ice cream?”
“That’s what he said,” I snapped.
McQuaid flinched, but didn’t argue. He hurried into the freezer and grabbed the ice cream. Placing a scoop into a bowl, he held it out to me.
“No,” I said. “I’m not going back out there.”
“It’s your job,” McQuaid said.
“Then I quit,” I said.
I saw the fear and desperation on his face, but there was no way I was going back out there. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
“Cassandra…” he started. Then he left the kitchen with the ice cream. I guess he figured that the quicker he gave it to him, the quicker he would leave.
Dumping my apron on the counter, I headed to the small locker room in the back to get my stuff. This was just too much for me. There were plenty of other diners and restaurants around, I could get another job easy.
As I was pulling my jacket on, I heard a scream.
Every instinct in my body told me to ignore it. Take the back way out and get as far away from the diner as possible. I didn’t listen to my instincts.
I headed back into the diner. The customers were huddled in the far corner, looking terrified. The hitchhiker still sat in his seat, calmly eating his ice cream. Why did someone scream?
I took a step forward and discovered McQuaid. He lay on the floor, beside the hitchhiker’s booth and his face was gone. Someone had ripped the flesh from his face and now all that remained was blood and bone.
My stomach lurched and I slapped a hand over my mouth to try and stop myself from throwing up. My heart was thudding wildly in my chest as I took in the surreal events unfolding before me.
The hitchhiker swallowed the last of his ice cream, let out a sigh of satisfaction and pushed the bowl away. He slipped out of the booth and stood up.
Grinning lazily, he looked at each of us in turn.
“Who’s next?” he asked.
I ran.
I can still remember the screaming from that day. I have no idea how many people survived, if any. I just know that we were in the presence of evil.
Checking my rifle was loaded, I dropped off the window ledge to the ground. I know that I should ignore the light, but I don’t think I can. Although I hate to admit it, I’m ashamed of what I did that day. I ran and saved my own ass. I had friends at the diner, regulars who didn’t deserve to be killed by that thing. With all the losses, I needed a win. I wanted to talk to someone outside this group. I wanted to help someone, find out if they knew anything. If they knew how far this had spread and if we would ever be safe again.
They don’t come out during the day. Not much anyway and I’ve never seen a pack in the daylight. Sometimes you get the odd straggler.
It wouldn’t take long to get to the clinic, do a quick sweep and come back. The others didn’t have to know I was gone. I still had two hours before the next changeover.
Shouldering my rifle, I sneaked down the hall to Carter’s room. Putting my ear to the door I heard loud snoring from within. Moving to the next room, I discovered Tammy, Hannah and the kid, Joe, sleeping on their cots. Fiona was missing, but she was most likely in with Carter.
It was now or never.
I grabbed my water bottle and extra ammo on the way out. Carter had taught us all to use a gun, but I wasn’t very confident with the rifle. Up close, I could probably drop one of them, but from a distance the odds dropped steeply. The problem was if one of them got close enough, it was usually too late for you.
Bypassing the door, I left through a window. It was less obvious if someone came looking for me. If they saw the door locked, they would think I was still in the building somewhere.
As I moved to the front of the building, I listened for anything out of the ordinary. All I could hear was the wind. I missed the noise of the city. Cars, people, music. Would we ever get that back?
For all the apocalypse scenarios we had in the movies, a meteor, a plague, hell even zombies, no one ever thought that the world would be taken over by demons. At least that’s what I think they are. Whenever someone dies violently, one of those things takes their body. They walk around in it, murdering innocent people, creating more of their kind.
Not everyone is taken over though. I’ve seen people die and they stay dead. I don’t know why. Maybe the body isn’t suitable or there isn’t a demon ready to take it over. If one of them gets me, I really hope I don’t come back. The thought of one of those things wearing me like a suit is unbearable. If it comes to it, I’ll put my rifle under my chin and blow my head off. They can’t walk around if they don’t have a head.
As I reached the street, I pushed those thoughts away. I needed to focus.
Staying low, I used abandoned cars for cover as I made my way toward the clinic. It looked so close from the window, but down here it seemed like it is a million miles away. Maybe I should turn back and tell Carter about the light.
And have him berate you for going against his orders? I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. There’s no point in telling him anything until there’s something to tell.
The streets are a mess. As well as the cars that litter the road, there’s blood smeared everywhere, on walls, on the ground, everywhere. It attracts flies along with rats and other vermin. The words blood sacrifice springs to mind. It’s a theory that Joe has. We were sharing our theories on what they are and why they’re here. Joe agrees with the demon theory. He thinks that when a blood sacrifice is performed, one of them can come through to our world. It isn’t a bad theory, but it doesn’t explain why they don’t take everyone over.
As I reached the end of the street, I heard it. A noise I’ve heard several times before and would be happy to never hear again. It’s the squeak of a wheel on a skateboard. He’s back.
I throw myself to the ground and crawl underneath the nearest car for cover. It’s a tight fit, but I can’t risk him finding me. He showed up a while back and he comes through this area every once in a while.
He was a young man, once. Skinny with long hair in dreadlocks, he is caked in blood. I don’t know how he died, but it was brutal. He’s one of them now.
The squeaking gets closer. He’s always on the skateboard, I think he likes it. I don’t know if it’s some leftover remnant of the former host or if they are just curious about human inventions, but they have some odd habits. Like the hitchhiker with his ice cream.
I try to stay as still as possible, when I all I want to do is run. Apart from heightened strength, they don’t seem to have any other abilities to use against us. For that we should be thankful, at least they can’t incinerate us with a glance.
The skateboard comes to a stop in front of the car I’m under and I stop breathing. I can see a blood covered Chuck on the board. Does he know I’m here? Can he smell me? Or hear me?
Please just leave. Please just leave. I silently plead.
The squeaking resumes as he kicks off and skates down the hill. I let out the breath I was holding. This was a bad idea, I have to get back to the school.
I waited until I couldn’t hear the squeaking anymore and crawled out from under the car. Dreadlocks was gone. I headed back toward the school, with a quick glance at the clinic.
The light was still there only it seemed more urgent now. Were they watching me? Waiting to be rescued?
Shivering against the wind, I tried to decide what to do. If it was me up there, I’d want someone to help me.
I started jogging toward the clinic. Dreadlocks could backtrack at any second, I needed to be fast.
The clinic was surrounded by a parking lot, which was surrounded by a chain link fence. I found a gap in the fence and managed to squeeze through. The area was deserted so I darted across the parking lot to the door.
The door was barricaded from the inside, but there had to be another way. I wasn’t going to risk knocking on the door when I had no idea who was inside. I walked the perimeter of the building.
I was almost back to the door again when I noticed a hole in the wall that had been covered with a board. It was just big enough for me to squeeze through and no more.
Once inside, I paused, listening for any movement. The building was quiet. All I could hear was the wind outside and the odd creak as the building settled.
Tempted to call out, I stopped myself. I needed to see who it was first. There was a staircase down the hall. The window should be easy to find.
Moving slowly up the stairs, I kept my rifle ready. How much time had gone by? I should have been keeping track. I was guessing it had been no more than half an hour since I left, although time moved differently nowadays. A second could feel like an eternity.
I reached the first-floor landing. As I turned to go up the next flight of stairs, I glanced down at the floor below and froze. Lying on the ground, behind a reception desk, was a group of demons. I had walked right past them.
They appeared to be asleep, which was something of a comfort, but how long would that last? Was this why the person was signaling? Because they were trapped in here with those things?
Run. Get out now before they wake up.
I looked up the stairs. If someone was up there, then how could they avoid those things? Curiosity go the better of me, because the alternative was returning to the school, to that monotony. Carter was content to stay there indefinitely. I couldn’t do that. I needed to know if there were more people out there, if there was hope.
I headed upstairs, moving quickly and quietly. At the top, I turned left to where I believed the room was. Most of the doors lay open, so I was most likely looking for one that was locked or barricaded. I reached the room at the end of the hall, where I thought the light was. The door lay open. Maybe those things had found the survivor, although there was no blood.
The room looked as though it was a children’s hospital room. The walls were painted in bright colors and there were animals on the wall. The window to the room was broken, the bed on its side. I circled the room taking in the stuffed animals. There was a toy silver colored windmill on a table near the window. Part of it was missing. I reached out and spun it with my hand, watching the light from it reflect on the wall.
If there was someone here, they weren’t here now. Had I come all this way for nothing? It must be the wrong room, or they sent the signal from here then moved somewhere else.
I left the room and checked all the rooms on the floor. They were all empty. Dragging my fingers through my short hair, I cursed myself for being so stupid. If Carter found out about this, he would kick my ass to the curb.
I raided the cupboards, trying to find something to salvage, a reason to come here. All I managed to find was a few bandages and half a bottle of aspirin. Stuffing them into my bag, I braced myself to go back downstairs.
Just get out fast and back to the school. No one has to know you were gone.
As I approached the stairs, I glanced back, hoping I hadn’t missed a room. Sighing I turned back to find myself face to face with one of them. It was a woman in her thirties, with a gaping wound in her forehead.
I screamed. I couldn’t help it, I was so shocked. She grinned at me.
Without thinking, I shoved her hard in the chest. She fell backwards down the stairs. She didn’t even try to stop the fall, just dropped with that wicked grin still on her face. I heard a loud crunch as her neck broke.
The others heard my scream, I could hear them running up the stairs. Racing down the hall, I ducked into the children’s room and slammed the door. Locking it, I dragged the bed over and wedged it against it. I sat on the floor and put my back to it.
A few seconds later, they hit the door. The bed jerked forward and I screamed, digging my heels into the ground, trying to hold it in place.
“Someone help me!” I cried, even though I knew no one could hear me. No one who cared anyway.
The wind blew up from outside, making the windmill turn. I watched it reflect on the wall. Two flashes, then a gap where one of the pieces was missing, before a third flash. It was the windmill. There was no signal, it was the fucking windmill all along.
“Oh God,” I whispered, realizing what I’d done. I’m so stupid.
I couldn’t hold the door much longer, I needed to do something. I wasn’t going to let them tear me apart. Leaping up, I moved to the window and aimed my rifle at the door.
They pushed their way into the room. The second I saw one of their faces, I pulled the trigger. The first one went down. I fired again but missed the next one. They didn’t fear the gun and converged on me.
I put the muzzle of the gun under my chin, ready to pull the trigger. Before I could do it, one of them grabbed hold of it. He jerked it toward him and I managed to blast a hole in the ceiling.
“Let go,” I cried. I stumbled back and tipped straight out the window.
I screamed as I fell to the ground below.
If I thought the fall would kill me, I was wrong. I wasn’t high enough. All I managed to do was break my right leg.
In agony, I tried to drag myself back toward the fence. It wouldn’t take them long to come after me. Every move sent a fresh wave of pain through me and I thought I would pass out.
Keep moving.
I reached the fence as they crashed through the front door. Wriggling through the hole, I could hear the grunts of them as they got closer. They crashed into the fence, not noticing the hole.
“What are you?” I screamed at them.
If I was going to die, then I wanted to know.
The four of them stopped hitting the fence and stared at me. One of them let out a noise that sounded like a laugh, then the others joined in until they were all laughing at me.
“Stop it! What’s so fucking funny?”
They just laughed harder. I started crawling. I couldn’t listen to that sound any more, it was terrible.
After about ten feet, I looked back. They weren’t following me, they just stood at the fence, watching. One by one, they turned and headed back inside the building.
They weren’t going to kill me. If I could get back to the school…
A shadow fell over me and I looked up to find Dreadlocks, his skateboard tucked under his arm. He cocked his head as he took in the sight of the stupid bitch with a broken leg.
I glared at him. “What are you waiting for?”
He crouched down in front of me. Reaching out, he traced a line along my cheek with his finger. I shuddered at his touch.
“Just get it…”
I didn’t get to finish that sentence as he ripped my throat out.
*
Hot. It’s so hot. Why can’t I move?
I opened my eyes. There were flames all around me.
Oh, God, the building is on fire.
But what building? Where the hell was I?
I couldn’t move my arms. I was tied to some kind of stake in the middle of the flames.
“Help me!” I screamed, twisting and tugging as I tried to get my arms free.
“Don’t bother,” someone said.
I wasn’t alone. Someone else was tied to a stake beside me. A man in his thirties.
“What is this? What’s happening?” I asked.
“One of them took your body. Now you get to take its place here.”
“Where’s here?”
“Hell. We’re in hell.”
I started screaming.
[bctt tweet=”OCTOBER TERROR 2018 Short Story Award – Entry #13 ‘A Flash of Light’ by S. K. Gregory – Enjoy all this terrific, disturbing material you have in your hands, lots of horror stories at your disposal for your dark delight and vote!” username=”theboldmom”]
On October 23rd we’ll close submissions and open a poll for the readers to choose their favourite one! You’ll have a week to make your choice and on October 31st we’ll announce the winner!!!
