I glanced down at the clock on my dashboard. 10:02, it read, in glowing green numbers amidst the darkness. Almost thirty minutes on the dot since we’d entered the town.
It was a nondescript little place. Short, squat gray and brown buildings with signs introducing local businesses lined the streets in the areas where small, but homey residential houses bunched close together amidst well-kept lawns were not.
Nothing too picturesque, but a standard Rust Belt town that although it had clearly seen better days, had kept on chugging until it was a passable, if not at times pleasant place to live.
I knew the type well, my own hometown in Central Illinois had been much the same. Beyond that, I was familiar with this very town, having passed through it on the way to the campsite my friends, Phil and Clay, and I had spent the weekend at. It reminded me of days past, the sort of place frozen in time.
It was that familiarity, perhaps, limited though it made the place stand out to me on the way to our campsite. The town marked the four-hour point of our drive and had been made something of a landmark as we’d decided to stop there for gas and some snacks on the way back.
Yet as we pulled off of the empty highway, the first thing that began to grip me was the silence.
From the moment we’d entered the town driving down what seemed to be the main road through the place, we had been greeted by nothing more than the staggering silence and a smell that seemed to linger faintly.
There are few things that can truly, deeply unnerve a person. One of those things is true and utter silence. I’m not talking about the silence of a quiet home, with neighbors’ cars and distant yapping dogs audible from beyond your walls, no, true silence, especially in a place where there ought to be the opposite.
That was what we experienced rolling back through the town that had previously been as busy as any other along the highway.
With the exception of my vehicle, and that which carried my friends behind me, there was nothing. No distant roar of traffic on surrounding streets, the odd squeal of a break, honk of a horn, or call of a pedestrian.
It was more than just a lack of noise, however, there were no birds, joggers, or people walking dogs – no cars on the road. It was as though we’d walked onto a film set, and were none the wiser.
I felt an uneasy twinge in my gut, like something plucking at a loose fabric, and found myself turning to my passenger seat to speak to my wife, an act of habit, before finding it empty.
Of course. I recalled the feeling of reacquainting myself with reality, a bitter one. She’s not here, that’s the whole reason you’re on this trip.
The camping trip had been Phil’s idea following my divorce as a way to get me out of the funk they’d insisted I’d entered, and he and Clay had battered me with it until I reluctantly gave in.
We’d spent a week campground hopping around the state and were making our way back towards our homes in the exurbs of Chicago.
We’d passed through the town on our way to one of the state parks much farther south, and it had stood out to me. It had been a relatively quiet place then, but still with plenty of folks out and about their business.
It seemed like the kind of town that still had a local hardware store not called Ace or Home Depot, and folks had Sunday breakfast at the local diner, and on our first pass through I felt myself oddly drawn to it in a nostalgic sort of way that made me think of better bygone days. I resolved it would be one of our pit stops on the way back upstate.
The plan had been to fill up at the gas station, and maybe stop for breakfast at the little local watering hole before continuing on our journey and recharging our batteries in this Rockwell painting of a town.
Part of me, the part seeking any logical explanation till the point of illogic, thought perhaps it was all an effect of the weather, both the impossibly sudden emptiness of the place and the sort of… surreal, almost dream-like disquiet that seemed to hang in the air everywhere.
It had been staggeringly sunny on our initial pass through, a rare sort of day in Illinois as the summer allowed an early peek through the spring, whereas now? It was overcast.
Angry gray clouds hung overhead growing blacker and more foreboding by the minute, with them a feeling of static in the air, and a breeze carried through the empty streets – lone and errant and on it a chill of winter.
A larger part knew how ridiculous that thought was. I’d seen some bad weather in my day, even a few historic blizzards, and yet I’d never seen an entire town utterly empty.
And yet, the last ten minutes had been spent driving slowly along the main road, my car in the lead as we retraced our previous steps through what seemed to be the main plaza of the quiet town.
A sign painted on a dull green background, tucked within a floral display read “Welcome to beautiful Criers Creek, Illinois! Population: 4,673”
As far as I looked, I saw neither hide nor hair of a single one of those almost five thousand people.
Lights remained shining through storefronts with no one to man them, the stop lights turned red, then green, then yellow all the same, though the road was deserted but for our two vehicles.
Cars remained in parking spots lining the streets, somehow feeling like old, ancient fossils, their presence made ominous in the terrible silence.
A choice few rumbled feeling much like a pack of grumbling beasts in waiting as their engines ran idly. They made my gut tighten like a fist, a pool of anxiety forming of a steady drip at the back of my mind.
Riiiing.
The sudden chime of my phone shattered the relative silence, making me jump in my seat. For the first time since entering the town, for the first time in a while, I was glad to be riding alone and no one could see my jumpiness.
‘Phil’ the screen read, urging me to answer or deny the call. I did the former.
“Hey,” I answered, eyes still squinted as I peered out the window.
I still expected or hoped might be a better word for it, to see someone. To catch some glimpse of motion passing behind a window, or catch a distant eye watching from a window as if this were all some trick the whole town was in on.
“Hey,” Phil’s voice was unusual, shakier, with a tinge of emotion not characteristic of him. I was reluctant to call it fear but…
“Listen, either Clay and I are losing our fucking minds…”
We rounded a corner, onto a street leading to a roundabout centered around what was clearly the town park. A statue of some long dead figure, sat atop a horse with a sword drawn and face stern was the only facsimile of life visible.
“Or there is literally nobody in this town but us…”
I felt the blood in my veins go cold at hearing the uneasy realization spoken aloud, as though the strange reality was made concrete in doing so.
“Yeah,” I spoke reluctantly, “It, uh, it looks like it.”
“Guys, I’m not gonna lie bro,” Clay’s voice came over the line, and even through the phone I could hear the palpable disquiet heavy in his tone.
“I’m getting a fuckin awful feeling about this.”
An icy chill rippled through me at that. He wasn’t wrong, of course. Since we’d entered the city limits, the air had felt almost charged with an uneasy, surreal sort of energy. It was the sort of feeling you get in a place that has just experienced great tragedy or upheaval.
If you’ve ever walked through the remains of a house burnt in a fire, or seen a town rendered unrecognizable by a heavy storm, you know the feeling. As though every inch was a warning of how vulnerable we all truly are, a stark reminder of our own fleeting nature.
And yet, as we moved through those streets, taken by a silence that I could find no logical explanation for, with every bit of daunting unease I felt, there seemed a greater, nagging sort of curiosity. Something about it all bothered me, the suddenness of it.
Places don’t just…up and desert like that. People don’t all just leave the homes, and jobs, and town they’ve known and loved, no, there felt like there was something more to it. And for some reason, I felt compelled to know what.
‘It feels like I only go backwards…’
I nearly leapt from my skin as the radio kicked to life, filling my car with the croon of a sudden unfamiliar voice. I squinted hard at the radio which had ceased working from the moment I had entered town, as though it might somehow explain the sudden interruption, which was over just as soon as it had started.
On the other end, I could hear a similar burst of sound, followed by Phil’s cursing in surprise.
“This town is a god-damn dead zone for signals. Radio on the shitter, my data is cutting in and out. Where are we going, anyway man?”
“There was a diner I saw when we passed through the first time. Cute little spot, reminded me of where Jenna and I first -” I swallowed the sudden knot in my throat, surprised by the emotion I felt at the memory.
“It reminded me of a spot I used to eat at in college.”
There was silence from the other end, and I could all but see the looks passed between them at the mention of my ex-wife, a mixture of concern and mild irritation.
“Well, it doesn’t look like there’ll be much in the way of service…” Clay chimed in.
Of course, I knew he was correct, and yet in the moment, the idea of turning back somehow filled me with an unusual sort of apprehension. It was the feeling one has when forgetting some important meeting or gathering, aware only that it’s slipped their mind but not of what or how.
“Probably, but I’d still like to check it out. C’mon boys,” I offered, trying my best to lighten the mood, “Where’s your sense of adventure.”
After a moment of silence, Clay responded.
“Okay, lead the way. See you then.”
And so I did, navigating the stark emptiness of the streets with them in tow, only the faint whistle of the wind moving between the buildings, and the creak of wavering street lights, none of which seemed to follow any discernible sort of pattern, only working in seemingly random intervals.
Every so often the radio would spark to life, only to sputter off just as quickly.
I tried to keep my eyes on the road. There was something about the lifelessness of the buildings that…seemed to play to one’s imagination.
If I let my eyes linger too long, I could swear there were figures, barely more than shadow and only there for a moment, darting behind curtains and walls.
After a few minutes, we arrived, pulling into a parking lot with a few dozen cars scattered throughout, as if from some morning breakfast rush we couldn’t see.
After a moment to muster my confidence, I stepped from the car, making my way across to the door. There was only the sound of my feet sliding across the pavement, and the rumble of the car behind me. A smell filled the air, like that of an old television set.
Ozone, the word emerged as a thought whispered from somewhere distant in my mind.
Behind me, Phil and Clay pulled into the lot quickly stepping from the car and following behind me, muttering to themselves.
As I arrived at the door, I felt confusion give way to apprehension, and a cold sweat began to bead above my brow. The doorway had been blocked, doors and chairs all piled in front in some makeshift excuse for a barricade.
The three of us paused for a moment as Clay and Phil caught up, a glance passing between us all that seemed to carry a different meaning in every eye, though all expressed an obvious disquiet.
I knocked on the door, peering in through the dust-covered window for any sign of who might have piled all of the furniture, but found only an empty diner. Half-eaten meals, cellphones, and a lone laptop all sat around, the signs of life in motion yet with none of their owners to be found.
I tried to stifle the chill I felt as the skeletal fingers of dread seemed to run along my spine gently.
“Help me push this,” I implored, grunting as I positioned my shoulder against the door and began to push with great exertion.
The two looked at each other for a moment, before Phil gave a shrug, his eyes meeting Clay’s in a look that seemed to say “we might as well” before adding his effort to my own.
The door gave a hiss as we managed to pry it open almost half a foot, sending the chairs piled on the other side clattering to the ground in a cacophony that made my heart lurch, such a sudden change from the utter silence.
I coughed, once then twice as my throat stung for a moment, that odd ozone smell seeming to grow stronger on the breeze.
“You think this is a good idea?” Clay asked, still standing behind us.
His arms were crossed, and there was a look on his face that I didn’t like. It made me feel…analyzed. Like I was back in those marriage counseling sessions that had done fuck all, being mentally picked apart by my wife and therapist who it seemed both only existed to point out my every flaw.
I bit back a retort, tasting the venom at the back of my throat and swallowing hard despite the irritation his attitude rising like floodwaters.
“I think there’s a town full of people that just up and disappeared, and I think that’s something I can’t just drive away from.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a goddamn biology professor for the love of god, shouldn’t you have, like, some sort of scientific curiosity or something?”
Clay narrowed his eyes in a look of mild irritation, pursing his lips for a moment before muttering a few expletives and adding his strength to ours.
The door and the tables piled on the other end groaned in protest as we pushed it open as far as it would go.
One by one we slipped through the opening and into the dinner. The fluorescent lights hummed and crackled, seeming to grow brighter as we entered, bathing the sky-blue wallpaper and vomit-green tiles on the floor in a hospital-esque glow.
It somehow made the situation feel all the more surreal and unwelcoming, pairing with the silence to turn what otherwise seemed your common small-town diner into an utterly unfamiliar and alien place.
Outside, the wind seemed to pick up on the surreality that seemed to fill the air, and made the windows groan in protest against it.
Clay made his way towards the counter, ringing the lone bell several times.
“Enough man, Christ,” Phil chided, “There’s nobody here.”
Clay shrugged, before climbing onto the counter.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, as Clay slid over the counter still bearing half-finished coffees and meals, and onto the other side.
“Making a damn coffee,” he grunted, grabbing an untouched sausage from one of the plates and taking a bite.
I felt the need to argue, but after a moment could think of no reason why. The place was abandoned, it wasn’t like anyone was coming.And yet…I couldn’t help but feel a need to be silent, as though any overwhelming noise might attract the attention of… well that didn’t feel quite as clear.
“Coffee boys? Anyone?” Clay asked, waving his cup at us and spilling a bit on the linoleum.
Phil nodded, and Clay made his way back to the machine. I muttered a ‘no thanks’ continuing around the diner. A laptop, a few tables away, caught my attention. It was open, the screen still glowing though it was dim.
I made my way closer, eyeing it suspiciously. Beside it sat a set of keys and a wallet. I couldn’t help but feel a chill at the sight, all things no one would leave behind unless left without a choice.
We shouldn’t be here. The thought forced itself through my head, and I tried to dismiss it, curiosity still burning.
And still, I found myself sliding into the booth in front of the laptop, celebrating silently that it was still open.
On the screen I immediately recognized the Facebook messenger, having had to answer plenty of ‘hey, we’re here if you need anything’ messages from folks I hadn’t heard from in years after my divorce.
I felt a twinge of unease as I realized I was reading someone’s messages. This was certainly already an invasion of privacy to be sure, and now it felt even more so. Still, I continued, pushed on by an almost feverish need to understand what was happening.
As I began to read, I felt icicles forming along the walls of my veins, my blood turning to icy slush, and my insides to liquid. The account belonged to a Dan Almond, a slightly older gentleman in his mid-fifties, and the messages were between him and another man, Kevin, who was clearly his son. Earlier ones made it clear the kid was away at college.
‘I love you kiddo, your mom loves you, we all love you so much, and I’m so proud of you.’ The first message sent that day read.
‘There’s something going on here in town. I can’t explain it, it don’t seem anyone can, but I don’t think your momma and I are gonna be there for graduation bud. I’m sorry.’
‘Just don’t come home. Don’t come back to Crier’s Creek, ain’t nothing good here for you anymore.’
‘Dad, are you okay? What the hell is going on, I’ve been getting texts and seeing things on snapchat all day about something flying over the town? Is mom okay?’
‘She’s with me kiddo. We’re together. I can’t tell you what’s going on, don’t even know myself, I just know we can’t go outside.
People are disappearing. Pulled straight up into the sky like the rapture, but I don’t think this has nothing to do with God. Remember Mr. O’Reilly? Used to watch you and your sister way back when? I saw him yanked straight off the ground, heard him scream until it stopped all of a sudden he – well goddammit he came apart like he was made of strips or something. Spun to pieces and disappeared into the sky like nothing.’
His son’s responses came soon after, frantic and questioning, followed by a call that wasn’t answered.
‘Dad, pick up. Who’s Mr. O’Reilly?’
‘Dad, please pick up the phone!’
‘I’m sorry, you got no idea how much I’d like to hear your voice right now but we have to be quiet. I’m at the Larry’s with your mom, the folks here have got the doors all barricaded up. Can’t help but think it won’t do much good though.’
I felt a cold creeping up along my spine, a cold awful dread sewing itself deep into the fields of my mind.
‘I can hear it now, over us. Damn thing sounds like a truck. I love you kiddo. Never forget it.’
It was the final text sent from Dan. There were a few more from his son, desperate and pleading for a response, followed by a string of calls that went unanswered, and then…nothing.
I took a breath, feeling an uneasy tremor developing. The sounds of clinking plates and glasses as Clay and Phil cooked themselves breakfast seemed to fade to the background as I found myself reading the conversation again and again, any doubts that I had had as to whether or not something awful had happened here faded rapidly.
I still can’t be certain what drove me to make the call. Perhaps it was the unease and the hope that somehow the young man would be able to offer some rational explanation, perhaps even explaining how his father had been mistaken and the town had been evacuated due to a gas leak or some similarly mundane reason.
It may not bode well for us, but the longer I sat there the less I felt anything would, and at least that response might quell the rising dread I was feeling. It was like being a child again, a fear of something nebulous and formless yet dreadfully present all the same.
The chime of the call ringing filled the diner, drawing both other sets of eyes towards me, both asking the same silent questions.
After a moment, there was finally an answer.
“Hello?” The voice belonged to a man, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-something.
“Hi, is this Kevin?”
There was a pause.
“Yeah. Who is this?”
I felt a twinge of unease at the tone of his response, questioning, but not nearly as…worried as I’d expect someone to sound receiving a call from a stranger on their apparently missing fathers Facebook.
“I – uh, I’m a friend of Dan’s..” I lied, hoping that it hadn’t sounded quite as obvious as it felt.
There was another silence, longer than before, and in it I could swear the tension was palpable, it was as if I could hear the gears turning in his head.
“I don’t know any Dan’s. Sorry man, wrong guy.”
My heart struck hard against the inside of my chest, as I tried to swallow the unyielding knot of dread that had formed in my throat somewhere along the way.
Phil’s questioning look grew worried, surely seeing the fear on my face, Clay’s irritated and uneasy as he mouthed a ‘what?’ in my direction, clearly wanting to be caught up. Feeling the creep of anxiety as it began to brim over, and unsure of what else to say I elected for the uneasy truth.
“Y – your father. Your father Dan, I – I found his laptop in a diner in a town called Criers Creek. I think something may have happened to him I -”
“Listen, man, I told you you’ve got the wrong guy. I – I never knew either of my parents. Got no memory of ’em.”
There was some palpable emotion at the end of his words that I could tell he was trying to restrain and yet…it felt as though he was telling the truth, or at least the truth as he believed it despite the evidence the previous messages laid out. It made my skin crawl and my stomach tighten like a fist, an inhuman dread gripping me firmly in its clutches.
The wind outside grew heavy, and the windows all seemed to yawn and groan in simultaneous protest, the sounds forming a frightful symphony. I peered outside one of the windows that stretched along the walls on either side and could see nothing in the empty streets and even less in the skies above.
The clouds all seemed to threaten an approaching storm, the sort that transformed streets into rivers and fields into swamps, a force capable of changing the face of the earth beneath it. And yet, not a raindrop was to be seen.
Just clouds, clouds behind which, if I looked for too long, I thought I could see shapes moving within, large and darker even than the surrounding gray, but gone as soon as I’d thought they’d appeared.
I searched for something – anything to say that would lead to a rational answer. It had always been in my nature, let my ex-wife tell it, a need to be right that made confusion feel all but unacceptable. I’ve never seen how it could be a negative, the pursuit of knowledge. Now I wonder if perhaps, I simply refused to.
He doesn’t remember his father. The thought rang like a question to which I could find no answer.
“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to ask you not to contact me again, please. Good luck with…whatever.”
“Wait, please I -”
The laptop chimed with a cheer I didn’t feel, as the call ended. I tried again, but there was no answer, and before I could go for a third, the account had been blocked.
“What the fuck was that about?” Clay asked, his unease apparent, eyes darting between myself and Phil who didn’t look any better himself.
I could think of nothing else to do but tell them the truth. When I was through, there was silence for a moment, that seemed to linger for hours between the three of us.
“We need to go.” Phil finally chimed.
“If any of that is true, then we need to get the fuck out of this place, now.”
Clay nodded, sliding his plate away and making his way over the counter and towards the door.
To my own surprise I felt a bloom of apprehension, feeling an argument building inside of me. They were right, obviously. Something was going on that I could make no sense of, and yet…still, I wanted to understand. People don’t just disappear, none of this was possible, and for reasons that still escape me I felt driven to prove it.
Yet the look on their faces, it made me uneasy. It was the face you’d expect from the crew of a ship far too long at sea, to the captain who’d denied them a return home. The entire trip had been for me, and though I may not have called for it, it was certainly my decision to visit this town, and my choices that had kept us there.
Something told me that disagreement might not be an option at this point. I stood and slid from the booth, casting one last glance at the laptop before nodding my agreement.
Clay gave a brief nod, and had turned to open the door when –
BOOM
There was a sound like a train derailing, or a bomb going off or both, somewhere closeby, that sent all three of us scattering along the ground. The windows shook, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with a sound like nothing I’d ever heard, a strange, all-present sort of hum that seemed to come from everywhere.
My eyes darted wildly about the room in my utter panic, searching for the cause, and I could swear I caught a glimpse of something outside. It was quick, and massive, moving about the sky as if unaffected by gravity, but as that awful hum grew I shut my eyes tight, trying to will away the ache in my skull
That smell from earlier, like burning ozone, grew thick until everyone was coughing uncontrollably. My head spun, and my vision shook.
KRA – BOOM
Another explosive sound rocked the air, shattering several of the windows. As quickly as it began, everything ended, the world going eerily still.
I don’t know how long it was before any of us felt comfortable moving, but Clay was the first, shooting to his feet and hissing a string of expletives. His arms ran with scarlet ribbons of blood, trailing between his fingers as he picked out the glass that had caught him.
He’d been nearest to the door which had burst with the first few windows, and caught the worst of it, though all of our heads rang and stomachs turned with nausea.
“What – what was that?” Phil managed. His eyes were wide, with a look I’d seen on pictures of war veterans or victims of some disaster, a glassy far-away stare.
“There was something…in the sky. What was it?”
His voice shook as though he was close to tears.
“I don’t know,” I answered, surprised by the sound of my own voice.
“We – we should call the fucking cops or something, the – the National Guard, the goddamn Air Force!” Clay cried, his voice cracking as fear and panic still overwhelmed him.
I nodded, head still throbbing and mind racing as I went for my cell phone. A feeling like cold water being dumped overhead made the blood freeze in my veins.
No signal.
I shook my head.
“There’s no service.”
Clay’s face contorted into a look that was a mix of surprise, denial, and terror, as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Phillip did the same, hand shaking all the while.
No one said anything, the two of them staring at their phones with variations of the same expression. They didn’t need to say a word. I knew what it meant.
“Let’s just go.” I said.
I struggled to my feet, the world seeming to spin beneath me for a moment as I gripped a chair for balance. I helped Phil to his feet, his eyes never once leaving the skies beyond the broken windows.
Clay led the way, grimacing as his arms continued to run with blood. As we made our way outside, I could tell immediately that something was deeply wrong. That smell hung thick in the air still, but it was more than that, the streets were emptier than before…
“They’re gone. Everything is fucking gone…”
Clay spoke the thought aloud, just as a cold, awful realization dawned on me.
The cars were gone now. Both the empty vehicles that had previously lined much of the streets, and Clay’s own truck, all gone. All of the vehicles but one, my own sedan, left idling in the middle of the street.
With all that happened my memory was spotty, but I felt certain that was not where I had left it.
Clay shook his head, moving aimlessly about the street head on a swivel, searching for his vehicle to no avail. Finally, he let out a scream, long and full of rage that echoed through the empty streets.
Phil just kept shaking his head, muttering something to himself. I hardly had time to react as Clay made his approach, throwing up my hands to partially block the punch he threw. I felt a shock in my jaw, and for a moment I felt heat in my face, for a split second the world disappearing behind darkness and flecks of light.
The commotion seemed to kick Phillip from his stupor, and he grabbed Clay, pulling him away from me.
“This was your fucking idea!” He cried, accusation heavy in his tone.
I ran my hand along my jaw. My lower lip was bleeding slightly, but I was otherwise okay with the exception of the perpetual sting in my face.
I know I ought to have left it alone, but I was scared and angry, days and months of dammed emotions coming to surface.
“You didn’t have to come! I didn’t make you listen, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I cried, taking a step closer.
Clay laughed, but it was a sound without any genuine humor, mocking and belittling.
“You’re a snide, self-assured asshole man. Always have been,” he said, his words coated in a palpable venom, but even worse, a sort of confident assuredness that spoke of a conviction behind them, as though he’d thought these things for quite a while.
“It’s the reason we’re the only two people still willing to put up with you, it’s the reason for where you are in life with that dead end job, and it’s the reason Tracy left. You can’t ever consider someone else is right, you chide and chide, and make stupid comments until they finally give into you!”
I wanted to feel something, anger, hate, an urge to hit him back even, but I couldn’t. A part of me could only sit in the recognition that, in some ways, he was right.
“Stop Clay, this isn’t the time!” Phil said, putting himself between the two of us.
“We need to go,” he turned to me, “We’re going to have to use your car, are you okay to drive.”
I nodded, though my thoughts were still on Clay’s own words.
“Then let’s go.”
Clay’s eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I thought I could see his expression softening before he turned and made for the car. I followed, and until we reached the car, the faint winds moving through the buildings was the only noise to accompany us.
My mind raced, Clay’s words, the call from earlier, and whatever had happened in the diner all spinning through my head in a vortex of thought. None of it made sense.
This place, that thing in the sky, the cars, it was impossible. I knew that as we left it behind, it would always bother me, like a picture left askew, this blindspot in what I knew to be possible.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”
A voice echoed through the empty streets, a woman’s by the sound of it, carried from somewhere that seemed both near and distantly behind us. It froze all three of us in place, the same question passed silently between us as though no one wanted to be the first to ask whether anyone else had heard it.
“Hello?” That voice again, except this time I felt certain it was somewhere ahead.
Phil snapped to face it, the fear that had seemingly dissipated slowly returning to the surface, his eyes darting about nervously.
Clay looked at me hard, shaking his head slowly as though he could hear my thoughts. I narrowed my eyes, holding back none of the bitterness I felt.
“So some woman is alone wandering this place with…whatever the hell that thing is and you wanna leave her?”
Looking back, I can’t account for the sudden defiance I felt. Perhaps my ego had finally caught up with the earlier wounds, or perhaps the idea of leaving someone here felt too much like the failure of my relationship. I can’t be certain, likely I’d need the help of a therapist over days of work to understand, and days I do not have.
Clay looked as though he wanted to spit in my face, shaking his head, eyes filled with something cold and unrecognizing.
“You’re a fucking fool trying to play hero to make up for a failed marriage.” he spat the words, glaring at me with a look verging awfully close to pure hate.
“And you’ll get one of us killed for it.”
I felt a twinge of something at that, hurt, anger, perhaps both, but an even more awful realization that he might not have been wrong.
There were a few moments of silence following his declaration, as though the venom in his words stood guard over the space between us all – daring someone to be the first to speak.
It was Phil to break the uncomfortable silence.
“He – he’s right,” Phil stammered, though he looked as though he dreaded the words.
“It – it wouldn’t be right to leave her..”
His support provided a temporary salve for my wounded pride, as I clapped a hand over his shoulder in a gesture of my appreciation.
Clay scoffed, looking between the two of us and shaking his head.
“Whatever.” he relented, climbing into the backseat and letting the door slam shut behind him.
Phil scanned the ground for a moment, sighing for a long moment, before looking back at me.
“He’s pissed, understandably…but I’m sure he gets it. Let just see if we can find…whoever that was,” he nodded for me to follow as he made his way towards the car, pausing for a moment.
He met my eyes.
“Just – promise you won’t get out of the car. We’ll drive around and look, and if we can’t find anyone, we go.”
I nodded.
“Yeah, okay. Promise.”
With that, he made his way into the car. I followed, feeling suddenly very claustrophobic in the vehicle as we began to make our way through the streets.
“Just listen for her,” I said, rolling down all four of the windows as we began moving through the streets at random, listening for any sign of the person we’d heard earlier.
At some point, I began calling out, much to Clay’s dismay, shouting for anyone to respond.
It wasn’t long before eventually, someone did.
“Please! Help me! It’s coming!”
That voice again, much more clear this time, coming from a few streets away within one of the residential areas. I veered left, onto the road from where I could hear it coming. My foot settled on the gas, an unusual determination swelling in me as the calls grew louder, until we’d arrived outside a house.
It was no different than the others, a single-story, red brick home, with all the windows drawn but one, and yet the sight of it sent chills down my spine. The front door sat wide open, yet I could see nothing inside.
Clay was already shaking his head when I turned to face them.
“Fuck no. No. Look at that place it’s…not right…” he trailed off, unable to put the feeling into words.
I knew what he meant, I felt it too. We all could, staring back at the entrance like the maw of some animal.
And yet as that voice echoed from within, I felt stirred by an uncharacteristic sort of boldness.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“I’m not gonna push it. Just…wait here. I’ll be back.”
Clay scoffed, and Phil just looked on with sad eyes, nodding almost to himself.
“Then I’m coming.”
Clay looked ready to explode, staring at Phillip as though he’d grown another head.
“You always go along with his bullshit.” He said, eyes narrowed as he looked at Phillip.
“Whatever. I’m staying here, you two have fun. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m leaving without you both.”
I wanted to argue but knew it would accomplish nothing, so instead, I gave a brief nod and exited the car.
Phil hurried from the backseat, following behind and I could hear the sound of the door’s automatic lock as we made some distance. The nearer we came to that front door, the more I could see the house inside, with a standard foyer and living room, nothing unusual but for the utter state of disarray it was left in. Shelves were toppled, and furniture overturned, various things scattered about the floor as though a tornado had somehow moved through the place.
Somehow, the opening felt…eerie, as though what lie on the other side was more than a mere house, but some other world in which something awful had happened. A part of me wondered if Clay wasn’t right, and considered turning back on the spot, but the idea filled my mouth with an awful taste at the satisfaction I knew it would bring him.
So, spurred forth by my own ego, I stepped inside. The smell was immediate, like sitting too close to an old television set just an acrid static that singed at your nose hairs, as was the feeling of a sort of chill that gripped me and made my stomach turn with nausea, my vision buzzing momentarily.
“Looks worse than the diner when we left,” Phil commented, looking over one of the few coffee tables still on its feet.
I nodded, the implications of the thought making me feel uneasy.
Broken glass crunched beneath my feet as I stepped forward, peering into the kitchen. On the wall hung a photo, a man and a woman, and three children. I felt something shift in me, as I wondered where all of the individuals were now, and if anyone would ever know. I wondered who it was we had heard.
There was another question that was clawing at the back of my mind, one I didn’t want to acknowledge yet couldn’t ignore. Would we join them if I couldn’t find her soon?
“HELP ME!” The cry echoed from somewhere deeper in the house, sudden and shrill, making me jump as I spun to face it.
Phil’s reaction was the same, our eyes meeting as we searched for the source, settling on a door in the hallway ahead.
Even at a distance, I could see the tremors that took him, and didn’t feel far off myself, but I was there for a reason.
“You don’t have to follow me,” I said in earnest, as I began to make my way forth. Somehow, by the echo from behind the door, I knew there was a basement on the other side. I didn’t have to look to know Phillip was behind me, breathing nervously and muttering barely silent prayers.
I opened the door, and we began to descend into the darkness below, hands feeling along the wall for a light switch.
I felt something brush past my cheek, a string hanging overhead, and upon pulling it a dim bulb sputtered to life, offering what little light it could manage.
It did little to illuminate what lie in the basement beyond, only really serving to cast eerie shadows along the stairwell, but at least we could see where our feet were to land.
“Help me….help…” that voice again but…not nearly as loud as before or as urgent.
I felt one of those unearthly chills, as though my body were warning of something I couldn’t yet perceive, and it frightened me.
“Do you see her?” Phillip whispered, voice still shaking as he stepped behind me, kneeling slightly as if worried standing at his full height might attract somethings attention, it took me a moment to realize I was doing the same.
“No. I can’t see a damn thing,” I breathed back, gritting my teeth at the squeal of the staircase beneath my feet.
Feeling its weight in my pocket, I remembered my phone. It had been all but useless since we’d been attacked by…whatever that thing was, but the function of a flashlight was the one thing I knew it could still serve.
I shined the light onto the ground below, a gray cement slab that seemed to extend through the entire room.
“help…please…please help…”
That voice again, this time so small it was barely more than a whisper from…somewhere around the corner. We turned into the basement, the light exposing a small hallway ahead, leading to a boiler room.
In the hall sat a door, closed though I could see a light glowing beneath it, and hear the woman’s voice from within.
I glanced back at Phil, his eyes never wavering from the door, and he simply nodded. We pushed forth.
“help…please…”
The nearer I grew to the door, the more my skin began to crawl, something off about the voice in a way I could only now process. There was an odd…hiss to it, a mechanical crackle that I couldn’t place.
Hands shaking I pushed the door open. The room was dark, with only the glow of an old television set to prevent total blindness.
“Do you smell that?” Phillip asked.
I nodded, that same ozone scent hanging heavy in the air.
It took a moment to process what I was hearing, but as it began to click, confusion and dread filled me in equal measure.
“Help me…help…” The voice echoed from the television.
“That…that doesn’t make any sense,” Phillip said, voice no longer a whisper as a familiar dread filled his words.
“We – we heard it from blocks away that…that’s impossible,”
The light on the screen seemed to shine with such sudden force it temporarily blinded us, bathing the room in an eerie white light, the old box set glowing like a supernova. The air seemed poised to set alight, the electric stench so strong I could feel my lungs burning.
CRASH
The house shook, threatening to collapse in on us as that awful sound rocked the earth. The screen of the old television burst in a shower of sparks and glass, scattering across the room.
Phil’s eyes met mine, a primal sort of terror filling them as his hands clasped over his ears. Something like a shriek, ancient and animal, but put through a computer filter or something of the sort pierced the air seeming to come from everywhere at once. All I could do in those moments was cover my ears and pray until the awful cacophony ceased and the air took on that eerie stillness.
It took a moment before either of us moved, myself first, scrambling for the phone I’d dropped in the commotion before hurrying to help Phillip to his feet.
“What – what was it? What the hell was that?” he asked, shock still working its way through him.
“C’mon,” I urged, pulling him towards the way we’d come, and answer already in mind.
“We have to go check on Clay now!”
That seemed to stir him, and the two of us raced out of the house, in worse condition than it had been before, and out into the front yard.
The weather had seemingly shifted in the minutes we’d spent inside, the clouds dark and foreboding, the wind whipping leaves from trees and lashing its tendrils across my face.
The car was gone. The space it had occupied was almost mockingly empty, that fucking stench filling the air. There was no sign of Clay, and something told me, there wouldn’t be any longer.
“It got him…” I hardly realized I was speaking the words as I did, my mind putting two and two together.
“That thing…tricked us, and it got him.”
The swell of emotion I felt threatened to send me into freefall. He was here because of me, we were on this trip for me, and it was my choice that had gotten him into this, and now…
God, and now what? I couldn’t even be sure of what I was guilty of, couldn’t even be certain whether I’d gotten my friend killed or simply whisked off for some unknown fate.
“He was right…” Phillip breathed, tears streaming openly as he stared at the spot the car had once occupied, as if at any second it might return.
The wind picked up, sending ominous whispers through the trees and tracing an icy chill down my back.
“We should’ve left…we – we should’ve gone when we had the chance. It’s gonna get us now…” his tone was almost child-like, past the point of fear almost as though he were stating the dreaded reality.
I shook my head, stepping in front of him and gripping him by the shoulders.
“Phil, we have to go, now. We can – we can walk,” I spoke, though in hindsight I think even I wasn’t convinced by my words.
“This place isn’t that big, it would take maybe half an hour, forty minutes, we could just stick to the main road and walk out of here.”
Phil laughed, a sound devoid of humor or mocking or any sort of emotion, cold and harsh.
“It’s not going to let us go. It gave us that chance, and we didn’t take it. Don’t you see?”
The skies above seemed to groan and rumble as a warning of an approaching storm and yet, no signs of lightning were to be seen. The wind grew stronger, whipping my jacket about with such force it almost moved me.
Phillip just shook his head, staring up at the sky.
“Too late…”
CRASH
The air itself seemed to shake as a sound like the sky tearing open above us threatened to deafen me.
The sky above was an ominous gray, every cloud swelling with the threat of torrential rain, and at first I could see nothing but the sunlight filtered gray through the mist.
And then, there was movement.
Brief, at first, a flash of something dark enough that the sun couldn’t pierce it as it passed between an area where the cloud cover was just a bit lighter.
Everything shook, my very bones seeming to move out of place as the sky seemed to split in half. From the clouds above, I could see something emerge.
At that moment, it cast a circular shadow almost thirty feet ahead, passing over the street like some new celestial body.
If you’ve never seen something impossible, if you’ve never been witness to something your mind knows inherently to be wrong no matter what reality seems to demonstrate – you can never understand what I felt in that moment.
I found myself grasping for answers, a nauseating sense of horror wracking my body.
“It’s – it’s a fucking weather balloon or – or…” I could find no words, every explanation falling flat in the face of the impossible.
Its shape was circular, a perfect sphere with nothing resembling wings, or flaps, or rudders or anything that could explain the way it held itself afloat. It was a pale white, so much so that it almost reflected the light like another sun in the sky. The air hung thick with the smell and taste of ozone, so much so I couldn’t help but cough violently.
It was gone again, disappearing into the clouds, moving with such sudden speed I knew it depended on more than the wind. For several moments we saw no sight of it above, and yet the sound of its movement grew until the ground seemed to shake.
“It’s coming closer,” I spoke the realization, voice hoarse as I sputtered another cough, eyes meeting Phil’s.
He smiled sadly, and in that moment I understood that I had to flee.
I didn’t wait for Phil to follow, my legs pounding as I ran back towards the house, and away from that thing.
The entire world seemed to shake, the air itself somehow vibrating until I could feel it in my bones. A glance over my shoulder told me why, as I passed the side of the house we’d just exited, I caught sight of the object descending until it was barely thirty feet or so off the ground.
It was bigger than I’d imagined, at least the size of three school buses in length, and by the look of it, it seemed entirely composed of some pale metallic substance, almost like a reflective marble. I lost sight of it as I neared the car, but I knew very well that it was directly overhead.
It made a…a sound, like the bellow of some horrid, ancient beast had been run through autotune as it closed in on him, growing closer and closer until I could feel it, feel the static that seemed to radiate forth from it.
I didn’t stop, even as the mechanical roar rose to a fever pitch, combining with a human shriek to form a sound so awful I’m sure it would haunt me for the rest of my life if I expected that to be long. I chanced a singular glance over my shoulder before passing behind the house and into its backyard, and what I saw I still can’t be sure of.
It was as though Phillip’s body was…dissolving, coming apart in ribbons of flesh, the air around it visibly warped by some sort of energy that seemed to pour forth from that….thing, its only trace the ripples of distortion it left in the air around his rapidly unraveling form. It hung above his head, pulsing and whirling – a strange moon in the daylight.
I kept running until there was nothing but the sound of my own breath and pounding heart, long after silence had settled over the town.
As shock began to take effect, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving me feeling bruised, battered, scared and alone, I found my way into the local public library.
That’s where I’ve been for the past few hours. I’m staying off the streets. It’s not safe, that thing could descend on me at any time and do…god knows what.
I’m writing this because…well, because I’ve done all I can to try and reach out for help, to no avail.
There is little else in the silence for me to do but perhaps try and write some account of what happened here, in the off-chance that anyone finds themselves wondering about the town of Criers Creek or the even more unlikely scenario they’re wondering about me.
To Clay and Phil’s families, if you’re seeing this and still remember them, I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.
And to whoever is reading this, be willing to trust the people around you sometimes. And stay away from Crier’s Creek, there is something in the skies above, something that has claimed this place as its own.
