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Category:
Horror
Publisher: Lulu.com
Type: Fiction
Pages: 303
Copyright: December 2007
The flesh-eating creatures were released from hell during the solar eclipse; their mission was to kill and create havoc on the earth.
Through the darkness, the malevolent shift-changers watched their victims, waiting for their moment to feast. The evil beings roamed the earth in large tribes, believing that one-day their kind would rule, fearing only one thing…
From ancient times the clans of slayers evolved, being gifted with special abilities to overcome their enemy, but they were of human flesh, and had the lifespan of mankind, and many were killed over time. To each family, there was an appointed guardian, an immortal being of great strength, but they could not defeat the beast.
In this era, one of the slayers was to rise to his full potential, but he was a stranger amongst those he was to save, ultimately being accused of the destructiveness the town had endured.
It was the spookiest place Chester had ever seen in his life, and he didn't like being there, but he was following Bert, hanging tight to his rifle as he kept his pace. The iron gate squeaked when Bert opened it, its mantra lingering long after they stepped through it.
"I don't want to sound like I'm complaining or anything, but do we have to do this?" Chester nervously questioned.
"I don't like being here any more than you do, Chester, but when you're looking for the beast, you have to enter through the gates of hell," Bert explained.
"This sure is an old graveyard," Chester noted.
"Yeah, old and not well looked after," Bert agreed.
They carefully stepped over the graves. Good souls or not, neither wanted to violate the desecrated ground. They approached the old wooden door, hesitating before Bert knocked, but as expected, no one answered.
"You ready for this?" Bert asked Chested with a quieted voice. Chester nodded his head, wincing as Bert opened the door. "Damn..." Bert covered his face with his arm. "What's that smell?"
"Sewage," Chester remarked, pinching his nose closed with his fingers as they stepped through the house, and it wasn't long before the source of the odor presented itself. Inch deep dark goo, covered the floor in the adjoining room. "I'm for getting the hell out of here," Chester spoke up.
Bert was reluctant to leave. He knew something was in this house. He could sense it, but he agreed, deciding they could keep watch from the outside.
Chester inhaled the musty air, once he was outside and Bert closed the door. "What is this place?" he asked.
"It used to belong to Keith Bennett. He was a big city attorney many years back, before someone killed him, but now it just belongs to the souls buried on the east side. "
"The east side?" Chester repeated, sounding obviously confused.
Bert moved past him to the open side of the yard, pointing through the dark to a distance Chester couldn't see. "There's a little gate there. That's where this cemetery started, then the Vangriff's built a mausoleum for their family, but that wasn't good enough, so they built a house around that, which explains the house."
"So you're telling me that house is really just one big mausoleum?" Chester questioned.
"No someone did actually live there. A lot of someone's, at least for a while," Bert said.
"So where are the bodies?" Chester pursued.
"I never actually saw the end result, but I'm thinking the tombs are somewhere within the walls," Bert suggested.
Chester's face expressed his discontentment, his head shaking as he stepped further away from the house.
"I'll wait outside the gate, if you don't mind," he told Bert.
Bert snickered, but he understood. There were tales from this place that had even scared him, but the truth was, he'd had very little personal experience with the place. He joined Chester outside the gate, accepting the cigarette Chester offered him. "I'm surprised you don't have a list of stories you could tell about this place, seeing you've been around a bit longer than I have," Bert hinted.
Chester nodded his head. "Yep, but that tomb thing was a new one," he revealed. "What I heard of was mostly about the family, and the graves," he said. "My dad used to tell us boys about the zombies that came from here."
Bert laughed. "Now that's a new one."
Chester didn't seem to share in his humor. "You know sometimes certain things tend to stay with a fellas mind, while other things just drift away." He caught Bert's undivided attention. "I was about twelve back when me and the gang decided we was gonna check it out for ourselves. We thought we could capture some tales to tell in town. Make ourselves out to be hero's or something." He chuckled with the memory of it, "but it didn't quite work out that way. The house was here even back then, but no one was residing in it. There were six of us..." he snickered again. "Ed was with us as well. He was always with me when I'd go off on one of my adventures," he paused again with his solemn thoughts of his departed friend.
"I didn't know you and Ed went back that far," Bert relayed with surprise.
Chester's head nodded. "Yeah, we go way back, and there are many memories. A lot of them good," Chester informed.
"So what happened on your adventure? Did you get to see the zombies?" Bert took him back to his original story.
"Truthfully, I'm not sure what it was we saw. To us back then, it was zombies, but now that I think back, I really don't know."
Bert was engrossed with Chester's story, and he wanted more details. "Tell me what happened," he pressed.
Chester scratched behind his ear, wishing he'd never started this. He leaned back against the car, his eyes closing as he brought the details back to his mind, explaining them to Bert as he remembered. He saw the six them preparing for their nightly excursion, talking of their plans while sharpening their weapons, which at that time were thin tree limbs and their pocketknives. He smiled when he recalled how he'd carved his weapon to a sharp bark-less white point. 'No zombies would be getting him with a perfected weapon such as that,' he remembered thinking. They waited with anticipation for the evening to come, knowing they couldn't tell their folks about it. All of them had been warned to stay away from that place, "but we were warriors you see," he told Bert. Bert nodded with understanding, listening as Chester went on. They hid in the woods, painting their faces dark green to blend in with the bushes, squatting behind them to watch the haunted graveyard. "We didn't see them coming from behind us," Chester revealed, "and in the dark it was hard to tell what they really were, but you know those old movies where the dead people come at ya with their arms out in front of them?" Bert nodded. "Well they looked something like that." Then Chester laughed. "We screamed and ran liked scared little girls," he confided, "but there was one thing I will never forget about that night."
"What's that?" Bert probed.
"That thing that nearly got a hold of me..." He looked into Bert's face. "It had no eyes. Just open sockets where his eyes should be, and he smelled something awful."
"So did you tell the tale to the town folks?" Bert questioned.
"Nope, we never did speak of it. It was our pact not to. We couldn't be having people teasing us because we ran." Chester turned to look at the woods behind him, before he crossed the dirt road to the edge of the over grown brush, glancing back at Bert's watchful eyes before he stepped in, coming out with his old weathered weapon.
Bert's eyes widened as he looked at the frail tree limb in Chester's hand.
"It held up quite well, considering," Chester said, handing it to Bert.
"Wow." Was all Bert could think of to say, wiping the remaining crumbling bark from his hand.
"It's not much of a weapon anymore," Chester sadly revealed.
"But it's a memory," Bert reasoned.
"Yeah, but not a good one." Chester took it from Bert's hand and threw it back to the woods.
Bert enjoyed Chester's tales, but there was always a grain of truth to what the man said. He understood the fears of youth, he'd had a few of his own, but this one really seemed to get to Chester. Maybe it was because they were standing in front of the place inciting Chester's bad memory. It had never been resolved, lingering in the back of Chester's mind for many years.
"Why do you think they never came down to the town?" Bert asked Chester.
Chester chuckled. "You want my educated opinion?" Chester joked.
"Well yes," Bert confirmed. "I mean this other thing has made its way down, why have it's taken so long do you think?"
Chester shrugged. "Maybe the game's not as fruitful," he suggested. "Then again, maybe it is the era of the end of the world as we know it. My father used to tell us that the time of revelations was near. You know, when God raised the dead from the earth?"
"I'm thinking that's the last step," Bert suggested, "but the worlds still turning."
"Satan's army," Chested spoke. "If it ain't good, it has to be evil, right?"
Bert didn't know what to say. He really didn't want to believe in myths. They scared him, but he couldn't completely dismiss them either. "I suppose that makes sense," Bert acknowledged.
"And what's coming from the mountain, that thing that's killing people and doing all the damage... It's certainly not a good thing," he led.
"True enough," Bert agreed.
"We have to considered the possibilities," Chester urged.
"So what you're saying is that we're under attack from... the devil?"
"Something along those lines. The dominions must come from an evil source," Chester reasoned.
"All right," Bert accepted the possibility, "but what do we do about it?"
It hadn't really struck Chester until that moment, that Bert was asking his advice, like he was the all- knowing leader, but the truth was, he wasn't either all knowing or a leader. Not since he was a child, forging his army of children into pretend battles, but from this reality, he ran. His weapons were not sufficient to conquer these demons. "Truthfully, Bert, I have no idea, but I don't think we're equipped for this war."
Bert looked to the house. What he saw, was all the legends coming together in one place, and he was beginning to believe that the threshold of hell stood right there before him.
Three hours of standing watch had passed by quickly, and Bert was reluctant to leave the place unguarded, but his eyes argued that he needed sleep.
"We'll come back in the morning and give this place a thorough check," he said.
Chester agreed. He was more than ready to get away from there, and he hated the thought that he and Bert were stuck with a job he and his army of six, couldn't handle years back, but they were much bigger now, though it probably meant nothing. He glanced to the clock on the car radio. It was only a little after eight, but it felt much later. He wasn't sure they'd find anything during the daylight hours, believing the evil entities slept with the light, and he hoped Bert brought a few of his deputies with them. There was a lot of ground to cover.
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