I woke up on the morning of the 17th to some texts from a number I didn’t recognize with an Oregon area code. They came around 3:30 in the morning. I screenshot them for you.
I noticed, like you probably did, that the only capital letters spell out “I AM HE.” This guy really likes his little riddles. It pissed me off, but it also scared me. The unknown number could very well belong to someone in the Infected Town. But if it’s u/helpmenosleep or u/alanpwtf, why are there no random misspellings or jumbled letters? Other than the sporadic capitalization, they seem pretty lucid.
I also got a text from a different number, one with a Chicago area code. I know Alan went to Chicago, but he never lived there. So it’s probably not his phone. The delivery time on that was 6:27 AM, around three hours before I woke up. Here’s that.
I rushed into Blake and Heather’s room and showed them. Neither had received messages of any kind.
On the way into town we parked on the bridge to check out Blake’s sighting of that hand. I noticed the silence again as soon as I stepped out of the car, like the bridge marked the edge of a bubble where the atmosphere completely shifted. Heather played ignorant, but I think she guessed we weren't telling her something. She doesn't read these accounts. She says they freak her out.
There was nothing on the railings of the bridge or anything hanging off - no tree branches or monsters. I jumped down beneath the bridge, followed by Blake, and found a dry creek. No one was there, but along the banks was an obvious camp of some kind - blankets and sleeping bags, a collapsed tent, and an empty fire pit. Someone had been here recently, evidenced by a few embers still glowing under the ashes. I wondered if it was the guy in the leather jacket and the girl.
I wanted to go to the high school first, since that’s what the Chicago number said I should do. Heather did not. She kept saying how it was a trap, we’d be ambushed. She was adamant. I decided to heed her advice. I planned on visiting it the next day anyway; hopefully Heather would decide to stay back at the motel. To you she probably sounds like the voice of reason, but I wasn't thinking like that. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
We went to the apartment building again instead, since I hadn't explored it thoroughly last time. We jumped in through the window I’d opened after we’d put on respirators and I’d pulled my hair back (Heather and Blake both have short hair).
It was the same as before - oppressive, dark, horrible. Blake wanted to check out the basement first thing to see the creature’s body. I was feeling brave (read: stupid) with him by my side (he’s always had that effect on me) so I agreed. Heather was looking uneasy, staying away from walls and hugging herself. She seemed sure we were about to be attacked. But when nothing happened as we passed through the lobby she started to relax, and as we whispered to each other it started to feel more like a regular exploration. Knowing what I know now, I couldn’t believe I’d gone in there alone last time.
The floors creaked and moaned above us as we moved towards the basement, probably just settling. I thought warily that those people we’d seen the night before could be in the building. The stairwell is probably my least favorite part of that building.
I pointed out the boilers once we were in that room, saying I’d seen the body behind them. I didn’t want to look again - once was enough - but Blake eagerly squeezed himself into the space between the wall and the boilers and shone his flashlight back there.
“Where is it?” he asked after a moment.
“Like, right there,” I said, confused as to how he was missing it. It was pretty conspicuous. “On top of the black pile of whatever.”
Blake slid back out of the space, shaking his head. “There’s nothing back there.”
I ran to check. Sure enough, there was no body. The black pile seemed a bit bigger, but other than that the area was empty. Maybe it hadn’t been dead. It sure looked dead, though - dead and mummified. I snapped a few pictures.
Come to it, we took a lot of pictures down there. These three were the only ones that showed anything more than blurry darkness. In the first two you can see the boilers to your right. It was taken from the door to the room. The last is one of about 25 that I snapped of that black pile. It was the only one that came out. Keep in mind this camera was set to normal settings with the flash on.
Next we headed back upstairs to the third floor, at my request. It was a long climb in that dark, claustrophobic stairwell. The third floor hallway was as decayed as the rest of the building. Most of the mold was on the ceilings and slowly spreading down the walls. Our feet crunched on broken glass and litter.
There were quite a few open doors up here, none of them numbered. Blake pointed his light into a room with an old model train set, which immediately attracted his attention. Heather followed him, but I followed my own clue. I went down to the end of the hallway and found the apartment that had been shaded in that note left in my car the first day I visited. The door was closed but unlocked. I went inside.
Whereas in the hallway outside the mold was sporadic along the walls, here the walls were all gray or black. I walked down the short entryway to the living room. Moisture dripped from the corners. The venetian blinds on the window were rotting off their hangers. A flatscreen TV rested against one wall. A gray, decaying couch sat opposite it. A small laptop perched on one of the arms, seemingly untouched by the decay. I withdrew my spare sweatshirt from my pack, wrapped the computer in it and decided to take it with me.
I checked out the bedroom mentioned in Jessica’s posts. Sure enough, the bed was flipped onto its side against the wall, a large black concave shape carved into the underside of the mattress. The vent she spoke of was smaller than I’d imagined, only about five inches tall by nine wide. Mold snaked from it, dense around the dark opening.
I went back out to the living room and looked for anything else of interest, but didn't find much. I was about to head back to the door when a sound caught my attention.
Thump, slide… thump, slide… Like a fucking campfire story. It was getting louder and louder. I called for Blake and set about trying to find its source. Thump, slide… thump, sliiiiide… For the life of me I couldn’t see where it was coming from. I checked every room, but it was loudest in the living room.
I called for Blake again. No reply. Suddenly there was a SLAM. I raced back to the front door to find it had been thrown shut behind me. Panic mounting, I scrambled to open it. Locked. I was trapped in this room!
Before I could get my shaking hands to work the deadbolt, there was the loud sound of something banging against metal. I spun around just in time to see a vent cover high up on the wall behind me get torn from its screws and drop to the ground.
An arm snaked out of the hole in the wall, white as candlewax, emaciated. Long, twisted fingers clawed at the air. Another arm came through, the hand groping for the wall underneath the hole. The other hand found the wall above and pushed. When the head appeared, I snapped out of shock enough to scream.
It was not the face I’d seen on the mold pile, but it was similar. White and gaunt with a stretched, too-large smile. It had eyes, though they were closed, the lids seemingly fused together. It had hair, too, just a few short strands atop its skull. The head was tilted at an extreme angle to the left so it could fit into the tiny space. But as soon as it cleared the edge of the vent it jerked to the side and drooped to “look” at me upside down. Its neck must have been twisted 180 degrees. I screamed again. That horrible smile...
I took my eyes off the creature moving towards me and clawed at the door handle. Blake was on the other side, shouting furiously, banging at the wood. Heather was sobbing. The deadbolt stuck as I tried to turn it and I cried out, stealing a glance back at my pursuer. It had cleared its shoulders and most of its bony chest, slowly slipping down the wall. Its arms reached towards the ground. It was still smiling right at me.
I pushed against the deadbolt and was finally graced with the sound of a solid click. Crying, I threw the door open and rushed into Blake’s arms. He immediately saw the creature and let out a panicked “What the fuck?!” Heather screamed.
He pulled me away from it. It had touched the ground, its legs sliding out of the vent behind it, twisted and impossibly thin. It reached towards us. Then Blake slammed the door on it.
Our escape is a blur until we were in the car, speeding towards the bridge. I found it hard to breathe and Blake was driving, one hand rubbing my shoulder. Heather was huddled in the back, trembling violently. The laptop I’d stolen rested on my lap, still wrapped in my sweater.
We made it back to the motel and each took long showers, putting the clothes we’d worn into a garbage bag to wash. We didn’t touch anything unless we wore gloves, but I don’t know if that’s even enough anymore. It might already be too late. I can’t say I wasn’t warned.
Blake took a bunch of pictures on the third floor. However, predictably, only one showed anything. Here it is, a closeup of the mold on one of the walls in an apartment. Pretty disappointing, but it’s what we have.
I’m writing these and getting them up as fast as I can, but I’m finding it hard to focus. The exploring has left me tired, and now I can’t sleep, but for a few hours a night. I’ve traded unnerving dreams for no dreams at all. A lot of you will say it’s because I’m infected, and at this point I’m getting pretty scared that that might be the case. I can’t sleep, and when I do I see that face. I don't think it's safe for me to leave.
I’ll save the rest for next time. For the first time, I’m really regretting this ever started.
---
Credits
Comments