Sons of Chaos

by Jerry Hart

  They were inside now, sitting at Collin’s computer. There were half-naked women on the monitor. Old Owen laughed; they were looking at naughty stuff! At that age. Collin was something else.

  “Look at the body on that chick,” Collin said, turning back to Owen, a sly grin on his face. “You think she’s hot?” He was pointing to a redhead lying on a leopard-skin bed who was wearing very revealing clothing.

  Owen said nothing. Collin’s grin faded as he turned back to the screen. Old Owen saw the sadness in his friend’s eyes. He wanted to scream at his young self, telling him to talk, to eat food, to stop wetting the bed at fourteen, but he couldn’t. Because this was just a memory, and it wasn’t interactive.

  And then a cold thought occurred to Old Owen: He hadn’t been controlling his actions at all—something else was. Some thing in his head. And Old Owen was watching it.

  Now it was nighttime again. Owen got up and changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt (he didn’t wet himself tonight), then went out the front door silently, leaving it wide open. The air was thick and hot as Owen walked down the hilly street and away from the Matthews house.

  As he walked down a lonely highway, Old Owen felt like someone was watching him, but he couldn’t look around to see if he was right; Young Owen was looking forward and just kept walking.

  But Old Owen had to know what was behind him.

  * * *

  Before he knew it, Owen was outside of his young body and standing on the side of the road. His younger self kept walking as if nothing had happened.

  “What the hell?” he asked aloud. He spun around, facing the opposite direction he had been going. Staring down the long, dark road, he saw nothing. But he still felt eyes staring back at him. What if it was the shape-shifters? Did they follow him all the way to the city? Owen honestly thought so at that moment.

  He turned to face his young self again and noticed the little boy was well ahead. Old Owen jogged to catch up. He wasn’t surprised to find he wasn’t out of breath. As he walked alongside the younger man, Owen wondered how he had been able to jump out of his subconscious. Perhaps he had been shoved out by whatever was already occupying Young Owen’s mind. Or maybe Old Owen did it all on his own in his stubborn need to find out what was following him.

  Whatever the reason, if he could get out, surely he could jump back in. Owen ran ahead of his younger self, walking backward and facing him. Then he dove toward Young Owen and....

  * * *

  Welcome back, a voice said after Old Owen situated himself into his young mind.

  Who are you? he asked, startled.

  I’m you, of course, said the voice, which was deep and soothing. And there’s something I think you should see.

  The sun was slowly rising and Owen could see the mountains in the fields on either side of him. A car sped by, honking at him. Old Owen no longer felt like he was being followed by whatever had been watching him in the night.

  Before he knew it, he was downtown, on the very street where he met Chris for the first time.

  What do you need to show me? Old Owen asked the voice in his head.

  It’s not here. I think we should go ahead in time....

  Now Young Owen was lying in the backseat of a car, staring at the driver’s seat in front of his face. The voice appeared to be in control of the memory flow.

  Where are we? Owen asked, though he already knew the answer. He was sleeping in the backseat of Chris’s car. They were under a bridge just outside of San Sebastian, where Chris kept his car because he couldn’t pay for gas. Trident River was running under this bridge. Owen could hear the faint roar of the water.

  Look down on the floor, said the voice.

  Owen did and saw a white piece of paper, facedown. It looked familiar. He picked it up and flipped it over. It was a flier, and on the flier was his face. It was his missing-person flier.

  He knew, Owen thought. Chris knew I was missing.

  That’s right, said the voice. And yet, he never returned you to where you belonged. He kept you for himself.

  Owen didn’t understand what was happening now. He had come out of his stupor by this time, yet he did not remember having found this flier before.

  Oh, but you did find it before. This isn’t time-travel; you’re remembering the past.

  Then how come I don’t remember this?

  Because it doesn’t want you to remember.

  What doesn’t?

  The voice didn’t answer. Young Owen put down the flier and crawled to the passenger’s seat. Chris snored lightly in the driver’s seat, his head resting against the window. Old Owen remembered this day. It was a few weeks after they first met.

  The sun was beginning to set.

  Oh no! Owen thought. I don’t want to see this. Something’s about to happen. I remember, and I don’t want to see it again.

  Young Owen was going through Chris’s glove compartment. There were receipts and other pieces of paper.

  Look at him, the voice said, referring to Chris. He knew all about you and, yet, he kept you all to himself. He was destroying his own life and taking you with him.

  Chris punished himself by resorting to the homeless lifestyle after his movie-production company failed. Owen never understood why he would do such a thing, though. If only he could get inside Chris’s head.

  It’s not like my life was all that great with the Matthews, Owen offered.

  But he never even gave you a choice, did he?

  As Owen listened to the voice, he was reminded of the one he’d heard while Michael was extracting the information from his head at the garage days ago. The voice had mocked him when the memory of Daniel falling out of the tree house popped into his head. The voice had belonged to Michael, though.

  Hadn’t it?

  Young Owen continued to rifle through the contents just as Old Owen grew more anxious. He knew what was about to happen.

  Can we go? Old Owen asked. I don’t want to watch this?

  There’s something you need to know, Owen. You can’t give the orb to the invaders.

  This was the last thing Owen expected to hear. Why not? Who are they? Where did they come from?

  They’re aliens. They sensed the orb’s power after Michael activated it. They came to collect it for themselves, so they can use it to destroy planets, including this one.

  How do you know this? Something was coming closer to the car, and Old Owen knew it. Young Owen was oblivious to it as he continued to look through the glove compartment. He found a long red pencil inside.

  I know because it knows. There’s something in your head, Owen. It’s been controlling your actions off and on since your father’s death.

  Owen was speechless. The thing outside the car got closer, but was temporarily forgotten by him.

  What’s in my head? How do you know this?

  I don’t know what it is; I’m just the middleman between you and it, and it wants you to know that you cannot give them the orb.

  The thing was right outside the door now. Young Owen finally looked out the window and saw something crawling out of Trident River toward him. It looked like a young girl. Her yellow eyes were staring straight at him as she crawled ever closer. There appeared to be blood on the sides of her mouth and on her lips. Her skin was extremely pale, and her dark long hair covered most of her face. Young Owen was too terrified to move or speak. Old Owen closed his eyes, not wanting to see this. Again.

  It was one of the shape-shifters, though not the first he’d ever encountered. Back then, however, he and Chris had thought them to be vampires. Oh how wrong they had been.

  The girl stood and slammed against the window, shaking the car violently. Chris jumped awake and yelled. The window shattered, spilling glass over Owen.

  “What the hell!” Chris screamed.

  The girl reached a surprisingly long arm into the window. Young Owen struck at her with the long red pencil, stabbing her in the cheek.

  Why are we still here? Old Owen screamed.<
br />
  Because I want you to remember what Chris put you through, said the voice. You need to forget about him and continue on your journey home. The answers you’re looking for are there. Do not waste your time looking for Chris again.

  The dark-haired girl screamed, then reached into the car again. This time, Young Owen jabbed at her chest with the pencil. It went straight through the skin and a moment later, the girl exploded before Chris and Owen, covering them in horrible-smelling sludge.

  After the encounter, the two young men sat in the car in relative silence, their heavy breathing the only sounds.

  Chapter 37. Day of the Leech

  “What are we going to do when we get there?” Doug asked Curtis as they neared the house at the end of the street. Curtis wasn’t even sure what to do or why he was so determined to take on the monster he’d seen in the street moments ago. Was it to save the family that might live there? Or did he just want to take out his frustration toward Owen and the orb on the creature?

  They stopped in front of the house, gasping from the run down the hill from Collin’s house. The two of them were completely unarmed, which was not good at all. Curtis looked around for something to use. There was a “For Sale” sign in the front yard. He grabbed it and broke it in half, handing a piece to Doug.

  “Are you serious?” Doug asked. “We need to get Owen.”

  “Why? You killed one of these things with your bare hands, remember?”

  The one-story house loomed in front of them, dark and creepy-looking. It reminded Curtis of Les’s house. In fact, the whole neighborhood seemed oddly quiet, considering it was the middle of the day. Where was everybody?

  The front door before Doug and Curtis was open, nothing but darkness beyond it. Doug took the first step forward. Curtis followed. The smell that hit their nostrils was horrible and familiar.

  It was blood.

  Curtis flipped a switch but no light filled the foyer. Doug took a step forward, but Curtis halted him and went first.

  The living room was on their right and it reflected the dark blue of the overcast sky outside. The living room had black leather furniture on a cream-colored carpet. A little spot of blood stained the floor. There was something else, too. It looked like...pieces of skin.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Doug said quietly.

  They walked into the living room, looking around with quick snaps of the neck. Curtis’s heart was racing, and he could swear he heard Doug’s as well. They were both breathing hard, scared to death.

  As they made their way around the couch, Curtis saw something in the kitchen. It was on the floor. He halted Doug again. A pair of legs stuck out from behind the wall, blood-stained sneakers on its feet.

  “Watch my back,” Curtis said, and went into the dark kitchen. What lay before nearly made him scream.

  * * *

  Vanessa put little Sidney down in her crib carefully. She wasn’t happy with what was going on in her house. Not one bit.

  She loved her husband dearly, and though he used to talk about Owen all the time, she wasn’t exactly happy to have Collin’s childhood friend here now. He seemed nice enough, but already Collin’s mood was changing. As if he was gradually deteriorating.

  How’s he going to react when Owen leaves again? she wondered.

  Vanessa wasn’t looking forward to finding out. Collin was capable of extreme acts. He had a crazy personality, and she wouldn’t change that for the world.

  Though if she could change one thing, it would be his annoying urge to fight anyone who looked at him funny. There had been a few occasions where Vanessa had to break up a fight between her husband and some stranger.

  There were some things that she hoped would never change, though. For one, she loved the way he would squint his eyes to see distant things because he refused to get glasses. Or how he was always calling people silly, even though his friends would make fun of him for using that word so often.

  She forgot all those things when, suddenly, the lights in the house went out. Vanessa froze in the middle of the hallway. Even though it was the middle of the day, the sky was so overcast that it was as good as night outside.

  She walked to the bay window and looked out. She could barely see anything. Where was Collin? She looked around the house. No one was here except for Owen, who was still sitting at the dining table, his eyes staring blankly ahead and his hands in his backpack. Something inside the bag was glowing white.

  Vanessa took a step forward to see what was going on when the doorknob on the front door started to turn. She looked out the peephole to see who was there, but could see a large dark figure staring back.

  Nervously, Vanessa locked the door. There was a loud screech from the other side and whoever was there vanished in an instant. Vanessa jumped away from the door and backed into someone. She screamed and spun around, throwing wild punches.

  “Hey, hey!” Collin screamed, grabbing her arms. Vanessa hugged him, gasping from fear.

  “Someone’s at the door,” she said against his chest.

  “I know,” he whispered, pulling her back into the hall. “I saw them when I was in the garage.”

  A noise came from the kitchen. It was the door that led to the garage.

  “Oh, crap,” Collin said. “I didn’t lock the door.”

  They leaned against the wall and peered into the kitchen. Vanessa nearly screamed when she saw what was in there. Two large, bald, long-limbed creatures with tar-black skin were walking around on all fours. One of them approached Owen and sniffed his face. Vanessa’s heart was racing, and she could feel Collin’s doing the same.

  The other creature sniffed Owen too, then they both looked down into the glowing backpack. Collin pulled Vanessa away from the kitchen as quietly as he could. She saw both monsters look up at the same time.

  Collin continued to drag Vanessa down the hallway with him when two long shadows appeared on the floor, the light coming from whatever was in Owen’s backpack. Just then, the Matthews backed into the first open bedroom they came to. Collin was about to close the door but he heard a noise just outside the room. It sounded like something running down the hall. The sound put Vanessa’s nerves on edge.

  “Come out, punks,” said a young male voice.

  “Hide,” Collin mouthed to Vanessa. They were in the guest room. The closet was criminally small, but Vanessa ran into it while Collin hid on the other side of the bed.

  * * *

  Collin looked under the bed to the bedroom door. His heart was beating so furiously he was afraid the creatures would hear it. He could see them standing just outside the room with their long, black feet and bony ankles. What were these things, and why were they here?

  One of the monsters started walking to the end of the hall, its long toenails clicking on the wood floor, but the other one entered the room. Collin slid slowly under the bed, not knowing what else to do. His fear was making it hard to think. He feared for himself, his wife, his...baby!

  The thought of Sidney alone in her room at the end of the hall almost made him jump out from under the bed, but the black creature was right next to him. He was trapped. He watched the creature walk up to the dresser next to the bed, and then saw, with amazement, its legs begin to lighten in color. Its feet got shorter, too. It was changing somehow.

  What the hell were these things?

  “Come on out, suga’,” said a female voice from the hallway. “You ain’t in trouble, baby.”

  A pair of elderly, wrinkled legs appeared in the hall just outside of the door. Collin recognized the voice as belonging to Ms. Summers from down the street. And he imagined her legs to look like what he was seeing now, though he’d never seen them before.

  But he knew Ms. Summers wasn’t here. And he knew he couldn’t stay under this bed for long. Either these things would find him and his wife, or they would go after the baby. And he couldn’t allow that to happen.

  * * *

  Doug didn’t see what Curtis had seen, but he figured it was
bad. Curtis stood on the curb, holding back tears. His body was convulsing from the effort. Doug stood on the porch, looking around carefully for any sign of the monster. He was tempted to go in the house to see the condition of the body lying on the floor in the kitchen. They had seen quite a few bodies on the way to this town, so this one must have been bad if it affected Curtis the way it had.

  That thought is what kept Doug right where he was.

  Curtis stopped convulsing and turned to him, his cheeks wet with tears. “We have to stop this,” he said to Doug.

  “Stop what?”

  “All of this. We have to give those things what they want.” Curtis pointed out to Silver, who was but a massive dark figure in the distance.

  “What did you see in there?” Doug asked, nodding to the house behind him.

  “The kid we saw in the street—the real one—he was all messed up. These...monsters, they’re not just drinking blood anymore, I don’t think. They are...mutilating—” Curtis suddenly threw up in the street.

  Doug looked away, afraid he would throw up too. The neighborhood was way too quiet for this time of day. He wondered if anyone else on the street had been attacked.

  With the wooden stake in his hand, he went to the house next door and peered in through a window. The inside was dark. He rang the doorbell. After a minute of waiting no one answered.

  Curtis walked up to him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking on the neighbors. There’s something really wrong here.”

  They both looked around again, stakes raised.

  “Maybe nobody’s home,” Curtis offered.

  “Let’s get back to the house,” Doug said. “This whole neighborhood is giving me the creeps. Why were the lights off in that house?” He pointed to the one with the kid’s body.

  Curtis didn’t know, but this whole situation felt like a horror movie. He wondered if the monsters, which were able to take on other people’s identities, according to Owen, were doing this on purpose. Were they able to link Halloween with horror-movie clichés? Were they cutting the power to their victims’ homes for fun?