by Bryan Hall
Nevertheless, Bill was still curious. It could be her; he didn’t know her all that well yet. And it was someone he knew, obviously. At any rate, whoever it was was managing to keep him entertained, if not a little uncomfortable.
“Alright. I’ll play along for a minute,” he said to the screen.
you know me. He typed
yes
how?
i know all
how?
i am all. soon you’ll join me
Join me? Bill thought. It had to be Tori. Maybe she was drunk, having a laugh with her friends at his expense. The nape of his neck tingled as the unmistakable feeling that someone was watching him crept into his mind.
He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder and scanned the room again.
Satisfied that he and Robert were alone in the room, Bill wrote:join you where?
here
where?
in the dark
Bill frowned at the statement. The dark. Blackness. The thought of pure nothingness crept into his gut again, sending a chill through Bill‘s body. He shook off the oncoming panic. He wasn’t going to be unnerved by some jackass with too much time on their hands.
He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his beer, staring at the screen and wondering whether or not he should continue this or just give it up, turn off the computer, and go to bed.
ringo was his name-o.
Bill froze, can still pressed against his lips, beer growing warm in his mouth. He swallowed hard, nearly choking on the beer.
They had heard him. Somehow, they had heard him.
No, he told himself. They may have hacked his computer, seen what sites he had visited and made an offhanded reference about it. Coincidence, plain and simple.
But still…this wasn’t right.
He’d known it in the back of his mind from the moment the first word popped onto his computer monitor. But now, after indulging whoever was toying with him and his own curiosity, the fact was front and center in his mind. The back of his neck tingled with the growing sensation that someone was watching him.
This wasn’t right.
“Fucking hell,” he said to himself.
you know nothing of hell materialized in the chat window.
The breath caught in Bill’s throat as he sat staring at the words.
There was no question about it now. Whoever it was could hear him.
“Jesus Christ.” He whispered so quietly he could barely hear the words himself.
died screaming for his daddy appeared on screen immediately.
He hardly had time to read the words when the hairs just below his scalp tingled as he felt someone close behind him, breathing on his neck.
Leaping from his chair with a scream Bill whirled violently, swinging a fist behind him but connecting with nothing. There was no one in the room with him.
Not even Robert.
Bill looked around, panic creeping through him and knotting his stomach. He was alone. But he still felt like he was being watched. He stood, rooted to the floor, for what seemed like an hour. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint chirping of crickets and frogs outside.
Finally, he began to make his way toward the bathroom, craning his neck to try and peer around the corner and down the hallway while staying as far away from it as possible. His heartbeat kicked a quick steady pace in his head.
“Robert?” His voice was strained, quivering with fear. “You taking a piss?”
Hopeful as he was, Bill wasn’t surprised that no response came.
A few hesitant steps and he was able to see down the hall and into the dark, empty bathroom beyond.
Behind him, the computer speakers crackled lightly with static. Bill froze. Through the hissing came what sounded like a voice, nearly inaudible beneath the white noise. Bill couldn’t make out what it was saying, or even if it was male or female, but it was definitely a voice.
Frozen in place, Bill stared at the speakers as the voice escaped from them. It was almost hypnotic, rhythmically rising and falling in tone in an eerie pattern. It sounded like it was singing to some unheard music.
No, Bill thought to himself. It wasn’t singing.
It was chanting.
As soon as Bill realized it, the static fell away and the voice became clearer and louder. It was male and female, both speaking at the same time in a language Bill couldn’t identify. Their tone was growing more intense by the minute, like a southern preacher gaining more and more momentum as he whipped his congregation into a frenzy.
Bill ran across the room and switched the speakers off so frantically that he knocked one off the desk. The house plunged back into silence as he stood over the computer, staring at the monitor. His mind raced, trying to figure out both what was happening and what to do about it.
More words appeared on the computer monitor, sending a fear coursing through Bill’s veins so powerful that his body began to tremble.
coming for you, bill. got your mommy and daddy got your buddy robert now it’s your turn.
Panic overcame him and he began to scream. “Who are you? What the fuck do you want from me? What did I do?” Tears began to stream from his face.
And then he heard the child. A young child‘s voice, vaguely feminine, slowly becoming louder.
The voice was coming from his bedroom, echoing through the house as it sang in a nursery rhyme rhythm. “R-I-N-G-O, and Ringo was his name-o!”
Staring down the dim hallway leading to the source of the voice, Bill began to back up, glancing over his shoulder every few steps as he made his way toward the front door.
After a moment the child was joined by another voice, then another and another. Men and women, young and old, some that hardly sounded human with their low gravely voices; all joined together and formed a bloodcurdling choir so hellish it made his ears hurt.
The moment he was within reach, Bill grabbed the doorknob frantically, flinging the door open and whirling around to make his escape and--
There was nothing outside.
Nothing at all. The singing behind him stopped and silence reigned supreme yet again as Bill stood at his doorway staring out into what had once been his driveway.
His front porch was still there, extending eight or nine feet out from the door before reaching the point where the steps should be.
But the steps were gone. Along with everything else.
It was as if outer space had devoured all the stars and planets and was working on finishing off the Earth. Where the world had been was now only a void colder and blacker and emptier than he could have ever imagined anything could be.
And it was growing. The front porch was merging with the darkness, the void washing over it like some hellish liquid.
He slammed the door shut, tripping over his own feet and falling backwards into the living room, a horrendous flash of pain cutting through his brain as the back of his head connected with the edge of the coffee table .
Rolling to his stomach, Bill tried to rise and run but only made it to his knees before collapsing again. Nausea engulfed him and his vision narrowed as he felt the warm stream of blood ooze from his head and coat his neck.
Laughter erupted from somewhere in the house as he turned to look behind him, watching in horror as the entire front wall of his home was swallowed up by the blackness. It was approaching him quickly now, but he knew that even if he was able to stand it would be pointless to run.
Slowly, he rolled himself over to his back and stared up at his ceiling just in time to watch it disappear into the void. He felt a cold unlike any that nature could muster consume his legs.
As the black swept over him, Bill smiled with the realization that it really wasn’t so bad after all, once you were in it.
THERE’S A PRIZE IN THE BOX!
The cereal box was moving. It was a slight twitching accompanied by the sound of the cereal shifting around inside. Liz had noticed it as she returned from the fridge and now stood staring, clutchi
ng the milk jug with white knuckles. The smiling tiger on the front of the cereal package suddenly didn’t seem as friendly as he always had.
Beside her, Pookie sat with his head cocked to one side whimpering. The miniature dachshund was as enthralled with the cereal as Liz.
She was frozen to the floor, trying to tell herself that she was imagining the movement. There was no way something could have gotten into the box: she’d just bought it yesterday and hadn’t opened it yet. Nothing could have climbed inside--
--unless it did it at the factory.
That thought instantly excited her, helping calm her fear. That possibility meant money. Lots of it, in fact. Her sister had told her about a woman who had taken a sip from a can of soda and ended up with a dead cockroach in her mouth. The roach had brought the woman a tidy sum in an out of court settlement.
And that was just for a dead bug. Whatever was in the cereal certainly wasn’t
dead, and was certainly larger than a cockroach. That had to mean more cash, didn’t it?
Liz was snapped out of her dreams of easy money as the box of cereal lurched forward and fell down flat, the unopened top of it pointing towards her like the barrel of a gun. It was shaking harder now, rattling around on the table as something even stranger happened. The box was swelling up like a balloon.
And now Liz could hear crunching.
Chewing.
Something was eating the cereal.
The top of the box ripped open as the box swelled in size again and a tail flopped out of it. It was unmistakably a rodent tail: pink, segmented, hairless…and incredibly large.
Liz barely had time to register what she was seeing when the rest of the box burst open to reveal the biggest rat she’d ever seen. The nasty rodent was so large it seemed impossible that it had even fit inside the container. There was no cereal left, or even the plastic bag that was usually inside the box. Just the rat, which immediately devoured the cardboard remains of the box. As soon as it had finished with that it scurried across the table and bit into the cheap plastic salt shaker, shattering it into pieces and gulping it down in five quick bites before doing the same to the pepper.
As the rat swallowed up the pepper shaker Liz’s mind began to play tricks on her. The rodent seemed to grow right in front of her; a steady swelling that overtook its entire body, doubling its size. The whole process looked like some Hollywood trick created by a computer.
Pookie let loose a deep growl and then barked once at the rat. The rodent turned to face Liz and the two stared at one another for a moment before the rat leaped off the table and dashed across the kitchen floor towards her. She screamed and threw the jug of milk at the rat; it exploded in a spray of white on the floor a foot in front of the creature.
Liz ran out of the kitchen and across the living room towards her bedroom door. Once she crossed the threshold into the bedroom she froze. In her panic she had ran past
the only door in or out of her apartment.
Idiot, She thought to herself as she spun around. She hoped that the rat was still in the kitchen and that she could make it back to the apartment door.
Pookie had followed Liz out of the kitchen but was now standing in front of the couch barking furiously at the rat, which didn’t seem to be intimidated by the dog at all. In fact, it was charging towards the dachshund. As it neared Pookie, Liz realized that the rat was still growing; the damn thing was as large as the dog now.
Pookie let loose a sharp yelp as the rodent pounced forwards and bit into his throat. Liz cried out in horror and slammed the bedroom door shut as the rat began to feast on her dog.
Tears streaming down her face, Liz scanned the bedroom for her cordless phone. The receiver was empty, and it took only a split-second for her to remember where the phone itself was: the kitchen. She didn’t have a cell phone; she’d never needed one until now.
Outside, she could hear wood snapping, glass shattering, and more crunching noises.
Shuddering, she pushed the sounds from her mind and considered her options, collapsing against the wall and sliding down it into a sitting position.
The bedroom was a prison, obviously. Her apartment was on the fourth floor, so going out the window wasn’t an option. Most of the other residents would be at work by now, and the walls of the building seemed to be fairly thick, so the odds of anybody
hearing her screaming were slim. She had to make it back to the apartment door, or at least get to the phone and back into a closed room.
Which meant she had to get past the rat.
Which meant she had to be calm.
It took her fifteen minutes to stifle her tears and gain the courage to move, although it felt more like several hours.
Finally, she stood up, tiptoed to the door, and pressed her ear against it. The crunching was still there but sounded more distant, in another room. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. The sounds didn’t change. She cracked the door and peered out into her apartment.
The couch had been ripped to shreds. All of the leather and the cushions were gone. A few tufts of the foam stuffing were scattered around the room. The wooden frame had been chewed apart; at least a fourth of it was missing. Her coffee table was reduced to a few splinters. Books, candles, picture frames, she noticed dozens of things that had been devoured by the hellish rodent. A metal standup lamp had been consumed with only a small one foot piece remaining, the end of it mangled.
The rat was either in the spare bedroom or the bathroom, judging from the sounds it was making. She considered trying to close the door to whichever room it was in but decided against it. If she chose the wrong room, it may attack her. Besides, she figured, it was better to get the hell out of the apartment undetected than try and trap the damn thing.
Liz hurried across the destroyed living room, trying to stay as quiet as possible. She paused for a moment when she reached the spot where Pookie had been attacked. A shimmering puddle of dark, wet crimson was all that was left of her dog. She choked back tears as she stepped past it, continuing to the door.
Behind her, the crunching stopped. She froze, holding her breath and waiting for the rat to find something else that appealed to its ungodly appetite.
Instead she heard the clicking of its toenails on the hardwood floor.
She ran the last few steps to the door and turned the handle, pulling it towards her and screaming in terror as it slammed against the deadbolt. She’d had two of the chain latches installed when she moved into the apartment, just in case.
She slammed the door closed and fumbled with the first for what seemed like an eternity. Finally it came free and she reached for the other but saw a flash of grey out of the corner of her eye. She glanced towards the couch and saw the rat charging across the room towards her.
It had quadrupled in size. Crawling on all fours, the rat’s head was the same height as Liz‘s knees. The thing’s body was at least five or six feet long, the tail extending another five or six feet behind it.
She screamed and fled back into the kitchen, running to the counter and finding the knife lying between the coffee pot and the knife rack.
She grabbed the phone and a large carving knife and spun around in time to see the rat enter the room. It let loose a high pitched squeal that sent a shiver up Liz’s spine, and then ran straight at her.
Liz tried to sidestep the oncoming rodent but it was quicker than she expected and
it slammed into her left ankle and knocked her off balance. She fell hard onto the tile floor, somehow managing to keep hold of both the phone and her weapon. Immediately, Liz pulled herself to her knees and tried to stand up when she felt a sharp pain tear through her lower leg.
Screaming, she collapsed to the ground. Before she even looked, she knew what had happened.
The rat had her entire foot in its mouth. The front of its snout was locked onto her leg halfway between her ankle and her knee, gnawing at the bone with ferociousness. She could hear its teeth scraping against her shin.
The knife was buried in the beast’s head all the way to the handle, and she knew she’d done as much damage to her leg as the rat had.
But at least the damn thing was dead.
Liz started to cry as she dialed 911, as much from the physical pain as from the pure horror that she’d just gone through.
“911, what is your emergency?” Said a woman’s voice, calm and pleasant.
Liz paused for a moment before answering. If she told the woman the entire truth she would probably be hung up on. “I’ve been stabbed,” she finally sobbed into the phone. “Please help me.”
“Is your attacker still in the house?”
Liz stared at the rat, its dead eyes staring back at her. Their blood was mixing together into a dark pool underneath her leg.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m alone.”
“Alright. I’ll send an ambulance now,” the woman said.
Liz tilted her head back in relief and froze, her breath caught in her throat. She had left the cupboard door open when she got the cereal out. She could see the various snacks inside, arranged in a neat row.
The emergency dispatcher was asking Liz to confirm her address, but Liz didn’t respond. Her sobbing had grown too violent.
Liz dropped the phone to the floor, her eyes still transfixed on the snack cupboard.
The bag of potato chips was rustling, the sound of chewing coming from inside.
FEEDING THE FLAMES
Tim saw the face appear in the fireplace as soon as Audrey left the room to get another bottle of wine. His spirits sank. It had been a great date; a candlelit dinner and some wine by the fire.
Now this had to happen.
The face was practically featureless as it shifted and writhed within the flames, but it was obviously there. It was easy to see the eyes and mouth; dark spots floating inside the orange and blue.
This wasn’t the first time he’d seen the face, but the other times he had been alone. Immediately he began thinking of an excuse to extinguish the fire, one that Audrey would accept.
