Ceaseless Dark - Chapter 2

Original Artist: Shawn Poh | https://www.artstation.com/artwork/qdOQL

===

 

The problem, simply, is larger than many people

tend to realize. Space, and space travel, requires all

of the relevant resources to be carried with at all

times; or, at least, some measure of acquiring the

necessary resources. Ask your average layperson and

they will give you the big four: food, water, air, and

fuel. But existence requires more than that.

 

Any tool you will ever have, or the ability to fabricate that

tool, must be brought with you. You must bring clothes,

medicines, recreation...literally anything and everything

you would need to function both mentally and physically;

all of that must be shoved into a cramped, vehicle

with you as you shuttle through the dark. 

 

Imagine being forced to live in an apartment for 

years on end. Every door, window, every crack to the

outside would be sealed and you would have to live in

there without anything but telecommunications to the

outside. No physical, outside assistance of any kind.

 

What would you need to bring with you to survive 

for all of that time? 

 

- Captain Tatiana Botezatu, The Nagato 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

  

    The entire door gave way with a muted thunk that wasn't so much heard as it was felt through the reverberations of the environmental suit. However, thanks to the microgravity, the door didn't fall, but rather just began to drift lazily backwards away from them.

    "After you, little lady." Dunagan said with a wave of his hand.

    "Well, if lady's first, by all means." Colby shot back with a wave of her own hand.

    "Well now, don't mind if I do." he responded with a mock flip of imagined hair.

    The big man pushed off gently from where he rested near the door, floating into the hallway beyond, followed shortly thereafter by Colby. 

    The hall was pretty much what they were used to with these sorts of ships. Cramped with only enough space for the two of them to be side by side, drifting maybe a foot or two off the deck. Sleek, metallic paneling, thick, solid metal doors, big, bulky electronic doorpads and monitors, hardened polyglass lighting across the roof and floor, and clearly marked walkways, doors, and location designations in bright off-white paint that, without the century of exposure to the elements, would have glown in the dark with natural bio-luminescence.

    Everything was sturdy, built to last, and meant to survive and help the passengers survive deep space. No frills. No decoration. Just functionality and rugged durability.

    All about them, things drifted quietly in the dark. Random objects that found no rest due to the microgravity. A pen spinning in a constant, lazy circle. An old tablet that drifted near one corner of the hall. Someone's discarded hat, a UMC private's hat based on the designation on it, hovers just between them as they move. The dented remains of a steel coffee tumbler slowly bounces off one wall.

    "Spooky place." Merrick crackled out over the radio.

    "Eh, it ain't the worst place we've been too." Colby said with a non-committal shrug that the pilot on the other side couldn't see.

    "Still... gives me the creeps." she shot back.

    "And that's why you don't dive." Jameson's voice came through over the static of the radio.

    "Nah. Don't say that, boss." Dunagan replied with a smirk Colby could make out even through his darkened visor. "Give the little girl a chance. Next time, I'll fly and she can go with Colbs."

    "No fuckin' way." Merrick answered quickly.

    Half way down the hall, Dunagan and Colby stopped in front of the next door. Near identical to the one they just cut through, this door was labeled as 'EQUIPMENT STORAGE'. Glancing back the way they came, Colby could just make out 'ALPHA LAB' next to the sizeable hole in the metal that they'd passed through.

    "What? Don't think I'd make a good pilot?" Dunagan chided.

    "Dunagan, I don't think you could fly us a hundred kilometers through open space with the ship on autopilot."

    "Technically, that wouldn't be flying." Huli seemed almost to whisper through the static of the connection.

    "Look, all I need is a fancy hat and to sit in the squishy chair. No muss, no fuss." Dunagan blustered with a gentle wave of one hand. "Best damn pilot y'all have ever seen."

    Colby glanced down the hall to the flotsam floating about. After spotting her target, she hopped along the wall for a moment and snatched the old private's hat before returning and tapping the old piece of headwear against the chest of Dunagan's environmental suit.

    "There ya go, big guy." Colby said. "All your's."

    "Ah!" he almost squeaked with joy, a sound you wouldn't expect out of the wall of muscle that was the big man. "A fancy hat!"

    "And I'm sure we'll find you a squishy chair somewhere in here if we look hard enough." Colby returned as she pulled the plasma torch once again from her belt.

    "But is it Merrick's squishy chair?" he asked.

    "No, I guess not."

    "Well then I don't want that one. I want Merrick's."

    "It's my squishy chair, Dunagan." Merrick hissed out playfully. "All mine. You'll never get it."

    The blue-white flame ignited on the plasma torch, spurting and flickering with little flashes of white and gold trailing off its edges as Colby brought the tool up to the outside edges of the door. Instantly, the metal there began turning to a soft, molten putty beneath the torch's heat.

    "But see, I got the hat, Merrick. And you'll be on a dive with Colbs. There will be no one to stop me!"

    "Buhh." Colby could hear Merrick practically shudder through the radio connection. "No thanks. And, even if I did go on one of those deathwalks with Colby, someone could stop you."

    "No one could!" Dunagan repeated.

    "Huli could."

    "Here I thought you'd say Pascall." Colby commented, her focus on her work in front of her.

    "N-no. She's right. I'd just lock out your access to the command consoles." Huli said, her voice distant as she seemed to be thinking about it. "And probably my door after that. No, definitely after that. But, worst comes to worst, yea, I'd call Pascall."

    "They've got ya beat, Dun." Colby observed.

    "What am I being called for?" Pascall's thick baratone scratched out through the microphone.

    "It's nothing, Pascall." Merrick replied. "Just threatening Dun."

    "Dunagan?" Pascall asked, just the slightest hint of threat in his tone.

    "Alright, alright." Dunagan said, holding up his hands in defeat, though only Colby could see it. "I'll be good. But I'm keeping the hat!" he quickly added.

    "Love ya, Dun." Merrick chided.

    "Yea, yea. Say that all you want but you cheated bringing Pascall into this."

    "What can I say? I'm just a fan of the man with the high power sedatives."

    There were a few scattered chuckles throughout the radio feed, though, unsurprisingly, not from the doctor himself. Pascall was almost certainly more focused on some other project more interesting to him unless something drastic happened and the team had need of his services.

    "Got it!" Colby said as she finished cutting through the metal around the door.

    She stepped aside and, gingerly, Dunagan drew the slab of metal that was the door back out into the hall with them and set it to drift away down the hall to join the rest of the detritus. It was always easier to bring the doors to them versus trying to shove them into potentially small spaces like an unknown room. In this instance, it was definitely the right choice.

    Beyond, they found themselves in what seemed to be some sort of large, walk-in freezer. The walls were a thick, textured metal and several large vents could be seen overtop of three heavy-looking, industrial shelving units packed to the brim with assorted items.

    It's probably colder now then it ever was when the power was on. Colby mused.

    "What've got, guys? Can't quite make it out." Jameson asked through the static.

    Dunagan and Colby both drifted carefully into the room and started going through the stuff on the shelves. Plenty of it was basic lab equipment. Beakers, vials, metallic and plastic hand tools of every, shape, size, and level of precision. Cleaning supplies for every state of matter be it solid, liquid, or gas. Nothing more than they might find on in their own ship's haul.

    "Nothing interesting here." Colby announced.

    "Sucks to suck." Dunagan commented, causing her to glance over his shoulder, though the only thing she could make out were some sort of darkened polyglass jars.

    "Got something?" she asked.

    "Hey, Jameson." Dunagan asked, ignoring Colby's question. "What's the rule about pets on board, again?"

    "Only Sir Fredrickson the Third is allowed on board and only because he is fluffy and delightful." the captain replied in his normal, strict monotone despite the ludicrousness of the statement.

    "So if I told you I found something slimy and disgusting?" Dunagan asked while proffering up the jar he was holding to Colby, who took it gingerly.

    "I'd say you should probably clean your sheets." Merrick offered.

    Colby stared down at the jar in her hands, trying to understand what she was looking at. The jar seemed almost perfectly sealed, as though it were never meant to be opened somehow, though, how whatever was inside actually got inside was beyond her. Smooth polyglass in a perfect cylinder, maybe some 30 centimeters tall and 13 centimeters wide. No openings, tabs, or any obvious means of getting into it short of sawing the thing open.

    Whatever was inside the jar was a lot harder to make out, however.

    The majority of the inside was stained a deep ombre green with scattered batches of brown, black, and deep violet purple. Those patches that she could see through, Colby could make out some sort of thick mold or growth coating the inside of the cylinder that appeared almost furry or fuzzy in appearance. Tiny tendrils of some sort of plant or something grew out from the fuzz and drifted listlessly about like it was in a fluid.

    Colby gently shook the cylinder in her hand and, confirming, saw things drift about thickly as though in a soup. She couldn't make out any liquid actually sloshing, and concluded that it must be vacuumed sealed.

    Then, as she watched, something small and with far too manly limbs moved swiftly from one of the patches of mold to another. Disappearing just as quickly as it appeared.

    "Guhhh." Colby exclaimed.

    "Wow." Huli proclaimed. "I think something's moving in that, Colby."

    "Definitely is." she confirmed.

    "And we got more!" Dunagan declared excitedly before motioning to the several shelves of similar containers, probably at least two dozen in total.

    "The hell is this thing?" Colby asked as she held it up closer to look, once again seeing something small and slimy dart from mold patch to mold patch.

    "Whatever it is somehow hasn't frozen in deep space and still has shit living in it, so that's good enough for me." Jameson declared matter of factly.

    "These things are gonna sell for a pretty penny." Dunagan declared happily and Colby felt her own excitement growing.

    "Let's get them back to the ship." Colby said, brief thoughts of what something like this could be worth flashing through her mind.

    "Negative." Jameson said. "I'll mark it and you can pick them up on your return sweep."

    "But Boss..." Dunagan began.

    "What if something happens to them?" Colby finished.

    "If a century in space hasn't done it yet then I hardly think another thirty minutes or so is going to matter. Besides, you're going to follow quarantine procedure and put those things in DeCon tanks. This isn't the family station wagon."

    Colby and Dunagan stared at each other through their visors, looking at the jar in his hand and the ones on the shelving, but it seemed like the matter was already settled on the other end.

    "What is a station wagon?" Merrick asked.

    "Th-they were a type of old fossil fuel vehicle." Huli answered.

    "Huh. Weird."

    "Boss..." Colby began again.

    "No. Now hurry up. You're burning air." Jameson said flatly, shutting down any further discussion with that simple fact.

    She stared at the jar, a bubble of worry starting to creep into her stomach.

    "Come on." Dunagan said with a gentle pat on her shoulder as he took the jar, placing it back on the shelf where he found it. "We'll grab em on the way out."

    Colby stared after the jar for a few seconds longer, watching as something dark and slimy flitted from once side of it to the other, appearing only long enough to disappear into the mold on the opposing end and wondered at how anything could be living in there and not be frozen solid.

    "Yea. I guess you're right." she said before finally looking at her diving partner. "Let's go."

===

Start the Story from the Beginning

Ceaseless Dark - Chapter 1

 

=======

 

Space is one of the only wonders that humankind will never

truly manage to fathom. It's seemingly simple in its complexity,

able to be summarized in only a few words, but impossible for

any person to grasp the magnitude of it. The concept of 'Infinite'

is one that the layman and scientist alike can agree on the basic

definition readily. Endless. Without borders or edges or dimensions. 

A vastness so great that the act of traversing a fraction of a fraction

could see the birth, rise, and death of an entire species and not even

reaching your intended destination during that time. 

The very concept is so grand in its scope that no terrestrial ape,

no matter how clever in their machinations, could ever hope

to appreciate or understand the unlimited, uncaring emptiness of 

which we barely manage to survive in by no other measure than luck.

- Dr. Shagun Beckett, "Into Infinity"

 

 

Chapter 1 

    "Easy. Eaaasy." Dunagan drew out the word as if by force of will alone, the universe would bend to him.

    Colby ignored him.

    The plasma torch in her hand was hot, even through the layers upon layers of protective equipment and the thick padding of her environmental suit. Truly, a testament to the dangerous tool in her hand. The blade of blue-white flame burned noiselessly in the vacuum around her, but seemed to echo up through her suit from her fingertips as a ghostly hissing noise.

    "Almost through..." she declared. "Three... Two..."

    In the next moment, Dunagan pulled hard against the debris, wrenching the freshly cut metal loose, and then promptly pushed back against it to keep the whole mess from sweeping the two of them back into the blackness beyond.

    "We're in." Dunagan announced.

    "Good job, guys." Merrick crackled over the headset radio. "Keep us posted and be careful in there."

    "Always am." Colby responded, the excitement slipping through as she did.

    Colby always felt excited the first time they entered a wreck. To her, it was like opening a present on Christmas morning. Every ship was different. Some were big and boxxy. Others small and sleek. Plenty were somewhere in the middle with all manner of weird shapes and angles, facilitating the needs of whatever systems or people used to inhabit it. But opening them up was what really got her heart racing.

    You never knew what you'd find inside.

    Contrary to what most Earthers believed, wrecks were somehow both more and less perilous than they imagined. Many dirt-dwellers thought of it akin to diving for sunken treasure in pirate infested waters, exploring the rotting corpse of some vessel claimed by the sea years prior. But, given the lack of both sharks and water, abandoned space-vessels were more akin to urban exploring or, perhaps, wandering into a great, old ruin. It wasn't completely uncommon to find the remains of people, though probably less common then one might think.

    As fun as Colby always thought that sounded, it just wasn't accurate. Instead, the actual dangers came from the ships themselves.

    After all, people don't just abandon ship because everything is ship shape. Something catastrophic is often happening. The bigger ones, engine failure, reactor meltdown, etc. don't tend to leave much more than scrap to pick up. However radiation leaks, environmental failures like oxygen or temperature, and even contaminants like disease or a dozen different types of system failures can all lead to people high-tailing it off a ship and leaving the hulking vessel to careen lifelessly through space.

    When working ship salvage, as Colby and her team did, it was always necessary to remember that the inside of a ship was filled with untold dangers, all of which you had to be on the lookout for. Something as simple as a misstep or bumping too hard into something could tear open one's environmental suit and then it was "Bye Bye, Guy".

    Still, that had never happened with their team.

    They were professionals.

    Even with all the dangers, the reward far outweighed the risk for her.

    Just as every ship was filled with possible dangers, it too was filled with possible treasures. Scrap was the easiest haul. Literally just metal and alloy to be processed down and recycled to fly again once more. But the interior of ships were filled with anything and everything imaginable. Anything that a person might possibly carry with them or strap onto or into a ship could potentially be hidden within the confines of a dead wreck.

    Technology, electronics, equipment, contraband, smuggled goods, cargo of all shapes and sizes, and, depending on a salvager's view of graverobbing, potentially any number of personal items could all be found and resold for a decent price.

    While Colby and her team didn't fall into that later category, there were times she'd considered crossing the line. One time in particular had been on a small passenger ship when she found the remains of an old wealthy woman's jewelry box. Technically she could have commandeered the expensive box and its contents without anyone being any the wiser, but it always felt wrong.

    It's one thing to take from an empty vessel.

    It's another thing to take from that which was once a person.

    Now, as Dunagan carefully pulled the loose pieces of metal and tossed them out behind, dooming them to an eternity of drifting through space til they either ran into a sun or burned up in the atmosphere of some planet who knows where, Colby felt her guts tightening in excited anticipation.

    The ship they'd found, the Auriga, was an old military science vessel that had been marked as destroyed roughly a century back, during the First Planetary War. Based on the condition it was in, it seemed likely that it been under fire and the crew jumped ship. Holes pockmarked the hull and detritus, attracted by the pull of the vacuum of space, had filled in the gaps of the wreckage.

    No gravity.

    No atmosphere.

    Filled with debris and the remains of a hurried escape.

    It was honestly Colby's favorite sort of wreck.

    It was probably the closest she ever felt to being one of those explorers that so many people thought ship salvager's were. Those old divers that would go down into the ocean ship wrecks. Water. Sharks. Beasts and mysteries of the deep.

    Colby felt goosebumps run down her back, the darkness closing in around her as her and Dunagan floated gently through the newly cut opening. The drifted past the thick, jagged remnants of the hull, and into a wide open space lined with computer bays, electronics, and a dozen different pieces of equipment that she could only think to describe as 'Science Stuff'.

    Her lips curled into a genuine smile as her helmet lights carved through the dark and she took in the load of old equipment that was, quite literally, in the very first room they'd entered on the ship.

    "Jackpot." she said gleefully.

    Strictly speaking, electronics that had been floating around in the emptiness of space were unlikely to actually work anymore. More than half, if not all, would almost certainly be toast. A century of exposure to cosmic and solar radiation, not to mention temperature fluctuations that varied by several hundred degrees, had a tendency to do that.

    Even so, finding military or science intel of any kind always pulled a pretty penny from the party who had lost it, more so if someone was inclined to sell to the opposing side. On top of that, the equipment itself was a good deal more valuable as scrap to be recycled and repurposed than hull metal.

    Precious metals were, after all, precious.

    "Can I say? I hope the whole damn ship is like this." Dunagan said, the smile plain in his voice.

    "It may be. May not." Jameson chimed in with a burst of static. "I'm marking it for the moment. Complete your sweep."

    "You got it, boss." Colby confirmed.

    "Be careful in there, guys." Huli's gentle voice sounded over the static of the microphones. "Military ship means no records. No records means I can't guide you through there."

    "We got this." Colby said with confidence.

    "Hell yea, we do." Dunagan agreed, lifting a heavy, gloved fist and receiving his desired fist-bump from Colby.

    "Enough chatter." Jameson said with a clipped tone. "Get moving."

    "Aye aye, boss."

    Floating past the bays of electronics, the two salvagers made their way to the sealed door on the other side of the room and began cutting their way through with the plasma torch, intent on the ship, and the bounty, beyond.

   

 ===

 

Read the Next Chapter - Chapter 2 

Alone I Walk - Chapter 1

    "CECILIA!"
    Cecilia's eyes snapped open in a start, her breath hitching in her chest.
    The world was black.
    And cold.
    And wet?
    Come to think of it, the black, cold, wet world seemed to smell distinctly of road tar and asphalt. Maybe just a hint of tire rubber too.
    Pushing up off the street, Cecilia sat up and looked around her. From the looks of it, she was on a back road somewhere, a darkened forest pushing in on either side of the slick two lane blacktop. The sky above was still and black and a gentle fog creeped through trunks nearby.
    Nothing moved.
    "Hello?" she called out, scanning the trees beyond. "Is anyone there?"
    No answer.
    Glancing around again, it occurred to Cecilia that she couldn't seem to remember how she got here. Or really even where here was. It didn't look completely unfamiliar; at least it didn't seem she was far from home. Unfortunately, once you've seen one North Carolinian back road, you've seen them all.
    Standing up, she tried to find something to follow. Some sign of civilization or where she was. Some person or place or thing or...something. Any noun might suffice.
    Where was she?
    Last she could remember, she had been driving home with her sister. They had been out that evening drinking and then...Nothing. She tried to think, to remember where she had been, but it slipped away like water in her hands.
    Had she been drugged?
    "Hello?" she called again.
    No answer
    "Guess I'm walking."
    Reaching into her pocket to fish out her phone for the GPS, but she came up empty handed. Just a hint of panic started to boil up. She couldn't find it.
    Where was her phone?
    And where was she?
    "Ok, calm down." She whispered to herself. "Just follow the road. Get to a gas station or something, figure out where you are, get a ride home..."
    A piercing howl split the silence of the night. It was long and forlorn, carrying on the wind interminably, spreading from one side of the road until it echoed and mingled off every tree trunk all around her. Just as quickly, it cut off and faded into nothingness.
    Cecilia had never heard a cry like it before. It sounded almost like a wolf howl from movies, but there was something...off about it. The cry didn't seem entirely animalistic. Almost like a person doing a disturbingly good impression of a wolf howl.
    "Ok, maybe a little less calm. Get to a gas station sooner rather than later."
    She glanced up and down the road again and, with no direction in mind, took off at a jog.
    The asphalt felt slick beneath her shoes and they squeaked and squicked with each footfall. The sound echoed off the trees and only added to her anxiety. What was that howl? Was something following her? What if she couldn't hear it coming?
    And what are you gonna do about it? she thought to herself.
    It's not like she knew what to do if she ran into a wolf in the middle of the night. She was a dental assistant barely out of college. Hell, she didn't even have her phone on her. If she ran into a wolf, the best she could hope to do would be to climb a tree and hoped someone drove by and saw what was happening.
    The thought pushed her on and her jog soon became a run. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but she felt good. Strong. Her lungs weren't even burning. She hadn't run since high school but apparently it stuck with her.
    And, soon enough, she could make out a faint light over the treetops.
    A few minutes more and the woods parted suddenly on her right to reveal a 24 Hour Diner. The iridescent sign buzzed in the still air, a few moths flitting and zipping around it, claiming "Best Waffles in Town". A couple cars sat out front and she could make out someone moving inside through the windows.
    And then the howl.
    It came on again just as suddenly and frighteningly closer. It seemed almost like it was directly behind her and Cecilia jumped in surprise. However, when she turned to face the creature, it cut off sharply.
    There was nothing there.
    She sprinted the remaining distance to the diner door and slammed the door behind her, staring out through the glass to the woods beyond.
    Nothing moved.
    "Miss?" a soft voice called from the dining room.
    Cecilia pulled her eyes away from the darkened woods to look at the man who had spoken. A thinner man, a waiter, was standing there. He was middle eastern by the looks of him. Maybe Egyptian? A little gaunt but a nice enough smile with dark hair and eyes.
    "Y'all right?" he asked.
    "Did you hear that thing?"
    The man approached her to look through the glass to the woods beyond. As before, nothing moved. He glanced back down to her with a sympathetic smile. A nametag on his chest read "Ammon."
    "Can't say I did." he confessed. "What'd it sound like?"
    Cecilia shook her head.
    "No idea. A wolf or something."
    "Ain't no wolves in these woods, ma'am." He said with another soft smile. "C'mon. Let's get you warmed up. Coffee?"
    She glanced outside again. She wasn't hungry, but she felt safer being in here. She wasn't going to say no.
    "Y-yea. That would be nice. A phone as well?"
    Ammon lead her back into the sitting area and quickly poured a cup of coffee in a plain white mug. He set it in front of her and then reached back to grab a wireless phone of the ringer, setting it next to the mug.
    "Break down?" he asked.
    She shook her head, grabbing up the phone and starting to dial her sister.
    "I...I honestly can't remember."
    Ammon looked at her with worry but asked nothing further as she held the phone to her ear.
    Ring. Ring. Ring.
    "Hey this is, Sarah! You know the deal. BEEP"
    "Sarah! It's Cecilia. Hey, I think something happened. We were driving home last night and I just woke up in the street. I'm at a diner on..." she turned to Ammon. "Where am I?"
    "Chapel Grove. Outside of Gastonia."
    "Chapel Grove, outside of Gastonia." she parroted. "I can't find my phone either. I'm gonna try and get a cab or something. I'll see you soon. Bye."
    Hanging up the phone, she handed it back to him.
    Ammon took the phone and hung it up. As he did, she noticed a single tattoo on his inner arm. It was solid black with hard edges and looked almost like an Egyptian hieroglyph of a dog or something.
    "Thank you." she said.
    "Of course. Lost yer phone too?"
    Cecilia nodded.
    "Yea. I think something happened. I just don't know what to do."
    "Bad luck. Where ya coming from?"
    "Lincolnton. We were at a bar in Gastonia." she commented. "I remember driving home but nothing else. I'm-I'm wondering if someone gave me something but I can't remember past that."
     Ammon nodded.
    "Well, yer not far from home but seem like yer headed in the wrong direction. Why don't we get you sorted out and we'll get ya a ride back home."
    "I can take her." a new, third voice added from directly behind her.

In the Dark - Two Sentence Horror Story

It's funny: as a kid, you often get scared of the dark and ask your 
parents to check under the bed for monsters.

What you don't realize until later is that, in the dark, you need to 
check that they're your parents first.

(Hello Lovelies, I haven't done a Two Sentence in a while, but this one popped into my head while I was trying to sleep (I know...great time, right?) Either way, I figured I'd share it for your spooky enjoyment. Check in Thursday for more Little Island Tales!)

 

The Rider

    Clinklck.
    Amanda put away her keys as she walked away from the darkened shop front. Her neck hurt. Her head hurt. Her back hurt. Everything hurt. Since Tomas had called out that afternoon, she had been at the shop open to close without backup.
    After thirteen hours on her feet, all she could think of was getting home. She wanted a warm bath and a soft bed.
    Looking out over the empty parking lot, she groaned loudly. In the rush of the day, she had completely forgotten to call for a ride to get home. With her car in the shop for the next week, her boyfriend had dropped her off in the morning, but with him working the evening shift there was no way he could come grab her now.
    Flipping through her phone, she curled up on the sidewalk for a moment and sent a barrage of text messages to the few friends she thought might be willing to pick her up.
    She'd just have to wait and see if anyone got back to her.
    Curled up on the curb outside of the shop, she watched as a fine mist slowly rolled over the parking lot. It started at the edge of the darkened forest and billowed out like a slow rolling wave that settled over the black asphalt. With it came a wet cold that left her teeth chattering in the dark of the moonless night.
    Come on...somebody get back to me.
    Ten minutes had passed when she decided to try to start calling over texting. First her sister. No answer. Then her friend Bethany. Straight to voicemail. Her roommate Joseph? No answer and a full voicemail box.
    Desperate, she dialed her boyfriend. All the while, she watched as the mist ever slowly thickened into fog that drifted about her in the darkness.
    "Sorry, hon." Cory said apologetically over the phone. "There's no way I can get there. One of the server's went down and we're doing everything we can to get it back up. I don't think I'm even going  to take a lunch."
    "It's ok, sweetie." Amanda said with a sigh. "At this point, I guess I'll just walk home."
    "Be careful." he said.
    "I will. It's only two miles away. I've done it before, it's just spooky at night."
    "I know. Just please be safe, baby." said Cory with that soft croon in his voice.
    "I will." she said again. "I love you."
    "I love you too."
    Amanda put away her phone and stood up, looking at the darkened road. It was also being slowly covered by that thick hanging fog that drifted off the forest's edge. Every now and again a car would drive by, but it was already getting so late that the roadways were quickly becoming abandoned.
     Ignoring the many complaints of her throbbing feet, she stepped onto the side of the road and headed homeward bound.
    As she walked, she pulled out her headphones and started to plug them in when she reconsidered. With the woods on one side and the roadway on the other; drifting, nightmarish thoughts of monsters coming out of the woods plagued her mind. The harder she watched the passing treeline, the more she imagined a giant werewolf or a horrible creature waiting in the fog to jump out at her. If she listened to music, she might not hear it coming.
    Stop being a pussy. she thought to herself before popping in her earbuds.
    The music helped ease the walk and drew her attention away from the pounding in her feet. It drew her attention away from the silent, darkened roadway and the eerie quiet that perpetuated the heavy fog.
    Despite this, she continued to watch the treeline. Sure, the night might have been playing tricks on her mind, but there was no harm in keeping a lookout...
    Had she seen something in there?
    Was something moving back behind that bush there?
    A flicker of movement caught her eye and she stopped cold on the side of the road. A shadow seemed to play across the underbrush and a branch flicked up and down.
    What was that?
    The bush rattled more and she saw a flash of something large and black that disappeared back behind a big tree.
    Instinctively she backed away from the treeline. Her eyes searched for the answer. Hunted for whatever it was she had seen. Was it a monster? A beast of some kind? No. It was just a shadow from...lights?
    Fully in the road, her back to it, the car swerved at the last second in a desperate attempt to avoid the young lady standing in the street. Amanda felt a sharp pain in her back as she flew forward towards the roadway.

    When she awoke, the road was cold and hard under her hands and her head and back hurt more than ever.
    Slowly pushing herself up, Amanda found that she was again alone in the road. No lights. No monsters in the bushes. Just skid marks in the street to indicate where the driver had tried to stop.
    That son of a bitch hit me and ran...
    Settling on the side of the road, she pulled out her phone to try and call the police. To her dismay, however, the phone was heavily cracked and refused to turn on.
    It must have been damaged in the accident.
    Tearing the back off her phone, she stared at the electronic components. The battery seemed in tact and nothing looked all that bad except for the screen. If she had known anything about electronics, maybe she could have done something more. For now, she simply sighed and closed it up again. She'd have to give it to Cory later.
    Clip clop clip clop.
    The sound echoed down the roadway.
    Clip clop clip clop.
    It got louder. Amanda could see nothing through the dense fog.
    Clip clop clip clop.
    Out of the fog, a thin, old man with jet black her and a heavy black overcoat appeared in the middle of the road. He rode atop the back of a tall, white horse.
    Amanda stared in disbelief. The closest farm she knew about was on the outskirts of town, a good few miles away, AND it was the middle of the night.
   "You alright, ma'am?" the man asked with a look of concern.
   "Yea, I..." she stopped herself. Who the hell was this guy? "I'm fine." 
   "You don't look it. You're bleeding." he said with a point towards her forehead.
    Amanda gingerly touched her head and her fingers came back red.  
    "What happened?" he asked with his brow furrowed.
    "I...I was in an accident."
    The old man nodded thoughtfully.
    "You're alone." He said. It was a statement, not a question.
    Amanda considered lying but simply agreed. Sitting on the side of the foggy street in the middle of the night, it was clear no one was with her.
    "I was walking home from work." she said shakily. "I just live about a mile up the road."
    "Alright. Come on." he said, patting the horse's read-end. "Hop on up and I'll get you where you're going."
    "I...are you serious?"
    "Would you rather walk?"
    "Don't take this the wrong way, but I have no idea who you are."
    "Fair enough." he said with another nod. "But it'd be wrong of me to leave you out here wandering the road."
    As if on cue, a chill ran up her spine. Looking around, the darkened roadway with its heavy, cold fog and the woods on either side suddenly felt a lot more foreboding than before.
    "At least let me walk with me until you get where you're going. It would be wrong for me to leave you out here." he said.
    Why should I trust you? Where are you from? Why are you out here so late?
    She had to wonder if she had a concussion. Maybe the car did more damage then she thought. Despite the hundreds of questions flooding her mind, all that could come out of her mouth was...
    "Ok."
    The old man smiled in return.
    Amanda stood up, dusted herself off, and walked up to the man on the horse. Getting closer, she noticed now that the horse wasn't actually white, but appeared almost a pale green. A trick of the light?
    "Would you like to pet him?" the man asked.
    Despite her reservations, Amanda smiled and nodded. The horse nickered happily as she ran a hand down his soft neck and through his flowing mane.
    "Let's get going." he said and, side by side, they headed down the road.

    The next morning Cory cried harder than he could ever remember doing.
    "She asked me to drive her home." he said between sobs. "B-b-but... I was so busy. I just...I didn't think...I couldn't..."
    "It's ok." said the officer. "Please. If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact us."
    "I'm so sorry." said the older man sitting across from Cory. "It was so foggy... I didn't see her. I couldn't see her. I have no idea why she was in the middle of the road."
    "No one's blaming you, Bert." said the officer.
    "N-no." was all Cory could muster.
    "The ambulance did all they could." continued the officer. "Tried to resuscitate her for twenty minutes right there in the middle of the street. She was already gone when she arrived...I'm so sorry..."
    Clutching the shattered remains of Amanda's cellphone, all Cory could do was cry harder.

"And lo, upon a hill I saw a pale horse, and a pale rider upon it.

The name of the horse was Pestilence. And the name of the rider was Death."

===

(Hello lovelies, I know that today was a break from my regular stream of Xenophobia, but I do hope you enjoyed. Today, I had the pleasure of visiting the Guillermo Del Toro exhibit at LACMA art museum in Los Angeles. As you might have guessed, something I saw got under my skin and the result was this simple little piece. I do hope you enjoyed it.)

(Current Untitled) - 03.29.16

http://www.wallconvert.com/search/apocalypse/

    Whether most people admit it or not, many dream about some kind of worldwide catastrophe. Whether it be zombies, some kind of massive plague, or maybe even a world war. Many people dream about having the planet wiped clean of humanity.

    Now don’t get me wrong, few would ever dream of admitting it.

    The very thought of the horror of such an event, how many lives would be wiped away in any kind of global catastrophe, is sickening. So many men, women, and children, each with their own individual hopes and dreams, likes and dislikes, gone forever. Billions lost. It turns the stomach.

    However, it’s hard not to admit that there is a certain allure. If there wasn’t, why is modern media dominated by this post-apocalyptic ideal?

    Those brave enough to admit their own desires will surely have their reasons. The environmentalist might say “Now the world can begin to heal.” The survivalist might say “Now I can live without being bothered.” Hell, we all know at least one person who wants nothing more than to just go fight the zombies that might plague this theoretical world.

    At the end of the day, no matter the reason, it all boils down to individual greed.

    The desire to see the world turned from that which it is into a barren wasteland, no matter the type, stems from a selfish desire to make the world itself yours. No rules. No boundaries. Take what you want and make your way in the world without anyone telling you what you can or can’t do. A clean slate to do what you will.

    But there’s one problem

    No one ever thinks that they will be the one to die in this apocalypse. They are the one who will see it through. They are the one that will see the world born again. They would never hope for such a disaster if they didn’t think they’d survive it.

    Would they?