237: A Night on Crowd Road

1

            The sky is dark, as it has been for quite some time.  The sun disappeared hours ago, leaving to wake the people of the neighbouring hemisphere.  This night is darker than usual, being less spiritual and more ominous.  There is no silver glow from the moon, nor any pale specks from the stars.  These cosmic staples are blocked out by the gigantic cloud looming overhead.

There is a storm raging tonight, which is adding chaos to the usually serene scene.  The trees are violently swaying and trembling from the gusts; creaking and threatening to come crashing down with every blow.  Lightning cracks through the sky, giving brief glimpses into an illuminated day.  These glowing cracks in the air are swiftly followed by a dense bellow, reverberating through the Earth’s core.

The rain is coming down hard, creating an audible thud with every drop.  On its own, it wouldn’t seem like much, but on a rainfall like tonight, the sky is making its own symphony of percussion.  With each drop landing on separate textures, the sounds are immeasurable.  On their own you would be able to hear the subtle difference.  But with the speed and force of their downfall, all the sounds blur together in a rapid overlay.

In the middle of the storm is quiet little road in the suburbs, Crowd Road.  This road is one of the few in the area that isn’t surrounded by fully developed land; instead it still has the traces of nature around it.  The curvy, short street is flanked on either side by uniform, cookie-cutter back split houses.  To most, the uniform nature of the houses would seem unoriginal and boring, except to the residents who have personalized what’s inside.  To each family, their own is as unique as themselves, and this sentiment holds true for the house of fifty-four Crowd Road.

Fifty-four Crowd Road, the Carlisle residence.  They bought this house when it was only in the developmental stage and were the first family to move in on the road.  In fact, they are the only original family left on the street.  In June of 1999, the Carlisle’s, Ethan and Sarah, moved in with their three-year-old, Richard, and quickly made this house into a home.  There have been many memories in this house, most of them were great.  Most, but not all.

Currently, the only person who is occupying fifty-four Crowd Road is Rick Carlisle.  While he doesn’t live on Crowd Road anymore, he was asked to stay a couple nights to check in on the house while his parents are away; his father is on a business trip and his mother is visiting her sister on the other side of the country.  Rick didn’t mind, as it gave him something to do on this weekend.  This is where he grew up, and he always had fond memories of this place.

He was sleeping on the couch in the sub-basement, lost in a deep sleep.  The sounds of the rain were always so soothing and relaxing to him.  His parents had offered up their own bed for him to sleep in while they were gone, but he opted for the couch. 

Since he moved out last year, his old bedroom had stayed unfurnished.  His parents offered to put another bed in there, so Rick had a place to sleep when he visited, but he preferred the couch.  Ever since he was little, he would get uncomfortable if he slept on a single surface for too long.  He figured out that if he slept on a couch occasionally, he could surpass this problem, especially during a rainy night like tonight.

The natural sounds of the thunder never bothered Rick.  He knew that it woke some of his friends up, and it always woke up his dad, but never himself.  His mom used to joke that there could be an intruder in the house, and it wouldn’t make Rick stir out of his REM cycle, comparing him to a comfy house pet.  He would laugh it off, often replying with,

“Well we don’t have to worry about that here, so what does it matter?”

            It sounded cocky, but it was true.  They lived in a quiet suburb in a calm city in Canada.  Rick did understand that cities like Winchester could see a rise in home invasions due to the residents letting their guard down, but he still wasn’t worried about his parent’s house.  When he was a kid, they installed an alarm system.  A system that was updated every few years, and one that kept the inhabitants feeling secure.

            The alarm had one downside though; whenever it close to the time to update it, it would go off for no real reason.  The system only monitored the doors and windows, so there was never any risk of the alarm going off from movement inside of the house.  Rick was young when they first had the system installed, but he remembers when it went off for the first time.  He was about ten years old, and his family was having a movie night.  They were mid way through an animated comedy film when the alarm went off.

            At first, the Carlisle’s thought the loud, obnoxious beeps were coming from the movie.  That thought only lasted a couple seconds before Rick’s father paused it and they all realized that the alarm was real.  Mr. Carlisle jumped to his feet as he raced upstairs grabbing a lamp from the nearby end table as he raced by.  Mrs. Carlisle embraced her son in fear, but also in maternal protection.  The pair waited in the sub-basement as they heard their family patriarch explore upstairs.  They listened intently, awaiting any noise that would give away any altercation.

            After three, excruciatingly long minutes, the duo heard the alarm turn off, and shortly after Rick’s father returned downstairs, lamp in hand with the most perplexed look on his face.  He walked to the table to return his oblong weapon and turned to his family.

“There… There was nothing wrong up there.”

“What do you mean there was nothing wrong?  The alarm went off!”

            Rick’s mom stood up and spoke with her husband, while Rick sat there, staring at the frozen image on the TV.

“I checked all the doors and windows, there is nothing open, broken, or even askew.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.  You and Rick should continue with the movie; I’m going to call he company and see if they have any idea about what happened.”

            Turns out, there was a little bug with the system.  Since the Carlisle’s never had any intruders or incidents, they never had any reason for maintenance on their security sensors.  On occasion, the sensors would detect a bug, or an over-abundance of dust as breaking the sensor, thus making it go off.

            This started the Carlisle family getting routine maintenance done on their security system, and if they ever forgot, the alarm would randomly go off, signalling that they needed to be cleaned, or replaced.

            When the alarm went off on this rainy night, it did wake Rick from his deep sleep.  At first, he thought it was just a dream.  But after the blaring persistence, he groggily sat up, with two thoughts simultaneously entering his head.

“They really need to get a new system so that this doesn’t happen anymore.” And, “Wouldn’t wake up to a home invasion, my ass!”

            He slowly stood up, feeling the creaks in his arms and legs as he gave a giant stretch.  There were a couple loud pops in his back and knees as he did this.  Feeling limber, he climbed the stairs to the alarm panel to put in the alarm’s “shut up code”, as he liked to think of it.  Rick entered the six-digit code, each number producing its own little happy chime as he did so.  Once the sequence was fully entered, the panel made a satisfied ring, and the alarm was off.  The sequence was one that his parents would never let Rick forget, thus it became ingrained in his memory forever.

062499

            The day that fifty-four Crowd Road became the Carlisle residence.  Rick knew that in similar situations, people would use birthdays or anniversary dates for a six-digit code, but his father didn't want that.  Partially because it was a little obvious, but partially because it was a well-known fact that the Carlisle's took great pride in their family home, so that date made a lot of sense to the family.

            Rick closed the panel and slowly walked back downstairs.  He was still in a lethargic haze from being abruptly woken up and was habitually rubbing his eyes as he approached the staircase.  He descended the stairs and laid back down on his makeshift bed; his head hitting the pillow with a soft thud.  As Rick Carlisle drifted back to sleep, he didn't hear anything but the sound of his own breathing mixed with the rain.

            If he paid more attention when he went to the alarm panel, he would have noticed the patio door's curtain swaying with the wind from the storm.  He would have noticed the broken glass in front of the locked, sliding door, and the sleek shards resting around it.  He would have noticed the oddity of it all, and known that the alarm wasn't random this time.  He would have felt the panic crawl through his chest as he searched for the culprit, and that panic would have risen into a deep fear when he saw the figure that was standing in the corner of the kitchen, waiting for Rick to notice it.

But alas, Rick didn't pay attention to any of this, and was completely ignorant of the scene on the floor above.

2

            Rick jolted out of his recently resumed sleep and fell off the couch as he heard a loud crash reverberate from upstairs.  It was much louder than the alarm going off, and infinitely briefer.  It's sudden onset, mixed with his previously delirious state made Rick unable to pinpoint exactly what the noise was, or what had made it.  But that didn't matter to him, what mattered was that he was up, and more awake now than he was when the alarm went off.  This wasn't something that he grew up around, this was something that stamped fear into his chest.  Fear, and adrenaline.

            He picked himself up from the floor and bounded up the staircase.  His resolve was set as he leapt up the stairs, skipping two at a time.  In a matter of seconds, he emerged from the sub-basement into the dining room on the main floor.  His heart was pumping pure courage into his veins, as he thought,

“Someone's going to get their ass kicked tonight!”

            He turned his attention to his right, to the dining room window that faced his parent's neighbour's house; the McCallister residence.  Rick's reason for looking to that spot was because of Calvin McCallister.  Rick and Calvin grew up together, and while they got along, they hung out in different crowds, not to mention that they were two years apart.  Calvin elected to hang out with the older crowd, and a crowd that preferred to throw beer bottles at passersby and light fires in school playgrounds.  Over time, they grew apart, and Rick would like to think that only one of them actually grew up.

            Rick approached the window and inspected it.  The pane was intact, and the blinds were not askew in the slightest.  Rick then dashed towards the front bay window that overlooked the street.  This was the largest window in the house, and if someone threw something through the window, it could have made the noise that woke him up.  But alas, the window was in the same condition as the dining room window.  Rick paused for a moment, taking a deep inhale as he did so.  He didn't want to stifle the drive that he was experiencing, but damn did it make breathing a little bit difficult.  His attention swiftly focused on the kitchen.  The back-patio window was the second largest window in the Carlisle house, and in Rick's mind, was the only place where the ruckus could have come from.

            He walked towards the kitchen, and his theory was soon proven, as he saw the shards of glass littered on the floor.  He turned to his right to see a gigantic dent in the oven.  The entire stove-top was crushed downwards into the oven, rendering the entire appliance into a scrap heap.

“What the hell could have done that?”

            He thought this as he absentmindedly walked towards the scene, stopping in his tracks when he saw the glass on the floor, and back tracked towards the front entrance, where he kept his shoes.  He began slipping them on, when a loud crack came from the sky above.  He stumbled into the door as the thunder caught him off guard.  He effortlessly propped himself back up as he finished putting his shoes on.  He walked towards the door, carelessly stepping on the glass as he approached it.  Each shard produced a variety of crackles and grinding noises as he stepped on them.

            If Rick would have put more care into his actions, he might have heard the steps behind him, matching his steps to a near-perfect degree.  Rick looked through the opening where the large pane of glass used to be.  He could feel the mist spray his face from the storm outside.  Through the rain and lightning, he didn't see anything unusual.

            Rick took a step back, feeling the glass crunch under his sole as he did so.  He took another one, but this step felt no crunch.  Under his foot, Rick felt a slight lump; something unlike anything he stepped on or saw as he walked towards the broken window.  He slowly retracted his foot and stood back in his original spot.  Now he was aware that the heavy breathing he was hearing didn't belong to him.

            Rick turned around and saw something unlike anything he had ever saw in person.  Standing behind him was an eight-foot tall figure.  Rick's brain rejected the thought that what it was seeing was human, because even though it was humanoid, its features were too... off to be human.  Its head was smaller than it should have been, and its neck was longer than what would have been appropriate for the body, but that could have been said for all its limbs.  Although this creature was standing a mere foot away from Rick, he could barely tell what kind of features it had; its skin was too dark to tell.  This thing appeared to be made from shadow itself, except for its eyes.  The eyes were impossibly yellow and were emanating a harsh glow.

“What the f-”

            Rick was unable to finish speaking before this being of shadow pushed him through the opening behind him.  This effortless action from this being sent Rick flying back, sending him twenty feet back into the Carlisle's backyard.  Rick hit the wet concrete with a harsh thud as an involuntary groan escaped his mouth.  He rolled back another couple feet before he found himself sprawled out in the soaked grass and mud.  He lay there for a moment with the wind knocked out of him, gasping for the rain-filled air.  His initial landing had hit him square in the back, not hard enough to break a rib or shoulder blade, but enough to cause him a good deal of pain, and shock.  The tumbles he experienced after had scraped up his legs and arms, as he could already feel the stinging start around the debris lodged in his skin.

            Before long, he was able to catch his breath and spat out the water he had inhaled.  He got to his feet, feeling the large pain in his back as he straightened up.  He gritted his teeth as he stretched back, feeling his vertebrae creak and pop as he did so.  He looked down at his legs and saw that they had already started bleeding; the rain starting to wash it away just as quickly as it was seeping out of him.  He turned his attention to the house, specifically to the dark hole that was once the patio door.

            Rick couldn't see much inside, only the curtain blowing in the wind.  Each time it blew slightly open, he caught the faintest of shapes behind it.  He heard a crack, turning around swiftly, thinking that a tree was about to come crashing down upon him.  But he saw nothing.  He turned his attention towards the house once again, and he saw the source of the crack.  The being inside had torn down the curtain rod; holding it at its side.  Rick barely saw the humanoid shape, instead focusing on those yellow eyes.

            The fear in his chest grew, its slimy tendrils spreading through his chest and encircling his ribs, working their way down to his heart.  It was when his heart was gripped by this fear that he experienced the briefest of flashes from his childhood.  It was a memory from when Rick was still “Ricky” in his parent's eyes.  They spent a week at a cottage for a family vacation, and Ricky was playing a game of catch with his dad.  When Mr. Carlisle threw the ball too high, Ricky needed to run to the edge of the surrounding forest to get the ball.  When he got to the ball, he heard the dry crack of a branch from deep within.  He couldn't see exactly what was in there, but he saw a faint, bestial shape within the trees, and he saw these reflective, yellow eyes.  Before he knew what was happening, his father had picked him up and was quickly taking him back to the cabin.

“We better stay away from there, kiddo.  We don't want to intrude into Mr. Bear and Mr. Wolf's home, do we?”

            This creature that was currently violating his home, reminded him of that very moment, awakening a long dormant fear that Rick forgot that he even had.

“Come on, get a grip.  You can do this”

            Rick took a single step towards the house, before he found himself dropping to the ground.  The curtain rod shot passed him at an impossibly rapid speed.  He landed as he intended to, on his stomach in a push up position, but that didn't make the pain in his back any better.  He heard a crash as he hit the ground.  Looking behind him, he was able to see that the crash was created from the curtain rod embedding itself into the fence that surrounded the back yard.

            Rick took a deep breath in as he sprang up to his feet.  It was at this moment that the creature wreathed in shadow decided to step through the door into the back yard.  Rick could see that the rain was hitting this thing, but it didn't seem to change anything about it.  It was in the flashes of the lightning that he could see this creature better; but not by much.  It still was tall, imposing, and blacker than the night itself.  But in the brief flashes, he could see long fingers, and toe-less feet.  The most alarming feature was its face.  It had no nose, only a small crater where it should be.  But its mouth was human.  Well, its lips were, but the size was not, as it was twice as large as a human mouth.  It smiled at him, revealing pale, glowing, yellow teeth.  This thing was merely toying with him.

Rick stood there, bleeding and soaked to the bone, staring down this creature, fearfully waiting to see if it would strike first, or if he could will himself to make the first move.

3

            Thunder crashed from above as a bolt of lightning struck the ground in between pair.  The flash of light was brighter than anything Rick had ever seen before; reminding him of the stories his Grampa used to tell him of being a welder.  He used to say,

“Best be wary of weldin' without a mask, Ricky my boy.  One look at that spark will melt yer eyeballs straight outta yer head!  Always shield yer eyes right away if you ever see anythin' that bright, might save yer eyes!”

            Not once did Rick ever say that he wanted to be a welder, but that wasn't the reason for the tale.  His Grampa learned that the hard way when he tried welding with a broken mask and went blind in one eye.  Like most grandparents, he would impart his many wisdoms to anyone who would listen.  Rick didn't think he was crazy or senile, he just thought that Grampa Carlisle didn't want his family to make the same mistakes that he did.

            Therefore, when Rick saw the bolt appear in his immediate field of vision, he turned his head and blocked his eyes. After the crashing thunder finished making its presence known, Rick turned back to the scene, fully expecting to see the creature of shadow in front of him.

            But to his surprise, it was not.  The shadow must have been watching Rick as the lighting struck down and was blinded with the full force of the crackling energy.  The shadow was hobbled and off balance while it blinked its yellow orbs.  Rick was pleasantly surprised by this and use this opportunity to turn towards his dad's tool shed.  As he was turning around, he thought he saw the shadow change its appearance for a brief second, turning to a pale grey and losing its ethereal, form.  Rick saw this as a win, hoping it was weakened by the energy sent down by God.

            Rick sprinted as fast as his body would allow him to, heading to the tool shed.  It was in the back corner of the yard and was a straight path from where Rick was standing.  He spun out at first, losing his traction in the soaked grass, but he soon found his footing and was at the shed before he knew it.  He threw open the doors, thanking his dad for never locking them, and not caring about making a noise; he couldn't afford to waste precious time now.

            The doors were open, and Rick was gazing upon the large accumulation of yard tools and equipment that his father had amassed over the years.  He looked upon all the metal machines and devices, with knowledge of what each one was used for, but without the insight of which one would be best suited for his current need.  As he looked, he noticed a pristine package hanging from one of his father's shelves.  It was a brand-new lawn mower blade, twenty-one inches in length, still in the package.  Rick ripped the package open, savagely separating the cardboard from the plastic.  Once he had the blade in his hand, he noted two depressing facts about it.

            First, since it was brand new, it hadn't been properly sharpened, thus it didn't have nearly as good of a blade as it could have.  Second, the blade has an edge on the top and the bottom of it, meaning that in order to wield it, Rick had to hold it by the edge.

            This caused a panic, one that created a whirlpool of negative thoughts to swirl about in his head.  But Rick also had that adrenaline pumping through his veins, and his brain quickly shut out those thoughts.  He couldn't afford not to in this dire hour.

            Rick saw a pair of his dad's thick work gloves on an opposite shelf, sitting on top of a pile of work rags.  Rick slipped a glove onto his dominant, right hand, and wrapped a couple rags around it.  He grabbed the blade, feeling the dull edge faintly press against his palm.  Gripping the new weapon tightly with determination, he turned around to the dripping opening, and exited the shed.

            He walked into the gushing night and was immediately greeted with his dark interloper.  It was several strides away from Rick, and had regained its shadowy, dark form.

“Shit, this isn't as good as I thought, but I still have the element of surprise.”

            Rick charged at the creature, trying his best to minimize his new weapon.  As he closed the distance, the thing smiled at Rick, revealing those disgusting, yellow teeth, and readied itself against Rick's incoming attack.  It braced itself, sticking its shoulder out to stop Rick.  Clearly, it didn't see the blade he had in his hand, and a small, brief look of shock appeared on its face as Rick crossed his arm diagonally over his left shoulder, winding up his inevitable strike.

            Rick Swung down as hard as he could into the creature, putting in every single ounce of strength into that swing.  The blade made contact, striking deep into the shadow being's shoulder.  Rick didn't expect to sever it's arm off, but he was hoping that it could have.  At the very least, he wanted to disable it, and cause it great pain.

            It didn't even flinch at the attack.  It just stayed there, with a large blade stuck in its limb.  Rick was shocked, and felt the determination begin to leave him, beginning to feel the sense of defeat overtake him.  He tried to pull the blade out of the creature's arm, but it remained stuck in place.

“What is this thing made of?!”

            He pulled with all his might, forcing the blade to obey him.  It dislodged from its new home with a sickening grind, and soon found itself lodged in a new, similar location, in the creature's thigh.  Rick dismissed any hope of severing the creature's leg but was hoping it would at the least impair its movement.  Rick swiftly removed the blade again and dove behind the creature.  He ran back to the house, only turning around once he was at the destroyed patio door.

            To Rick's delighted surprise, the creature looked injured, now that it was moving.  Its arm wasn't swaying normally, looking stiff and unable to move like the other.  It had a bit of a limp now, but that only slowed it down slightly.

            Rick's mind raced as he thought of another method to defeat the creature.  He backed into the home, feeling his spine chill as the house's heat started to work on him.

“Think Rick.  What can I use now?  The blade didn't do much.  If I can't slice, maybe I can bludgeon?”

            Rick ran to the door that connected the house to the garage.  He unlocked it and swung it open, hearing the doorknob force itself through the wall as it made impact.

“Screw it.  Mom and Dad will be happier that I'm alive to care about the state of the family home.”

            He turned the light on in the garage and looked at the opposite wall.  Right where his dad put it on his tool rack, was a crowbar.  Rick leapt across the garage to it, throwing off his rag-covered glove as he went to the wall.  He picked up the crowbar with the same hand but winced as he gripped it.  He pulled his hand away to see a deep, pink groove in his palm that was speckled with little red dots.  Even though the glove and rags prevented the blade from cutting into his hand, it still left a deep mark from how hard he was squeezing it.  This didn't matter though.

            As he picked up the crowbar the lights began to flicker.  Rick looked up at the light in the garage, the one that was a part of the garage door opener.  It began to flicker more rapidly, until it went out.

“Great.”

            He let out a tired sigh and began walking to the door, holding the crowbar like a baseball bat.  He walked through the open door and turned to his right to be met with the dark silhouette and glowing yellow eyes.  Without hesitation, Rick calmly walked up to the creature and swung at its head with so much force, it would have made Babe Ruth jealous.  The blow landed with a deep thunk as the creature swayed to the left.  Rick swung again, letting out a rapturous roar as he did so.  He hit the shadow over and over, continuing with the same, intense force behind every swing.  He knocked it to its knees, then to the floor.  He lost count on how many times he hit it and continued until he could no longer physically lift the crowbar anymore.  After the last swing, it dropped from his hand, landing on the tiled floor with a loud clang.

            Rick stared down at the heap that was his intruder and exhaled a long sigh of relief.  He looked around the house, examining the damage that happened to it.  He started to inspect the dents in a wall when he heard a noise from behind him.  He turned to look at the source, and felt despair enter his heart when he saw it.  The creature was standing up, smiling at Rick.

“No... There's no way you could have survived that...”

“Oh, my dear boy, if I couldn't have survived that, then how am I standing here, talking to you?”

4

            Rick stood rooted in place, too stunned to react to what was happening in front of him.  The shadow straightened up, looking down at Rick, its smile widening as Ricks expression continued to drop.

“Now now, you shouldn't gawk like that.”

            His reaction was due to one very specific aspect of what was happening in front of him.  It wasn't because this intruder seemed to be unkillable and would probably end his life in the incoming minutes.  It wasn't because this thing is sentient and intelligent enough to speak, and therefore it's motivations and intentions were malicious and intentional.  No, it wasn't any of those.  The reason Rick Carlisle was frozen where he stood, paralyzed to his core, was that the voice coming out of the creature's mouth was that of his mother and father.

“What...”

            Without any warning, the creature slapped Rick across his face with the back of its hand.  Rick felt a sharp pain explode in his right ear as he forcefully spun into the wall behind him.  Rick’s face took the full impact of the collision with the wall, feeling an excrucuating, intense pain radiate from his nose as he let out an involuntary groan.  Immediately after he felt something warm rush down his mouth and chin, giving his tongue a strong taste of copper.

“We raised you better than this.  You shouldn’t talk back to your elders, Ricky.”

Rick pushed himself away from the wall, revealing a large, crimson splatter painted on it.  He forced himself to turn around and face this creature, but soon wished that he didn’t.  The creature’s body still looked the same; tall and stretched out.  But its face was different.  It was morphing through its twisted caricature of a face, along with his mother’s and father’s.  It was rapidly changing, like ripples in a puddle in the middle of a rainy day.  No matter what face it was wearing though, it still was covered in ethereal shadow, and it still had those glowing eyes and shimmering teeth.

“You’re not my parents.  Hell, you’re not even human.  How are you doing this?”

            It reached down, picking Rick up by his throat; not fully choking him, but enough to make him feel like he was slowly suffocating.  It raised Rick to its eye level, and transformed its face into the sharp, stern features of his father.

“Boy, you are such a disappointment.  How could you let our home get to this state?”

            Its hand squeeze Rick’s throat as it said this, eliciting a wheeze from his mouth.  He grabbed at the creature’s arm as he dangled from its grasp.  One hand gripped its forearm, the other tried to pry its hand loose.  Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t successful.  He did notice that even though its flesh looked fuzzy and incorporeal, it was surprisingly firm, with no sense of give in the flesh.

It thrust Rick into the wall behind him, denting the drywall with a dry crack as he was pushed through it.  As it did this, its face turned softly into that of his mother’s.

“You need to be punished for your carelessness, honey.  You really let us down.”

            Rick struggled against its grip, his vision beginning to get fuzzy, darkness was starting to surround his view.

“What…. Are…. You?”

            It’s face morphed back into its original one and it just stared at Rick for a moment or two.  Rick continued to struggle against its grip, fighting to release himself.  As he felt himself grow more and more faint, he felt something start to pump through his veins.  It was warm, and he began to feel stronger than he did before.  He fought harder to break free.  This made the creature smile, its oversized lips spreading impossibly wide.  Like it was enjoying making Rick squirm and struggle.

“What am I?”

            It threw Rick behind itself, into the solid oak dining room table, the one that was his grampa’s that his mother prided herself over.  Rick’s side collided with its edge, making him cry out in pain.  He felt something crack as he hit the table and wondered if it was the table or him that broke.  He fell to the floor, and immediately took a deep gasp of air.  As much as it soothed his empty lungs, he felt a sharp pain in his side as he did so.

“Damn, I think my ribs are broken.”

He looked up at the creature as it stared down at him.  There was a twisted expression of joy on its warped face.

“What I am is your demise!”

            It charged at Rick with its hands pointed towards him.  As it approached, its fingers seemed to turn into talons made of shadow.  Time slowed as Rick looked at the oncoming attack; he knew this was it.  He lay there in a heap, broken and bleeding.  He felt weaker than he had ever felt in his life and felt more pain now than he had ever experienced.  He was scared.  He didn’t want this to be the end; he didn’t want to die.  Not now, and not like this.  He closed his eyes, waiting for the fatal strike.  As he did this, he felt a resurgence of the warmth in his veins.

            This was the same warmth as before, but it was stronger.  Rick initially thought this was adrenaline, but now he wasn’t so sure.  This felt different; he no longer felt tired.  There was an energy inside of him that he had never felt before.  He also felt something deep inside of himself, something new.

It was a refusal to die.

            He opened his eyes to see that the creature was merely feet away from him, moving ever closer.  He willed himself to stand, while also hoping that he could stop this.  As he reached up to the table to help lift himself up, he felt something that he didn’t know was possible.

            There was a surge that started in his head, building from a pressure, and radiated outwards.  It didn’t hurt, it felt more like a release of something stored up inside.  He couldn’t see anything, but he sure did feel it, and so did the shadow creature.  It stopped in its tracks, mid lunge.  Rick could see it struggle against an invisible force that was pinning it in place.  It couldn’t control its limbs, but it could still control its face.  Plastered upon it was a look of confusion, which Rick was sure matched his own.

“Did I do this?”

            Rick looked at the frozen creature and continued to stand up.  He was cautious, but he didn’t feel the fear anymore.  He felt in control.  He got to his feet slowly, while bracing his battered side with his arm.  He looked at the creature, and once again felt a pressure build up in his head, causing some discomfort.  He looked at the thing and one thought entered his head.

DOWN.

            Before his eyes, the shadow being was forced to the floor in a jumbled mess of its own limbs.  It looked like an invisible foot came down from the heavens and squashed it like a bug.  Rick was amazed at what he was seeing.

“Did I do that?  Can I BREAK this thing?”

            As the thought entered his head, the creature’s arms and legs twisted at acute angles, provoking a satisfying snap as they did so.  The creature made no sound, and its face showed no sense of pain.  It lay there in a mess as its limbs contorted continuously.  Rick felt powerful, and in control, for the first time tonight; maybe ever in his life.  But he wasn’t victorious, not yet.  He stared down at the thing, and spoke one, soft word.

“Die.”

            Before his eyes, the creatures head imploded into itself, with a sickening screeching and grinding.  It twitched a little, but not much.  He didn’t know how he could do this, only that he could, and he did.  But he didn’t care about that.  The only thing he cared about at this moment was that it was finally over.  He had won, and he was still alive.

            Rick looked at the broken, defeated heap ahead of him, and felt satisfied at what he had done.  It was finally over, and he could finally res-

            He fell to the ground in exhaustion.  Whatever the feeling, or the power, that flowed within him had done, it made him exhausted beyond measure.  His bones were broken, and he had lost a decent amount of blood.  He lay there passed out on the ground, with one last thought entering his head before he lost consciousness.

“Please let someone find me.”

            He was out cold, and the demon that had terrorized him this night was defeated.  Seconds turned into minutes as Rick lay there.  The house no longer made any noise, the only sound coming from the rain pelting every surface outside.

“Alright boys, lets raise the lights on this thing, stop the rain and get him to the med bay.”

            The dark, stormy night ceased in an instant as the dark, navy sky turned to a bright, powder blue.  The rain immediately stopped as the clouds disappeared in a blink of an eye, as a loud, robotic voice boomed from the sky.

“END SIMULATION”

5

            Two men entered the house through the front door, striding towards Rick with purpose, tablets in hand and lab coats flapping behind them.  Four others in white hazmat suits entered after them, pushing a gurney.  One of the men walked to the crumpled-up heap that used to be the shadow creature and knelt beside it; the other stood by the man passed out on the floor.

“Please take the subject to the O.R.  He has several broken bones that will need to be repaired, along with moderate internal bleeding.  Make sure to monitor his PS-TK levels the entire time.  We finally have them elevated and can’t afford for them to drop.”

            Two of the hazmat-clad people lifted Rick to the gurney, strapping him in place.  Three of them began wheeling him to the door as the last one, the only one with two yellow stripes on his arm stayed behind.

“What if his PS-TK levels do drop, Dr. Atkins?  What would you have us do?”

            The doctor looked at the faded face staring at him from behind the fibre-glass face mask.  He could see his reflection staring back at him, overlaid with the cautious face behind the glass.  His aging features were stern, especially his eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

“If they drop below 200, give him a blast of Psyonic Radiation, and call me immediately.”

“Understood.”

            The man in the yellow striped hazmat suit started towards the door.

“Jenkins!”

            The man in the hazmat suit turned around to face the doctor once again.

“Yes, Dr. Atkins?”

“Don’t wipe his memory this time.  Keep him strapped down and in a state of mild sedation.  Call me when he wakes up.”

“Will do sir.”

            Jenkins exited through the door, closing it behind him.  Dr. Atkins walked to where his younger, yet brilliant colleague was kneeling.  He was poking and prodding the twisted heap of a shadow with a cable that was connected to his tablet.

“Looks like you’re having fun there, Jer.”

            Jeremy Kazinski looked up at Jared Atkins with an exhausted, unimpressed look painted on his face.

“Oh, can’t you see?  I’m having oodles of fun looking for this damned port.  Can we lower the projections so I can do my damned job?”

            You could say lots about Dr. Jeremy Kazinski, the prodigy, but having good people skills was not one of them.  He was always blunt, and often cold with other people.  Even though Jared Atkins was the closest thing Jeremy Kazinski had to a friend, he still was short with him.  Atkins always thought that his brain power went to thinking and constructing, not into pleasantries.

“Sure thing.”

            Atkins tapped an icon on his tablet, and slowly slid three sliders down.  As he did this, their surroundings began to change.

            First, the colour of the furniture and walls began to change.  They slowly became desaturated, until everything surrounding the two doctors were various shades of grey.  But even the grey didn’t last.  The grey surfaces started to melt away, leaving behind blue, wireframe surfaces.  The glowing lights brightened the more the grey shrank, until all that was left was blue lines.  Once the grey was gone, the wireframes began to fade, until the only thing left was a large, empty room, covered in pale blue tiles.

            No matter how many times Atkins created or lowered the simulation projections, he always had a small sense of wonder watching the constructs appear or disappear.

“Thank you.  Now I can see where to put this cable.”

            Atkins looked down at Kazinski and what he was doing.  He was putting a cord into what used to be the shadow creature’s head.  Even with Rick’s blast, the port was still intact.  With the simulated constructs gone, the doctors could see the android that was at the core of the shadow being.  Its thin, metal limbs were twisted and broken, and its main CPU was crushed.  This would make the readings difficult for Kazinski, but Atkins didn’t care, because it showed the depths of the subject’s abilities.

“Damn, what did you say this was made of again?  Titanium, right?”

            Kazinski placed his tablet on top of the metal heap, leaving it to upload all the data the android had stored on it.  He stood to be at eye level with Atkins once again, stretching he back as he did.

“Yeah, titanium.  Took a long time to build too, and now look at it.”

            Kazinski glanced over at Atkins, who was grinning like an idiot at Kazinski’s broken creation.

“Why are you so damned happy?”

            Atkins turned towards Kazinski, his smile growing ever wider.

“I’m happy because our subject, who showed a hint of PS potential, was able to obliterate a titanium android.  He did this, the very first time he tapped into his powers!  Do you know what this means?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

            Atkins reached out and slapped his hand onto Kazinski’s shoulder.  His elation was ever growing, and Kazinski feared it was becoming manic.

“This means that my experiment was a success!  That we can utilize the fears of a subject to awaken their PS!  I mean, think about it; have you ever heard of a PS-TK using their abilities for the first time and doing anything other than lifting a coin?”

“Well no, I haven’t”

“EXACTLY!!”

            A loud beep sounded from the floor, interrupting the rant of Dr. Atkins.  Dr. Kazinski bent down and disconnecting his tablet, the cord zipping back into its housing on the back of the unit.  Kazinski pressed his earpiece with a soft click.

“Can someone come down here and bring this back to my lab?”

            Kazinski turned his receiver off before anyone had a chance to answer.  He knew it would be done, and that’s all that mattered to him.  The pair walked towards the exit, each of them having their own tasks ahead of them.  When they reached the door, Kazinski stood in front of it, looking at Atkins with a quizzical look.

“Why?  Why all of this?  How did you know that this would make a PS positive response from Carlisle?”

            A knowing smirk spread across Atkin’s lips.  Kazinski knew his colleague well, and he knew that he could resist talking about a successful experiment.

“Do you remember when we first sent out the request for people with O negative blood?”

“Well, yeah.  People with O negative blood have the highest chance of having a high PS level.”

“Right.  Well everyone who came in went into a screening room with two people.  Myself, and one of our PS-TP agents.  While I was going through their medical history, she was going through their heads.”

            Kazinski thought for a moment, then gave a slight shudder.

“It was Lee, wasn’t it?  She gives me the creeps; I never know if she is in my head or not.”

            Atkins laughed at this.

“Well she is one of the best around.  She can get inside without most people knowing, which is why we used her for this.  Her job was to find out what their fears were, and give them to me, so we could build a tailored simulation for each subject.  This was Carlisle’s.”

            Atkins took out a small, folded up piece of paper and gave it to Kazinski, who immediately opened it up to look at its contents.

            Richard Ethan Carlisle III

            Fears

-         Dark, unknown figures with glowing eyes

-         Disappointing his parents

-         Feeling helpless & without control

-         Losing the family house

Kazinski folded up the slip and gave it back to Atkins, who returned it to his pocket.

“Ok, I get most of these, but why the house?  That doesn’t line up for me.”

            Atkin’s expression dropped, appearing serious for the first time since the experiment.

“Jeremy, what happened to the house where you grew up?”

            Kazinski pondered for a moment or two before responding.

“Sold it when my parents died.  Why do you ask?”

“The Carlisle house on Crowd Road has passed down from generation to generation, since it was first bought at the end of the twentieth century.  The entire family has a sense of pride in that home.  To see it get destroyed would be devastating to them.”

“Jesus, they have had it for almost a hundred years?  You don’t hear about that anymore.”

“No, you don’t.”

            Atkins opened the door for his colleague, and they walked through it together.  They moved silently down the corridor until they reached a branching path.  They each turned to go their separate ways, but Kazinski turned around to ask one final question.

“Carlisle, he was the first, right?  How many other potential’s do you have?”

            Atkins turned around to face Kazinski, both men looking grim.

“Two hundred and thirty-six.”

“Damn.”

            There was a silence between the two men as they thought about the severity of the situation they were in.

“How much longer until They return to Earth?”

“About a year.”

“Damn, do you think we will have enough time to do this for everyone?”

            Atkins turned around and began to walk away.

“Do we really have a choice?  If this doesn’t work, we are all dead.”

            With that, Atkins was gone, leaving Kazinski standing there, alone.  He turned around and returned to his lab.  He had a lot of work to do.

- Cody S