FicWad

Josh had crawled himself to the edge of the cut-off road, his panic having died along with any idea of getting across. There was no way he could jump it. The gap, the in between, taking on the characteristics of a continental fissure, had to at least be over a hundred or so feet across. He peered down the rough, rocky edge of the cliff, careful not to fall over or slip. More than horrifying, the image before him was fascinating, all consequences put aside that is. Such phenomena which he witnessed were unheard of. A chunk of the earth seemed to have disappeared—vanished into thin air, leaving no trace or evidence of its existence. It was as if a piece of pie had been removed from the entity of the whole.

Carefully, Josh stood up and backed away from the edge, his eyes never leaving the dying depths painted a dull shade of gray.

“Well, I’m not getting out of here this way…” he sighed, defeated. He turned his back on the massive gorge of a split between the two ends of the road. He looked up and around him, the land almost seeming to emit a deep, ghastly moan. He wandered away from the cliff-like edge, stumbling around over cracks and debris before dashing down the street. He had to find a phone. If he couldn’t leave himself he had to get help. As he reached the further contents of the town, Josh dashed from workplace to workplace, business to business, shoppe to shoppe, pounding on the doors and calling for help as loud as he could.

But to no avail; the town just seemed deserted. A ghost town, a graveyard in the wake of some unseen apocalypse.

He tried every place he could; the bowling alley, Heaven’s Night, Texxon Gas. “I-I… I can’t… There’s nothing… Absolutely nothing…” He panted after stopping, having madly ran from place to place nonstop. He bent forward, hands on bent knees, panting and gasping for breath. “Is no… place open…?” He rose his head, spotting a sign amidst the thick fog. He squint his eyes behind his glasses. “Jack’s… Inn…” he read.

He headed towards the sign, moving around buildings and fences to reach the parking lot, veering right to the front door. He stopped before the door, heart pounding against his sternum. If this door wasn’t open, then he wouldn’t have anywhere else to turn to. He reached for the doorknob, staring at it, eyes throwing daggers at the rusted gold. He turned it, the tumblers inside releasing and allowing him to open the door and step inside.

He was met with a wave of relief, though he could barely see his nose in front of his face. “Damn it’s dark in here…” he whispered, stepping forward, “…Wish I had some sort of light…” He could see, but barely. The dim light masked by the fog outside barely poured in through semi-opaque windows.

Going up to the front desk, or at least what he could see it as, he looked over the counter and leaned against it. Looking around, he had a feeling that nobody would be there even if he called. Not seeing much of anything, he lowered himself back down and went to the door next to the counter. He tried it, though unsurprisingly it was locked. “Why wasn’t I expecting that…” he sighed, exasperated. He looked over at the counter, “…I don’t know if I can climb over it without hurting myself… If I could see I’d give it a shot. I’ll have to find a key to open this door.”

He turned back to the front door, and looked around him, barely making out a small table in the front with a couch and couple chairs, as well as a shelf showing off knickknacks. With what little light he had, he began to search, hands groping over the little table and finding nothing but magazines and a box of Kleenexes, before stripping the couch of its cushions and finding only lint and stray threads. He searched the cabinet, breaking it open with the butt of his gun and getting glass stuck in his wrist and arm when he reached in, “Ach! Jesus…!”

He jerked his hand back from the broken glass, sharp edges cutting his skin in fine lines, “Damnit…” He knocked back more glass with his gun before reaching back in, hand feeling over a music box and a small glass cookie jar. Pushing the music box out of the way, he grabbed the cookie jar, pulling it out slowly as to not injure himself again. He gave it a gentle shake, hearing something metallic inside. He tried pulling the lid off, but was unable to. “What the hell? Is this thing glued on…? Jesus fucking Christ…” he grunted with effort.

Josh sighed and set the little jar on the floor before raising his foot down on it as hard as he could. It hurt his foot, but he was able to crack the glazed ceramic after a few tries, amidst the pieces was a bronze key. “Nice,” he said, smiling as he picked up the small key, now feeling a tad optimistic. With key in hand, Josh returned to the door, slipping the key in and unlocking it before opening it and stepping in behind the counter.

The counter had a small desk behind it, which he bumped into with a grunt. It was littered with drawers pulled out from the counter’s edge, solid yet hollow with slots for drawers to fit into. He could still barely see, but he could at least feel. He searched the drawers out on the desk, finding something that looked like a flashlight, “Oh wow… convenient…” Or so he hoped. He could only imagine that the batteries weren’t working. Picking it up, he flicked the switch on, his dark brown eyes shutting tightly to the bright light that flashed him in the face, “Garh…!”

Josh turned the flashlight away from him, his eyes still shut as they recovered from the light that nearly just blinded them, “Fuck…” He looked back down, eyes squinting as the adjusted to the new light that illuminated nearly everything part of the desk before him. He slipped the vertical flashlight end into his shirt, the design of the flashlight making it so he didn’t have to hold it horizontally to thrust the beam of light in front of him. He looked around him, now with a new light source.

There was but one thing on his mind. A phone.

“There has to be a phone around here somewhere… Maybe under all this clutter,” he said quietly, taking the junk removed from the drawers and stuffing them back in before setting the containers themselves up on the counter. “Phone… phone… phone… phone!” he cried happily, spotting a black phone in the furthest corner of the desk as he removed some stray papers. He picked up the receiver and reached to start dialing but stopped short as the dial tone was interrupted by static.

Josh blinked, lips parting and eyes lowering down and blurring as his gaze grazed over the desk. The static sparked before turning into silence, airy and almost foreboding, almost as if someone answered but hasn’t lent any hint of a voice. Josh narrowed his eyes a little before speaking hesitantly, “…Hello?”

“What!?” a voice came from the other end, rough and masculine, almost scarred in tone, “Who is this? This isn’t George… Put George on the line! George Rosten, where is he!?” Josh put up a hand in gesture, despite the fact he was talking on the phone, “Whoa, hold on… I don’t know any George Rosten… Sorry but I don’t think there’s anyone here.” He was quiet for a moment, almost waiting for a response. When he got nothing, he started back up again, “…Who… who are you?”

“Who am I!? ‘Who are you’ he says…” the voice said, followed by irritated chuckling before a sigh, soft and defeated. The voice spoke again, this time softer, “I’m Jimmy Stone, child. Father Jimmy. Now… who are you?” The question came at Josh with a sharp edge to it.

“…My name is Josh. J-J… Jimmy… Where are you right now?” he asked, eyes darting about nervously.

“Where am I? That’s for me to know and you to find out!” the voice snapped, causing Josh to wince and look at the phone with crooked brows. The voice calmed again, losing that angry, frustrated edge, “But… you sound lost.”

“I am. I’m… I’m in this town—”

“I know where you are,” the voice interrupted.

“Okay then… Jim—Father Jimmy… What’s going on? This town… where is everybody? What’s happened here? Why is the town so—”

“Dead?”

“Well—I, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh, child. You have much to learn…”

“Please, just tell me what’s going on? There’s something wrong with this place.”

“Are you sure it’s the town? ‘Josh’, is it? Are you sure it’s not just you that has a problem?”

“Wh—… what…?”

“This town is but humble… You think it is insane? Haha… Perhaps it is only you that is insane.”

With that, the other line split connection with the sound of a phone being hung up. Josh still held the receiver to his ear, eyes staring blankly ahead of him. What did he mean by that? Josh… insane? The phone then felt loose, the dial tone still blaring in his ear. Josh looked down, eyes following the line that now dangled loosely, end frayed as if it had just been violently cut. Josh’s eyes widened, face paling as he dropped the phone, still emitting that dial tone.

He moved out from behind the counter and left the building, leaning against the door after he shut it behind him. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm himself down if only a little. He still had to find a way out. And since the phone line was cut, he doubted luck would favor him any further. Turning, he walked down the line of motel doors, knocking and checking every one until he found one that wasn’t plagued by a broken lock.

Josh was met with a gently lit foyer, too big to be the motel room behind the door he just entered. “Weird…” he sighed softly, “…Maybe I am crazy…” He walked further inside, ears perking as the gentle tone of a violin found its way to his eardrums. “…Wow… What a tune…” he whispered, his nerves soothed by the tune. He instantly thought of Lucia, though he figured she wouldn’t be in a town like this. And not playing a violin all the while. “Hello?” he called, receiving no answer, though the violin kept playing. He had no idea where the music was coming from, and he figured he should try and find it.

In front of him sat a piano before a massive window, gently covered by softly flowing white drapes, the wallpaper casting a light blue hue about the area. He stared down at the piano as he approached it, afraid to touch the keys. “…I miss my piano,” he said softly. Looking up from the piano and around him, he saw two sets of stairs leading up to a second floor curved in an ovular shape, conjoined by a small loft and a hallway. He ascended the stairs, looking around. The place sure looked a lot nicer than the rest of the town…

He walked to the left, the hallway door-less. He turned around and headed right, the hallway past the second set of stairs also lacking doors. “What the…” Josh looked around him before walking back to the stairs. A third hallway showed itself to him, perpendicular to the hallway loft he stood in. He looked down the hallway, scratching his head, “…This has to be a dream…” He sighed softly, heading down the hallway, lengthy and also door-less.

At the end, however, there was a door, blue and metal with rust blackening around the sharp edges. “Geez…” Josh said softly as he stopped in front of the door. The door had a numeric keypad in the middle of it. Josh looked it over, hand going to the door handle and discovering it to be locked. “…Does this… need a password…?” He clicked on the keypad, punching in random 4-number combinations, all coming up nothing. “…Maybe I can find it around here somewhere…” Josh turned from the door and headed back down the hallway and descending the stairs down to the piano.

He looked around him, no other doors around, “…I don’t know where to really look… Maybe there’s something in the piano…” he mused as he reached a hand forward, attempting to open up the piano’s lid. It was, however, stuck. “Garh,” he growled, irritated.

“...There’s no actual lock… it’s just stuck… Maybe… if I play it…?” He sat down cautiously on the seat in front of the piano’s keys. His fingers graced the black and white keys, flinching as some keys emitted foul notes. “Good grief… this piano sounds awful…” Regardless, he tried every tune he could think of, including those from his own songs. Nothing seemed to work.

“I give up…” he sighed softly, staring down at the keys for a moment. He jerked his head up, “Wait… That… the music box... back there… Maybe…” He got up from the seat and bolted out the door, back outside into the fog. He headed back down to the lobby and went inside.

He froze as soon as the door shut behind him, his light shining over a body, upright and twitching, writhing under the bright beam that came from Josh’s flashlight. It groaned and growled, turning to face him. It—“Holy fuck…” he gasped, taking the creature’s image all the way in. It stood like a normal person, silhouette like a human, head and shoulders and everything, though its arms were folded about its torso, merged with the skin, pale but darkened in spots by burns and blood. Its feature-less face and head caught his attention the most, holding that same broad, softly-curved shape as his own face and bearing matted curls. “Oh—Oh my god—” Josh held up his gun as the thing took a step towards him.

“Stay back!” he backed himself up against the door as it took another unbalanced step, “Get the hell away from me!” He flinched, not wanting to shoot another living thing. After that dog, he didn’t know if he could take something that looked human—much less something that looked both human and like him.

It heeded no warning and it growled loudly, causing Josh to panic and fire off rounds until the gun simply clicked. He blinked, heart racing.

Click!

Click!

Click!

“No… No!” he cried, staring up at the creature, now littered with bullet holes. Bleeding, it stopped in its tracks and shuddered before collapsing to the ground, blood spewing from its wounds. Josh stared down at it, the thing writhing at his feet before going completely still with a sharp growl. “…What… What the hell is this thing…” he breathed deeply, small beads of sweat forming on his face.

He stared at it for a while, leaning back against the door. His gun was out of bullets, and he dropped it, staring down at the dead creature before him. “…Whatever it is… it’s dead…” He sighed softly, wanting to cry. He knelt down after a silent moment and picked up the gun. He stepped over the body and went to the cabinet, grabbing the music box. He quickly left the building and headed back to the other unlocked door.

Stepping in, he went to the piano and sat down. “…I hope this works…” he said softly as he wound up the music box and set it on the piano, letting it play.

He listened to the sound, the song playing somber and haunting. It was slightly pretty and very hypnotizing. His fingers went to the keys and played the notes, hesitant at first until he was able to get the hang of it. He played the song through, even past the ending of the music box’s window. After a minute or so of playing, Josh heard a loud click and the lid of the piano popped open just a little. He smiled, stopping his play as he stood and lifted up the lid of the piano. The contents of the piano held nothing, clean and dust free, though in scarlet was written over the mechanics: 8723.

“…Eight-seven-two-three…? Could that be the password to the door?” He said softly, repeating it over and over silently as he moved from the piano. The violin was a little softer now in the air and Josh headed up the stairs and back to the locked door. Looking down at the keypad, he punched in the numbers 8723 and the door clicked unlocked. With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Inside was a small room, looking more like the motel room he was supposed to enter earlier. There was a bed and a chair, occupied by another body, though this one was clothed and holding a violin. It was a man, face covered by a lowered head matted with messy curls much like his own. It was dressed up in a dark blue suit, formal but comfortable as he robotically played the violin, sitting still in the chair and not looking up.

Josh slammed his back against the door at the sight of another figure—again, holding his appearance, “What—what is this…?” he gasped. Seeing how the man didn’t seem to pose a threat—thankfully, since Josh had run out of bullets for his gun—Josh eased himself forward, still tense and hesitant, “…Hello?” The man didn’t move, though the playing of his violin slowly started to drop from beautiful to ear-splitting.

“Sir? Hello? Are you okay? Hey—” Josh reached forward a hand before stopping himself, looking over at the bed, its blankets rolled up to its foot end. There was a depression in the mattress in the shape of a person, a small person. The white, pristine sheets had splotchy stains of old blood. “What…?” Josh stammered.

“What happened? Hey? Are you—Hey!” Josh almost shouted at the playing figure. Josh flinched, holding his hands to his ears as the playing got worse and worse over time, almost to the point where he was waiting for the strings on the poor, abused instrument to snap. “Stop playing for a second! What’s going on here? What’s with this place? Those weird monsters?”

No answer. But the playing stopped, even though the man’s position didn’t change much. He still held the violin in its place and the bow still resting against the strings. He wanted to grab the man’s shoulder and shake him. But he didn’t, he stood back and stared down at him sadly. “What’s wrong…? This… It can’t be… It can’t be just me who’s nuts… That man on the phone… You…!” Josh turned his back and walked back to the door, stopping just a few feet in front of it, “You’re all crazy!”

A split second followed and Josh felt numb in his chest, followed by a crashing wave of piercing red pain. He looked down at his chest, the slow sound of flesh exploding erupting in his ears, though muffled as if he was slowly going deaf. The bow was streaked with blood , as well as his shirt, pieces of flesh and parts of his sternum shot from his body almost in slow-motion, falling to the ground in front of him.

Josh gasped and choked, stumbling forward from the force of the impalement. He dropped to his knees, blood spilling from his mouth. He stared at the door, his entire body going numb. He collapsed, staring at the floor, vision blurring and darkening. The figure behind him was bent forward from the chair, body stiff, violin in one hand behind him, the other thrust forward, as if in stop-motion.