some point in time, his naked body had been transferred from the gurney to an actual bed and this was where he now found himself, in a massive hall filled with other small beds. The beds were arranged in two rows facing one another with space cleared down the middle. A few gurney men moved about the room, tending to the occupants of each bed. Campbell cried out to them but they ignored him and continued to move back and forth between the various beds. He still had no idea where he was or why he was even still alive, but he was getting tired of other people making that decision for him. He could remember nothing about the past week; everything after the freight yard was a blur. And the people who might be capable of filling in the blanks were in no hurry to do so.
Inhaling sharply, Campbell ripped the IV from his bruised inner arm before swinging his lower half over the edge of the tiny, sweat-soaked mattress. Pressing his right leg down on the cool concrete floor, he pushed his body forward, transferring his weight from right to left as his muscles, dulled by inaction and morphine, returned to life with a series of spasms. And then Campbell was tumbling forward toward another bed, his body refusing to aid him in his escape plan. Throwing his arms out over his face, Campbell braced for the impact, which arrived a half a second later as he landed on top of another patient, bone meeting bone with a sickening crunch. Campbell, the bed’s occupant, and the bed itself all crashed to the floor, an IV stand chasing after them. The other patient was thrashing about under the sheets, screeching incomprehensively. Campbell tried to put his hand over the other patient’s face but the man would not stop screaming and now therewas movement rippling across the room as other guests of the gurney men, roused by the commotion, began stirring.
Realizing that the already narrow window for escape was about to get a whole lot smaller, but before he could drag himself to his feet, Campbell found himself beneath the other patient, gagging as breath, ragged and rank, exploded in bursts, centimeters from his face. But it wasn’t a man that was on top of Campbell. It was something else, a creature with thick, hairy teeth protruding from where its eyes should have been and a half-developed, puss-caked appendage protruding from the side of its neck. The creature seized Campbell with swollen, six fingered hands, pinning him to the earth as it tried to force speech from its ruined vocal chords.
“Kill…Kill me. Now. Kill. Me. Now. Kill me now,” the creature wheezed.
Screaming, Campbell heaved the monstrosity to the ground and began scrambling backward on his hands. The gurney men were moving toward Campbell, syringes at the ready. Prepared to make a final stand, Campbell attempted once again to pull himself to his feet. It was at this moment, however, when Campbell realized the lower portion of his left leg was covered in blood-soaked gauze. He stopped screaming and just collapsed.
A needle pricked the back of Campbell’s neck but he barely felt it. The creature was still crying out to Campbell as the gurney men dragged it away because it knew, just as he knew, that they were kin. Campbell was the father, and the creature, the creature was the son; two members of the same terrible brood born deep below Morrison Biotechnology.
Chapter 4
The American Southwest
The End of the 20th Century
F or the rest of his life, Campbell would bear the mark of the gurney men, the men he now knew as members of the Order of Neshamah.
He had remained in their custody for weeks after his encounter with the creature, convalescing alongside those he had helped ruin. And then, one morning, he woke up in a nameless motel near the Texas-New Mexico border, naked with only a single pair of pants left atop a rickety dresser, along with his ID and credit cards. His leg ached and at that moment he would have performed any number of reprehensible acts for a few opiates
Inhaling sharply, Campbell ripped the IV from his bruised inner arm before swinging his lower half over the edge of the tiny, sweat-soaked mattress. Pressing his right leg down on the cool concrete floor, he pushed his body forward, transferring his weight from right to left as his muscles, dulled by inaction and morphine, returned to life with a series of spasms. And then Campbell was tumbling forward toward another bed, his body refusing to aid him in his escape plan. Throwing his arms out over his face, Campbell braced for the impact, which arrived a half a second later as he landed on top of another patient, bone meeting bone with a sickening crunch. Campbell, the bed’s occupant, and the bed itself all crashed to the floor, an IV stand chasing after them. The other patient was thrashing about under the sheets, screeching incomprehensively. Campbell tried to put his hand over the other patient’s face but the man would not stop screaming and now therewas movement rippling across the room as other guests of the gurney men, roused by the commotion, began stirring.
Realizing that the already narrow window for escape was about to get a whole lot smaller, but before he could drag himself to his feet, Campbell found himself beneath the other patient, gagging as breath, ragged and rank, exploded in bursts, centimeters from his face. But it wasn’t a man that was on top of Campbell. It was something else, a creature with thick, hairy teeth protruding from where its eyes should have been and a half-developed, puss-caked appendage protruding from the side of its neck. The creature seized Campbell with swollen, six fingered hands, pinning him to the earth as it tried to force speech from its ruined vocal chords.
“Kill…Kill me. Now. Kill. Me. Now. Kill me now,” the creature wheezed.
Screaming, Campbell heaved the monstrosity to the ground and began scrambling backward on his hands. The gurney men were moving toward Campbell, syringes at the ready. Prepared to make a final stand, Campbell attempted once again to pull himself to his feet. It was at this moment, however, when Campbell realized the lower portion of his left leg was covered in blood-soaked gauze. He stopped screaming and just collapsed.
A needle pricked the back of Campbell’s neck but he barely felt it. The creature was still crying out to Campbell as the gurney men dragged it away because it knew, just as he knew, that they were kin. Campbell was the father, and the creature, the creature was the son; two members of the same terrible brood born deep below Morrison Biotechnology.
Chapter 4
The American Southwest
The End of the 20th Century
F or the rest of his life, Campbell would bear the mark of the gurney men, the men he now knew as members of the Order of Neshamah.
He had remained in their custody for weeks after his encounter with the creature, convalescing alongside those he had helped ruin. And then, one morning, he woke up in a nameless motel near the Texas-New Mexico border, naked with only a single pair of pants left atop a rickety dresser, along with his ID and credit cards. His leg ached and at that moment he would have performed any number of reprehensible acts for a few opiates
Similar Books
The Banshee's Walk
Frank Tuttle
The Blight of Muirwood
Jeff Wheeler
The Savage King
Michelle M. Pillow
Ghosts of Punktown
Jeffrey Thomas
The Witch's Thief
Tricia Schneider
InsatiableNeed
Rosalie Stanton
The Perfect Mother
Margaret Leroy
Blood Hunt
Lee Killough
The Dog and the Wolf
Poul Anderson
Pirate Ambush
Max Chase