Aftermath

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.  A bunch of teenagers, most likely seniors in high school, mess with something with powers far beyond their comprehension and end up unleashing some monster from hell that hunts them down.  A few, if not most, of the teenagers enviably meet their end to said monster before it is eventually stopped.  Oh, and no one believes the teenagers when they seek help. 

Sound familiar?  Yeah, the classic horror movie trope, but what happens to the survivors?  I bet you imagined they lived a long and happy life, cherishing each day or devoting their entire life to hunting down monster like the one that attacked them.  Well, you’re wrong.  There is no happy ending.  I’m living proof of that…

–

“This is all wrong…  This shouldn’t be happening!” I groaned, allowing my head to fall against the cold metal of the table.  After everything I went through, after every-goddam-thing I went through just to survive, this is where I end up.  Handcuffed to a table in an interrogation room with a bald-headed cop that had more moles than Morgan Freeman and another that looked like he belonged on an issue of Surfer’s Today!

“I would have to agree with you there, Dylan,” Officer Mole said, shifting through a folder of papers.  “This is very ‘wrong’.”

“Dylan Reynolds,” Surfer Cop read from a sheet of paper.  “Eighteen years of age and a recent high school graduate with no outstanding criminal record.  Parents recently divorced, currently in a rather fierce custody battle over your younger brother.  Must be a rather stressful situation.”

“I guess?” I said, a little uncertain.

“Hmm…It’s said that, under large amounts of stress, even the most mild-mannered person can do terrible things.  So, tell me, is that why you did…this?” he asked, peering over his partners shoulder to look at the pictures, a disgusted grimace marring his admittedly handsome face.

“For the last time, I didn’t do anything,” I said, barely withholding the scream that was struggling to escape. 

“Really?  You didn’t do anything.”  I could feel my blood boiling at the mole-faced jerk’s continuous condescending and disbelieving tone.  “Well something happened because this—” He pulled out one of the pictures from the folder and slid it in front of me, “—doesn’t just happen.”

Despite of myself, I looked at the picture and I felt something inside of me stop.  It was a headshot of someone who looked as if they had been shoved into a woodchipper face first.  Part of their lip was missing as was their right ear.  Their face was so mangled that it would be near impossible to see if they were male or female.  Impossible unless you knew her.  Knew her like I did.

Alexandra (“call me Alex”) Kombs, one of my best friends, dead before she even saw her eighteenth birthday.  I could still hear her.  Her bloodcurdling shrieks of mercy and pain as she was torn apart would forever haunt me.  I couldn’t save her.  I couldn’t save any of them.

“So, why’d you do it?  Why’d you kill her, and, for that matter, why kill the others?” Officer Mole. 

I opened my mouth, but no sound left me.  I registered the question, but I couldn’t focus on it.  All I could think about was her screams.  How she begged for someone to help her, even as claws tore into her flesh.  She was so close, within arm’s reach, but I couldn’t do anything to help her.

When I didn’t answer, Officer Mole slammed his fist onto the table with a resounding bang.  “Answer me, dammit!  You’re looking at fifty years to life, if not the death penalty, so help yourself by explaining to us what happened!”

“I already told you, I didn’t do it!” My voice cracked.  I could feel tears begin to bite at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.    

“Then tell us what happened,” Surfer Cop appeased, taking a seat next to his partner.  His face was kind and considerate, but his eyes were steely.  He, like his partner, had already decided my guilt.

“I already did,” I responded with a harsh glare that was had to be offset by the barely suppressed tears, “and neither of you believed me!”

“Because what you said doesn’t make any sense!” Officer Mole snapped, once more pounding his fist against the table.  “What you are saying is literally impossible.  There is no way that—!” Surfer Cop placed a soothing hand on his partner’s shoulder, silencing the irate officer’s tirade.

“Explain it to us again,” Surfer Cop said placatingly.

Letting out a tired sigh, I obliged the officer.  “It started four days ago.  My friends and I graduated and we wanted to make the best of it before we left for college.”

“These friends,” Officer Mole interrupted, flipping through his folder, “do you mean Alexandra Kombs, Andrew Gable, Sean Connors, Trisha Owens, and Richard Burke?”

“Yes,” I said tightly.  Just hearing their names brought back horrible memories.  The burly officer made a lazy motion with his hand, prompting me to continue my tale.  “We were just walking around the town, trying to think of something to we could do when we came upon a strange shop.”

I paused, recalling the place where it had all begun.  “It was a small building located in the alley between Main Street and Clio Road.  It was chock full of strange looking statues, jewelry, masks and books, so much so that we hardly had any room to move around.  We were only there for a few minutes before the shop owner came up and kicked us out.”

“He just kicked you out for no reason?” It was Surfer Cop this time.

“No, I think Sean did something to piss him off, but I’m not sure” I explained.  “Regardless, when we were kicked out, Sean took something.  A book.”

“I take it this wasn’t an ordinary book.” Surfer Cop said.

I shook my head.  “It was anything but normal.  It spoke of creatures from another would and how to summon them.  We all thought it was a bunch of crap, so we didn’t argue when Sean suggested we do one of the rituals for fun.”

I inhaled deeply, doing my best to calm my rapidly increasing heartrate.  “When we had completed the ritual, nothing seemed to happen, which we expected, so we all went our separate ways.  It wasn’t until the following day, when we found…when we found Richard.”

The image of my friend’s mauled and bloody form flashed through my mind.  He had been found in his front yard, the police having been called when neighbors reported screaming, but they were too late to save him.

“Andrew started going off on how ‘it had to be the ritual’, how ‘we must have summoned something and it went after Richard’.  None of us believed him, at least, not until it killed Richard in front of us.”

It happened so fast.  A flash of razor-sharp claws, piercing red eyes, a scream, and it was all over.  Andrew was dead on the ground and we were all running.  I could hear its growls as we ran, sounding as if it were right behind me the entire time, but, when I turned, it wasn’t there, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was close.

“A-After that, we went back to the shop to try and get information on the creature from the store owner.  We learned from the shop owner that we hadn’t done the ritual correctly and, as a result, the creature was hunting us.  He went on to tell use that we had to burn the book in the circle we originally used in order to stop it.  That’s when that thing showed up.”

 I paused, momentarily recalling the scene.  Out of nowhere, it had appeared and struck attacked like a starving beast.  “It killed the shop keeper before chasing us into the forest where it caught and killed Alex.” I gave myself a second to collect my thoughts and to allow my story to sink in.  “We managed to make it back to the site of the ritual, but that thing appeared again.  It ripped Sean in half before we could even react.  I couldn’t see it.  It was…hiding in the shadows, but I could hear it.  Its constant growls and snarls.  We weren’t prepared for it appearing so suddenly, we couldn’t burn the book with that thing prowling, so someone had to distract it.”

“Trisha?” Surfer Cop inquired. 

“I-I burned the book, but I was too late,” I choked out.  “Trisha had been butchered before I could finish the job.  My only consolation was that all traces of the monster was gone when the book was burned.”

I looked up, meeting the two officer’s gazes for the first time since I started my tale.  “And that’s what happened.” I winced at how lame that sounded.

The two officers were quiet for a while, simply staring at me, drinking in the unbelievable tale I had just given.  A second passed, then another, and another until…

“BWHAHAHA!” Officer Mole burst out in peals of laughter, even Surfer Cop could not contain his own chuckles.  I found myself growing angry.

“It’s not funny!” I snarled, angrily pulling at my shackles.  “My friends died because of that monster!  How can you find that funny?!”

“You’re right, their deaths aren’t funny,” Surfer Cop simpered, gaining control of his mirth.  “What we find entertaining is that you expect us to believe that a monster killed your friends.”

“Sounds like someone’s already trying for the insanity defense,” Officer Mole joked to his partner.  I saw red.

“It’s the truth!” I roared, rattling my chains violently.  “Alex, Andrew, Trisha, all of them were killed by that monster!”

The mirth in the room died almost instantly.  “If what you said is true, why not come to the police?” Officer Mole asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“You wouldn’t have believed us,” I sneered.  “Just like you don’t believe me now.”

“But that’s not true, is it, Dylan?” a new voice spoke up.  Looking up, a female officer entered the room, a series of sheets in her hands.  “According to this report, one of your friends, Andrew Gable I believe, entered our station two days prior and attempted to report a murder when you—” She looked pointedly at me as she said this, her eyes as cold as the chains that bound my wrists, “—came in and dragged him outside before he could complete his report or any of our officers could stop you.”

I flinched at that.  We had agreed as a group that going to the police without any proof of some extradimensional creature’s involvement, but Andrew had been hesitant.  We intercepted him before he could tell the police about the ritual, with me doing the actual ‘intercepting’.

“Care to explain this, Dylan?” Officer Mole asked, his expression far too smug for my liking.  Even so, I had no credible excuse that would be believed.

“I…I…”

“How about this,” Surfer Cop cut in, his demeanor no longer comforting, but as cold as his compatriots.  “Can anybody support your claims?  Anybody living?”

“…no.”

“And what about the book?” he pressed.  “Surely if you had the book, then it would be a simple matter of testing to see if these ‘rituals’ actually work.”

“I burned the book,” I said.  “It was the only way to get rid of the monster!”

“So, what you’re saying is, you have no proof?”

I flinched.  “…no, but—”

“Then it’s an open and shut case,” Officer Mole said, not without a small bit of satisfaction.

 “But I didn’t kill anyone!”

“Enough, Dylan” the female officer scoffed.  “If not you, then who?  You’re the last one to see any of them alive, your prints were at every crime scene, and story of a ‘monster’ doesn’t make any sense.  You being the one to kill them is the only thing that makes sense.  The fact of the matter is, we don’t even need you to confess.  We’ve got more than enough evidence to put you away for a long time.”

All of a sudden, the door burst open and a clean-shaven man in an expensive suit stepped in.  “I hope you’re not questioning my client without his attorney present.  If so, anything he may have said would be inadmissible in court.”

“We’re just clarifying a few things,” Officer Mole said, unconcerned. 

“I’m sure.  That why he’s handcuffed to the table” the man said skeptically.  He walked over to me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  “Hello Mr. Reynolds, I’m Keith Reiser, your mother called me to represent you.”

“You’re representing him?” the female cop asked in disbelief.  “You must really be scrapping the bottom of the barrel.  There’s no question that he’s guilty.”

“We’ll see.” Reiser handed Surfer Cop a blue piece of paper. 

“You believe me?” I asked tentatively, a bud of hope beginning to blossom in my chest.

“Whether I believe you or not is inconsequential,” my lawyer responded coldly.  He then turned to address the officers.  “I would like a moment alone with my client, if you’d please.”

The three officers glanced at one another before they got up.  Filing out of the room, Officer Mole sent a final glance towards me and smirked.  He still thought I was done for.

When the door closed, my lawyer turned back to me.  “Okay then, Mr. Reynolds, as I said, I will be representing you in court.  You are not to speak with anyone besides myself or without my say so.  We will be pursuing a plea of not guilty by mental defect or insanity.  We will—”

“I’m not lying,” I interrupted.  “And I’m not insane!”

“That doesn’t matter at this stage,” he responded icily.  “What matters now is making sure you don’t get convicted.  Now, next we will…”

I stopped paying attention.  I didn’t want to listen to another person who didn’t believe me.  This was a nightmare.

A sudden sting drew my attention towards my hands.  Looking down, I saw that my long, and slightly overgrown, nails had torn through the flesh on my hands.  I was bleeding.

“This is all so messed.”