The Whispers: A Supernatural Apocalypse Novel Page 6

  Ruby suddenly stepped toward the door, giving Brock’s body a wide berth. She reached for the handle. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. No one else was paying attention. They were all trapped in their shells of shock and terror.

  “Ruby—what are you doing?” I said.

  She turned around and looked at me like I was the craziest person in the world to be asking such a question.

  “I’m going to look for Debbie!”

  “Ruby, you can’t. You were right. We need to wait for the storm to pass.”

  “There’s a dead body in my bar, Carter! And Debbie might still be out there, hurt and helpless. I can’t let her die!”

  “Ruby…please, I don’t think this is a good decision.”

  I should’ve known it would take more than that to hold her back, because like Brock, Ruby wasn’t in her right mind either. She gave me no reply. Well, not one with words.

  As she pulled the door open, a gust of wind and rain blew inside. It was strong enough to knock me off balance. Not Ruby. She stayed on her feet and darted into the foggy, rainy outside world.

  Righting myself, I lunged for her, but I was too late.

  Ruby was already gone.

  6

  I followed after her. Even though I was scared shitless in the moment, I couldn’t let Ruby go to her death. The faster I moved, the sooner I could drag her back inside. I mean, she had only been gone for a few seconds; she couldn’t have gotten far.

  But when I stepped onto the sidewalk, the door closing behind me, I didn’t see her. I didn’t see anything, because a heavy haze—not exactly the fog or mist from earlier, but something different—had fallen over the night. It was smoky, and it made everything seem like I was looking through smudged glass. The power outage didn’t help either.

  Again, I wondered what the hell happened. Was it a terrorist attack? Chemical gas dropped over every city? Should I have even been inhaling this…haze, or whatever the hell it was?

  I hate to admit it, but I found myself hoping it was a terrorist attack. That was much easier to explain than what I feared had actually happened—and I wasn’t even sure what I feared had happened. I just knew it was supernatural.

  “Ruby,” I yelled. The haze seemed to absorb the sound, though, and my voice came out as a whisper. “Ruby! Ruby! Where the hell are you?”

  No answer.

  I walked on down the sidewalk, passing empty office buildings and the other closed businesses. A few more steps and I tripped over something. I hit the wet concrete hard, skinning my palms, the fresh wound burning.

  I’d tripped over an old chair. Surrounding it was a bunch of other stuff most people would consider junk. It had come from the antique shop. The show window was broken, and whatever was on display there had spilled onto the sidewalk.

  Rising, I yelled “Rube!” as loud as I could. The thunder and the haze dampened it, though, and I didn’t think Ruby would have heard me had she been standing twenty feet away.

  I kicked at a few of the items in my way and went onward. About thirty seconds later, I crossed the street toward the parking lots, where I figured Debbie’s car would’ve been.

  Muted reds and yellows and greens rushed out of the haze to meet me as I navigated through the abandoned vehicles. I went around them, brushing my fingers over the cold, wet metal. Ruby was not here. I sensed no one at all. Had I stepped through some invisible door into a world where I was the only person left? The only human?

  Distant lightning rippled through the sky, but the rain was letting up a bit. It was no longer pelting my skin. I thought that was a good sign, yeah?

  Scared, ready to turn back, I knew where I had to go next. Adjacent to the lots was a park. There was a scattering of trees, a small amphitheater, a playground, and a couple of basketball courts, where I could barely make out the hoops’ outlines in the far distance. The trees offered a lot of cover…which was perfect if you were going to commit a murder. If you were going to kill someone like we believed Brock had killed Debbie, it would probably be there. At least, that was how I thought Ruby would think.

  In reality, I bet Brock didn’t care where he murdered Debbie. His mind was so far gone, he would’ve done it in the middle of a crowded supermarket if the things he spoke of told him to do so.

  Although the idea of entering a dark park in the middle of a raging thunderstorm froze my insides, I went anyway.

  “Ruby! C’mon, talk to me—!” I shouted, but a sudden movement on my right stopped my voice dead in my throat. Then I heard a low scraping sound, like a boot dragging across the concrete.

  And it was growing louder.

  When I turned toward where I thought the noise was coming from, I saw nothing. My muscles tensed. I balled my hands into fists in case I had to punch something. I’ve never been much of a fighter, but when the chips were down I didn’t think I would hesitate. I could throw a punch if I had to; the question was if it would be a good punch or not.

  The noise suddenly stopped.

  I sensed someone close, their eyes pressing heavily on the back of my neck. I spun around, teeth gritted, raising my right fist, a weak warrior cry building in my chest, ready to explode free.

  But again, there was nothing beside the haze, like a wall of smoke.

  Had it gotten thicker? Denser?

  I sighed in relief. I wasn’t sure what I thought I was going to come face to face with, but I told myself that my imagination was way worse than whatever the reality was. The nightmare creatures of my recent dreams would remain in my head. They had to, because things like them didn’t exist.

  Right?

  Right?

  I barely felt the rain anymore. The storm was ending, I hoped.

  Breathing steadily, I continued toward the park. I must’ve been moving at about half a mile an hour, afraid I’d bump into someone—or something—and fall and bust my head open. What felt like an eternity later, the bandstand swam up out of the haze. I was walking through the grass toward it. I had heard no other sounds besides the distant thunder, the wind, and the rain pattering the canopy of leaves surrounding the bandstand.

  You imagined it, I thought. You imagined it just like you imagined seeing a tall, pale figure out in the street when the storm first started. The crazy guy got into your head, and for some odd reason you’re back to being a five-year-old boy, afraid of the monster in his closet that doesn’t exist.

  These thoughts helped me regain some of my courage. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Ruby!” loud enough to break through the haze.

  “Carter?” a voice replied.

  My heart stopped. It was her. She sounded close, just a few feet in front of me. I reached out like a blind man and flailed my arms in every direction. “Ruby, where are you?”

  It seemed like she didn’t answer for a long time. I can’t tell you how long, I just know I must’ve covered almost a quarter-mile of ground before she did.

  She stuttered, and I could hear the terror in her voice. “Carter, d-don’t move.”

  I stopped. “What? Why?”

  “It’s right beside you.”

  Slowly, I turned my head to the right and then to the left. I saw nothing, only because the haze was too dense—but like earlier, I sensed evil. Was it just one? Two? Dozens?

  “What?” I asked.

  “I d-don’t know what it is.”

  What it is? I repeated in my head. The fear I felt surged to straight horror.

  “Ruby,” I said, “come to me, follow my voice.”

  “It’s—it’s studying us,” she said, “but it’s dangerous, Carter.”

  “How do you know?”

  I hadn’t moved yet, but I was planning on it. As soon as I saw the figure shift, I would sprint toward Ruby and carry her back to the bar if I had to.

  “It’s whispering to me,” Ruby said. “D-don’t you hear him?”

  God, hadn’t Brock told us something about whispers? I thought so, but my brain was already trying to bury
that terrible experience, and my memory of it was becoming spotty.

  “No, I don’t—” I began, but that was when I did hear something. A low rattling, like it was coming from deep inside some monster’s throat. It was an unnatural sound. It was an inhuman sound.

  “Grab my hand,” I said to Ruby.

  “I c-can’t move.”

  “Is it holding you?”

  “No—I’m t-too scared.”

  “Trust me, grab my hand.”

  “It can hear us, Carter. It knows what we’re g-going to do.”

  “Ruby?”

  “I’m still here.”

  I edged closer to her. “Keep talking.”

  “We can’t do this. You d-don’t understand, it’s going to do more than k-kill us—”

  That was enough for me to pinpoint her location. I reached out and the back of my fingers brushed her jacket. She gasped at my touch before I could tell her it was me.

  She gave me her hand, gripping it so tightly I felt the bones in my fingers bend inward. The pain was sharp and uncomfortable, but a good reminder that I was still alive. At that moment, I needed that. The thing hadn’t gotten to me yet, and I didn’t plan on it.

  “Ready?” I whispered.

  “I think s-so.”

  I counted us down from three, and then we made a break for it.

  The haze had faded a bit. Maybe the powers that be were finally cutting us some slack, because now I could see about ten feet ahead. The chances of running into something that would slow us down had slimmed. We could actually know where we were going.

  But I soon realized this probably wasn’t any higher power’s doing. The creature, the figure, the thing—whatever it was—somehow controlled the haze. Did it control the rest of the weather too?

  No, I told myself, that’s impossible.

  The evidence, however, seemed to be right there in front of me.

  Running for our lives, we approached the edge of the grass, which gave way to the asphalt of the parking lot. I saw the curb in front of us, but Ruby apparently didn't. She tripped and fell, pulling us both down. She hit the wet earth; I hit the lot. The denim of my jeans tore at the knees, catching and pitching me forward. I somersaulted forward into a puddle of water about a foot deep.

  I can’t really give you a good explanation for what happened next. There was a sound. Not the rattling like before, but a terrible whisper. The words were buzz saws ripping through my skull, traveling down my spine; it felt like a million blades were stabbing me.

  I tried to scream but couldn’t. I tried getting up but couldn’t.

  The whispers were constant. Burning.

  I was in a puddle of dirt and gray water, facing the sky, rain pummeling my flesh, the haze slowly wrapping around us. I found the only thing I had control of were my eyes. I couldn’t blink, but I could track movement.

  And something moved.

  It was Ruby. She rose from the grass, paused on her knees, and craned her head up at what was nothing. Nothing I could see, at least.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” she gasped, pointing high. “Look at all the colorful lights! And do you hear that music?”

  What? I tried asking her what the hell she was talking about, but I couldn’t speak.

  Despite being in the throes of the horror, my body in pain, unable to move, I found myself thinking of Clem again. Thinking and hoping that she was all right, that she didn’t have to go through any of this. I hoped with every ounce of my being that this was only happening here, and not where she and her mother lived.

  Then why hasn’t anyone come to help you yet? If it’s only here, where are the people you trust to help you when something bad happens? The police? The National Guard? The Army? The—

  Slow movement from within the haze stopped my thoughts dead.

  It was the thing.

  All I saw was its hand, clear as day. The rest of its body was hidden by the darkness, offering me only a faint outline. I was glad for that.

  Still, what I did see was enough to push my mind to the borders of insanity. The figure was taller than I originally thought. Towering. Its skin looked to be a pale gray that had never seen a sun ray, but I know that could’ve been because of the haze. I couldn’t see its features, its eyes, its nose, its mouth. And I didn’t want to, after seeing the hand.

  That hand was three times the size of my own. It only had four fingers, and each one seemed almost eight inches long. They thinned to sharp points; not claws or nails or talons, but sharp flesh. That is the best I can describe it, but I could be wrong. It wasn’t exactly easy to see, and I was paralyzed and scared and confused as hell.

  The hand only hovered there for a few seconds before it grabbed Ruby around the waist and dragged her away.

  She didn’t fight back.

  Man, she couldn’t even scream.

  The terrible whispering stopped, and I felt my muscles convulse, relax. Almost every single one of them. First I wiggled my fingers, digging in the mud. I moaned in pain and relief—but mostly in pain.

  I got to my hands and knees. Took a deep breath. No time to sit here and recover. Ruby was somewhere close, she had to be. I squinted and saw swirls of the haze closing around the path her body had made as she was taken. I even thought I heard her scream in the distance.

  As I stood, a wave of nausea rippled through my insides. I heaved like I was going to puke, my stomach twisting, and then the feeling faded. Slowly, I tried to find my footing, but I wobbled and my body hurtled to the left, where I took a few steps against my will and slammed into the side of a cherry-red Mustang. The instant popping noise that followed resembled a muted gunshot, and I wasn’t sure if it was my hip or the car. Best and worst of all, I felt a sharp stab of pain shoot down my left leg. Although I had been able to get up, I was still worried that the numbness the whispers brought on would be permanent.

  The real test began when I tried speaking, because my tongue seemed like it was three times its normal size. I swallowed, throat dry, the walls grinding together like pieces of dry wood.

  “Ruby!” My voice came out sounding stronger than I expected, and that was all I needed, that burst of confidence.

  No confidence or all the confidence in the world, I would’ve still done what I planned on doing, because Ruby was family to me. In fact, she was more family to me than a lot of my remaining family members were—and there were not many left. I couldn’t let her be taken by…whatever that thing was.

  So I ran as best as I could, following the same path of the faded haze. It took me toward the park and the trees surrounding it. At first, my gait was more of a limp, but once I shook some of the numbness from my muscles and joints, I moved more fluidly.

  Even without the path, I would’ve found her easily enough. It seemed she had snapped out of whatever spell she was under. The ditches she had raked through the mud and her screams suggested she was putting up a fight. And as I got closer, her screams couldn’t be ignored. I imagined they could be heard a mile away.

  I came upon the two of them in a clearing not far from the back of the bandstand. My eyes focused on Ruby despite being aware of the tall figure standing over her, because my mind didn’t want to acknowledge the creature.

  We have been trained to believe monsters don’t exist; our brains aren’t capable of understanding and accepting anything too far beyond what we see day in and day out. Doing so would distort reality, what we have known and grown comfortable with over the course of our entire lives.

  I knew looking at this figure, staring into its face, was enough to send me into a vegetative state. It was like trying to force two like sides of a magnet together—you could feel it repelling, and no matter how hard you tried, the magnets would never line up the way the opposite ends would.

  So I focused on Ruby. She was lying on the ground. She looked on the verge of unconsciousness now, the fight all but gone out of her. Her face was pale white. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled. Her mouth drooped, head lolled. Her chest r
ose and fell with shaky breaths.

  I began to say her name, but a cold fear silenced my voice. I found my eyes drifting, wanting to risk a look at the figure standing over her. I turned my head from side to side.

  Again, I had the sensation of stepping through that door again, leaving reality behind and entering a nightmare. None of it felt real. The rain, the haze, the ground beneath my feet, Ruby lying motionless in the grass, the shadowy figure—nothing.

  No. Don’t look.

  Get to Ruby. And run.

  But again, I was paralyzed. This wasn’t because of the whispers I had heard earlier. No, this paralyzation was a result of how scared I was.

  The thing moved. It knelt beside Ruby. Its movements, although I only saw from the corner of my eye, were twitchy, almost like a rabid animal.

  What happened next is also hard to explain, because it was so…well, because it was so weird.

  More whispers filled the air, as if there was a parade of these things all around, and where the figure’s head was, a vast black hole opened. I forced myself to look at it. I had to.

  I saw its mouth, or where I’d expected mouths to be on humanlike figures, part. No, part isn’t really the right term. Stretched, maybe? I don’t know. This thing’s mouth yawned as wide as a cave’s entrance, expanding and expanding.

  Impossible, I know, but I also know what I saw. And I am no liar.

  Now that large opening converged on Ruby’s legs. It began to swallow her whole. I saw no teeth, but I couldn’t imagine it was a painless experience either. Roused from unconsciousness, she screamed—a haunting mix of pain and horror.

  The whispers filled the spaces around her shrieks, the sound unsettling enough to make my intestines uncoil.

  Ruby’s face was all eyes and mouth. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

  And here I was, unable to move.

  Slowly, painfully, she was dragged deeper and deeper into the darkness, almost to her waist.

  “Carter! CARTER!”