Supernatural Short Bus

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Lycandope
Lycandope
1,059 Followers

The other woman paced the room before finally walking to the broken window. She reached her hand out and then stopped. Instead, she pulled a knife from her side and pushed it toward the opening. The tip melted as soon as it passed the window frame. "We've been sealed off." She walked quickly back to Ms. Chapman's dead body and placed her hand against the thing's lower belly. "It's not her. It can't be the familiar. Who...? The bus. Where's the-"

They all looked through the large front windows. The bus was gone.

Peter's voice was weak. "But it's just a bus. It can't have done this. It's just a bus."

Sarah answered slowly, hands on the large curved knives at her side. "No. No, it's not. It fucking isn't just a bus. I can break this seal with time. I have what I need with me. And then we go. Everyone spread out, in twos, and look for that goddamned lizard. It might not look like a lizard but, if not, you'll know it when you see it. It'll look horrible. The bus will still be out there so we should be mostly safe. We're sealed in but it's caught outside. The familiar can't do much on its own. I'll be working down in here but I cannot be disturbed. Bring Ryan's body upstairs. One of the bedrooms or something and then spread out. This place is huge and it could be hiding anywhere. Don't. Go. Alone."

Kelly looked over at Ryan's body. "I'm... I'm not touching it." Adam sat on the edge of their couch, rocking back and forth with the silver Rubik's cube in his hands. Turning and turning and turning it.

"Him, Kelly." John said. "It's still Ryan. Peter, will you help me bring him up to one of the rooms?"

Peter swallowed several times but finally nodded. "Y... yeah. I'll help." They both walked over to the dead man's body. Peter grabbed under Ryan's arms and John held under the man's feet. Peter's stomach turned when Ryan's skin sagged badly, as if it was melting off of him. He was incredibly light for such a large man. Peter lead the small procession up the stairs. Cobwebs that looked childish earlier now seemed ominous and Peter shivered every time he brushed against one. The others followed the two young men up to the second floor, with Adam at the rear. Stumbling.

The Rubik's cube lay on the edge of the coffee table in front of the couch. Teetering. The light shined off of its segmented silver surface. It fell, landing on an edge. Suddenly, small spikes lanced out from each individual square and it split partially open. Inside was a soft, pink flesh. Slowly, blood oozed from between the cracks.

Chapter 2

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At the top of the stairs, Peter took the first door on his left, elbowing it open. The door had a large number '1' painted on the front and, looking down the hallway, there were seven similar rooms. It was a simple room with a bed, small table, dresser and closet. A single bulb hung from the center of the room. Tricia walked in to pull the chain, setting the now lit bulb to swing gently in a circle.

Without a word, John and Peter lay Ryan's dead body on the small bed. The body looked desiccated; the clothes lay flat on a body now half the size. They huddled around the foot of the bed, staring. Hannah whispered in the unnatural silence. "What do we tell his wife?" She reached out for Peter's arm, her hand going down to his hand to squeeze. "What are we going to do, Peter?" Peter squeezed her hand back and then let go.

"I'm not staying in here." He told everyone. To his amazement, his lack of willingness to stay in the room wasn't due to fear. His nerves were calm as he considered the situation. No, he thought. It's not fear. I want to protect them all. I want to get us all out of here in one piece. "I think we should do what Sarah wants. We spread out and look for Chami. The lizard. The thing. Sandra, will you come with me? And then Adam and Tricia? John and Hannah? Kelly, do you want to come with me? Kelly?"

Kelly broke her gaze away from Ryan's body. "Oh. I'll... I'll go with John."

Peter nodded and turned. "All right. I'll check the basement. Adam can check this floor and John, can you go to the third floor?"

Adam stepped forward. "I would like to look in the basement, actually." When they all looked at him, he shrugged and said, "No reason. I just like the idea better."

"All right. Let's go then. If anyone finds anything, yell. Or... or... something." Peter wrinkled his nose. Should it already smell bad in here? It's rank. That stench burned his eyes and he could feel a headache coming on. Rubbing his eyes hard seemed to help with both and he didn't even notice as the contacts fell out of his eyes. "Come on, Sandra. It smells bad in here."

Chapter 3

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The group slowly followed Peter, casting glances back at Ryan's prone body. Adam stood apart, eyes flickering here and there along the corpse. Unnoticed by anyone else, the skin along his scalp moved in a line, as if a fat worm was working its way from his left ear to the back of his neck. Little fluorescent green dots swarmed like fireflies through his eyes, gathering into the darkness of his pupil and then dispersing all at once. "Such a waste," he whispered. "Such a waste of flesh and bones and blood and organs. A bag of flesh and bones and no blood. Bag of bones? Organs? Musical organ? Bagpipes?" His whispered laugh was a skittering of bugs hiding in the darkness. When he spoke again, his voice was different, higher in pitch and nearly sing-song in amusement. A mockery of his old classmates sighing in frustration at his jokes. "Aaaaadaaaaam." Now his voice was lower, rapid. Devoid of emotion. "Could replace the flesh with steel. Flexible metal. Attach the muscles with strings and cat whiskers and pain and love. The heart? Muscles need blood. Or some kind of blood. Someone else's blood? Steam powered? Nuclear powered? Pain powered? Eyes with marbles that see whatever I-"

Tricia called from the hallway. "Adam? Are you coming?"

Slowly, he turned to look at the young human creature that created sound waves from the vibration of air and a complicated set of interactions involving the lungs, throat muscles, teeth and tongue. Adam saw the young woman and his mind buzzed with possibilities. Equations full of symbols that belonged in no sane math book rumbled through his brain. The molecular structures of flesh, metal and sin rode shiny black horses along his neural pathways. He grinned. "Yes, of course I'm coming."

The pair made their way down the stairs and back onto the first floor. Sarah had her back to them and was busy with her work. The woman's fingers were marked with red and black as she took various types of colored sticks to mark the floor in a triangular pattern. Upon glimpsing the diagram in front of the woman, Adam nearly screamed from the sudden blooming of pain behind his eyes. He averted his gaze, hands to his face as he tried to process what happened.

"Are you all right, Adam?" Tricia reached out to her friend but he pulled away slightly. She thought she saw something move along the back of his hand but when she blinked, it was gone.

"I'm fine," Adam gasped. "Let's... the basement is through the kitchen. Back here. Let's go." He took his hands away from his face, wiping the bloody palms on the front of his old blue jeans. Adam walked briskly away and past the refreshments table until he was out of sight of Sarah's diagram. The pain in his head was finally subsiding and he could feel the things in his body calming down. His friends. His new friends. They whispered to him of forbidden knowledge. Ancient spells and techniques thought to be erased from history. Destroyed in Mesopotamia and South America long, long ago. But not forgotten, no. Not entirely forgotten. Nothing is ever truly lost. The long, thin creatures crooned to him, singing as they traveled through his blood and body.

The kitchen was very well appointed. A large table dominated the center of the room with miles of counter spaces arrayed around the room, hugging the walls. Copper pots and pans hung from small, dull metal hooks above the table. Tricia's eyes strayed to the various knives stored around the room. "I don't like this. Every little thing looks creepy after that. Everything. I'm scared, Adam. How can something like that exist? Something like Ms. Chapman? I feel like I'm in a nightmare. I... I want to go home." She hugged her arms close to herself as they walked around the room to reach the back.

"It'll be fine. The girl... Sarah is clever. Too clever. She'll find a way through the field. I could break a way through if-" Adam' mouth snapped shut. He stole a glance at Tricia out of the corner of his eyes but she seemed not to have heard him. They both stopped in front of an ornate oak door.

"Is this it? Are you sure? How do you know?" Tricia's voice was tinged with slight panic. The thought of going into the basement terrified her. Her whole life, she'd grounded herself into reality and, now, she doubted everything. Every little shadow, every little movement or ticking or creak or unexplained noise became ominous and she hated herself for being timid and afraid.

Adam stepped back from the door, slightly behind Tricia. "I know because it told me. The construct you call Chami." Tricia began to turn to Adam, her eyes big as saucers but Adam' hand shot out to the back of her neck. She froze. "There, there. No need to fight it. Not that you could. Open the door and just go down, I'll follow. I have so many wonderful ideas to show you. So many incredible things. And you get to be part of it. Lucky, lucky you."

The thing on Adam' shoulder wasn't Chami. It was about the size of the lizard Tricia remembered from school but now it was barrel shaped with a round, open maw rimmed with teeth. Eyes dotted its back in three rows and putrid green wings fluttered occasionally as it moved. Claws like a rooster gripped Adam' shoulder while a thin tail coiled around the young man's throat loosely. He stroked its back and the thing's eyes opened and closed in a ripple as his fingers moved.

Tricia's neck was entirely numb. She'd felt a quick, hot flare of pain and then nothing at all. She could still think and breathe and look around but everything else was lost to her. She didn't feel the compulsion of Adam' words. She didn't feel this overwhelming desire to do as she was told. Her body simply moved. She could still feel everything - the way the clear faceted doorknob dug into the soft palm of her hands and the cold air of the basement on her as she took the stairs down. Yet, when she tried to stop herself moving, there was nothing there. Her body didn't exist. She could feel sensations but she had no control over herself. Adam followed close behind her, talking to himself under his breath. She wanted to scream at him, plead with him, anything to make him stop.

"Watch your step now. I wouldn't want to damage my toy. Oh, not that that would stop me. I would fix you up just right. Even better. Here we are. Stop for a moment." Tricia felt Adam move around her in the darkness and, with a click, a small overhead light bulb flared into life. "Now, let me just..." There was a sudden dull aching sensation at the base of Tricia's skull that made her knees want to buckle. She would've moaned if she had control of her mouth. "Perfect!" Adam stepped towards a large wooden table in the corner of the room.

Tricia mentally screamed at herself to run. To move. Her body still refused to listen to her. Instead, her eyes flickered around the room, desperate to find something that could help her. Mirrors and wood working tools lined the walls with small shelves interspersed among them. Her eyes caught one of the mirrors that reflected on a mirror behind her. There, at the base of her neck were two bloody, oozing fingertip sized holes. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.

Chapter 4

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Sarah stared at her work - modified Sumerian script heavy on the pleading to Enki for intercession with a subscript in a lost Egyptian pictographic text to help ward against demons. It'd taken her years to learn the very basics of the second language and she'd had to torture three people to even discover its existence.

Twelve years on the run. Twelve long, sad years. She sat crossed-legged in front of the diagram. A little over twelve years ago, she'd decided on a whim to visit Ms. Chapman. Her old school seemed much smaller than she remembered. Smaller and more dirty. The air around the school felt heavy and dreary and cold. For a moment, she'd considered turning back but she was nothing if not head strong.

The old school bus wasn't around and she wondered if that meant Ms. Chapman was gone. Rather than walk into the school (she hated dealing with old teachers - they always spent way too long praising their former star student) she went around to the side of the school where Ms. Chapman's class used to be. Oddly enough, the blinds were closed even though it was a beautiful Spring day. Stepping around badly maintained bushes (what happened to the school, she wondered) she peeked through the corner of the window through a gap in the blinds.

What she saw changed her life. The desks of the classroom were arranged in a circle. Glowing, unrecognizable text lined the walls and there was a faint whiff of some noxious stench coming through the cracks in the window's sealant. The room was completely empty except for the desks. There were no tables or displays or cheery little fake skeleton showing the various bones in the body. The students, so young at that age, sat in their desks with their heads down or back but eyes closed, every one. Their mouths occasionally moved as if they were speaking.

Ms. Chapman stood in the center of the desks with her arms out. She was then as she was now - over six feet tall and pure red. Naked and hairless with tiny horns and claws. Her breasts hung low on her chest, black nipples on even darker aureole. Her massive wings were pulled tight against her back like a leather cloak. The monstrosity turned in a slow, luxurious circle, smiling lightly with just the hint of fangs showing. Ms. Chapman's eyes were maroon with a pinpoint of black in the center. Her eyes were focused far into the distance as her mind wandered. Sarah could barely find her breath. Her hand shook on the little window ledge as she watched the scene in horror.

Suddenly, the demon stopped. Its nose crinkled. And then, it smiled wider, mouth opening to show full fangs and a pure black forked tongue. It LOOKED at her. "Ah. Sarah. You've come back to me."

She ran. She dropped her ever-present backpack and ran. Years of sitting against the wall in gym class with her nose buried in a book caught up to her. She stumbled, chest burning from the sudden exertion. Leaning against a nearby tree, she caught her breath until she could run again. Five miles to her home from school. Cars passed her with some people smiling and waving as she gasped for air. For the first mile she alternated running and walking until she could no longer run. She walked the rest of the way, her mind racing at possibilities.

The police lights were visible six blocks away. She'd subconsciously heard the loudspeaker the police were using but she'd been too distracted to understand what was being said. When her house finally came into view, she stumbled into a nightmare worse than the classroom. Her father stood on their front lawn, soaked in blood with eyes nearly completely white. In front of him, held tight by his flabby arms, was her little sister, just a few years younger than her. Her dad was screaming at the police. "It's because of that bitch! Because of her! Oh god! Oh god! Please help me! I can't stop myself! I'm coming for you next, you little whore! Stop talking stop talking stop talking! Get out of my head! Ohhhh god! I'll kill you all! I'll kill you all and rape your corpses!"

Her dad, the man who raised her gently and lovingly throughout the years brought his teeth down to his young daughter's slim neck. With no hesitation, he bit in hard and reared back, spraying his face and body with massive amounts of blood.

And then he laughed.

Sarah vomited as the police opened fire. The roar of gunfire deafened her and they were still firing when she stumbled away, half blind from the tears in her eyes. The next few hours were a blur of sounds and images. People. Cars. Dogs barking. She didn't remember getting on the Greyhound and didn't even know where it was going; she just left. She came to when the man next to her started talking. This jolly old man that was on his way to see his daughter in New York. He offered Sarah a place to stay while they traveled and she accepted. That same jolly old man raped her the third night of the trip on one of the stops. There was nothing different about his behavior as he walked her to the local 7-11 for some snack foods - he just took her into an alley and raped her as if it was the most ordinary thing. She almost stayed with him. Where else did she have to go? As she stood there, shaking with her panties around her ankles, she almost just put her clothes back on and kept going with him. It took every ounce of her frayed willpower to walk away. And then more to keep walking.

The next year she was raped four more times as she made her way East. She stole, did drugs and sometimes sold her body for money until a police officer caught her. An honest police officer. He didn't arrest her. He picked her up and drove for a while, talking about life choices and her future. She'd laughed at him. Finally, he dropped her off at a huge house with other teenagers and some young women. They talked to her more. They'd seen some of the horrors she had - some worse. They took her in and calmed her through her withdrawals. They were kind of listened and cried with her. When she got better, when she started seeing more clearly again, they got her in touch with a Catholic priest. Her old studious habits had resurfaced and she turned out to be very good at languages. Father Fuego, the priest, needed help with translations and she jumped at the chance to do something with her life. He was her lead into working on Sumerian texts and they both traveled through parts of Iraq, talking with some of the nomadic people to learn their legends and histories. Neither of them truly believed in demons until they found a crypt in the middle of the desert. She'd had to kill the priest when he was consumed by the hungry spirit trapped inside.

She spent the next few weeks in the crypt taking notes and living off of the land. She learned to hunt and kill the few animals that lived nearby until she was fast and hard and strong. She learned of the ways to combat the demons living in their world. When she'd finished with the tomb, she collapsed the entrance and left, saying a small prayer for the old priest. It took nearly a month to barter and lie her way back into a ticket home but she finally did. Home. After the time she'd spent abroad and the dangers she'd faced, America now seemed like the foreign land. Sarah spent months hunting minor demons in the US, learning their habits and hunting grounds. When she was satisfied with what she found, she tentatively reached out to her old classmates. She stalked Peter, afraid to show herself. Through simple wired microphones, she discovered the Halloween party and knew she had to act quickly.

And now, here she was. Too late. Too late to save all of them. With a sigh, Sarah drew the final vertical line in the center of the triangle, completing the pattern. There was no heavenly trumpeting or demonic screaming signaling the destruction of the barrier but she knew it was weakened or possibly destroyed. She stood, checking her various knives and talismans in a fluid and well practiced motion.

The front door rattled a bit but yielded to her when she pushed hard enough. Rather than potentially waste another knife, Sarah kicked a small rock towards the parking area. There was a small 'sst!' noise as the rock passed the barrier but it went without melting or bursting into flames.

Lycandope
Lycandope
1,059 Followers