Takedown

in hundreds of abandoned buildings before and he’s never encountered something that’s even come close to this feeling. Of course, humanity hadn’t died off and been replaced by cannibalistic creatures either.

Time seems stretched — the seconds becoming minutes and the minutes, hours. They’ve only been inside for a couple of minutes but he feels like hours have passed. Each step should be bringing them closer to the stand hosting the local attraction brochures but it still seems the same distance away.

Get a hold of yourself, Vance, he thinks with a small shake of his head. You’re letting your imagination run away. This is just an unlit building.

A faint, slithering sound comes from the murk ahead; so faint it is barely audible and so quick that Krandle isn’t sure he even heard it. However, he’s been in enough situations to know that ‘something’ makes all sounds and to never discount one just because it stops. Something made this one and therefore something is here.

“What the fuck was that?” Speer whispers, being just as quiet as the sound. Krandle shakes his head slightly and points once again to the stand.

“I’m telling you, man, something is in here with us. I can feel it,” Speer breathes, taking another step.

The tension matches the thickness of the darkness as they sidle up to the rack. Krandle understands the warning the captain gave them about going into buildings. The sound of bare feet slapping on the linoleum from within the gloom is sudden, startling both him and Speer. Krandle tracks the sound heading quickly from left to right. A loud, high-pitched shriek erupts, breaking the stillness and filling the interior with its intensity. More shrill screams join in from other parts of the hotel but, as yet, nothing has become visible.

“That sounds exactly like those motherfuckers in the Philippines,” Speer says.

“They are. Grab as many as you can and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Krandle shouts, hearing more footfalls heading their way. His barrel waves in the air toward sounds that are still swallowed up in shadows.

That will change very soon, he thinks, listening to the sounds drawing quickly closer.

His finger is on the trigger waiting for something to appear. The steps are becoming increasingly louder and coming from all parts of the interior. Shrieks continue to beat against his ears, seeming to shake the very walls.

Krandle’s radio crackles. “Are you guys okay?” Franklin asks.

“We’re coming out on the run,” he replies.

Krandle looks at Speer who is grabbing handfuls of brochures one-handed, stuffing them into his pockets while keeping his eyes and weapon on the unseen sounds. Many of the pieces of paper fall through his grasp to land on the floor, some gliding away riding on a cushion of air.

“That’s enough. Go, go, go!” he shouts.

Speer takes off like he was launched from a slingshot. Krandle backs away quickly keeping his M-4 trained on the interior. A ghostly face flashes at the edge of the darkness and vanishes. As the seconds tick by, the room increasingly fills with screams.

“You’re at the door,” he hears Franklin say behind him.

The crunch of glass underfoot is barely audible above the screams filling the hotel. He feels more than hears it and is relieved when his feet contact the concrete walkway outside. The shrieks still ring loudly in his ears but become more subdued as he steps completely outside.

“To the street,” he says to the waiting team.

He and the rest of the team streak down the alley, their boots ringing off the walls. Krandle knows Walker mentioned that the night runners couldn’t come out in the daylight, but he didn’t exactly describe what he meant by “daylight”. Krandle isn’t going to take the chance that shade is fair game for the night runners to venture into. He wasn’t going to stop until he reaches actual sunlight. Their journey out of the alley is significantly shorter than their one into it.

Reaching the road at the other end of the shaded avenue, they halt and turn, half expecting night runners to be on their tail or at the entrance, Krandle doesn’t see a soul. The only thing in the alley is a piece of paper tumbling end over end by a breeze along with several brochures that fell from Speer’s pockets. Even the shrieks have ceased. A blanket of silence descends once more.

“How the fuck did they know we were in there? We were like ghosts, man,” Speer says once they ascertain they aren’t about to be assaulted.

“Captain Walker mentioned something about their ability to smell things out,” Krandle answers, remembering the ghostly image of the face, a picture that will haunt him forever.

“That’s just not right,” Speer comments, fumbling in his pockets and withdrawing a handful of brochures.

“So, one of you two want to tell us what happened?” Franklin asks. Krandle relates what happened from his perspective.

“I guess that means no more going into buildings,” Franklin states as the others shake their heads in disbelief.

“I know you won’t find me going into any more. That was freaky as fuck,” Speer says.

“We’ll evaluate each situation as we come to it, but yes, I’m inclined to adopt that strategy,” Krandle replies.

With the rest of them maintaining a watch and with eyes stealing to the hotel entrance periodically, Speer begins looking through the papers he retrieved.

“Okay, boys and girls, there’s a lot to see and do, but we have to choose carefully as we won’t have enough time to see them all. We can walk the historic promenade and see a statue of Lewis and Clark, go to the arcade or aquarium, or take in the many shopping venues. Oh wait, there’s also the historical museum or we can have a romantic getaway. They all sound so appealing that I’m having a hard time deciding. Hmmm…there’s a Hood-to- Coast thing hosted here, whatever that is. I don’t know. What do you think we should do first, Dad?” Speer says, rifling through the cards as if on vacation. Quiet chuckles emit from the team.

“Go fly a kite, Speer,” Krandle says, knowing exactly what is coming next.

“Oh, it says we can do that here,” Speer replies, handing a brochure over.

“Just find one with a decent map on it,” Krandle says, looking warily down the alley.

His heart is only now slowing to the point that it feels like it’s actually a beat rather than an electric Gatling gun spitting out thousands of rounds per minute. Speer unfolds one that has all of the town’s attractions on a map that encompasses the entire inside of the tri-fold pamphlet.

“I think we can rule the hotels out,” Krandle says, looking at the map. “That leaves the police station and hospital to check.”

They creep through the silent, downtown streets. There are some cars parked along the side of the roads, all of which have sand piles built up against the tires. That and the dirty windows indicate they’ve been there for a while. Several of the shops, mostly of the touristy variety, have their windows broken out. The rest look like they haven’t been acquainted with Windex in some time rendering them opaque.

Speer is on point with the rest of the team spread at intervals. They alertly and warily proceed down the wind swept streets. Speer gets Krandle’s attention, pointing to a vehicle in the middle of the road ahead. It appears to have slammed into the side of a motor home. A body lies spread in the road adjacent to a car with the windows broken out.

Signaling the rest of the team to hold, Krandle walks ahead and crosses the street. Drawing nearer to the body, he sees that it has been there for a while by the small drifts of sand piled up against it. Something doesn’t look exactly right and, as he approaches, he sees what is wrong. Almost the entire body is skeletal with most of the skin and tissue missing. Hair clings to parts of the skull and the bones are only held together by strips of dried ligaments. The legs of the jeans have been shredded, leaving them looking like a deeply stained pair of shorts which are loosely wrapped around the waist. Shoes and socks barely adhere to the stripped clean body. Pieces of decayed internals lie in the rib cage mixed with sand and other small pieces of debris.

Looking to the vehicle, he notices the shredded remains of a red t-shirt wrapped around the rear wheel and partially covered with sand. Disgusted, Krandle steps up to the car and peers inside. Glass litters the floorboards and the front seat and rear seats. Another body in the same condition as the first lies stretched across the center console from the passenger to the rear seat. The longer, brown hair lies in a tangled mess across the rear seat. Lying along the rear seat, partially hidden under the dirty mop of hair, is a smaller body — obviously that of a child.