Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
The horde had swelled to include every zombie in the facility, over one hundred, clawing and screeching, stumbling over each other to get to the sweet flesh.
The agents skidded out into the main hall. They were surrounded. The zombies began to moan softly, tightening the noose as they closed in on their prey.
“BY THE POWER OF THE ELDER SIGN I REPEL YOU!” shouted Archive. He thrust the phylactery before him and the zombies, as one, were thrust backward as if hit by a wave of force. The sign was losing its efficacy against them.
Fiona didn’t need to be told twice. She had Guppy in a fireman’s carry, but she managed to unsling his satchel and drop it at the entrance to the building.
They kept running. Archive’s temporary distraction had bought them a few seconds lead, but not much. Jim-Bean skidded to a halt and turned, concentrating.
Zombies poured through the opening. Security and administrative staff, research and production, from the highest vice president to the lowest custodial staff, all were united in their bloodlust for the living things that continued to evade them. They didn’t notice the beeping of the detonators in the satchel even as they kicked and shoved past it.
Jim-Bean dove to the ground. “Get down!”
They all hit the ground just an explosion ripped through the mansion. It collapsed the entrance and the covered garage, bringing tons of rubble down on the zombies. The explosion tore through the front of the structure and the entire front of the mansion collapsed, sliding forward in a waterfall of brick and stone.
Fiona got to her feet. “That is one useful symbol,” she said to Archive, appreciatively.
“Thanks.” Archive dusted himself off. “What about Hammer?”
Jim-Bean got into one of the employee vehicles. “He’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Jim-Bean smirked. “You don’t know Hammer like I do.”
“No,” said Fiona, her expression distant, “I guess I don’t.”
Hammer creaked open the safe door. Fire and sparks lit the darkness around him. Plaster and wires hung from the ceiling. The explosion deafened him. His ears were ringing.
The world swam as Hammer stumbled out of the rubble. He looked around. All the Nazis were dead.
Klaxons continued to wail. The way back up the steps was blocked, but Hammer could make out the opening to the Sapphire plant, a stairwell on the other side of the room. He shoved some debris out of the way.
Hammer sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look.
One blackened, burned hand shoved its way out of the rubble.
“Oh, no…” whispered Hammer to himself. He dug faster.
Like some Nordic god, the Nazi rose up naked out of the scorched earth around him. He was over six feet tall, with a very muscular physique and classic German features. His blonde hair was cut short, his face clean-shaven. He looked as if he could have stepped out of a World War II SS recruitment poster.
“No!” Hammer dug faster.
The Nazi reached over and pulled out a jagged piece of metal. Testing its weight in his hands, he slowly stalked towards Hammer with murderous purpose.
Hammer cleared a path. He ducked through the hole and clambered up the steps.
An air lock blocked his path. Mustering all his strength, Hammer wrenched open the air lock and slammed it behind him. He knew it wouldn’t stop the Nazi for long.
Inside the decontamination chamber, Hammer ran to the other side.
The German reached the airlock door. The door slowly winched open.
“Come on, come on!” Hammer spun the wheel to open the other side of the airlock. Blue gas hissed through the opening.
The Nazi entered the chamber behind him.
Hammer dashed out onto the catwalk suspended above the Sapphire chemical plant. Below him, it was clear that the covered vats that normally protected the chemical processes had been torn open by an explosion. An explosion the Karotechia had intentionally set off. Blue chemicals bubbled within.
Hammer ran across the catwalk. There was a spiraling stairwell at the center of the plant. If he could make it…
The German forced open the second door of the airlock. He stepped out onto the catwalk behind Hammer.
Hammer, grunting from the exertion, dropped to his knees. Then he rolled over the edge and gripped the catwalk with both hands. Swinging himself back and forth, Hammer hurled himself over to a nearby catwalk.
Hammer slammed sideways into it and nearly lost his grip, scrabbling to gain purchase. He hoisted himself up onto the catwalk and rolled over on his back to catch his breath.
The catwalk shuddered from the weight of something heavy. Hammer didn’t have to look up. He knew the Nazi had jumped the distance between the two catwalks effortlessly.
“Ich werde die haut schneiden sie ihr gesicht und essen sie!” snarled the Nazi. He lifted the metal shiv over Hammer’s head.
The catwalk shuddered from an explosion and the big German windmilled. Then he lost his footing, hurtling down into the vat of Sapphire fifty feet below.
Hammer slid down the spiral steps as the entire complex began to go up in flames. “This is Agent Hammer!” he shouted into his comm. “We need a STREETSWEEPER team at my coordinates!”
Hammer, Archive, and Jim-Bean drove Fiona back to the nearest Majestic-12 facility. Guppy lay unconscious in the back seat.
“Tell her,” said Jim-Bean. “She’s seen too much already.”
Archive looked fearfully at Hammer, who was driving. But he nodded.
“We work for an organization, an organization of the highest level of secrecy,” said Hammer. “It’s a clandestine taskforce that deals with the elimination and obscuration of preternatural phenomena that pose a threat to our citizens and their country."
Fiona, dirt smudging her face and an ugly purple bruise on her cheek, looked askance at Hammer. “And what organization might that be?”
“Majestic-12,” said Jim-Bean. “But our cover is the Counter-Intelligence Field Agency.”
Fiona sighed. “So you ARE government goons.”
“We’re beyond the government,” said Hammer.
“You’re all the same,” said Fiona with a scowl. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because we want you to join us,” said Hammer. “You know your way around a pistol. You dealt with the supernatural calmly. You’d be a good fit.”
Fiona barked a bitter laugh. “Oh you think so, huh? Was that before Jim-Bean punched me in the face or after he killed my friend?”
“I told you,” said Jim-Bean with a sigh, “he was infected…”
“So is Guppy,” she said, pointing at the bluish tinge to Guppy’s skin. “So are you. Hammer was exposed to the fumes in the plant, more than any of us. And yet everyone trusts him to drive.”
Hammer shrugged. “The Redlight boys say they have an antidote…”
“So there’s an antidote? Where was the antidote when Jim-Bean shot David in the back of the head?”
“Look, we make decisions based on our best judgment,” said Hammer seriously. “Jim-Bean made the call and I agree with it. The man was a liability.”
“Is that what they were?” snarled Fiona. “A liability?” She crossed her arms. “I suppose you’ll just kill me if I say no.”
Hammer shook his head. “We’ll give you the COCKTAIL, a chemical that will erase your short-term memory. Your friends died in a car accident while you were driving to intercept ABC. It will explain your bruises. Keith and David’s corpses will be placed in the car. Someone will drag you to safety but not in time for your two friends, who will die in the inevitable explosion. You’ll wake up in a hospital and resume your normal life.”
“And what about the rest? The chemical plant?”
“We have STREETSWEEPER teams for that,” said Jim-Bean. “It will probably be chalked up to a chemical spill.”
Fiona rubbed her forehead. “I don’t believe this.” She looked sideways at Archive. “And what about you?”
Archive shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m just a Friendly.”
“You don’t look too friendly to me.”
“Are you joining us or not?” asked Hammer.
There was a long pause as Fiona picked her words carefully.
“People like you are why I started writing for the Ecotopian. You think you can just do whatever you want, just cover things up, just take away civil liberties. Well enough. I may not be able to stop you but I can at least not be a part of your stupid games. David and Keith had lives. Lives that you sacrificed all because you wanted to blow up some factory.”
“A zombie factory,” added Jim-Bean.
“Shut up!” snapped Fiona. “I used to think you were cute. But you’re just as bad as him.” She jabbed an accusing finger at Hammer.
Hammer’s expression darkened as they pulled up to an innocuous-looking warehouse. “We’re here. You’ll be decontaminated, given a cover story, and dropped off at the nearest hospital.”
They all got out of the car. Guppy was taken away by stretcher.
Hammer looked as if he was about to say something else to Fiona. But whatever it was, he changed his mind.
“Have a nice life,” was all he said.
Then he stalked away, leaving Fiona to the techs who swarmed around her with needles and tubes.
True to his word, Hammer argued vehemently to have Fiona given a COCKTAIL. For a little while it looked like she might be given the 9mm retirement plan, but ultimately Sprague prevailed. It was easier to have at least one witness alive; if everyone died, it would look like ABC was covering up something, and Majestic didn’t need more GNN reporters snooping around.
Hammer, decontaminated and showered, took a look at himself in the mirror.
Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe he was becoming a cold bastard. But then, he did what he had to do. To protect everybody. People like his grandma in Manhattan.
His grandmother lived a life Hammer wanted her to maintain. It made him happy, thinking of her smiling at him from her porch, standing in the sunlight.
It was a fiction, of course. He knew that. But fiction was what counted as life for most people. The truth was ugly and violent. It killed Blade. And it would kill him one day too, if the package he had sent himself from the future was any indication.
In the mirror he looked tired, older. The job aged him. Gray streaks were sprouting at his sideburns. Hammer left the decision to pluck or dye them or do nothing at all to another day.
Hammer opened the medicine cabinet and popped some aspirin. Another day. He had killed the Karotechia sorcerer, Whitcher, just as his future self had indicated. But the other parts – the scar on his thumb, the woman with the tattoo – hadn’t yet come true.
Or did it?
Hammer closed the medicine cabinet mirror and looked at himself again. Didn’t Jim-Bean say something about not dating any Asian chicks? What did he mean?
“That is one useful symbol,” he remembered Fiona saying as she watched Archive display the Elder Sign.
“Oh no,” said Hammer. He reached for his cistron.
The possibilities spun in his mind. It was a paradox, that the sight of Fiona’s own tattoo caused her to get that tattoo. Was that even possible?
But if he was trying to keep his fragile future together, follow some sort of script, fix things that weren’t meant to be broken in the timeline…simply dumping her off in a hospital was a bad idea.
He pulled up a news report. His stomach clenched. Fiona was missing.
GNN reported that one of the interns at the hospital, John Mackey, was assaulted by three skinheads. A doctor, Kevin Shapiro, got the blue panel van’s license plate.
“Damn it!” shouted Hammer into his cistron. “Jim-Bean, Archive, Guppy, meet me at the car. Fiona’s been kidnapped.”
They split up. Hammer and Guppy went to the hospital, Jim-Bean and Archive tracked down the car.
By the time they arrived at the hospital, Fiona was long gone.
Hammer scoured the room for evidence. There was ample hair, fiber, and fingerprint evidence – Fiona put up a fight.
Guppy plugged the data into his cistron. The prints popped up immediately.
“They’re all members of the Bear Flag Republic, a white separatist movement,” said Guppy. “All of them have criminal records in the state of California. I’ve got their addresses.”
“Skinheads.” Hammer shook his head. “Won’t matter, by the time they return it will be too late for Fiona. What about the car?”
“We found it on the side of the road,” said Jim-Bean over the comm. “They switched vehicles to a van.”
“Can you track them?”
There was a pause. “Yeah. Fortunately they were looking at GPS in the car. I got a good look at their location. It’s off of State Road 12.”
Hammer was already out the door. “I’ll meet you there.”
The Training Center was located off State Road 12, on a logging road deep in the Rocky Mountains north of Sonora, California. The terrain was mountainous with dense pine and redwood forests. The agents were positioned on top of a ridge overlooking the facility.
The Bear Flag Republic Training Center was a large compound surrounded by a ten-foot-high, chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. A two-lane paved road led up to a gatehouse, from which an armed security guard checked in visitors and monitored the compound on closed-circuit TV. Guards with dogs made one patrol of the compound every four minutes. Beyond the gate were several buildings of various sizes and a parking lot.
The lot contained a dark green Chevy Suburban (license plate UBER-01) and a black van with license plate AIK 834. In the center of the compound was a large, cylindrical tank approximately 100 feet in diameter and 100 feet high. The road led right up to the tank and encircles it. The other buildings in the compound were the office, the garage, and the barracks.
An unmarked tanker truck stopped at the gatehouse for clearance, then pulled up to the tank, connected a hose to it, and transferred its cargo.
“That’s got to be Sapphire.” Hammer handed off his binoculars to Jim-Bean. “Guppy, think you can override their security cameras? A place out here probably doesn’t have too many wires…”
Guppy tapped a few keys on his cistron. “Yes. It’s wireless all right. I can put in a repeat feed.”
“Do it.” He turned to Jim-Bean. “Jimmy, I need you to provide a distraction.”
Jim-Bean grinned. “No problem.”
“What about me?” asked Archive.
“I want you to go with him,” said Hammer. “One guy by himself will look suspicious—“
“I’d rather not,” said Archive.
“Excuse me?” asked Hammer. “I’m mission leader. You do what I say.”
Archive frowned. “I think I’d be better served hanging back. Jim-Bean’s better at the social engineering stuff than I am.”
Hammer’s expression darkened. “I gave you your Friendly status, but I can take it back—“
Archive cut him off. “Jim-Bean left already.”
Jim-Bean was walking down the road in plain sight of the guard.
Hammer sighed. “Fine. Get back to the car and keep it warm. We’ll need to be ready to bug out here at a moment’s notice.”
Archive seemed satisfied with that. He took off.
“Okay, the feed’s set up,” said Guppy. “You’re clear.”
Hammer, cursing Archive under his breath, ran off down to the fence.
Jim-Bean sauntered up to the front gate. He yelled at the guardhouse. “Hello?”
A guard stepped out, dressed in camouflage and carrying an automatic weapon. “This facility is private property.” He tapped the large sign that read: PRIVATE PROPERTY. “You must leave.”
“Oh that’s okay, I don’t plan to stay long,” said Jim-Bean. “I’m looking for Fiona Lin-Wei, have you seen here?”
The guard went into the gatehouse and picked up a phone. After a hushed conversation, Jim-Bean was ushered in.
“Jaeger will see you. Follow me please.”
Jim-Bean was led to Horst Jaeger’s private office. It was furnished with a desk and a large chair, plus two more chairs next to the door. On the desk was a computer.
Jaeger was very overweight, but still muscular. He wore his hair long, his beard thick, and sported camouflaged U.S. military fatigues.
Jaeger stood up. “Who are you?” he asked. “And what do you want?”
“You can call me Jimmy,” he said. “I’m looking for Fiona Lin-Wei.”
“My name is Horst Jaeger,” he said gruffly. Jaeger pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“No thanks,” said Jim-Bean.
Jaeger shrugged and poured himself a glass.
“She’s a friend of mine,” continued Jim-Bean. “She went missing a few days ago and I lost track of her until I heard she got into a car accident recently on the news. But when I got the hospital she was missing.”
“I know of Ms. Lin-Wei,” said Jaeger. “She came by here two weeks ago and was asking a lot of questions. We sent her on her way, but when I told my superiors about the incident, they told me about her connection to the Karotechia.”
“Karotechia?” asked Jim-Bean. “Who’s that?”
“German terrorists,” said Jaeger smoothly. He downed his drink in one shot. “I haven’t seen or heard of Ms. Lin-Wei since then. My guess is she went into hiding because her cover was blown.”
Jim-Bean leaned forward. “You know, it’s funny…you never asked me why I came here, specifically, to this place, to ask you about her.”
Jaeger glared at him. “This conversation is over. Get out.” He pressed a button.
Jim-Bean shrugged. “Fine. But I’ll be back.”
Once the guard escorted him off the premises, Jim-Bean spoke into his comm. “I hope that bought you some time, Hammer. Because I’m coming back to teach this smug bastard a lesson.”
Thanks to Guppy’s repeating feed, it was a simple task for Hammer to cut through the barbed wire fence and past the guards. What wasn’t as simple was finding Fiona, who could have been in any one of the buildings. He crouched from window to window, peeking in to try to determine if Fiona was inside.
He stopped at the garage. It was a small, single-story building meant to house vehicles being serviced. It held several workbenches, a wide variety of tools for automotive repairs, and what looked like cages covered in black cloth. Fiona Lin-Wei lay bound and gagged on a cot in one corner. On a stool across from her sat an armed skinhead guard.
Hammer snuck up to the doorway. “Get that distraction ready,” whispered Hammer into his comm.
“On its way!” shouted Jim-Bean.
The guard got a phone call. Frowning, he walked over to a phone on the wall. Hammer slipped in through the unlocked door. The skinhead finished talking and hung up.
Hammer put his silenced Glock to the back of the guard’s head. “Don’t move.”
The skinhead whirled for his pistol. Hammer plugged five bullets into his chest.
Hammer walked over to Fiona. She was barely conscious.
The sound of a roaring engine reached his ears. Hammer grabbed Fiona and dragged her out of the way.
The front end of a car smashed through the garage door, ramming into the cages in the back of the garage.
Hammer peered through the window. Jim-Bean, slumped over the wheel, looked up. “That enough of a distraction?”
Hammer frowned. “Yeah. Keep them busy, I’ll get Fiona to safety.”
“Oh sure,” said Jim-Bean.
Hammer fled, half-dragging Fiona with him.
Heavy breathing caused Jim-Bean to peer back through the front of the car, beyond the cracked windshield. Something huge and dark moved in the shadows of the now torn open cage.
Jim-Bean threw the car into reverse, but the wheels merely screeched. The vehicle was held fast by two huge, gangrenous paws that gripped either side of the front fender.
Jim-Bean hit the gas. Gaping white jaws lurched forward, bellowing with such ferocity that Jim-Bean could smell its fetid breath. It was a huge ape, muscle and bone exposed, tinged with blue.
The car groaned as it struggled to break free of the ape’s grip. But it was no match for the reanimated gorilla. It began rocking the car back and forth.
Jim-Bean gave up trying to drive and reached for the door…
The car flipped sideways, rolling over and over. For a moment there was silence.
The passenger door was torn off like tinfoil. The ape roared again and reached inside for Jim-Bean.
Jim-Bean wrenched the driver door open and dove out the other side. Enraged, the gorilla pawed at him through the car.
Jim-Bean ran over to the dead guard and shrugged on his jacket. The ape was temporarily distracted, tearing the car apart.
Two guards, similarly attired, skidded to a halt in front of the garage opening.
“It’s escaped!” shouted Jim-Bean, pointing into the garage. “Fire!”
The guards unslung their automatic weapons. Jim-Bean ran past them. “I’ll get help!”
Then the guards were simply not there. A heavy, black object smashed into both of them, crunching their soft bodies across the pavement. The object bounced its way ahead of Jim-Bean.
It was the car’s engine block.
Jim-Bean kept running right out through the hole in the gate. To his surprise, Archive had the second car ready to go. Hammer, Fiona, and Guppy were inside with him.
Jim-Bean clambered into the back. “Looks like you had the most important job of all,” he said with a grin to Archive.
They took off, leaving behind the screams of the guards and the gorilla.
Fiona sat in the middle between Hammer and Jim-Bean. She was still coming to. Archive drove and Guppy sat in the passenger seat.
“I think that was patient zero,” said Jim-Bean. “Whatever it was, it’s been dead a long time.”
“And infected with Sapphire,” said Hammer into his cistron. “Site compromised. Initiate PURGATORY. Repeat: PURGATORY.”
“I remember that,” said Jim-Bean, “wait, you’re not…”
“I am,” said Hammer. “The entire site has to be wiped out. If that gorilla makes it out into the wild…”
“But the evidence!” shouted Jim-Bean. “We can trace this back to the Karotechia!”
“No time,” said Hammer.
Jim-Bean focused. He might not be able to gather evidence physically, but he had his own ways of gathering information. He concentrated.
Horst Jaeger was screaming frantically in German to a laptop microphone and webcam. A bandaged figure, with the same pale blue eyes as the big Nazi they encountered at the chemical plant, barked a command. Jim-Bean’s remote viewing couldn’t make out the location of the Nazi, but he could see his name written at the bottom of the screen: REINHARD GALT.
Jim-Bean didn’t speak German. Galt’s speech was slurred and there was interference in the wireless feed. He could make out the words “The Doctor” and “Rosetta, Texas.”
The signal suddenly went out. The laptop rattled. Jaeger looked up in fear…
And Jim-Bean was back in his own body, just in time to see the breathtaking sight of two black fighter jets shriek overhead, their sonic booms rattling the car as they passed. Jim-Bean craned his neck to track them as they passed beyond the car.
FWOOSH! Each jet released two missiles. They spiraled and ignited, pirouetting up into the heavens and then down onto the military facility. The annihilation was instantaneous. A small mushroom cloud billowed up behind them.
Fiona slowly came to, her head leaning on Hammer’s shoulder. She looked up at him.
“You saved me,” she said with a smile.
"Wow," said Guppy. "We really did wipe your memory, huh?"
Chapter 40: Last Rites of the Black Guard - Introduction
This story hour is from “Last Rites of the Black Guard” by Ed Wetterman. You can read more about Delta Green at Delta Green. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!
Kurtis "Hammer" Grange (Fast Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster
Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia
Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero) played by Jeremy Ortiz (Jeremy Robert Ortiz)
If you’re familiar with the Karotechia in Delta Green, you know that it is led by a triumvirate of Nazis on their last legs: the ancient Olaf Bitterich, the artificially sustained Gunter Frank, and the immortal Reinhard Galt. Advancing the Delta Green timeline thus causes a bit of a problem, because Bitterich should be dead of old age. The solution: Last Rites of the Black Guard (LRBG).
LRBG assumes the characters will conduct a séance, which isn’t necessarily something every group will try. Instead, I had our resident psychic character possessed by Aimee’s spirit and let him role-play out the answers with the other characters. Only after enough clues were gathered about what happened to the spirits did I reveal that there was once a Nazi living next door.
LRBG then moves to the second part of the scenario, which is essentially a death trap. Once the investigators find their way down to the secret door, it locks behind them and they are engaged in a fight for their lives with a Risen of Osiris, an undead monster. Since I adopted this monster to a Delta Green setting, I changed it to a Screaming Crawler. The effect is the same: the investigators have to slog it out in a toe-to-toe fight. My players were unhappy about this, expecting to uncover some plot-device to destroy it. The monster has no other purpose than as a guardian, which surprised my players, who expected it to be the old Nazi himself.
This scenario provided a mix of creepy investigation and slugging it out with a supernatural beast. Because of how the fight went down, Archive was taken out early, which left it up to the gunslinger and the faceman. The gunslinger enjoyed himself, the faceman didn’t.
Defining Moment: Since his incident with Yog-Sothoth, Archive is terrified of spheres. Which just happens to be the form an ABE takes…
Relevant Media
[ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0011Z0YJK?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2& camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0011Z0YJK]Follow You Home[/ame]: By Nickelback
[ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0981963706?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2& camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0981963706]Last Rites of the Black Guard[/ame]: Source of the scenario.
You can dig me up a grave
And try and stick me in the ground
You can tie me to the bed
And try and beat me half to death
But you can never keep me down
And I will survive
--Follow You Home by Nickelback
Rosetta was a small suburban town, widely known for its beautiful woods. The total population just touched 53,000. Many wealthy families lived in the area and this affluence provided access to many amenities and services. The city had a large library, a first class private hospital, and a professional police force and fire department.
Rosetta was home to RaeMart Industries, a large scientific firm that created specialized missile technology. Rosetta’s schools were some of the best in Texas and the students consistently scored among the highest in the state. Rosetta was home to the American Dream.
The north side of town consisted mostly of industrial zones and shopping areas, including a large mall. The east side was the oldest part of town and many of the families who lived there were very wealthy and owned large plantation-style homes. To the south lay the “poor” section of town, which was the only area zoned for apartment buildings.
“So there’s supposed to be a Nazi around here somewhere?” asked Hammer, driving a huge black SUV.
Jim-Bean shrugged from the passenger seat. “I know what I saw. Galt said Rosetta, Texas. And some doctor.”
Archive scanned his limited-access cistron. “The old town square holds an arts and crafts festival most weekends and is ringed by a number of antique stores. The most popular restaurant is The Cattleman, but many chain restaurants can be found on the north side of town.”
“But nothing about Nazis?” asked Hammer.
“Nothing yet,” said Archive. “But if you had a Nazi living in town, wouldn’t you bury it?”
“Point taken,” said Hammer.
Archive’s phone rang.
Hammer and Jim-Bean stared at Archive, who stared at the cistron.
“Who has that phone number?” asked Hammer indignantly.
“Not many people,” said Archive.
“Are you going to pick it up?” asked Jim-Bean.
Archive picked it up. “Fontaine,” he answered.
“Mr. Fontaine? This is Lisa Gray. You don’t know me but we have a mutual friend. I called his show when the noises first started…”
“Mutual…friend?” whispered Hammer. “Who?”
Archive shrugged.
Jim-Bean started shaking his head. “Don’t say it.”
“When I told him what it was, he said he doesn’t deal with ‘noncorporeal entities’. He recommended I call you…”
“Don’t say it,” said Jim-Bean, rubbing his temples.
“Who is our mutual friend, Ms. Gray?” asked Archive.
“Magnus,” said Gray.
“Of course,” said Jim-Bean, banging his head on the dashboard. “Because he couldn’t spin this into one of his idiotic vampire stories any other way.”
Ms. Gray’s home was in the west side of Rosetta on a cul-de-sac containing only five homes. A concrete sidewalk connected each home along the cul-de-sac.
The Gray home was a single story, red-bricked home with an attached garage. There was a large pecan tree in the front yard and several oak and pine trees shading the back yard. The backyard had a seven-foot wooden privacy fence. Although Ms. Gray had rose bushes and colorful annuals bordering her home, they were neglected and many had withered. Very little traffic occurred in the area. Lisa drove a new, white minivan, which she parked in the driveway.
Hammer pulled the SUV up. “Maybe we should stay in the car,” he said with a frown.
Archive blinked. “Why?”
“This isn’t our case. I don’t want to freak the poor woman out.”
“You?” asked Jim-Bean with a smirk. “Intimidating?” He switched to a Texas drawl. “Why I do declare I’ve never heard – I say I’ve never heard – of such a thing!”
“That sounds like Foghorn Leghorn,” said Hammer.
He got out of the car, if only to get away from Jim-Bean, and followed Archive to the front door.
The front door opened and a tall lady, wearing jeans, a pink blouse and tennis shoes, greeted them. She was an attractive blond with green eyes and appeared to be in her early thirties. At her thigh clung a sickly, young girl, probably seven or eight years old. The girl’s eyes were ringed with dark circles as if she had not slept well in a long while.
“Hi, I’m Lisa Gray,” said Lisa, shaking Archive’s hand.
“Joe Fontaine,” said Archive. “These are my associates, Jim and Kurt.”
“Thanks for coming. Please, come in.”
After offering tea and coffee in the kitchen, she led them back to the living room. Her daughter, Marissa, tiredly curled up against her mother. Her son, Matthew, was in the room but asked to be excused.
“Thank you so much,” began Lisa. “I’ve tried everyone and everything. It’s been two months, and no one has been able to help me, not even Magnus. Marissa woke me up early one morning, screaming that the men were here to take her…to kill her. She was very upset and it took me hours to calm her down. She missed school that day and I stayed home with her. At first I believed she had a nightmare, but it turned into our nightmare. She has awoken every night since, screaming. She describes horrible things. People skinned alive, purposely burned, and mounds of dead bodies. She refuses to sleep. She’s scared the dark man will take her.”
Lisa paused to sob, covering her face with a lace kerchief.
“Go on,” said Archive, encouraging her.
Lisa looked out the window and took a deep breath.
“The third night, I slept in her room with her. The hall clock had struck a quarter to midnight and I lay awake next to her. A few minutes passed and she started shaking in her sleep. I moved to calm her when I noticed a shadow. It stood taller than a man, maybe seven feet, and solid black. It passed the bed and moved toward the door. When I screamed, it disappeared. I’ve wondered how long it stood over me… It still does. From that night on, we’ve all felt a …presence…in this house. Then, things started moving— shoot, some things started flying! Dishes flew out of the cupboard and crashed onto the floor. Lights and electrical appliances come on and go off on their own. Banging noises, it’s too much!”
She hid her face behind the kerchief once more.
“Matthew hasn’t had the dreams, but he’s been talking. Talking to someone nobody else can see. He says her name is Amy, and that she’s scared. He also says that the dark man will hurt them. I don’t know who he means by “them,” but I’m praying it’s not us. I have taken the kids to a motel, but the ghost follows us. We can’t escape it! Please, help us. I’m so scared.”
“There, there ma’am,” said Jim-Bean, patting her hand.
Archive didn’t look at the others for permission. “We’ll stay overnight and get to the bottom of this.”
Lisa sniffed. “Thank you so much.” She put one hand on Archive’s. “Magnus said you were a good man.”
Archive gave her a weak smile. “Do you mind if we look around? That might help.”
“Of course, of course,” said Lisa, rising. “Please, help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’ll get the kids ready for bed.”
Jim-Bean smiled and nodded. He continued to speak in his Texan drawl. “If there’s a problem, I’m sure my colleagues and I will be able to get to the bottom of it.”
Lisa nodded and left the room with Marissa.
Hammer looked askance at Jim-Bean. “Are you going to talk like that all night? Because if you are, I can’t take you seriously.”
Matthew’s bedroom was covered in toys, especially army toys such as helicopters, planes, etc. Despite the mess, his queen-sized bed was immaculately made, covered with a Star Warrior’s bed cover. Matthew was playing a violent zombie-shooting game on a PlayPal connected to a twenty inch television that rested on a cherry wood dresser.
Jim-Bean and Archive scanned the room, each perceiving it differently.
"You shouldn't play that kid," Jim-Bean muttered, pointing at the PlayPal. "It'll rot your brain."
Archive paused, staring at the closet in the northeast corner of the room. He put one palm on the closet door, eyes closed. “Mind if we look in your closet?”
Matthew shrugged, never taking his eyes off the game. A zombie groaned just before its head exploded.
Archive opened the closet door.
It was a large walk-in closet, littered with several boxes of toys, clothing, and shoes. Archive pushed aside one of the boxes. He pulled out a handmade scroll made from colored paper that was glued in strips to two small pieces of wood.
Lisa looked on apprehensively. “What’s that?”
“It looks a bit like the Torah,” said Archive, unrolling it on Matthew’s bed. “It’s in Hebrew.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Hammer. “I’m not Jewish.”
“Me neither, but I can read it,” said Archive, squinting down at the scroll. “It’s from the Book of Exodus: God heard their groaning, and remembered his covenant. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and I will take you for my people. It was a night of watching by the Lord, to bring them out of the land of Egypt. Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today.”
“Who wrote it?” asked Lisa.
“I don’t know,” said Archive. “Has anyone else had access to this room?”
Lisa shook her head. “Matthew, do you know anything about this? Matthew?”
Matthew finally looked up. “No,” he said sullenly. “It was probably the Rabi.”
“Who?” asked Hammer.
“The Rabi. He’s cool.”
Archive sat on the bed. “You mean a Rabbi?”
“Whatever,” said Matthew. “I don’t mind him.”
“Why don’t you mind him?” asked Archive.
“He’s nice. He says that it’s okay. Aimee though…she’s something different.”
“Who’s Aimee?” asked Hammer.
“A little girl. She’s always scared. She wants to go.”
“Go where?” asked Archive.
Matthew shrugged. “There are bad ones too. Some are angry and want to hurt us, but Rabi won’t let them.”
Lisa pulled Archive out of the room. “Is there a ghost in my son’s room?”
Archive chose his words carefully. “More like a guardian spirit,” he said. “This Rabbi, whoever he is, is watching over Matthew.”
Lisa sighed. “About time one of them was useful. I’m going to go put Marissa to bed. Wake me if you need anything.”
Lisa left. Hammer and Jim-Bean joined Archive at the doorway, leaving behind the electronic sounds of exploding zombies.
“So how did that scroll get in there?” asked Jim-Bean.
“Ghosts don’t usually write things without help.”
“Help?” asked Hammer.
“The Rabbi possessed Matthew,” Archive said grimly.
The grandfather clock in the Gray’s house bonged twelve times.
Archive’s cistron buzzed. He had voice mail.
Archive clicked on the ear bud in his ear. “Any of you guys just leave me a message?”
Positioned at guard posts in the intersecting halls of the house, Hammer and Jim-Bean confirmed they hadn’t.
“Maybe it’s one of your fans,” muttered Hammer. “Since everyone seems to have your phone number.”
“Very funny,” said Archive. “My old cell phone number redirects to the cistron.”
“Maybe you should play it,” said Jim-Bean.
Archive replayed the message with the other agents on the line.
The message crackled with static. But there was a whispered, urgent message within the noise.
“What was that?” asked Hammer.
“I think it said something about finding a body,” said Archive. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” asked Jim-Bean.
“I thought I heard something in the dining room,” said Archive. “I’m going to check it out.”
The dining room was a large, rectangular room. There was a door to the north leading into the kitchen and an open area leading into the entryway to the east. In the center of the room was a beautiful polished wooden table, with place settings and chairs for six. On the west wall was a large glass cabinet with fine china and other knickknacks on the lower shelves. A large impressionist painting of colors and flowers hung on the north wall. The curtains lining the large window to the south were rose-colored and tied to the side, revealing a good view of the front yard and the street beyond.
Archive peered at the glass cabinet. It was curiously bare.
He craned his neck. Dust covered the top of the cabinet, except for perfect round circles, where figurines had been there once before.
Jim-Bean’s voice crackled over the comm. “Hey guys? I just found a bunch of figurines glowing with psychic energy in the little girl’s room.”
Jim-Bean pushed aside a floppy orange-colored doll with wide, staring eyes and a huge grinning maw to reach for the figurines. To his psychic perception they were sparkling with energy. He had no idea how they’d gotten into Marissa’s closet.
Jim-Bean didn’t realize the temperature in the room had plummeted until he caught sight of the sleeping girl’s breath, misting in the air. He shivered.
Banging resounded from the kitchen, breaking the silence within the home. Crashing sounds and breaking glass quickly followed, as the volume of noise increases to deafening levels.
Jim-Bean leapt up and ran into the kitchen, pistol out. Archive and Jim-Bean skidded into the kitchen at the same time.
The cabinets of the kitchen violently opened, slammed shut, and opened again. With each opening, contents of the cabinets crashed out onto the tiled floor.
“What the hell is going on?” shouted Hammer, pointing his pistol everywhere at once.
“Poltergeist!” shouted Archive. “It’s probably connected to the girl—“
The pantry door boomed as it banged shut, and reopened.
Jim-Bean ducked a can of food. Unlike his two companions, he could see the normally invisible poltergeist.
It looks just like Marissa’s doll, only larger. It had two saucer-sized eyes, the black pupils punctuating the white surface. Its maw was in a perpetual expression of slack-jawed stupidity. It had large, bird-like feet and rubbery arms that ended in cartoon-like hands with just three fingers. A short stubby tail wagged behind it as it tore open cabinets and tossed their contents around like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
Forks, spoons and knives leaped from their drawers and struck the opposite walls.
“I’m going to wake up the girl,” said Jim-Bean.
The huge glowing orange head turned to face Jim-Bean, the black pinpricks moving to focus on him. It started a slow, shambling gait after him like a gorilla, picking up speed.
It shambled right through the bar, the drinking glasses above the bar shattering as it passed, sending shards of glass in every direction.
Jim-Bean ran into Marissa’s room and over to her bed. “Wake up kid!” he shouted. The girl didn’t react.
When Jim-Bean looked up the thing was at her doorway. Its features had shifted from benign stupidity to malevolence – a brow it didn’t have before furrowed over its vacant eyes, and it curled newly-formed lips over its huge teeth in rage. The thing grabbed hold of the door.
Jim-Bean shook Marissa. “Wake up!”
He ducked as the door, torn off its hinges, flew through the air. It smashed through Marissa’s bedroom window on the other side of the room.
The orange thing smashed drawer and dolls aside in its fury as it stomped towards Jim-Bean.
There was only one chance. Jim-Bean opened a link between his mind and the girl’s…
Lisa gathered up Marissa at the entrance to the girl’s bedroom, sans door. An incredible force had ripped it right off its hinges.
“What happened?” she asked, half-fearing the answer.
“Whatever it is, it’s gone now,” said Archive.
Lisa peered into the Marissa’s room. “What’s he doing?”
“You’d better get Matthew and go to your bedroom,” said Archive. “Lock the door.”
Lisa, pale with fear, carried Marissa to Matthew’s room. Archive took a deep breath and walked into Marissa’s room.
Jim-Bean was on the floor, playing with Marissa’s dolls, and most specifically a floppy orange little monster.
“Jimmy?” he asked.
Jim-Bean looked up. His pupils were completely white.
“I am…Aimee Resnick,” said Jim-Bean in a soft, feminine voice.
“Aimee?” asked Archive. “Is that who I’m speaking to?”
“I am twelve-years old.”
“What happened to you Aimee?”
“I died in July of 1943.”
“How did you die?”
“I was murdered,” responded Jim-Bean.
“Where?”
“In Bergenvalden. In Poland.”
“Who murdered you?”
“The man in the black robe killed me.”
“What’s his name?”
“His name was Dr. Bitterich.”
“What did he have to gain from killing you?” asked Archive.
“He controls us. There are many of us. He uses us. Gains power from us. He wants…immortality.”
Jim-Bean’s eyes widened. He stood suddenly, his eyes wide with fear. His limbs were rigidly straight and his head snapped back, looking at the ceiling. He appeared to float a foot above the floor, and suddenly his voice screamed out, "HELP US!”
Archive was helping Jim-Bean to his feet when Hammer met them in the kitchen.
“What happened?” asked Hammer, pistols out.
“Jim-Bean was possessed by an entity,” said Archive matter-of-factly. “A victim of somebody called…”
“The Doctor. I know, I heard about him from Matthew.”
“You okay?” asked Hammer.
Jim-Bean shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “I’m fine,” he said. “That was weird.”
“The little girl was…a…” Archive’s eyes were focused on the other side of the room. “…conduit…”
A six-inch diameter ball of energy emerged from the ceiling and floated before them.
Archive stumbled backwards, panting in fear. “Oh Jesus!” he wailed, falling over one of the bar stools. “Get it away from me!”
The orb flashed colors sequentially, going from white to blue to green to red, and back to white.
“Archive,” said Hammer slowly. “Be cool.”
Archive ran towards Lisa’s room.
“What the hell?” asked Jim-Bean. “I mean, it’s a ghost and everything but he was cool about the poltergeist…”
“It’s a sphere,” snapped Hammer, pointing his pistols at the thing. “Remember what happened at the park?”
The orb hovered for an instant, then began to float towards Hammer.
He fired his silenced pistol. The bullet punched a hole in the wall in the far hallway.
Hammer holstered his pistols. “Bullets aren’t going to do anything!”
“I’ll get Archive,” said Jim-Bean.
The sphere followed Hammer, relentlessly tracking his movement. He kicked over a lamp and, tearing the wires out of the connecting end, held them up towards the sphere.
It flashed with incredible heat. Hammer reflexively jumped backwards, dropping the wires. He had intended to electrocute the thing, but it was clear there was no earthly physiology to the sphere.
The orb expanded, flashing so brightly that spots danced before Hammer’s eyes. He stumbled backwards until he hit the hallway wall. The heat was immense as it hovered closer – it was like staring into a miniature sun…
“In the name of the Elder Sign, I repel you!” shouted Archive from across the room.
The sphere shrunk to a pinpoint and flashed through the wall.
“Follow it!” shouted Archive.
Jim-Bean poked his head through the torn doorway of Marissa’s room. “It went through the wall and out into the backyard to the neighbor’s house.”
Archive wiped the seat from his brow. “Then that’s where we’re going.”
The house next door to the Gray’s was a large gray-brick home with an attached two-door garage and a large privacy fence encompassing the back yard. The home was two-stories tall with large bay windows along the front. Very few flowers grew in the yard and tall bushes filled the flowerbeds bordering the home.
Police flyers posted on the doors and windows pronounced that the home was “sealed by order of Judge Joe McCrary of Rosetta, Texas, pending completion of a criminal investigation. Anyone entering the premises without proper authority are in violation of this court-order and may be subject to criminal procedures.”
Jim-Bean approached the door. It was locked. He put one palm on it and concentrated.
The door clicked open as the various locks and chains undid themselves, bending to his will. The door flung itself open to reveal…
Hammer standing there.
“The window was open,” muttered Hammer, shaking his head.
The living room was spacious but sparsely decorated. An entertainment center sat on the north side of the room, just right of a door leading to the guest room. A 19” television set and an impressive surround sound system dominated the entertainment center. Lining the center was a rack of music CDs.
Jim-Bean checked out the audio equipment. “Manufactured in Germany. Go figure.”
A small brown couch and a faded leather recliner were centered on the entertainment center. Only two pictures were hung on the walls. One was a painting of a blonde boy looking upward, and the other was a picture of the 69 Mets following their World Series win. Under the picture was a banner with the caption, “You gotta believe!”
“I didn’t figure Nazis for Mets fans,” said Hammer.
A small fireplace filled the east corner next to the back wall. There was a closet beside the front door and an opening that led to the office on the southern wall. Two archways opened on the northern wall, one leading into a formal dining room, while the other provided access to the kitchen. There was a set of stairs going up in the center of the western wall, and a restroom door as well. A balcony overhung half the room, providing a good view of the front door and the front half of the living room.
“Spread out,” said Hammer. “I want a room by room search. Whatever happened is going on with this Doctor has something to do with this house.”
Jim-Bean caught a glimpse of a figure slipping across the threshold of the stairwell upstairs. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
“This is Nina Juarez,” whispered the GNN reporter into her handheld wireless microphone. “I’m here live in the Nazi house of Frank Manz, also known as Doctor Olaf Bitterich. I’ve searched the rooms here and despite the house supposedly being abandoned there’s evidence that someone, or something, is living here. Curiously, I found a pen with Dr. Revinowitz’s name on it, the forensic examiner on the case. I think I just heard someone enter the home…”
Jim-Bean’s psychic senses were suddenly tugged downwards into the center of the house, as if something was trying to get his attention. He perceived a terrible screeching, like nails on a chalkboard – he didn’t hear it, but he felt it tingle up and down his spine.
Jim-Bean sighed. “It’s that GNN reporter again.”
“How did she get here before us?” asked Archive.
“Juarez!” shouted Hammer. “Get down here!”
Nina slunk her way down the steps. “Agent Grange? What are you doing here?”
“You are in violation of a court order!” snarled Hammer. “Get out of here!”
Nina recovered, holding the microphone up to Hammer’s face. “Why is the government interested in this place, Agent Grange?”
Archive lifted one hand and the microphone began to spark.
Nina threw the microphone down in disgust. “Why does this keep happening!” He took out her tape recorder.
Archive kept his hand up, whispering to himself.
Nina played the tape. All that came out was static.
“Oh come on…”
Archive’s chanting grew louder. He opened his eyes and Nina was compelled to look at him.
Then she bolted for the door.
“What did you do to her?” asked Jim-Bean.
Archive shrugged. “Broke her microphone, degaussed her tape recorder, and scared the crap out of her.”
“So pretty much what we did to her last time,” snorted Hammer.
“I also saw something else. Something’s in the house.” Jim-Bean walked around towards the dining room.
The formal dining room was furnished with a well-polished oval, cherry wood table and with six delicately carved cherry wood chairs. Two large windows overlooked the front yard and the horizontal blinds were currently closed. An archway in the south wall led back into the living room. A second archway provided egress east, leading into the kitchen. A wooden china cabinet with glass doors covered the wall south of the kitchen archway along the east wall. The china cabinet contained a collection of floral patterned plates, cups and saucers.
Jim-Bean tapped the china cabinet and it swung open on an axis, revealing a set of wooden stairs leading down.
“Whatever it is we’re looking for,” said Jim-Bean, his breath misting in the suddenly chill air, “I’m pretty sure it’s down there.”
The stairs led down into extreme darkness. Their flashlights did not illuminate in the normal way, casting a much dimmer light upon their surroundings. The basement was circular, approximately sixty-foot in diameter. Images of demonic figures, and black writing accompanied them. A large pentagram sketched in white chalk covered the center of the room. The chalk glowed as their flashlight beams traced its perimeter.
A tall man sat akimbo inside the center of the pentagram. He appeared to sleep with his arms folded across his chest. He wore jeans and a dark polo shirt. He was barefoot, with a tag on one toe. What was visible of his body was entirely covered by blackened and blistered skin, oily and sticky to the touch.
Thirteen burned red candles ringed the pentagram. On the opposite side of the room was a small rectangular table that held seven small statues.
Hammer drew his pistols. Jim-Bean pulled out his gas mask and put it on top of his head, ready to be flipped down over his face at any moment.
The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, and the candles spontaneously lit. A demonic voice echoed through the chamber and the man rose…
Hammer fired several bullets into the figure, but he barely reacted.
“He’s already dead,” said Archive. “Mundane weapons won’t work.”
“Well do something about it!”
With a scream, the man reared back and black tar spewed out of his mouth.
Archive pulled out a piece of chalk and penciled an Elder Sign onto the hilt of Hammer’s pistols. Then he made a mark on Hammer’s forehead.
“What’s that for?” asked Hammer.
“It will protect you,” said Archive.
“Oh man that’s disgusting,” said Jim-Bean, transfixed. The vomiting continued, as the tar slowly encompassed the corpse, volume far beyond the capacity of a human stomach to contain.
“What about my gun?” asked Jim-Bean.
“No time,” said Archive. He tossed him a pocket knife. “Use mine.”
“But this is…” Jim-Bean looked down. It was a Glock. “Never mind.”
The tar rose into a roughly humanoid form, rippling like a pool of black mud, exploding in geysers. It expanded to a size larger than an elephant, but only because of its lengthy lumbering limbs and legs did it project size. Its head was topped by a single black oval eye and snout-like mouth, a receptor filled with needle-like teeth similar to the spines of a cactus. The stench of ammonia filled the room. But by far the most awful part of the beast is its shriek, which sounded like a dying animal slaughtered in the most horrific manner. It echoed inside their skulls.
Archive presented the Elder Sign amulet. “In the name of—“
The Screaming Crawler moved with the grace and speed of a leopard. It closed the distance to Archive in one stride, slamming him against the wall with an undulating limb of ooze and claws.
Hammer fired at it, tearing holes of ichor that slowly reformed.
Jim-Bean ran along the other side, raking the altar with gunfire.
“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Hammer. “SHOOT IT!”
“I’m trying to stop the Doctor!” Jim-Bean shouted back. “This has got to be his canopic jars and the source of his—“
The canopic jars exploded, spreading still-preserved organs everywhere. The Screaming Crawler didn’t even flinch.
Hammer ducked and rolled as the thing swiped at him, tossing Archive aside like a discarded toy. The needle-filled proboscis darted at his head.
Jim-Bean turned and fired Archive’s pistol at the thing’s back. It whirled…
Hammer came up from his tumble, firing both pistols. The Screaming Crawler staggered backwards as a chunk of its shoulder splattered across the cavern wall.
“I’m running out of bullets!” shouted Jim-Bean.
Hammer felt to one knee, panting. The thing had raked him with just one claw, but it was a deep gouge. Blood drenched his right arm.
For a split-second the Crawler seemed torn between attacking Jim-Bean and Hammer. Then it made a decision and lunged at Hammer.
All the candles went out.
Hammer stayed focused on where the thing was. It was so big, he couldn’t miss…
He emptied both pistols. The shrieking stopped. Cold ooze lapped around Hammer’s boots.
The candles flared back to life. What was left of the Screaming Crawler was just sludge, puddled in front of Hammer. One more step and the thing would have beheaded him.
“Open up!” shouted someone upstairs. “Police!”
“Always late,” said Jim-Bean, clucking his tongue.
There was a slam, and then the door burst open. Two men entered wearing badges on dark black overcoats.
“This is the police,” shouted a blonde man in an overcoat. “Put your weapons down!”
Hammer held up his badge. “I am Counter-Intelligence Field Agent. You put your weapon down!”
“I am Detective Martin and you have no jurisdiction here! This is my crime scene! Now put your weapons down!”
Jim-Bean, who had run over to check on Archive, squinted at the dark-haired man behind Martin. “Revinowitz? What’s the forensic examiner doing here?”
Martin fired his pistol, missing Hammer. Hammer retaliated, but bullets sparked off an invisible force field around them.
“Hammer, get ready!” Jim-Bean flipped down his gas mask over his face. Then he tore a tear gas grenade off his belt and tossed it onto the steps.
Both Revinowitz and Martin were chanting when the tear gas exploded.
Revinowitz’s concentration broke first. He gagged and wheezed, clawing at his eyes.
Hammer raked the steps with gunfire, separating Martin from Revinowitz.
Jim-Bean charged up the steps and grabbed Revinowitz by the hair. With a heave, he tossed him off the edge…
The forensic examiner hit the ground with a crunch. Jim-Bean holstered Archive’s pistol and drew his own Glock. He stalked towards the feebly moving Revinowitz with murderous intent.
A dark shadow coalesced around Revinowitz. He rose up into the air, gasping and clawing at his throat.
“What did you do?” asked Hammer, lowering his pistols. Martin was choking and wheezing on the steps.
Revinowitz’s eyes rolled and his jaw went slack with a shuddering gasp. The dark shadow dropped the crumpled body and floated overhead.
“YES!” it shouted, a roar echoing throughout the home.
Glowing spheres of light rushed into the house from all over, sucked into the black swirling void of the shadow.
“He’s alive!” shouted Martin, tearing back up the steps. “We are doomed! He’ll kill us all!”
Hammer grabbed Archive. “Let’s go!”
Jim-Bean didn’t need any prodding. They ran up the steps after Martin.
Red and blue lights flickered outside. The house was surrounded by police cars.
“This is the police!” shouted a cop on a megaphone. “Come out with your hands up!”
Martin ran heedless to the door, screaming and waving his pistol. “We are doomed—“
“Gun!” someone shouted.
The cops, spooked by the flashing spheres of light entering the house, opened fire, riddling Martin’s body with bullets. He jerked like a marionette on strings and collapsed at the front of Bitterich’s home.
Hammer dropped Archive to the ground. He had dripped blood all the way up the stairs.
“Wake him up,” he told Jim-Bean.
“I’ll try,” said Jim-Bean, slapping Archive’s cheek. “But that thing hurt him pretty bad.”
“If he doesn’t wake up,” Hammer slowly slid to the ground, wincing and holding his bloody arm. “I’m a dead man.”
Linear Mode
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