The Station

Ten miles down a road in the before time would be no more difficult than eating a bowl of oatmeal. However, in the days after the storm, you’d have to imagine the soppy oats now containing glass, metal scraps, and a variety of bugs that required you to eat around them. However, my instructor taught me where the wrong flowers bloomed during the day, and where the fireflies told of false silhouettes at night. Even when a solitary Red Robe happened upon my path through the rolling hills, I didn’t bother to hide from him. He laid into me with the normal chanting and curses. Though, his strange words didn’t do so well against my knife. By the time I’d reached the highway and laid eyes upon the empty convoy, almost a day later, my mind and body ached.

The radio station’s tower guided me as I made my way towards the highway that separated me from it. On the other side of the overgrown lanes, a good five hundred feet down a gravel turnoff’s slope, the two story building sat surrounded by a rusty chainlinked fence. Its windows barred, but its door’s padlock broken.

Hiding behind the guard railing, I took a deep breath and switched off the walkie-talkie, before putting it back into my pack. Reaching further in, I withdrew a scope, and looked back over the railing. The convoy sat to my right down the highway, still as a painting. To the left, endless road, and on either side, the rolling hills speckled with solitary magnolia trees in full bloom. No sign of life among any of it. For a stupidly hopeful moment, my mind convinced me I might actually be alone. Perhaps it had long since left and crossed back over through the door it came through. But a fly rarely finds its way out of the window it entered from.

My breath caught at the sight on the furthest hill. Upon its ridge, dark shapes contrasted the sky. I pressed the scope against my left eye, and looked about until I finally found it. Though still too far for the little magnifier, the lens revealed to me exactly where the soldiers had gone. Seeing them in a row, upon their knees, and facing away from me sent a shudder down my spine. My hand instinctively moved to grasp a bottle, but found itself raising to the scarf instead reaching for the locket beneath.

I placed the scope back into the pack, and gave one last look before standing to a crouched position. Keeping the rifle before me at the ready, I jogged across the highway, eyes searching the convoy for movement. Once my boot struck against the gravel driveway, a terrible shriek sounded off, ending in a deep elongated sob. The sound repeated over and over, coming from somewhere beyond the furthest armored truck where a far reaching magnolia connected with its back corner. I didn’t stop, or even look back for more than a glance, but instead doubled my pace. Sweat spread over my chilled upper lip, and my heart pounded in my ears. The distinct rhythm of hooves clopped over the asphalt, moving at a leisurely pace down the road in my direction.

Slamming against the metal door, I fumbled with the handle. The broken padlock still had its metal bolt through both slots. My gloved hands struggled, wobbling the curved metal cylinder back and forth to inch it out. The hooves and sobbing halted near the front of the line of vehicles. The lock slipped free, and forgetting any desire for stealth, I grabbed the handle and yanked hard upon it. The metal door pulled then caught with a resounding boom. Peering through the gap, my heart sank. Opposite the outer lock, a second remained unbroken within. The sound of the hooves continued on, drawing closer to the gravel drive.

I stuffed the broken lock into my pocket and raised my rifle, pressing its muzzle against the crack. Doing my best to line it up with the lock, I fired, then withdrew the gun and pulled the door. Nothing. I chambered another round. The hooves pounded the pavement, now parallel with me, up the hill upon the highway. I readjusted the muzzle and fired again. Another miss. The hooves traveled down the slope, crunching gravel beneath them. One more time I chambered a round and fired. The sound of metal exploding and the lock dropping to the floor within. Grabbing the handle I flung the heavy metal door open. Then, seizing the inner handle, I leapt through into the darkness beyond, slamming it shut behind me. My other hand dropped the rifle, and groped about the inside of my pocket for the broken lock. Finding it, I slid its metal cylinder through the freshly empty slots and stood back.

The hooves stopped directly outside the door. My hands began shaking as I squatted down and scooped up my rifle once more, chambering the fourth round. I lifted it towards the metal barrier, and listened. A muffled voice sounded off beyond it, though I couldn’t make out the words. After a few moments, it stopped, and the hooves walked away. Silence rained supreme within the station. The barred windows on either side of the entrance allowed rays of white light to pierce through the darkness in dusty beams. Beyond the bars, I glimpsed the side of a white horse moving past and beyond view.

I took another step back and stiffened to a halt when a glint caught my eye. In the light of the right most window, a pair of glasses reflected at me. Keeping a wary eye on the bars, I stepped over and picked them up. Unlike the floor around them, they hadn’t gathered much of any dust. Placing them within my jacket pocket, I withdrew a small metal flashlight from my pack, and took in the new location.

I stood in a waiting room. Cushioned chairs and a coffee table with a spread of magazines formed a square to my right. Catty-corner to this, a receptionist’s counter stood with a wooden door on either side. Both marked for employees only. I checked the map David made for me, and noticed three different drawings, one on top of the other. A basement level could be reached on the door to my left, and the second floor through the door to the right. Large letters marked the second floor as the location for where my work would take place.

I slung the bags back over my shoulder and began walking to the door, then froze. Coming from beyond the left door to the basement, a howl sounded off, and, in the stillness that followed, a muttering speech flowed up through the darkness. A man.

Gripping the rifle, and setting my jaw, I walked over to the basement door and opened it. Deep green carpeted steps led down into the darkness. Wood paneling passed as I descended each step, finger upon the trigger. The muttering drew closer with each moment. My boot contacted the hard cement of the basement floor, and I raised the flashlight and rifle as one to the center of the room.

On his knees, the Scarf held his hands out before him to something unseen. He shook like an autumn leaf, and tears ran down his olive face. The curly black locks upon his head reflected sweat in my light as they clung to his face and neck. He continued his muttering, unaware of my presence.

My breath shook while I did a quick pan of the basement, finding it to mostly contain old cardboard boxes and shelves lined with tapes. Whatever the man saw and spoke to, it could not be seen. I held the rifle in one hand, wiped my brow, and walked over to kneel beside him.

“What did you see, Scarf?” His muttering continued, but his head turned ever so slightly towards me. His left hand pointed forward. A wedding band upon the fourth finger. I gave it a mournful glance, then averted my eyes back to the man’s face. “You’re shattered, man. Tell me something I can use, and I’ll be sure to send money to those you love.” I checked his scarf and took note of the serial numbers on the fringes.

“Glasses fell–... too late– glasses–... their faces, gone… it ate– need the lens– faces peeled– dead– Don’t let it look… Glasses… My glasses.” He repeated these words over and over, sometimes in a new order, sometimes louder, but always the same words. I asked him what came through with the tulips, but only received the same response. Each following question ended the same as well. With a sigh, I took his scarf off his neck and put it into my bag. Thanking him, I reassured the man that his family would be paid, and then I turned to leave. “Ash!” He cried out. I turned one more time. “Ash beyond… all beyond is ash.” He still looked out to the darkness before him.

“I know, Scarf. That’s why they come here.” With that, I ascended the steps once more.

Passing quickly back through the lobby and up to the second floor, I found a large studio filled with recording booths and sound boards. Posters with the station’s old logo lined the walls, and abandoned coffee cups grew mold out of their tops. I imagined a room full of men at the sound board behind the large window pane, watching two sweater wearing gentlemen who smoked cigarettes and wore sunglasses indoors while hosting blocks of their show between songs. Perhaps that’s exactly how it looked before the third war. Maybe even during it before the storms broke out.

I shook my head to remove the thought, and pulled out the paper once more. David penned the instructions in Scarf script, as he called it. Meaning, so simple a four year old could read it. Next time send a four year old to run your errands, we’d often tell him. Though, we’ve stopped doing that since one of the town’s children heard the remark and had run to the school crying and begging them not to send her out. Since then, even the worst of us knew to keep our mouths shut about such things. Instead, we’d just tell David to swallow a bullet.

I pulled forth the flat electronic box and looked it over, finding the ports labeled in the list of instructions. Placing it upon the sound board’s counter, I then drew out the span of wire within the bag along with an assortment of clippers and other tools needed for the job. Moving about the room, running wires from one panel to the box, flipping switches, or rolling tape, the constant ramblings from the man in the basement still reached me. His howling rose louder than before, perhaps spurred on by our meeting. I brightened when the instructions brought me into one of the connecting rooms to the recording studio and further away from the noise.

Unlike the previous room, this worked as an office with three sequential desks running down its length. Four more windows, this time not barred, spaced out between them at chest level. I walked over to the nearest one and wiped away the thick layer of dust upon its glass. It faced out to look down the highway opposite from where the convoy came from. Empty, possibly all the way to the Atlantic and its coastal colony. Looking down, my eyes scanned for any sign of the horse, but saw only the chainlinked fence. Stepping away, I read the instructions which told me to go to the next room joined at the end of the one I stood in.

Beyond its door, I found a similarly shaped room, only this one acted as a breakroom, sink included. The windows stood out as the only difference. Or rather, what lay beyond them. The hill rising up behind the station blocked their view, and only when I had walked right up to them did I gain the ability to see the soldiers upon the ridge. Still they knelt, facing away from me. Now closer, I pulled up the scope once more. The soldiers’ arms reached out before them, suspended in the air. Upon the back of their ears and sides of their necks, blood crusted. Lowering the scope, I turned away, and glimpsed it out of the corner of my eye.

Far to the right, a puffy magnolia swayed in the chilled winds. Under its boughs, with its head stooped low and body still as a statue, its eyes tracked my every movement. I made sure not to look at it directly and allowed my peripherals to do the work. A knot formed in my stomach and a cold sweat gathered upon my palms. Its voice spoke out to me, the deep tone muffled through the window to the point of obscurity. A ringing formed in my ears, growing rapidly until I turned and walked away. It faded away and my stomach loosened again. My heart calmed as I leaned upon the counter and took deep breaths. Pulling the paper out once more, I did my best to ignore the facts and finish the gig. However, in spite of my best efforts, one thought looped through my mind. It will be waiting for me.

While completing the last set of tasks, my mind went to work. Don’t let the panic get to you, Rule one. Rule two, there is always a way. I had to uncover it. Sitting down, work finally done, my mind gave a new question. How far would it go to get you? Perhaps forever.

“Hello?” Flipping the box’s switch, I pressed the large button on the base of the microphone. Static responded into the headset. Again I pressed the button. “Hello? Open House, do you read me?” Static. I opened the paper once more, reviewing the instructions, when a voice blasted into my ears.

“Who is this? We don’t have you linked with this frequency-” The sound of scuffling and David’s voice calling the man an idiot cut off the operator.

“Kane? Kane, is that you?” David’s voice came through urgently. I leaned closer to the mic, practically hugging the little thing.

“Yes, yes, it’s me. Is it working?” Static. My heart leapt into my throat. “David? David?”

“Too soon to tell. Still some kinks to work out on our end. But your part is over.” I breathed a heavy sigh, and smiled. Static, then something else. My blood ran cold as laughter reverberated through the headphones. The man in the basement screaming to wake the dead. David’s voice came through again. “Kane,” he said, and the shaking in his voice made my throat go dry. “Is it there?”

“Come out.” The intersecting voice said, sobbing its words. “Come out, now.”

“Kane, we can’t let it find us. You can’t lead it back here. I am sorry.” Then the line went off. Below, the Scarf wailed.

My heart pounding and breathing heavy, I yanked the headphones off. A heat flash came over me, and I unraveled the scarf from around my neck. In doing so, the locket dangled free, and its motion upon my skin caught my attention. I lifted it with one hand and opened it to see the picture smiling back at me. I closed my eyes. My mind ran through everything I’d seen since taking the gig. Signing the swirling contract, reading over the RoseStem’s communications, seeing the glasses on the floor, even the Scarf’s mindless rambling.

My eyes shot open. I pulled the glasses out from my jacket and investigated them. On their outward facing side, the lenses mirrored. There is always a way.

“Found it.”

I brought all my things to the side office and dropped them on the ground. Holding my rifle up, I readied myself and slammed the butt into the glass, clearing all of it out. Sticking my head through, and checking the ground, I concluded that such a drop would at least break my ankle. I glanced around for anything to use for rope, then remembered the extra scarf in my bag. Pulling it out, I cut the section with the serial number off both mine and the new one, then tied them together. Knotting one end to a rolling chair, I balled the whole thing up and placed it into the seat next to the window. Easy part done.

Bounding down the stairs and to the front door, I gave one last look to the basement door, making sure it remained open. I whispered an apology, removed the broken lock, and stuffed it into my pocket. Then delivering a powerful kick, I knocked the front door open before fleeing back upstairs, through the studio, and into the office with my back to the window.

Hooves dashed up to the building once more, then slowed, stepping through the door. A deep voice rumbled out, asking for where I hid. Hooves clacked down the basement steps, and the other Scarf’s howling grew to a mindless shriek, then halted. A terrible gurgling and the sound of gleeful laughter followed by a squelching munching of teeth. Ringing entered my ears, and the hooves made their way up to the first floor once more, then to the second, all the while it called for me. I placed the glasses upon my face and prayed for the first time since the storm arrived. The ringing grew deafening. Black swirls and specks emanated through the studio room’s door and grew out along the floor and walls. Then, it stepped around the corner.

Skinless face and lidless eyes set deep within the skull leered at me. The great long mouth opened and released its wicked laughter once more as its head bobbed up and down. The top layer of my skin glistened and burned where exposed.

“Take me home with you.” Its deep voice barked, and the ringing vanished. The entire world about us went silent, and we gazed at each other. Then, it lunged.

I leapt backwards, through the window butt first. Scarf in hand I dropped out into the world once more. The chair rolled, flew up, and caught on the frame. I let go and dropped to my knees, then glanced back up. Its head came through the window’s opening, but the body became stuck. For a moment, it seethed down at me, then vanished back into the building. Screams bellowed out and rolled down the hills in a rage.

I leapt up and ran around the building as fast as possible. Rounding the corner, I spotted the metal door. It hung wide open. The horse’s screaming grew as it descended the steps. I threw my body against the metal barrier, slamming it shut. In the same instant, my right hand brought the broken lock up and through the metal slots in one smooth motion. It slammed itself into the door over and over, but the lock held.

Rushing over to the convoy, I started up the closest jeep, and backed it up against the door, barring it entirely. Leaping from the cab, I ran back across the highway, and stood once more behind the guardrail.

As I attempted to lower my heart rate, I pulled the glasses from my face and looked at them. Faint swirls scard into the lenses simmered with smoke. I placed them back on my face and reached for the walkie-talkie. No, I thought, still too close. I’ll try again when I get closer to home.

Slinging the pack and the gun over my shoulder, I gave the station one last look. Through the window next to the door, it watched me, sobbing. Its voice boomed out to me, begging me not to leave it here. The ringing grew once more within my ears, and the swirls upon the glasses etched deeper until, with a wince, I averted my gaze.

Facing the rolling hills again, I pulled my shoulders back, and gripped my rifle. Gray sky loomed ahead, and to the west, the ever raging storm flashed upon the horizon. I reached a hand up and grasped the locket. Taking a deep breath, I began the journey back to my bottle.