Into The Dark

Chapter 1: The Beginning

It was a lovely, temperate spring morning and the air was lightly scented with fresh flowers and the smell of gas and charred flesh. In other words, it was an average work day for Avery Blanchet as she raced to the scene of the accident, quickly assessing the massacre. She was in the first ambulance to arrive and in a small town like that; it would take a few minutes for more to arrive. A few minutes would mean life or death. Finding the person who needed more immediate attention, she found herself rushing to a young woman in the driver’s seat of the little blue bug that was almost completely crushed. The steering wheel had lodged itself into her chest and the woman was gasping and coughing blood. Her sternum was crushed, her lungs punctured by her own ribs.

       “Don’t move,” Avery instructed and she made her way through the remains of the door.

       Before she could do much more, a scream tore her away from her duty. She was, for the most part, desensitized to screams but this one was different; it wasn’t filled with pain like she would have predicted, expected, but rather one full of assertion, exasperation, sudden dread. It was a scream by one of her co-workers. Avery jerked herself around to face the source for the sound and found the new kid with a piece of glass stuck in his hand, looking wide-eyed at the young man whose blood was spurting from his jugular.

       Avery growled and launched herself into his place, taking over his victim and barking orders at the kid to back away. The senior paramedic took over the young woman with the steering wheel in her chest and Avery’s fingers found themselves in the bleeding man’s throat, weeding around for the vein to pinch off and stop the blood flow. There was still a possibility of him surviving. If only she could pinch the vein off. She could just feel it brush her fingertip when the new kid jostled her arm and caused it to jerk, knocking against the ripped vein and spraying her directly in the face with hot blood.

       A string of curses flew from her lips as she realised the man was a goner. His eyes widened and he gasped and thrashed in his seat in what remained of his totaled car. Then he was still and his body slumped forward, blood pouring steadily from his neck. Avery fought the urge to vomit, to murder the new kid, to do anything her training had told her not to do.

       So she swore at the new kid who was just responsible for the death of a young man who woke up that morning, got into his car, and didn’t realise he was going to die that day. Then she instantly resumed her duties – after all, it was her job. Months later, she could still hear the screams, feel the blood hit her, taste it as it coated her lips. She was haunted by the vivid picture of the young man’s eyes as they widened in mortal terror and slowly accepted that he was going to die, his body flopping like a dying fish.

       Avery bolted upright in her bed with a gasp and a whimper. Even after deciding to take a break from her job, she still couldn’t forget the things she had witnessed. She slipped her legs out of bed, touching her feet to the cold hardwood floor. This is silly, she scolded herself. It’s not like I’m a soldier in from Iraq or the survivor of a terrorist attack. I’m just a paramedic… who has tasted another human being’s blood. She sighed, absently licking her lips and shuddering as she stood and started for the door. A glass of water would soothe her nerves.

       Tristan Smith hated his job. He hated the travel. He hated getting up so early in the morning after so little rest. He hated the endless work, the too short vacations, the hours spent staring at a computer screen, at a page in a book. He hated the long hours, the strenuous activity, the tolls it took on him; the sour smell of sulfur from demons, the howls of lost spirits, the gnashing of monstrous teeth.

“Wake up, loser, we got a job out in Oregon,” a voice pulled him out of his comfortable rest and he grumbled. He wasn’t too fond of his co-worker either.