Bureau of Collections || ONC2021

Bad Situation

Colin gently closed the door to the girls' bedroom, leaving it ajar just enough so the cat could sneak in later without waking them. It felt good to finally be able to tuck them in and read them a story, the events of the evening before still haunting his thoughts.

He walked lightly down the hallway and entered the living room where the tv was quietly playing a hammy crime documentary, his wife fast asleep beneath a worn patchwork quilt. He smiled warmly at her, picking up the remote from the coffee table and turning it off, gently brushing the hair off her sweet face before moving on to the kitchen.

They were both exhausted, Colin plagued by nightmares when he did rest and when not, the message in his pocket plaguing his thoughts. He had not dared tell Millie about it. It was bad enough he was now on enforced leave with Bert from the Western branch covering for him at work.

That man was going to mess up his configurations and he would spend the next month fixing them when he got back. It just was not worth it. But Fuller, his boss, had insisted.

"Branch is closed anyway to clean up the mess. The executives were talking about relocating the entire office after what had happened. They are organising a memorial for Wendy and Shiva, I'll let you know the details. Enjoy the time off."

He took a beer from the fridge and twisted the lid, enjoying the cool bitter taste, or what he could taste of it. His senses seemed to have dulled since the incident, like the messages here taking longer to land in his brain and not always with complete accuracy. He felt strange, like he no longer belonged in his own skin.

He turned and gazed out the long horizontal window that looked out into their backyard, pausing when he noticed a figure standing out in the centre of the perfectly manicured turf. He blinked, hoping he was imagining it, leaning forward as he pushed his glasses up on his nose to get a better look.

Heart hammering in his chest, he lowered his beer, fumbling it as it missed its mark on the bench and clattered into the sink in front of him. Foam spilled from the neck and down the drain, causing a racket he feared would wake his wife. He glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see her stir and roll over, but not wake.

His fingers tightened on the sink, knuckles white as he forced himself to look again. Please. Not here - Yet, there it was, as unmistakable as the night before, the blackened dust billowing from it in the gentle breeze outside.

Slowly he moved, without really wanting to, to the back double doors. Quietly he opened them and stepped out into the cool spring air, the sounds of the usual wildlife strangely silent in the presence of this thing.

He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't let it hurt his family like it had those women. Finding his courage he strode to the edge of the patio, staring it down.

"What do you want?" he demanded of it, his voice clear and sharp.

It remained silent and still, tension building as Colin tried to figure out what to do next. Could he even fight this thing?

"Hey! I'm talking to you." he addressed it again, more silence following before much like it had before, it attacked.

Moving faster than he could react, it appeared directly before him, the sound of bones cracking and sinew creaking as long black skeletal hands burst from the shadow, throwing Colin onto his back with unnatural strength and pinning him down.

Wind knocked out of him, he gasped, hands desperately scrabbling at the tightening vice around his throat when it suddenly released, snatching with wicked speed at his arm, twisting it at an impossible angle, Colin letting out a cry as it zero'd in on his watch.

His eyes widened as it's iron grip closed around it and began to pull. No! Colin reached upwards with his free hand and clung to it, desperately trying to stop it, feeling the metal links start to strain in the frantic tug of war, a war he was losing. This was going to be it for him.