Spookyness

Story time, with Orphanology

Why Walmars Close:

We hadn't really been talking for most of the drive, but I finally leaned up, in between Davis and Von, and asked, as politely as I could, how close we were. They just shrugged. Boys. They never have any idea about anything.

I slumped back, against the fabric seats of the Toyota. The warm cloth felt hot against my back, even though it was cold for April. The sun warms everything.

The landscape slipped by. Everything we drove by was cars and highways and stores, stores, stores.

"I think," Von said, "we're here."

"I don't see anyone," said Davis.

"It doesn't matter," I told them. "We're here."

The car pulled into an empty spot in a massive empty parking lot. In front of us, the long, flat Walmart loomed. Behind the building, I could the sky with streaks in it from planes leaving the airport.

We walked to the closed doors of the super center. Behind the doors, everything was dark. Miles of shelves were empty.

"I can't believe it happened here," Davis said. "All those people."

I pulled out my phone and started filming.

"Today is the first anniversary of The Incident. Over 600 people died."

"This was the first incident," I said, walking backward like a college tour guide. "We didn't know what it was when it happened. We still don't. But we've seen it happen, again and again and again, all through America. The same horrible thing."

Von and Davis followed me. Von looked sick.

"The doors closed," I talked louder, "and the lights went out. Nobody could get in. People were banging on the doors. Because they could hear people on the inside. Screaming. When the doors opened, hours later, everybody in the store — every cashier, every customer, every greeter, everyone — everybody was dead."

"The videos were all blank," Davis said, as he walked with me. "No evidence. Just all these people. Bleeding. Slaughtered. Dead."

"Two months later," I said, "it happened again. This time at a Walmart in South Carolina. People got in, and couldn't get it. Everyone died."

I came to the big sliding front door. I filmed my reflection.

"I woke up one morning and all the stories about this happening were gone," I said. "Everything that had been on the Internet about it was gone. There were websites about this. People talked about this. We were all so fucking scared of this. And now? Nobody remembers. No one talks about this."

"Except us," said Davis. "We're it. We go to these stores, the ones where it happened, and we try to see if anyone else is here. If they remembered. That's how we met, standing around in a parking lot, trying to see if that other person standing in the parking lot is there for the same reason. But we haven't met anyone else in almost a year. And we're getting worried."

"About me," Von said quietly at the camera. "I'm not remembering as well. Things are staring to fade."

"And if they fade for him," I said. "what does that mean for us?"

Behind us, the store is silent.

"What do you think happened here?" asked Davis. He stared at the windows of the store, at the long expanse of wall.

"I remember they said it was government testing," I said, slowly. "I think I remember some thread on reddit, some guy saying he was in the army and they had tested something that caused a kind of super madness. But that thread vanished in seconds. A mod deleted it. There was another whole site set up, saying it was Moloch. That these were sacrifices of some sort. I remember thinking it was something else. Something worse."