It

~

"You can't go in there," the chef insisted.
"Why not?"
"It's a mess. Someone's dead."
    "I know."
    There was a pause. "You with the CIA or somethin'?"
    The man pulled a badge out from his jacket. "FBI."
    "I still don't think it's a good idea," the chef said. "It's still in there."
    "It?"
    "Yeah. It. That thing. Whatever the hell it is."
    "Was the creature the cause of all this?"
    "Uh-huh. 'Bout gave me a heart attack."
    "What did it look like?"
    "It ain't human, that's for sure. No animal either."
    The agent pulled a crumpled photo from his pocket. "Did it look like this?"
The chef studied the image. "Didn't get a good look at, it but I'd say that's about right. A slimy sorta gray, with legs like a spider's. It stood like a human, up on two legs, but it was all hunched over." The chef pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with shaking hands. "Do you know what it is?"
    The man slipped the picture back into his pocket. "You'd think that by the year 1936 we'd have an answer."
    "What does that mean?"
    "It means this thing has been here longer than we have."
"We? Whatta ya mean we? Are you sayin' this creature's been around longer that us humans have?"
The man nodded, watching as police cars pulled up beside the restaurant, sirens blaring.
    The chef snorted. "That's a load of conspiracy BS. We'd have noticed somethin' like that."
    "We have." The man adjusted his hat. "Missing persons, unexplained deaths; the reports go back as far as our records exist. There's a painting from 1824 that's an undeniable match to the creature in your restaurant."
    The chef still looked skeptical. "Of course reports have been filed." The agent continued. "A family camping out in Black River Bay, a woman whose dog was attacked late one night. However, most people simply pass the victims off as lunatics, as they will for you if you choose to complain."
    The chef blinked. "Is that a threat?"
    "Not at all. It's nothing but a sad truth. We humans are not all that different from the monster inside." The man slid past the bewildered chef and up the steps to the door.
He had barely made it more than four paces before the police sergeant appeared at his side. "It's happened again hasn't it?" When the man nodded, the officer sighed, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Do we have permission to enter?"
Another nod. "The chef says that it's still in there. Be careful."
The officer paused to shout an order to his men before leading the way into the building. The few feet from the sidewalk to the front doors were some of the longest the agent had ever experienced.
They pushed through the front doors into a war zone.
"Jesus." someone muttered behind him.
The man doubted Jesus had anything to do with the wreck that lay before them.
Tables had been thrown sideways, food splattered on every possible surface. Dishes were strewn in shattered remains across the tiled floor. It was easy to see it happening, hear the crashing and screaming as people crawled over each other to reach the exit.
Now, it was completely silent.
The agent wondered if the others could hear the pounding of his heart.
The quiet seemed to wrap around the officers as they stood amongst the chaos.
The sergeant's com sputtered to life, spewing incoherent babble. He shut it off without a second thought.
For a second, the agent was back in that forest, trees towering above his head. It had been exactly the same all those years ago. The fear, the quiet shuffle of feet, the absolute silence. But Naya had been there. Even though he was too scared to speak, even though the very wood seemed to be against them, she had been smiling. It was that same smile that haunted the man's thoughts.
    "What happened to all the people?" the sergeant asked, jarring the agent from his thoughts.
    The man scanned the destruction with a sinking feeling. "They're gone."
    "Gone where?"
    "We don't know." He said, reluctantly.
    "So they're still alive?"
    The silence grew thicker.
    "It's entirely possible." The man said eventually. "Although, that would lead to a whole new range of issues, the existence of other dimensions or the possibility of teleportation, for example."
    "And if they're not?"
    The man hesitated. "They were probably eaten."
    A chill seemed to run through the room.
    Before the officer could respond, there was a ragged sound from the corner, like nails on a chalkboard. Shadows began to grow, as though something was unfolding itself from the tables.
    Legs like a spider's. The chef had said. His words pounded in the man's head as he watched the shadow grow. This was how he'd pictured the devil when he was young.
    Somebody behind him swore.
    The chief held up his arm and all guns were raised, pointed at the apparition in the corner. Even though there was no physical body, only a dark patch on the wall, the man's breath caught in his throat.
He'd spent months chasing after a myth. Spent countless hours and sleepless nights scouring the records for something, anything to prove he wasn't mad. His friend had been right, her last words carved into his memory. There's something out there, Naya had said. Something bigger than us.
And here it was.
Despite himself, the man felt a smile creep onto his face. She'd been right all along.
The shadow seemed to realize it wasn't alone. Slowly it's head turned toward the men. Or perhaps it turned to look the other way. It was rather difficult to tell when it was nothing but a dark spot on the wall.
There was a hiss, like air from a gas valve and the lights flickered.
The man was still smiling.
"On my mark." the officer said, refusing to tear his eyes from the scene ahead.
"One."
The lights went out completely.
"Two."
The shadow seemed to detach itself from the wall. The man caught a glimpse of something solid and gray.
"Three."
The room was alive with the sound of gunfire. It echoed off every wall, ricocheted from the ceiling. The restaurant felt significantly smaller in that moment. There was nothing but upturned tables separating them from that thing on the other side.
The gunfire stopped and the silence returned.
"Where'd it go?" An officer shifted to look past the man.
The lights flickered back on.
Then, he heard it. Muffled sobs drifting from the corner of the room.
"What the hell..."
The man took a step forward, past the police chief. Then another. His footsteps echoed on the tile like thunder in his ears. He stepped over a pile of broken chairs and found himself looking down at small shape curled next to a table.
The girl looked up wiping tears from her eyes. She couldn't have been older than seven.
As he looked down at her, he was suddenly reminded of Naya, the quiet, wide-eyed girl he'd befriended all those years ago. It was as if he acted on impulse, reaching down to the crying girl. Silently, he picked her up in his arms and made his way back to to the baffled police officers.
"Has she been there the whole time?" Someone asked.
"We'll take her to Headquarters." The agent said, addressing the chief's questioning look.
Before anyone could reply, the man slipped out of the restaurant and into the crowd beyond.

•••

Somewhere in the maze of New York City, a man was carting a little girl off into the unknown. She bounced against his shoulder, watching as people passed, fascinated by the towering buildings.
Everything here had been made by humans. The buildings, the cars, the noise. All those lives working in harmony, living in unity. Maybe they weren't as bad as she'd alway thought. She was one, after all. For now anyway. A heartbeat in her chest, blood humming through her veins. Until she grew hungry again. Then, she'd be nothing but claws and teeth and slimy gray skin. It could be weeks from now, it could be years.
Idly, the girl wondered if this man who had pulled her from the wreckage knew. If he realized that the girl in his arms was the same monster he'd been so desperately hunting.