Black Box: Book Three

40 ~ Infected Town (Part Three)

There are a lot of pressing things going on right now, and most of them seem connected to Nosleep and the Infected Town. It makes it hard to just write about what I did last week, since I'm dying to share these new experiences and possible clues with you. But I've decided you need the story in chronological order, at the very least to avoid confusion. And maybe revisiting these events on paper will help clear things up for me.

So instead of telling you what's happening here in California (no worries, there are still no signs of moldiness, just increasing amounts of weirdness), let's go back a week, before I'd ever heard of Jess, Liz or Alan.

After leaving the police station, I still had the whole day left and really wanted to feel like exploring this town was worthwhile. I decided to check out the apartment building.

Hillside Apartments is a four story building on the south end of town, not far from the bridge. It's a very normal-looking brick building from the outside, probably built sometime in the eighties, no signs of structural decay. The only strange thing, as you're walking up to the front doors, is that all the windows on the face of the building are covered in black from the inside. As with the town sign, I thought at first that it was black spray paint or something of the like. As you might have guessed, though, it's mold.

The front doors were locked. There was a keypad and callbox, but neither seemed to have power running to them. I made my way around to the parking lot of the building, past a row of dusty cars, and up a wheelchair ramp towards the back door. It was stuck or something. The handle turned and there was no sign of a deadlock, but no amount of pushing on my part would make it open. I half-heartedly gave the crowbar a few tries, but soon gave up.

The ground floor windows around front were low enough to slide through easily. Luckily for me, the third window I attempted was unlocked and slid open, only sticking once or twice. I plopped my backpack through, then followed head first. I had to push my way through the rotting Venetian blinds.

I found myself in an apartment bedroom. After turning on my flashlight, I let the beam wander around for only a moment before reaching back into my back for the respirator again.

This place looked worse than the police station basement. Black mold covered the floors, walls and ceilings. Water gathered in one corner of the ceiling as under a busted pipe, letting gray droplets escape to join the pool of water on the decaying mattress underneath. Furniture had been reduced to vague shapes, stained and rotten, in tones of gray and black.

I left the bedroom and walked into a living area that could have been inhabited yesterday, if not for the mold. Again, the place didn't just look deserted, it looked like it had been evacuated. A few bottles and cans littered the coffee table in the living room, near an entertainment cabinet with an expensive looking (yet seemingly decaying) sound system and TV. A couple plates sat on the counter in the kitchen, covered in black gunk, along with a sink full of dishes growing green algae. But the creepiest things were the family photos lining the walls - mom, dad, two infants - grinning at me from silver frames. All left there hanging, mold beginning to creep over their happy, normal faces. Anyone moving out would take those, surely. I could explain away the dishes and even the electronics, but family pictures? People run back into fires for family pictures.

I left the apartment, unnerved, and turned back to see which number it was. Only there were no numbers on the door. I shone my light down the hall to either side. No numbers on any doors. Why?

The more I discovered in this town, the weirder it seemed to get. I decided to do a thorough sweep of the apartment building and see if I could enter every room. It would take a while, but I wanted answers. Maybe I'd even go back to the police station once I'd given the man time to leave.