Tales from the P.A.D.

Angel of Light

New recruits often ask me, "What's the scariest monster you've ever faced?"

I've worked at the Paranormal Anomaly Department for over ten years, which is nine years longer than half of our recruits will last. These young men and women already have their preconceived notions of what we deal with. See, they think I'll tell them about some horrific winged beast with razor sharp claws, or of a cult with dark magics bent on bringing about the apocalypse.

"Sure", I tell them, "I've come up against plenty of these, but none of them keep me up at night like the creature I faced eight years ago." No, for that, I would direct them to cell 152-D, where we have locked up Satan himself.

    If any of the recruits take enough of an interest to actually visit cell 152-D, they will find it unique for Site 13. There are no windows to see inside, nor are there security cameras to monitor the creature. There are no slots in the door to send in food or water. This vile abomination doesn't need traditional sustenance.

    Once a week, someone must enter and interact with it. Otherwise, it gets too hungry, and when it gets hungry, it gets stronger and our traditional defenses against it fail. It happened once and almost caused a sitewide catastrophe. You'll see it restrained by a leash pinned with an iron stake in the center of the cell preventing it from moving more than a meter in any direction. The ceiling has an automated rifle loaded with darts containing a potent cocktail of chemicals that could knock out an elephant. This gun does not target the monster, but the human. After an hour of interaction, it will fire on the human. A team of four individuals wearing blindfolds will enter the cell, find the man or woman inside, and drag them out. The beast does nothing to stop this. That's now how it works. Neither its size nor its methods have changed since we first encountered it.

    The mission seemed ordinary, or at least ordinary by our standards, when they first debriefed us. The entire population of Minnewaukan, South Dakota had died in under a week. Drone recon showed there were no signs of an attack and that all the infrastructure was intact. Of particular note, however, was that the native Spirit Lake Tribe in the nearby community of Tokio had completely sealed off its borders. Our agents embedded in the tribe reported that this was done to protect them from a dark trickster spirit of some sort. One of their legends, no doubt, but the information still gave clues.

    Plenty of towns had died off over the years due to anomalies. The hardest part would be suppressing the news and repopulating the town once the anomaly was in custody. They sent me and five other men into the field with instructions to capture it alive but kill if necessary. We like to study these things if we can. It helps us learn how to handle future anomalies. We went in with our armored truck, bulletproof armor and helmets, high voltage tasers, and M16 assault rifles with three clips of ammunition each.

    The town was dead silent when we unloaded from the truck, rifles at the ready. After a quick scan, no threat was detected, and so we began our search. Our drones already knew where most of the bodies were concentrated, but we always try to be thorough. We went house to house and inspected every room to look for anything out of the ordinary. We found that each home was empty, but also that whoever had lived there had suddenly left. Casseroles were left burning in ovens, sinks were left running, and cellphones were dropped to the ground. We did not, however, see signs of a mass evacuation. Clothes were still in their drawers and on their hangers and suitcases were still in closets and under beds. People had not hurriedly run away; something had drawn them out of their homes.

We returned to the truck after an hour and drove slowly from block to block toward where we knew the bodies were. One man drove and another scanned the streets for signs of the anomalous while the rest of us waited in back for the order to attack. After thirty minutes, the car came to a sudden, screeching halt. We awaited vocal confirmation that we had located the threat, but were met with only the sound of slamming doors. After ten tense seconds, we all nodded and agreed to exit the vehicle, worried for our comrades. I counted down with my hand from five. I closed my fist, and we swung open the doors and jumped out, rifles at the ready.

    Jameson was the first to round the truck and face the beast. I'll never forget the words he said when he first set his eyes upon it.

    "Hey, little guy! Oh my god, aren't you just the cutest!"

    One by one we all came around to the front of the truck to discover the anomaly: a tiny golden labrador puppy. It laid on its back while my fellow P.A.D. teammates all rubbed his belly and cooed. I was instantly overwhelmed by how adorable the puppy was, so much so that I thought nothing of the piles of dead bodies surrounding it. I sprinted forward and sat down on top of the corpse of a middle aged man so that I too may pet the puppy.

    "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" I said while I scratched behind his ears. He nuzzled against my hand and wagged his tail, sending a wave of pure joy throughout my body. Before then, I had thought that nothing could ever compare to the sheer beauty of my wife as she walked down the aisle, but she could never hope to beat this labrador's soft eyes and pale golden fur. No experience could ever match. No drug could ever create such a high as I felt playing with this animal. Day turned to night and night into day. Reality faded away; there was only the puppy.

    I know not how much time passed. Eventually, though, through either luck or divine intervention, I sneezed. I had never been allergic to dogs before. I can't explain what triggered it. All I know is that my nose became irritated, and as much as I fought it so that I might continue petting, I sneezed, and I sneezed hard.

It's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. Humans just can't do it, so for a brief moment, I shut my eyes. All it took was that moment, and the spell was broken. I managed to hold my eyes shut as the world returned to me. My body ached. My eyes burned. I was hungry and thirsty. More than anything, I was tired, so tired. But I could not sleep. I had to do something.

    Keeping my eyes closed, I took a knee and unholstered my taser. I pointed towards the sound of the playfully panting monster and pulled the trigger. I held it down for a few seconds to make sure the beast got a good dose of electricity. Once I was satisfied, I released, only to hear the dog still panting as if nothing had happened. Did I miss? Or was it too strong? I couldn't open my eyes to confirm lest I fall back under its curse. I felt around until I found my rifle. I aimed downwards, right where I knew where it was at, and I fired. I unloaded the entire clip. The sound was deafening, but once it ceased, all that could be heard was the puppy.

    "Don't hurt him," I heard Jameson beg me.

    "Yeah," Branson added, "he's too cute. We can't let you hurt him."

    I heard them unholster their tasers. "Please," I begged. "Don't do this. You can fight it." I dropped my rifle. "See? There's no need for violence."

    "He's not even looking at the puppy," said Pelosini. "Come on, he's so cute. You have to open your eyes and look. Don't make us force you."

    This moment still haunts me. I don't think I'll ever get over it. I had to make a choice. That day, I chose humanity. I dropped down and grabbed another M16 while they fired their tasers. One sweep of my rifle later and the deed was done. I collapsed, fighting the urge to cry, and you know what happened? The abomination came and licked my hand.

I picked that thing up by the scruff of his neck, threw him in the back of the truck, and drove out of there as fast as I could. I didn't stop to rest until I was back at the base and had warned them of the demon inside.

    That thing, that's a true monster. It isn't some horrific, ugly abomination that tears flesh from bone. It's not some openly malevolent creature where its evil is laid bare for all to see. There is not the slightest hint of ill intent to be found just from looking at it, and that's why it's so terrifying. Satan isn't some red demon with goat legs and a pitchfork. He's the angel of light. He takes a form so beautiful and fantastic that men willingly offer their souls. He does not destroy you; he makes you desire destruction. When all you see is light, you're prone to go blind.