User:Mystreve

Paul continued to struggle with the glove compartment.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Ken said, waiting nervously in the driver's seat.

"Got it!" Paul said, barely revealing the glove compartment's interior.

"Keys! Come on! We've been in this one for over a minute which is exactly one minute more than I wanted to take! Someone is going to see!" Ken said, thrusting his hand out to receive the keys.

"Here! Let's go!" Paul said, handing the keys of the soon-to-be stolen Ford to Ken. As he handed Ken the keys, he felt a slight pain on his right thumb; as if someone had stabbed it with a small needle. He noticed a drop of blood and quickly licked it.

Ken started up the car and pulled out into the dark street, taking care not to make too much noise. Stealing cars was never a quiet affair however, and the adrenaline-fueled stomping on the gas-pedal stood in defiance to the duo's nefarious activity. It didn't matter. Ken and Paul would make out nicely on this job as the vehicle was only last year's model.

"Caleb ought to be happy with this one. Although he will probably strip it for parts like he always does with the newer models. Shit, he could grind it into powder and snort it for all I care. Either way, we get paid" Ken said with a smile, still fueled by caffeine and adrenaline.

He made his way toward the neighborhood's outskirts, the rush of his first theft evaporating. The neighborhood was newer - many of the houses had just been built, or so it seemed. Ken must have driven past the formerly vacant field time and again back and forth to that shitty job he had been laid off from not even a month ago. He couldn't even remember any of the houses being built. As if one day, when no one was looking, someone had uprooted a quiet little neighborhood in Yuppieville, USA and glued it to a few hundred acres of field along the interstate.

"Damn right. Hey, after we drop it at his place, we should go check out that new Mexican place. Supposed to be better than Taco Bell. Open twenty-four hours too. I hear their burritos are good and I need to get the taste of my blood out of my mouth. What the fuck is on that key-chain anyway? Feels like a hammer fell on my thumb" Paul said, still licking the wound.

"I doubt it was a hammer" Ken said with a small laugh, making a left onto the road that would take them to the service road near the interstate. Caleb's shop wasn't far from where they were now, which made both men breathe a bit a easier.

"Where are you going?" Paul said after about a minute of silent driving. "You're taking us back toward the fucking neighborhood!"

"No" Ken said. "We're on Briar-Valley Road. Almost to the interstate underpass..."

"Ken, that is where we came out not even a minute ago. I recognize those houses up there. See the "For Sale" signs up and down the road, beyond the entrance there? I thought it was strange on the way out that every house on the road was for sale, but was still caught up in the excitement. Either way, turn this bitch around. With our luck, we'll have the neighborhood watch militia up our asses with George Zimmerman as their general" Paul said, rolling up his window.

Ken pulled to the side and began the process of turning the car around when suddenly he caught a glimpse of what Paul was saying. The neighborhood was dark. Much darker than he had remembered since their quick exit. Much stranger was the lack of any activity whatsoever, even for an hour this late. No interior lights were on any where. No dogs barking. No tell-tale humming of any central air-conditioners cooling midsummer inhabitants. And no cars. Ken seemed sure he passed cars on the way out, but was that just his mind compensating for what it was used to seeing everyday?

"This isn't the same place. It can't be. There is no road that loops back to here. Briar-Valley Road runs east to west under the interstate and I know we were on it. We passed that old white safety shelter. The same one I've seen since I was a kid." Ken said as began to drive the car away from the neighborhood, seemingly going back the way they came.

"Jesus! My thumb hurts" Paul said as he struggled to get a good look at the aching digit.

Thud

"Paul! Did you hear that? Some weird sound. It sounded like two boulders slamming together or some shit. There! Again!" Ken said, pulling the vehicle to the side of the road.

"I didn't hear anything. You realize you're parking a stolen car near a group of houses we just stole it from, right?" Paul said, noticing that his thumb was almost twice the normal size. "What the fuck?"

Thud

"That sound. It's coming from behind us. From those houses! Come on, Paul. Somebody must have spotted us. Screw the car. We can hike it back on foot" Ken said as he began getting out of the car.

As Ken got out, he noticed it was much colder than it should have been for mid-July. His breath came in quick gasps and he immediately had to start rubbing his hands together. He heard Paul beginning to open the passenger side door, followed by a small scream from his friend.

Thud

"Paul!" Ken yelled, looking back into the car. Paul's face was in sweaty and in shock as he held his injured thumb in front of him. Small metallic barbs suddenly sprang forth from the wound that had seemingly been a pin-prick only moments before, latching themselves onto Paul's face.

"Jesus! Help me! Ken! Help..." Paul screamed as his voice was cut short by the small threads of metal jutting through the front of his throat. The strange barbs somehow began to multiply upon themselves, squeezing the man's head into a scarlet jelly.

Thud

Ken ran. He didn't have time to ponder the morality of leaving his best friend there to endure whatever in God's name was happening to him. He couldn't run away from the neighborhood. Where the road veered away before was now replaced by a thick, grey mist. He ran toward the houses but as he did, he noticed the houses beginning to change. As if they were being drawn toward each other like a child quickly gathering up a mess he had made.

He ran into the further into the development, quickly looking behind him. The car and Paul were gone, swallowed up by the mist and the darkness that seemed to be chasing Ken.

The houses began to make thunderous sounds as they merged together, almost as if they were creating a greater structure. A structure around Ken, he realized with a new-found shock.

After another few seconds of running, he stopped, realizing he had no place else to run. He seemed to be standing in the middle of the towering structure now, some houses tumbling end over end, hundreds of feet above him, still adding to the bizarre structure. The thuds were now accompanied by the unnatural sound of metal and wood groaning against each other - each material protesting that it had to be married to the other.

Ken could feel aluminum-siding against his chest, back, arms and head.

"Oh God. Please" he whispered.

Thud

The mist swallowed the view of the structure and as Ken began to scream, his silent voice joined Paul's as a group of metal barbs snatched the heart out of his chest, leaving only blackness for Ken.

If any commuter on the interstate would have been able to see the lone silo sitting on the empty field they wouldn't have been impressed They wouldn't have been able to see it either, much less see the way it seemed to pulse for a minute, then stand still. By day, they wouldn't have seen anything but a field by the intersection of the interstate and Briar-Valley Road.