Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28428152-20190516082446

Been a while, but added some new plot elements. Changed it from the previous chapter so that Clay invited Dan over to his place.

Previous Chapter

The rain was still going strong when I arrived at Clay’s condo on the other side of Maysburg with a derelict Blockbuster right down the street. I was a little sore, as I’d decided to go to the gym beforehand since I hadn’t been in a while. I snubbed out my cigarette, got out of the car, and walked up to the door and knocked.

“Just a second!” Clay called from inside. I sighed and cracked my neck.

The click of the deadbolt sounded a moment later and I was greeted by Clay’s sweat-soaked face in the doorway.

“Hey,” he whispered. He stuck his head out and glanced down the street before he motioned for me to come inside.

“What, you got the cartel after you or something?” I asked as I stepped over the threshold into a dimly lit living room connected to a kitchen in the back.

“Oh, hey, you must be Daniel!” an effeminate voice rang in my ears. I turned my head towards the stairs to see a thin black man holding a basket of laundry coming down.

“Yeah,” I returned.

He came down to the last step and set the basket down while Clay lowered the blinds and locked the door. The man, who I now noticed was wearing light blue skinny jeans and a Childish Gambino shirt under a dark blue blazer, stuck out his hand and marched over to me.

“You can call me Pharrell,” he said as I shook his hand. I was surprised by the strength of his grip.

“You Clay’s roommate?”

Pharrell turned his head towards Clay. “Oh, is that what you told him we were?”

Clay looked down and scratched at the back of his neck. “I… uh… I didn’t really… er… mention it.”

“Hell, we’ve talked about this. Don’t be so insecure, Clay.”

“What, you’re not his boyfriend or anything, are you?” I asked with a laugh.

“Hell, yes I am,” he answered with a serious look.

“Uh… oh. I was just kidding.”

Pharrell laughed and patted me on the back, while Clay rolled his eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. “You want a beer? I think there’s some Smirnoff Ice in there.”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t drink.”

Clay laughed. “Oh, really? I didn’t know that about you. Is this a new thing or have you never drank?”

“Well, if the man don’t want to drink, he don’t have to drink,” Pharrell said. “More power to you.”

Clay gave me a sharp look. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d somehow seen the beer in my car.

“So, um… how, uh, long have you two been together?” I asked. I noticed the back of my neck started to burn.

“About a year,” Pharrell answered. “We met at a party. Turned out, we both knew Rosa before she moved. Clay’s told you about her, right? I heard you’re close to his friend Jan.”

“I’ve heard about Rosa, though I’ve never met her.”

“Oh, good, okay, you know who I’m talking about. Clay, could you fetch me an Ice?”

Clay nodded and went into the kitchen.

Pharrell went back to the laundry bin and called to Clay, “And why the hell are you so damn sweaty?”

Before I could stop myself, I said, “He was riding that dick.”

Clay froze in the middle of closing the fridge and stared at me like a kicked puppy, but when he saw that Pharrell was laughing merrily he slowly closed the fridge.

“Oh, he wishes. He was probably just jerkin’ off to Johnny Depp or something.”

With cheeks blistering, I chuckled quietly with him.

“I was fixing the water heater,” Clay corrected as he gave Pharrell his drink. Pharrell cocked his eyebrows and took a long sip from his beer.

“So if I went and turned on the shower, it would give me hot water?”

“It’d be nice and steamy,” I blurted. I cursed myself inwardly for my lack of discretion.

“Oh, would you just grow up already?” Clay shot back.

“Chill!” Pharrell cried. “You’re the one who needs to grow up. I like this dude. You said your name is Daniel, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Sorry, I’m just horrible with names. Forgive me if I have to ask again. Clay, you apologize to the man. I’m ‘bout to go roll a joint. Had a hell of a shift, I need to unwind. You smoke?”

“I haven’t since college, but, uh, sure, I guess,” I said. “Where do you work?”

“Oh, I work over at a kennel. Boy, oh boy do those dogs get riled up.”

“Do you guys have a dog?” I asked. Clay left the room, and Pharrell went over to the coffee table and started to roll the weed. I noticed a piece of wood next to the TV stand.

“Oh, we do. You’d never know it, though. He just sits around fartin’ in our bed all day. Old as hell, too. Deaf in one ear. That’s why he never comes down when people come over, he can’t hear the doorbell. He can sure smell the weed, though. He’s always trying to eat my stash, I can’t tell you how much money that dog’s wasted ‘cause of it.”

“That’s… wow, that’s gotta be an interesting sight to see. An old dog high as balls.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious, but weed ain’t for dogs. I have to take him to the vet every damn time, just in case his old ass can’t handle it or something.”

“So, um… how did you know Rosa?”

“We went to school together. We were both trying to be anesthesiologists, but I ended up realizing it wasn’t my thing. Let’s see, it was back in… 2005, I think? Yeah, 2005.”

“Damn, I was still in high school then.”

“Haha, you’re a little baby. I know Clay would’ve been around twenty-six at the time.”

Pharrell stopped what he was doing and looked up at me with a mischievous grin on his face.

“I like you, Dan. No, no, not like that, don’t worry. But I was dreading you comin’ here, ‘cause Clay made it sound like you were the biggest jughead in Maysburg.”

“What’d he say about me?” I asked. I instinctively clutched my fingers tightly and sat down in an attempt to seem more relaxed.

“Pssh, you guys just butt heads too much. I think you’re both too damn stubborn for your own good, and neither one of you wants the same thing right now.”

“Sure we do. I want to live my life in peace, and Clay wants to live his life in peace. We just have two very different ideas of how to get there.”

“Well, see? You two aren’t so very different after all. Hehe, ‘we’re not so different, you and I.’ You ever watch Austin Powers?”

“Hell yeah.”

“That’s what’s up. Now here, take this blunt and you two go smoke it out while I finish up the laundry.”

“Wait, you aren’t—”

“''Clay! ''What the hell you doin’? Get in here and smoke this blunt with Dan!”

A door next to the stairs opened, and Clay came back in. Beyond, I could see a bright cherry red car parked in the garage.

“I’m comin’. Dan, do you wanna go to the back patio, so you can have a cigarette, too?”

“Is there a roof?”

“Yeah. There’s a roof.”

Clay had made his way over to the living room table, where he grabbed the blunt and a lighter and motioned for myself to follow him outside. The patio was past the kitchen and dining room, and admittedly a peaceful scene. There were soft Christmas lights strung up around the poles and railing, and the deep spring-green trees swayed in the failing light of the rain. I pulled out the bottom of my shirt expecting to have to wipe off the chair to sit down but was surprised to find that the patio was dry. Clay lit the blunt and we sat down opposite each other.

“Here, take this,” he coughed. I hadn’t even had a chance to pull out my cigarettes.

“You sure the neighbors won’t notice?” I asked.

“They don’t care, man,” he sighed.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I took a hit and exploded into a fit of coughing.

“You okay, there?”

“Y-yeah,” I coughed as I handed it back to him.

“You’re coughing like a fifty-year-old woman that’s been smoking for forty years.”

“It’s been a while.”

Clay nodded and took a drag as I pulled out a cigarette. We sat in silence for a few moments as the rain gently tapped against the overhang.

“Is that one of those e-cigarettes?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Helped me get off cigarettes.”

“Haha, I thought only hipsters used those things.”

Clay gave a wry smile and raised his hands.

“Caught me red-handed, man. You wanna try it?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve my own cigarettes.”

He stuck out the e-cigarette towards me.

“Nah, come on man, just try it. You afraid you’ll catch the hipster?”

I frowned and thought for a moment.

“Ah, what the hell, why not?”

I grabbed it and pulled in and immediately started coughing.

“Goddamn, what the hell is in this shit?”

Clay chuckled to himself and took it back from me.

“It hits harder when you’re used to cigarettes, don’t worry.”

I shook my head and decided to change the topic.

“So what’s this shit about Jan you wanted to talk about?”

Clay didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shook his head and leaned back.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothin’.”

“What? Tell me.”

He stared over my shoulder at the sky.

“What’s the rush?” he asked.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Yeah, but…. Don’t you ever just sit back and relax?”

“Sure. I watch TV most nights.”

“What, all you do is work, watch TV, and repeat?”

I paused to think.

“No. Not always. I go to the gym pretty regularly. I’ll sit outside and smoke on my back porch, too.”

“Yeah, but you’re always smoking. I bet you’re always mulling something over in your mind when you do. But that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Well, do you ever just… exist? You know, just forget all your problems for a few minutes. No music. No distractions. Just you and yourself.”

“Not really, no.”

He smirked.

“Maybe you should try it sometime. You seem so uptight all the time. No offense or anything, but it’s like you’ve got a broomstick shoved up your ass and it’s poking out your mouth.”

I laughed.

“Shit, maybe. But you’re one to talk. You’re always ‘Jan this’ and ‘Jan that.’ It’s a wonder you’re gay.”

“I’m flamin’, man.”

“Pharrell is flaming. You just look like you’re the Starbucks poster child.”

His eyes shot open and he leaned dangerously towards me.

“I-I’m sorry, man, I—”

I was interrupted, however, by Clay’s own laughter.

“Son of a bitch,” I chuckled.

“Damn straight, motherfucker. I am Starbucks. Bitch.”

We laughed it off, and were in a contemplative silence for several moments.

“How long did you know Mike before he disappeared?”

“Shit, uh…. I guess we met in middle school. Maysburg was a lot more hick back then. The other kids barely knew what a minority was. They called me nigger and shit, but Mike always stood up for me. We had a little gang going there for a while. It was me, Mike and James, James Greene. The three amigos, los tres compadres. He was a messed up kid, though. When we were 14, he’d already become an alcoholic.”

“What? How do you become an alcoholic when you’re fourteen?”

Clay shrugged. “Well, that summer, that one summer, before we all turned fifteen—I can’t piece the age to the grade right now—his mom just up and left one day to hook up with some businessman way the fuck away, I want to say Vancouver or Toronto, not sure which anymore. But she never told him anything about it—hell, he didn’t even know this dude existed. But yeah, I remember he and James had come over to my place that night for dinner, and when he got back home, she was gone with just a note left for him. He came back to my place that night, and called his grandfather, who had him stay with his uncle, Max Jewell. That’s when the alcoholism started.”

“Shit, I can understand why, but still, how the fuck does a kid get a hold of enough alcohol to be like that? Was his uncle an alcoholic too, or something?”

Clay nodded his head and took a hit.

“Yeah. His uncle was. I remember they didn’t get along too well at first, not until after the camping trip. After shit fucking hit the goddamn fan.” Clay’s eyes became distant. “Hit the goddamn fan….”

“What happened?”

He jerked his head towards me and didn’t speak for a moment.

“I don’t wanna get too much into it. Nothing personal, I just don’t like to talk about it. Mike’s grandad was the first to go. Then James was killed not long afterwards. The same night. It was ’94, I think it was. Fall break. And then you know what happened to Mike. Or, well, I guess as any of us do besides him. I remember Mike met Rosa not long after high school, and that’s how we met Jan. And then all hell broke loose a couple of years later in 2004. Well, shit, it actually went to hell again in 2003, but none of us knew. Only Ben knew. Shit, I wish I could’ve met the kid. Could have steered him in the right direction, maybe.” He turned his eyes back towards me.

“The Nameless is a sick fuck, you know. He’s the reason Ben died. Of course, none of us know the specifics, all any of us know so far is that the Nameless was involved. How involved, I can’t say, but I imagine that fucker was putting Ben through a goddamn nightmare. I mean, Jesus, Mike’s family started dropping like flies after that point, ‘cause Ben was Mike’s cousin, and Ben’s grandparents died, and then Mike’s cousin Larry died, and then Mike.”

I took a long drag from my cigarette.

“You think it could happen again?”

“Shit, I hope not. That’s why I need you, Dan, because I can’t do it myself. Hell, I don’t even have a fucking clue as to how to fix this demon, ghost, monster, whatever the hell kind of problem it is.”

“Is that why you asked me to come here? To help figure out what to do?”

“If I’m at a loss, how the hell would you know what to do? No, no, I just needed to talk about Jan’s discharge.”

“Discharge?”

“Yeah. Did nobody mention it?”

“No. When is she leaving?”

“Soon. I’m still working things out with her shrink and they’re figuring out other shit with her insurance, but she’ll be staying here.”

I thought for a moment.

“Why are you bringing her here? Wouldn’t she be the safest at Lunar Skies?”

“Not anymore. She said….” He paused and lowered his voice. “She said he’s been coming back. Ever since you started doing those interviews. But nobody there could possibly believe her, and I’m surprised you do.”

“Only because I’ve seen some of this shit with my own eyes. I thought she was crazy for a while.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Wait, no, not exactly, but you get my point. She’s not safe there if nobody knows what’s actually going on. But I’ve talked to Pharrell—”

“He knows?”

“He knows enough. Not as much as you, but he’s seen a few things as well. Don’t bring it up, though, he doesn’t like to talk about that shit.”

“What did he see?”

“Don’t worry about it. I just need to know if you will be willing to help take care of Jan and try to keep her safe if anything goes down.”

“Wait, you had me come over just for that? You could’ve just said that over the phone.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to try to get to know you a little better. I realized that if we were going to be working together on this, then we probably shouldn’t be butting heads.”

“Fair enough. Have you gotten to know me well enough?”

Clay twirled the joint in his fingers for a moment before responding.

“Yeah. And you know what?” He stumbled up to his feet and reached over and embraced me briefly. “You’re alright.”

“Thanks, man. You’re pretty alright, too.”

Clay opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak the lights went out, and we were thrust into a heavy darkness only diffused by the faint glow of the lightbulbs cooling down. The rain was heavy.

“Fuckin’ shit-ass!” a voice screamed from inside. “Clay, get your ass in here, the power’s out!”

I heard him huff and stand, and I did the same. Vaguely, from the light of the sky, I almost thought I saw an extra person on the porch, but soon realized it was just a post from the railing.

Clay and I turned on the flashlights on our phones, and we headed inside, where the interior was cast in our stark blue lights, with shadows spread across the walls as though they were waiting for us to get too close, to be just too uncareful. There was a light in the living room, where Pharrell stood over the coffee table lighting another blunt.

“Man, why are you just standing there smoking that blunt?” Clay demanded. “I know damn straight you know how to check the breaker.”

Pharrell frowned and shrugged. “I know. I just didn’t feel like it.”

Clay shook his head and ambled into the garage.

“Man, you wanna hit this shit?”

I furrowed my brows and shook my head. “Let’s wait a second.”

He shrugged and plopped down on the couch.

“Must be something with the power lines!” Clay called from the garage. “Nothing’s wrong with the breaker.”

“Well, shit,” Pharrell sighed. “Guess it’s gonna be dark for a while. Man, I haven’t even seen any lightning.”

Not sure what else to do, I checked my phone and saw that it was nearly nine.

“Goddamn, time went by fast,” I muttered.

“What’s that?” Clay asked as he came back into the living room.

“Oh, I was just saying time went by really fast. It’s nearly nine.”

“But didn’t you get here at six?”

“A little earlier. I didn’t think I was here for three hours. Oh well, I need to be getting home anyways.”

“Alright,” Clay yawned. “I understand. I guess I’ll be talking to you later, then. You wanna swing by and visit once Jan gets discharged?”

“Yeah,” I yawned. “Shit, you made me yawn.”

Pharrell stretched out his arms and legs as wide as he could and let out a bellowing moan of a yawn. I eyed him, and he snickered when he saw me.

“My bad. It was good meetin’ ya.”

I laughed and said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m glad we got to talk things out. Well, good luck with the power.”

“Take it easy, man.”

“Bye, Dan.”

I sighed and shuffled over to the front door and put my hand on the knob. I stopped and rattled at the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. I turned the deadbolt back and unlocked the knob, but still, the door wouldn’t budge.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Clay asked.

“Yeah, I think your door’s stuck.”

“Just yank on it.”

I tried turning the knob as hard as I could and pulled at it with all the weight in my body, but it still would not move.

“Do it like those SWAT motherfuckers,” Pharrell said. “Smash it down, I don’t give a damn about that door.”

“Pharrell, front doors always open inwards, that wouldn’t do shit. Here, let me help you, Dan.”

Together, Clay and I tugged and heaved at the door, and for a moment, I thought it would give, but it was immovable.

“Fuck, I guess you can just go around back. There’s a gate in the backyard that goes out to the front. Just watch your step, it gets pretty slick back there.”

“Alright.”

I’d made it to the kitchen when a piercing yelp issued from somewhere upstairs, followed by a large mass thundering down the stairs.

“Damn, Buster, it’s just a little dark,” Pharrell said. The shape bolted past me in a shaggy blur and leapt onto the couch, where I saw that it was a cowering old German shepherd. I laughed and took another step towards the back door.

“Wait!” Clay hissed. I stopped and turned back towards him. The three of us stood in silence, our eyes shifting uncertainly between one another.

“Do you hear that?” Clay whispered.

“All I hear is Buster’s asshole releasing the Kraken over here.”

“No, shut up!”

I trained my ears towards the silence and felt a frigid chill creep down my spine. From upstairs could be heard a sharp, jagged rasping, as though an animal were injured and lied on the side of the road nearly dead.

“You guys don’t have another dog, do you?”

Clay shook his head, with eyes wide and concerned. I waited for another moment before creeping over to the base of the stairs. Clay motioned for me to go back over to him.

“Shit, I thought I heard something earlier. Hold on. We’ve got a gun upstairs in our room.”

“You think it’s a burglar or something?”

Clay shot me a wary glance.

“I sure damn hope so.”

“Clay, how’re we gonna get the gun if it’s upstairs with whoever’s up there?”

Clay opened his mouth, but I interrupted him.

“I’ve got a gun in my car. I could run out the back and get it.”

Clay and Pharrell exchanged glances and nodded at me. I gave a reassuring nod and crept to the back door but found that it was also unforgiving to my efforts to open it.

“It’s stuck,” I hissed.

“I don’t like this,” Pharrell said. “I don’t like this one bit. Clay, you know I’ve been telling you to check that attic. But you never hired that exterminator. I swear, if I get bit by some raccoon or something with rabies, I’m not gonna be happy. Not happy, man.”

I made my way back over to them and looked up towards the banister. For a moment I thought I saw a large shadow slither past the railing.

“Yo, bruh, pass the blunt.”

“Uh… yeah….”

Clay, who I hadn’t noticed was still smoking, handed it to Pharrell, who then took a hit and stuck it out towards me with an earnest look in his eyes.

“Is this really the time?” I whispered.

“Nigga hit the blunt!”

I shook my head and took a drag. I tried not to cough, but I couldn’t manage to hold it in.

“Be quiet, dude!”

“Fuck… shit… this shit is harsh, man.”

Clay began to shush me again, but he was interrupted by a loud crash from upstairs.

“Fuck it, give it to me,” Pharrell said. “I’m not playin’ with this shit tonight.”

“Sure sounds like it,” I said as I handed it to him. He leaned down, put it out, and stood back up.

“Alright, we’re gonna have to go up there,” Clay whispered. “Pharrell, you get behind me. Dan, you get behind him.”

“You’re not seriously thinking about going up there, are you?” I asked. “I mean, what if it’s not an animal. What it—”

“I know what you mean. Now shut up and do what I say.”

I was tempted to retaliate, but I kept my mouth shut and did as he said.

“Pharrell, get out your knife, man.”

“Oh, yeah. Hold on…. There we go.”

I looked around me for a moment before picking up the piece of wood I’d seen earlier. Clay nodded at me and we slowly made our way to the base of the stairs, the air somehow heavier than it had been only a few moments before. Clay gave a brief look behind him and I smiled at him encouragingly. He didn’t return the smile before he began the ascent.

We had reached the top step when I felt something cold and wet touch the back of my leg.

“Shit!” I cried as I whirled around—except it was just Buster. His eyes were wide, and his tail was behind his head. I patted him on the head and turned back around. Clay and Pharrell both stared at me.

“It was just the dog,” I explained. Pharrell nodded curtly and Clay put his finger to his lips. We continued onwards, our footsteps somehow loud against the carpet.

Clay eventually paused in front of a closed door.

“We going in?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Clay whispered. “That way I can grab the gun. Pharrell, you come with me. Dan, you stay there with Buster.”

I gripped the piece of wood tighter as I nodded. Clay turned to Pharrell, who I noticed was visibly shaking, though his face was resolute. Clay put his hand on the doorknob and turned it.

There then issued a rustling noise from within, as though an animal was creeping across the carpet within. Clay paused for a moment before thrusting the door open and waving the light from his phone across the walls. There was nothing.

“Alright, be quick, man,” Pharrell whispered. “I’m not playin’ with this shit, nigga. I’m not playin’ with this shit.”

They both eased their ways into the room, and faintly I could hear what sounded like an extra set of lungs breathing from the bottom of the stairs, cold and raspy like a dying animal.

“Guys,” I whispered, “I hear something on the stairs.”

Clay looked to me and paused. I waved for him to keep moving, and he crept closer to the dresser. The breathing seemed to be coming closer, and I thought I could hear soft footsteps. Buster whined and pressed himself against my legs.

“Goddamnit, hurry up!” I hissed. I had my own flashlight pointed to the stairs. Right as I heard Clay open the drawer and pull out the gun, I caught sight of what appeared to be a head of greasy black hair. A certain fog crept over my mind, too, and I had to struggle to remain conscious.

“Come on, you fuck!” I screamed at the thing. “I know what you are! You can’t scare me!”

“Dan, shut the goddamn hell up!” Clay cried. He loaded the gun and cocked it, and I moved out of the way so that he could approach the doorway, though not before I glimpsed a long, pale finger inching its way up to the top step, at least a foot in length. Clay shoved me aside and fired three times in the creature’s direction. We all stared at the railing, waiting to see what would surface, but nothing ever did.

“What the hell is he doing?” I whispered. “Does the Nameless really think it can still scare us? I mean, we know it can shapeshift—”

“I don’t think that’s the Nameless,” Clay said.

“Then… what is it?” I asked.

Clay turned to me. “I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”

Pharrell, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.

“Wait—y’all hear that?”

We listened.

From the bathroom attached to Clay’s room could be heard the raspy wheezing of the creature. I swallowed and motioned for Clay to hand me the gun, as I was nearest the bathroom. After a moment, he handed it to me.

“Shine the light for me,” I ordered. Pharrell pointed the light towards the bathroom, while Clay picked up the piece of wood. The door was closed.

“Alright, I’m just… I’m just gonna fucking shoot and keep shooting,” I said. They both nodded, and I moved towards the door, the fog growing more intense with each step. I finally was against the door, to which I pressed my ear, struggling to keep lucid. The breathing was slow and pained—rasping, rattling… pneumatic. I backed away and slowly opened the door.

The breathing grew in intensity—nearly a snarl—and I noticed that written upon the mirror in red was the phrase “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”  I ignored the cryptic message and cast my eyes to the shower curtains, which were closed and ever so slightly rustling. The breathing—no, growling—grew to a roar, but I knew the longer I waited, the less likely I was to approach the entity. With a breath, I stomped over to the shower curtains, and just before I yanked them wide, the lights from the phones went out, and there came a noise so basely animalistic and inhuman I couldn’t help but scream in terror. I fired the gun, and kept firing until the clip was empty, and with each blast of the pistol grew more terrified as I saw brief flashes of the creature that I was mere inches away from—large, pale, and gangly, with stringy black hair that hung over a pale face that had two, dark, brooding eyes set over a cavernous maw of knife-like fangs. It clawed at me, and I could feel my skin being sliced open with little effort, but as suddenly as it came, the creature was gone, and in its place was a splatter of dark blood across the inside of the bathtub. The light from the hallway then came back on, and I could hear the air conditioner kick back to life. I stared at the blood, and dropped the gun, unable to keep my grip.

“Dan—you okay? What the fuck was that thing?” Clay screamed. He rushed to my side and I sat on the edge of the tub where I trembled uncontrollably.

“Dan!” Pharrell cried. “Come on, man, you gotta talk to us.”

I waved his hands away from me and looked back to the mirror. They both turned as well.

“What does it mean?” Pharrell asked. “‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark?’”

“It’s Hamlet,” Clay said. “I don’t remember who said it, but I just remember that’s Hamlet.”

I turned my eyes back to Clay.

“It… it…. Clay, that wasn’t the Nameless. I don’t know what the fuck that thing was, but goddamnit, it’s something else.”

We all exchanged glances.

“I don’t like this,” Pharrell whispered. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“Neither do I.”

I gave the gun back to Clay.

“We’re in too deep, man. We’re in too fucking deep. There’s no turning back now.”

*  *     *     *  *

Jan awoke with her head under the water, and she screamed and thrashed while the water rushed down her throat and into her lungs. She reared her head back above the water and bashed it against something hard, which made her head throb and her eyes water. She thrashed around and eventually found herself outside of the water and grappling at the handle of a door, which she flung open and fell out onto the floor of the hallway, where she hacked and coughed the water out of her lungs. She took a moment to look around her and saw that she was in her own house. She looked behind her and—to her relief—saw that she had only been in the bathroom.

Just a dream, she thought. Just a dream.

Jan slowly got herself to her feet and went over to the tub, still out of breath. Lord of the Flies lied swollen at the bottom of the tub. With a shake of her head, she grabbed her towel and dried herself off before she unplugged the drain.

Only a dream, only a dream, only a dream.

She went into the living room after getting dressed and drying her hair and turned on the TV, not paying attention to what was on, and went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She was irritated to find that she was out of sugar. After taking a bitter sip of the coffee, she went back into the living room and frowned when she saw that a Cheers rerun was playing. She quickly took out the Twin Peaks VHS she’d found recently at a yard sale and put it in and allowed herself to get lost in the mystery behind Laura Palmer and pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims.

She didn’t know exactly how long she’d been watching TV before she stood up to go to the bathroom. She was tired, but Jan was too scared to go to sleep just yet. She’d just passed through the dining room when she thought she heard a shuffling on the back porch. A chill ran down her spine and she thought back to the nightmare she’d had earlier. She quickly turned off the dining room light and turned on the back porch light and peeked through the curtains.

Nothing.

She sighed a breath of relief and had nearly closed the curtain before she saw a dark shape move in the bushes. She froze, and stared at the spot for a moment, unsure if she’d really seen anything or not. Finally deciding that it must have been her imagination, she closed the curtains and continued her way to the bathroom. However, as she was washing her hands, she thought she could hear Dibby growling quietly in another room. It was faint, but it sounded like he was in the dining room. Deciding not to take the time to dry her hands, Jan hurried into the dining room to see her dog facing the back door with his hackles raised and snarling viciously.

“What is it Dibby?” she whispered. She wasn’t quite sure, but she almost felt as though a strange fog was attempting to creep over her mind. She shook this feeling away and reached out her hand to gently pat Dibby on his shoulder. He jerked his head back and backed up, pushing himself against her legs. It was then that she noticed the door was unlocked. She tried to go towards it to turn the deadbolt, but Dibby blocked her path and erupted into a series of barks.

“Dibby, back! Back!”

The dog ignored her.

Jan grabbed his collar, and she could hear what sounded like claws scraping against the concrete steps. Jan finally shoved her way through the dog and turned the deadbolt, but she caught a glimpse of a large, jerking shadow creeping its way towards the door through the curtain. She almost felt as though a strange fog were creeping over her head, but she shook it off and raced into the kitchen while Dibby almost roared at whatever was on the porch. Her socks slipped against the floor, but she caught herself against the counter and reached for the phone.

“Hey, so, like, I’m not home right now, but… uh… you can leave a message if you want.”

She hung the phone up and dialed again but was only greeted by Rosa’s answering machine once more. She thought for a moment and dialed a different number. The phone rang for several moments, but just when she thought nobody would answer, she was greeted by the comforting voice of Clay.

“Hey, Jan, what’s up?” he grumbled. She looked over to the microwave to see that it was after midnight.

“I-I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Yeah, I was asleep, but don’t worry about it. What’s going on?”

Jan felt as though something was watching her from the kitchen window and retreated into the living room, wringing the cord in her hand.

“I… um… I know this may sound weird, but could you come over tonight? I… I don’t feel safe here, and Rosa’s not answering the phone.”

“Wh-what? What’s going on? Is that Dibby barking?”

“Someone’s on my back porch. Please, Clay, just come over here!”

“Jan, you need to call the police.”

“They can’t do anything, Clay!” she hissed. “I’ve tried calling them, they’re useless. Just come over quick, for the love of God!”

“Jan, just call the fucking cops! Jesus!”

“Goddamnit, Clay, I can’t!”

“Alright, alright, alright. I’ll come over. Do you have anything you could use to defend yourself?”

She paused to look around the kitchen and pulled open a drawer and procured a large kitchen knife.

“Just a knife.”

“Okay, I’ll be over there in a few minutes. Just hold tight, okay?”

Jan nodded her head and hung up without thinking about it. It was then that she also noticed that Dibby had grown quiet. She looked at the clock on the oven again and was glad that Clay only lived ten minutes away. With a tentative motion, Jan eased her way over to the kitchen window after turning off the light and peeked outside. To her relief, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but she didn’t let that lower her guard, so she closed the blinds and went around the house and locked the windows, closed the blinds and curtains, and turned off all the lights except for those on the porch. And even though Dibby was no longer barking at the door, he still followed close by and shot wary glances towards the back yard every now and then. He was rewarded with a hot dog.

When Clay finally arrived and knocked on the door, both Jan and Dibby ran over to the door and Jan yanked open the door and ushered him inside.

“Hey, Dibby, nice to see you too,” he whispered as the dog wagged his tail and licked her hand. Jan noticed that he was holding an old-looking baseball bat.

“So, where did you hear this person again?” he asked.

“Out back,” Jan returned.

Clay nodded his head and lifted the bat.

“Wait!” Jan said. “Don’t go out—” but Clay ignored her and strutted over to the back door and pulled it open.

“Clay! Clay!”

“Alright, where the fuck are you?” he screamed into the night. He stomped his way down the steps and into the yard.

“Come on, no goddamn games. Get out here now!”

“Clay, you don’t understa—”

He strode further into the yard and Jan raced out to him with Dibby growling at her heels.

“Clay, stop!”

He turned his head with both hands on the bat.

“I thought I saw someone in the bushes.”

Jan looked past him and stepped back as she saw a large shadow slink further into the bushes. Clay turned back around and stepped forward. Dibby began to lunge at the shadow, but Jan snatched his collar and with her other hand grabbed Clay by the arm.

“Clay, come inside!”

“Damnit, Jan, what the hell did you call me out—”

“Clay!”

He scowled and stopped. He turned towards the bushes, but the shape was gone.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll come inside, and we can call the cops. Let them deal with it.”

“No!” Jan hissed. “No cops.”

“But—”

“I’ll explain inside. Deal?”

Clay paused for a moment and shook his head.

“Deal.”

Once back inside, Jan paused the TV and let Dibby sit by the back door.

“You want anything to drink?” she asked.

“I’m good.”

Jan nodded her head and sat down on the couch, while Clay sat in an armchair opposite her.

“So, what the hell is going on? Do you know who that person was? Why won’t you call the cops?”

Jan stared at the floor as she tried to gather her thoughts. She chewed at her lip violently.

“Jan?”

She raised a hand. “Hold on. I… I’m trying to think.”

Clay nodded and reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint.

“You mind?”

Jan shook her head and Clay lit it. Finally, after several agonizing moments, Jan spoke.

“Clay, I can trust you, right? Like, you’d have my back and everything?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that…. Well, um…. I’m not sure if you would believe what’s going on. I don’t know if you’d think I was a liar, and I mean, I don’t think I would believe myself either, and I’ve fallen for a few tall tales before myself.”

“Jan, why wouldn’t I believe you? Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, um, I’m not exactly sure where to start, everything—everything’s just been such a-a blur lately.”

Jan was struggling not to cry.

“Just start at the beginning. Like any story.”

Jan nodded and wiped her eyes.

“I guess it started with Mike. I-I mean, really it started before that, but I can get to it later, but it started for me when Mike came to move in with me, I don’t know if he told you about that—”

“He mentioned it at the time.”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but he was acting really strange, and then, you know, he… he tried to attack me and then he disappeared, which was when I first realized that the cops can’t really help with the situation at all, you know?”

“But they’re still looking for him. You don’t know that they won’t find him eventually. Besides, what does this have to do with somebody creeping around your back yard? Wait—” he raised his hand with a look of sudden realization, “was that Mike out there?”

“No,” Jan said, “it wasn’t Mike. It was… somebody else.”

“Who was it? Just tell me.”

“I-I can’t just tell you. If I did, you’d think I was insane, and you might anyways.”

Clay nodded and Jan took a breath before continuing.

“Well, when Mike was attacking me, he was going on about someone called the Nameless and about how they killed his cousins Ben and Larry and about how—”

“Wait, I remember that!” Clay said. “Yeah, he was really upset about them dying. Or didn’t Ben just disappear, too, and Larry die?”

“Ben died, but only Mike knew that. And his grandparents were killed too, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah I remember. How did Mike know Ben was killed?”

“I-I’m getting to that. Anyways, right before he disappeared, Mike had me on the ground outside, and he was trying to ch-choke me out when he realized I wasn’t the Nameless he kept talking about, and then he kept trying to apologize about it.”

“Was he having some kind of psychosis or something?”

“That’s what I thought. But after he started to-to-to—”

Jan had to stop for a few seconds, because she started to feel as though Mike’s hands were around her throat again, scared she might die, scared he wouldn’t realize who she was. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to keep the hands away.

“You okay, Jan?”

She opened her eyes and looked around the room for a moment. Dibby’s head now lay on her lap as his tail gently wagged. She gave a slight smile and rubbed his ears.

“Yeah. This is… it’s just a bit hard to talk about.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, I understand. Take your time.”

“Where was I?”

“You were talking about when Mike attacked you.”

“Right, right. So, um, after he stopped trying to choke me, I, uh…. The cops were almost there, I could see the headlights down the road, and he turned to face the bedroom window and started talking to the Nameless, and said ‘I’ve got you now, you bastard. And I'm gonna fucking kill you. Nobody else.’ And then I heard somebody else inside talking through the window—”

“Wait, somebody was in your house? And why were you outside your bedroom?”

“Mike pushed me through the window. And yeah, there was somebody else in the house, except it had just been me and Mike there that night. Did Rosa tell you about how he started freaking out at the show, and how I had to chase him home?”

“No, you did.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, a few days after he disappeared. Do you not remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I do now,” Jan lied. “Anyways, then the other voice said, ‘They’ve failed you, Mike. No owls or cougars here,’ and then Mike said, ‘I’m all I need,’ and went inside, and after that, he just vanished.”

“Wait, did you mention something about owls?”

“Yeah, but I’m not entirely sure what it has to do with anything, except for maybe something in Mike’s journal. Do you know anything about it?”

“I don’t know anything about cougars, but… never mind, just keep going.”

“Well, anyways, yeah, he disappeared, and the cops couldn’t find anything, but another strange thing, too, at the time was that when I first came home and found Mike, he was in the bathroom, and there was blood on the mirror and there was this book he threw at me, but when the cops looked later, it was gone.”

Clay started to look a little more skeptical, though he didn’t say anything.

“But then, I was at Rosa’s a few days later, because she was really upset about Mike’s disappearance. I stayed the night, and when I went home to change for work the next morning, I found it on the coffee table on my way out, except it wasn’t there before—"

“Wait, it just showed up out of nowhere?”

Jan blushed and slowly nodded her head. She noticed she was biting her lip again, but she didn’t really care.

“Yeah. I know it sounds stupid—”

“Just tell your story.”

“Okay. So I saw the book just lying there, and Dibby was growling at it, but I didn’t have time to look at it because I was late for work, so I just set it down to look at it later. But it was gone again when I came back, but I was honestly relieved because I could tell just by looking at it that something was wrong with it, almost like it was alive.”

“It was alive?”

“No, no, it was just a silly feeling I had, I know books can’t be alive, that would be ridiculous. But then the morning when me and Rosa had to fill in for Mike’s band, I woke up to it on my nightstand underneath Mike’s journal, which I didn’t put either of those books there.

“And I didn’t want to read Mike’s journal, because I felt like it would have been an invasion of his privacy, which, yeah, I know it was stupid to think that since he disappeared and all, but then I started to get drawn to the other book, like it was putting hooks in my brain. It was this black leather book called The Book of Agony and when I opened it up I saw that the pages were grey, and each page showed… each page showed a picture of people being tortured with a description of it next to the pictures, and I saw pictures of who I think were Ben and Larry, and then Mike was in the very back, and, and, and—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clay said softly. “You don’t have to describe it if you don’t want to.”

Jan smiled and wiped her eyes. She felt ashamed for crying, and with each passing moment she knew that her story was less and less believable, but she also knew that it was too late to go back now.

“Thanks, Clay. Thank you for listening, I know it all sounds crazy—”

“I’ll decide when you’re done if it sounds crazy or not.”

“It was awful. Just absolutely horrible. But-but then, when me and Rosa had to fill in for Slough, after the show—I know you won’t believe this—Mike showed up after the show and—”

“Wait! You saw Mike? Where is he? Why didn’t you tell anybody?”

“B-b-because he tried to… to… you know… take um… take advantage of me, and then me and Rosa killed him, b-but then, when we tried to hide the body, it wasn’t in the trunk anymore, and—and—and—”

Clay’s face was contorted into an expression of disbelief by this point.

“Please!” Jan cried. “Please, you have to believe me! I swear I-I’m not making this up! You see, it wasn’t Mike, it was the Nameless that took him. And then afterwards, I started having these nightmares, and the Nameless has been following me around and sometimes I start to wonder if I can even tell real from fake, or up from down, or—”

“I think I’m done here, Jan.”

Jan, who had turned her face downward, looked back up.

“W-what?”

“I said I think I’m done here. I’m going home.”

“Wait, no! Please, don’t go, I don’t feel safe here.”

Clay stood and began to head for the door.

“Clay, you gotta believe me!”

He turned, and she saw that his expression was one of pity.

“I don’t know what happened, but if you really believe this all happened, then I think you need to get some help.”

Jan lurched forward and grabbed at his arm.

“I have proof!” she yelled. “I have Mike’s journal! And you can ask Rosa about all of this, I swear! Just let me grab his—”

“No, Jan. I’m not going to indulge in your little fantasies.”

“Clay, can it really hurt to take just a few minutes to read one little journal? Come on, just one thing? And after that, if you still don’t believe me, then you can go home. Just look at the fucking journal!”

Clay stopped and sighed.

“If I see that it’s really in his handwriting, then fine, I’ll take a look at it. But just so you know, I knew Mike for a long time, and I know his handwriting pretty well, so if it’s not his, then I’m walking out the front door.”

Jan didn’t hesitate to race into her bedroom and snatch it from the bookshelf where she’d kept it hidden since she let Rosa read it. Initially, Jan had wanted her to hold onto it, but Rosa didn’t want it anywhere near her.

“Okay, I’ve got it, see?” she yelled a moment later, waving the beat-up green composition book in Clay’s face. He grabbed it and his eyes shot open for a split-second before he flipped the page.

“Well, it certainly looks like his handwriting,” he mumbled.

For the first several minutes, his expression was inscrutable, but once he started getting towards the end of the entries, his face paled and Jan thought she could see him shaking slightly.

“Mike wrote this?” he asked when he was done. Jan nodded her head. Clay hissed and placed his hand against his forehead.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered.

“What?” Jan asked. “Do you know anything about this?”

He didn’t answer for a moment.

“Clay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, a little. Nothing about the book or the Nameless thing, but I know of the Mother. And I know about James. And I know about… about… the slug.”

“What do you know about it?”

Clay shook his head.

“I-I can’t. I just can’t, Jan.”

“What can’t you talk about?”

“That night ten years ago. That’s what this all goes back to, I think. You see, when we were fourteen, Mike’s grandad took me, Mike, Mike’s uncle Max, and our friend James on a camping trip over fall break, and…. No. I’m sorry, I’m just not ready to tell you the details. But stuff happened that shouldn’t have. But that’s when James died. Mike’s grandad did, too. And that’s where we met the Mother. I don’t know who the Father is, but if what Mike wrote in here is true, then I guess, I guess I’m not crazy after all.”

“Clay, come on, I told you about everything, you need to tell me everything.”

“Not yet, Jan. Not yet. I’m going to bed. Wake me up if anything happens.”

“Do… do you believe me know?”

Clay gave her a weary smile. “I suppose so.” 