Status: This is only the beginning
Ohio's on Fire
The Storm
Some two hundred miles south of Cleveland, the traffic on interstate 71 was at a near standstill. Cars were moving, admittedly, but probably at half the speed of smell. At only a quarter past three o’clock, it was much too early for it to be rush hour. This meant that tensions were high for the unsuspecting occupants stuck in their vehicles, especially for one man in particular.
“Come on, come on!” Austin Carlile growled angrily, honking the horn of the large black tour bus. He, like the other drivers around him, was growing more impatient by the second. The construction in this state was ridiculous, he thought, assuming this was why traffic was backed up so far. And if memory served him right, from his time living in Ohio, he was most likely correct with his assumption.
It had been forty minutes since he’d been forced to completely stop the bus and was regretting his decision to drive ever since. Unfortunately for Austin, he’d volunteered to drive the bus while everyone else opted to fly into Columbus for the show that night. It wasn’t so much volunteering, as it was a lack of options. As he sipped on his nearly empty bottle of Budweiser—the last in his six pack—he reminded himself that he wouldn’t be able to do the same thing on an airplane. But he’d been unprepared for how long the drive would actually take him thanks to the traffic, and how very little alcohol he had left. Six beers in and he couldn’t even feel a buzz yet. This was going to be a problem.
Admittedly, his drinking was already becoming something of an issue. To everyone else, it seemed. He knew he was setting a poor example for people that looked up to him and was actually sorry about that, but he was twenty-five for God’s sake. He was allowed to enjoy a drink every now and then, wasn’t he? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a grown man enjoying a drink or five every now and then. Besides, he’d rationalized with himself, he’d been able to sleep better at night and have less headaches because of it.
While Austin muddled over how he was going to find a solution to his problem, his phone began furiously vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. Through slightly blurred vision, ‘Jared’ flashed across the screen when he finally wriggled the phone out and Austin cursed aloud. His tour manager was not who he wanted to talk to right now, especially since he was slightly drunk and wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Jared’s voice roared through the phone and Austin lazily stretched his arm out to hold it as far away from his ear as possible. But even at that distance the man on the other line’s voice could be heard loud and clear. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AN HOUR AGO, CARLILE! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE NEVER LET YOU GO ALONE, ESPECIALLY NOT AFTER THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN THIS GODDAMN STATE.”
Irritated that last month’s incident was being brought up—yet again—Austin brought the phone back to his ear and tried his best not to scream back. “That wasn’t my fault and you know it! Motherfucker had it coming! You weren’t there, you didn’t hear what—”
“Austin!” The tone in Jared’s voice had suddenly changed. He wasn’t as angry; suspicion had taken its place. “Austin, have you been drinking?”
Austin felt a cold sweat creeping in, despite the 80-degree heat outside. How much had he been slurring his words? He didn’t think he even had been. Jared just had a sixth sense about these kinds of things. He was like a mother in dude form. Nevertheless, Austin kept his cool.
“Absolutely not,” he lied easily. He’d become rather good at this over the years. “And to answer your less than polite greeting, I’m stuck in traffic outside of Cinci.”
Seemingly pacified by his answer, Austin was able to get Jared off the phone in less than a few minutes. It only took a few white lies and empty promises about how he’s been completely sober since the incident last April. Although, the comment he made about the traffic starting to move again was actually the truth. Much to his relief, both lanes had suddenly started to move again. As an added bonus, a road sign indicated that there was a carryout gas station right off the exit he was nearing. Perfect, he thought, he could fuel up the bus and himself with one stop.
Fifteen minutes later, Austin must have been quite the sight to see for the redhead kid behind the counter of the carryout. Totting around the store with two bottles of Gin and six cans of Monster in his arms, he was knocking things off shelves left and right while trying to grab more “necessities” for the road. A Snickers bar and a big bag of Doritos topped the pile when he dumped it on the checkout counter.
Austin decided that the boy behind the counter couldn’t have been older than 21 or so. Gangly, like himself, but much shorter at about 5’6”—his wild red curly hair giving him an extra inch or two at best. The little name tag fastened to his faded green Ninja Turtles shirt indicated that the kid’s name was Charlie, and Austin got the feeling that Charlie didn’t see much of the outside world. Kind of had that Lives-At-Home-With-Mom-Playing-WoW vibe going on. Austin also could tell by the way Charlie wrinkled his freckle-covered nose that he could smell the alcohol on him.
“Uh, will this be all?” Charlie started scanning the items hesitantly.
“Yessir,” Austin said, pulling his wallet out. “Oh, and whatever I just put in the tank over there,” he nodded over at the bus parked outside at the closest pump.
While the baffled kid busied himself scanning the items before him, the small television mounted behind Charlie caught Austin’s eye. It was a local newscast; a rather plain-looking middle-aged woman was reporting out front of a large hospital surrounded with crime scene tape. The television was turned down too low to catch what she was saying, but the large caption beneath her, “238 MISSING FROM CLEVELAND GRACE. VICTIMS PRESUMED DEAD.” drew his attention. Noticing Austin staring up at the screen, Charlie spoke up again.
“Pretty crazy, right?” His comment brought Austin’s attention back down from the television. Seeing that Austin was clearly not up to date with the local news, Charlie seemed almost excited to share the latest gossip with someone new. “Cops don’t want to admit they don’t have a clue what happened there,” he nodded at the screen. “Every doctor, nurse, patient—gone,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis. “Just like that.”
“W-what? Like something killed them?” Austin had found his voice again finally but the idea of so much death suddenly becoming real to him left it higher and shakier than normal.
Charlie clicked his tongue and glanced back at the television. “Something…” he leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “…or someone.”
Austin took a small step back from the counter as he looked from the kid to the television in horror. “One person couldn’t just kill that many people and hide the bodies all alone, could they?”
The boy before him did a quick glance a round to be sure their conversation was not being overheard. “I don’t think it was an ordinary human…think about it, man, the cops haven’t found any of the bodies. Just a lot of blood and bits of flesh and hair and shit like that…” Austin shuddered as Charlie went on, “Whatever went into that hospital…it wasn’t no human. Everyone’s thinking it, I’m just sayin’…”
“Some sort of wild animal?” Austin’s hopeful question fell flat when Charlie shook his head solemnly.
“There’s a storm coming…” he whispered hoarsely. “An uprising…it’s already starting…little incidents of disappearances will go unnoticed, but soon,” he pointed a bony finger at the television. “…soon you’ll be seeing a lot more shit like that making the headlines.”
Austin gulped and reached forward to grab the groceries Charlie had bagged for him. “U-uprising?” His voice hitched even higher on the last syllable of the word. “What are you talking about?”
“Some call it demons, others call them monsters…” Charlie pulled out his cell phone and started rapidly typing something on it while he spoke. “There will come a day when there’s no more room left in Hell…their gates will close…and the dead will walk the earth once more.”
Charlie turned his screen around and Austin stared in horror at an artist’s depiction of the form of a human being, dripping blood from its mouth, and gazing with cold black eyes back at him.
The image seemingly brought Austin back to his senses and he hurriedly slapped a fifty-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change.” Without a second thought or a look back, he rushed out of the store with his bags to the safety of his bus.
“Come on, come on!” Austin Carlile growled angrily, honking the horn of the large black tour bus. He, like the other drivers around him, was growing more impatient by the second. The construction in this state was ridiculous, he thought, assuming this was why traffic was backed up so far. And if memory served him right, from his time living in Ohio, he was most likely correct with his assumption.
It had been forty minutes since he’d been forced to completely stop the bus and was regretting his decision to drive ever since. Unfortunately for Austin, he’d volunteered to drive the bus while everyone else opted to fly into Columbus for the show that night. It wasn’t so much volunteering, as it was a lack of options. As he sipped on his nearly empty bottle of Budweiser—the last in his six pack—he reminded himself that he wouldn’t be able to do the same thing on an airplane. But he’d been unprepared for how long the drive would actually take him thanks to the traffic, and how very little alcohol he had left. Six beers in and he couldn’t even feel a buzz yet. This was going to be a problem.
Admittedly, his drinking was already becoming something of an issue. To everyone else, it seemed. He knew he was setting a poor example for people that looked up to him and was actually sorry about that, but he was twenty-five for God’s sake. He was allowed to enjoy a drink every now and then, wasn’t he? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a grown man enjoying a drink or five every now and then. Besides, he’d rationalized with himself, he’d been able to sleep better at night and have less headaches because of it.
While Austin muddled over how he was going to find a solution to his problem, his phone began furiously vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. Through slightly blurred vision, ‘Jared’ flashed across the screen when he finally wriggled the phone out and Austin cursed aloud. His tour manager was not who he wanted to talk to right now, especially since he was slightly drunk and wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Jared’s voice roared through the phone and Austin lazily stretched his arm out to hold it as far away from his ear as possible. But even at that distance the man on the other line’s voice could be heard loud and clear. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AN HOUR AGO, CARLILE! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE NEVER LET YOU GO ALONE, ESPECIALLY NOT AFTER THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN THIS GODDAMN STATE.”
Irritated that last month’s incident was being brought up—yet again—Austin brought the phone back to his ear and tried his best not to scream back. “That wasn’t my fault and you know it! Motherfucker had it coming! You weren’t there, you didn’t hear what—”
“Austin!” The tone in Jared’s voice had suddenly changed. He wasn’t as angry; suspicion had taken its place. “Austin, have you been drinking?”
Austin felt a cold sweat creeping in, despite the 80-degree heat outside. How much had he been slurring his words? He didn’t think he even had been. Jared just had a sixth sense about these kinds of things. He was like a mother in dude form. Nevertheless, Austin kept his cool.
“Absolutely not,” he lied easily. He’d become rather good at this over the years. “And to answer your less than polite greeting, I’m stuck in traffic outside of Cinci.”
Seemingly pacified by his answer, Austin was able to get Jared off the phone in less than a few minutes. It only took a few white lies and empty promises about how he’s been completely sober since the incident last April. Although, the comment he made about the traffic starting to move again was actually the truth. Much to his relief, both lanes had suddenly started to move again. As an added bonus, a road sign indicated that there was a carryout gas station right off the exit he was nearing. Perfect, he thought, he could fuel up the bus and himself with one stop.
Fifteen minutes later, Austin must have been quite the sight to see for the redhead kid behind the counter of the carryout. Totting around the store with two bottles of Gin and six cans of Monster in his arms, he was knocking things off shelves left and right while trying to grab more “necessities” for the road. A Snickers bar and a big bag of Doritos topped the pile when he dumped it on the checkout counter.
Austin decided that the boy behind the counter couldn’t have been older than 21 or so. Gangly, like himself, but much shorter at about 5’6”—his wild red curly hair giving him an extra inch or two at best. The little name tag fastened to his faded green Ninja Turtles shirt indicated that the kid’s name was Charlie, and Austin got the feeling that Charlie didn’t see much of the outside world. Kind of had that Lives-At-Home-With-Mom-Playing-WoW vibe going on. Austin also could tell by the way Charlie wrinkled his freckle-covered nose that he could smell the alcohol on him.
“Uh, will this be all?” Charlie started scanning the items hesitantly.
“Yessir,” Austin said, pulling his wallet out. “Oh, and whatever I just put in the tank over there,” he nodded over at the bus parked outside at the closest pump.
While the baffled kid busied himself scanning the items before him, the small television mounted behind Charlie caught Austin’s eye. It was a local newscast; a rather plain-looking middle-aged woman was reporting out front of a large hospital surrounded with crime scene tape. The television was turned down too low to catch what she was saying, but the large caption beneath her, “238 MISSING FROM CLEVELAND GRACE. VICTIMS PRESUMED DEAD.” drew his attention. Noticing Austin staring up at the screen, Charlie spoke up again.
“Pretty crazy, right?” His comment brought Austin’s attention back down from the television. Seeing that Austin was clearly not up to date with the local news, Charlie seemed almost excited to share the latest gossip with someone new. “Cops don’t want to admit they don’t have a clue what happened there,” he nodded at the screen. “Every doctor, nurse, patient—gone,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis. “Just like that.”
“W-what? Like something killed them?” Austin had found his voice again finally but the idea of so much death suddenly becoming real to him left it higher and shakier than normal.
Charlie clicked his tongue and glanced back at the television. “Something…” he leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “…or someone.”
Austin took a small step back from the counter as he looked from the kid to the television in horror. “One person couldn’t just kill that many people and hide the bodies all alone, could they?”
The boy before him did a quick glance a round to be sure their conversation was not being overheard. “I don’t think it was an ordinary human…think about it, man, the cops haven’t found any of the bodies. Just a lot of blood and bits of flesh and hair and shit like that…” Austin shuddered as Charlie went on, “Whatever went into that hospital…it wasn’t no human. Everyone’s thinking it, I’m just sayin’…”
“Some sort of wild animal?” Austin’s hopeful question fell flat when Charlie shook his head solemnly.
“There’s a storm coming…” he whispered hoarsely. “An uprising…it’s already starting…little incidents of disappearances will go unnoticed, but soon,” he pointed a bony finger at the television. “…soon you’ll be seeing a lot more shit like that making the headlines.”
Austin gulped and reached forward to grab the groceries Charlie had bagged for him. “U-uprising?” His voice hitched even higher on the last syllable of the word. “What are you talking about?”
“Some call it demons, others call them monsters…” Charlie pulled out his cell phone and started rapidly typing something on it while he spoke. “There will come a day when there’s no more room left in Hell…their gates will close…and the dead will walk the earth once more.”
Charlie turned his screen around and Austin stared in horror at an artist’s depiction of the form of a human being, dripping blood from its mouth, and gazing with cold black eyes back at him.
The image seemingly brought Austin back to his senses and he hurriedly slapped a fifty-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change.” Without a second thought or a look back, he rushed out of the store with his bags to the safety of his bus.