So, I’m writing a story…

..and it’s called Containment. Maybe; I’m not sure to be honest. Just something I came up with because it sorta fits and sounded better than “Untitled Horror”, its previous name until someone complained. I’ve uploaded what I’ve written so far, which is the whole of Day 1. Rather than write a single day as a large chapter (as I’ve been inclined towards in the past), I’m instead breaking them up into small scenes, like a movie, to make them easier to write faster.
That said, I appreciate any and all comments/criticisms. Sorry if the writing is not good, most of these are written at 3am as a cure for insomnia. Gonna go pretty the site up a little bit while I work on the beginning of day2.

Day 1 Part 7

Eric shook his head, “Den, man, give it a rest. You’ve got it bad for this girl, I know…but this is serious.”

Casey whispered to Rachel, “Who’s Chelsea?” Rachel just shrugged.
“Eric I’m not making this up; get out your phone, go online and I’ll show you. The pic is on her Connected pro-” The words died in my mouth; the picture was gone, along with the rest of her profile.

“What, you want me to look it up? Fine, I’ll do it, just to prove you’re out of your mind.” he pulled his smartphone from his pocket and flipped out the keypad, “What’s her screen name?”

I sighed, “Forget it.”

“Why?” Connor chimed in, “Don’t want us to know you’re full of it?”

“No…it’s not there. The picture, her profile, everything, it’s all deleted.”

“This is getting stranger by the second,” said Doc J; “What would Chelsea Swanson’s father be doing at John’s, and hyped up on PCP no less?”

“I think something’s wrong with him…he’s not on drugs, I think he went crazy or something.” I went on to tell them about the blog entry, and my inability to get in touch with Chelsea.

“This Swanson girl, where does she live?” asked Connor, suddenly interested. When I gave him the street name, his eyes widened. “I got an AUR message earlier; All Units Respond, telling us to report to that exact address. When the man calls, we all have to jump; there’s only one excuse for not reporting to an AUR: intoxication,” he said the last with a grin. “I figured it was…well, I’m not sure exactly what I thought was going on, it just wasn’t worth my Saturday night.”

“I knew it!” Karen exclaimed, “Those guys weren’t construction workers, they were military!”

“So what are you saying,” asked James, “that Connor’s Army colleagues knew Mr. Swanson was…sick, or demented?”

I was starting to see the bigger picture in my head, “Yea, exactly. They knew something was wrong, that’s why they were at Chelsea’s house. That’s what happened to her Connected profile: she was under surveillance and tripped a flag, so her account was deleted.”

“Why go through all the trouble, just for a crazy old guy?” Casey asked.

Doc J mused, “It seems like he was more than just crazy. The actions of the military seem in line with attempts to contain some kind of outbreak: quarantining the residence, controlling information to prevent panic, and so forth.”

Rachel shook her head, “No way…what kind of disease makes you eat other people?”

“We need more information. Connor, could you call any of your Army friends and try and find out what’s going on?”

“Sorry J, doesn’t work that way. If this is as big and bad as it sounds, they’d be monitoring our cell phones. No one on assignment would mention anything serious, or it’d be his ass. There’s only one way we’ll really know what happened to Daddy Swanson.”

I knew where he was going with this, “Wait, you can’t really intend to-”
He cut me off with a nod, “I’ll have to respond to the AUR. I’ll make up an excuse, say I was sleeping or something. Knowing my unit, we’ll be short staffed anyway and they’ll be too thankful to have an extra man to complain about me showing up late.”

“But if they’re watching your phones, how’s this gonna help?” asked Casey. “If your friends can’t tell you, how can you tell us?”

“Hmm, good point.” Connor pondered it for a moment, “The longest they can keep us working a shift is 10 hours. Which means I’ll be relieved by at least,” he checked his watch, “8 am. So I’ll meet up with you guys then, and fill everyone in.”

“Ok, cool, that works great,” I said.

“What if the worst should happen,” asked James, a serious tone in his voice, “and you are unable to leave?”

“That’s not gonna happen, it’s probably nothing anyway,” said Connor dismissively.

“Anything is possible. If we don’t hear from you by 8, are we to just assume the worst?”

“Doc J’s right, man, what do we do?” asked Eric.

“Alright, alright…if by some act of god they keep me on for another shift or something, I’ll send out a text. Now, they’ll be watching so it’ll have to be vague, but, well, I’ll think of some way to get a point across.”

We all agreed to the plan, and Connor left to report for duty. The rest of us knew that there wasn’t much we could do until we knew what was going on. Doc J and I swapped numbers with Rach and Casey, and we all decided to meet up again at the diner in the morning.

Day 1 Part 6

I had done it, brought up the elephant in the room. Everyone stopped talking, and took up study of the intricate designs on our tablecloth. The waitress arrived with my pancakes, and I started eating half-heartedly. A few minutes later Connor showed up; we kept conversations light, making introductions and trading ‘wassup’s, until Doc J arrived as well. I pushed my breakfast aside and, in hushed voices we took turns filling the two newcomers in on the events at the party.

“Wow, Dennis, I didn’t know you were into hard drugs,” said Connor.

I was puzzled, “Uh, what?”

“Did you forget to mention the part where you guys all dropped acid and made this up?”

Doc J busted up laughing; Eric interjected, “We’re not stoned! And we’re not making this up.”

“Alright, not to harp on the drug thing, but maybe Connor’s right,” said James, after he stopped laughing. “I’ve read police reports of men on phencyclidine who act totally insane.”

“Phensy-what?” asked Rachel.

“Phencyclidine, PCP, angel dust. Am I ringing any bells here?” Rachel nodded, so Doc J continued, “There’s even a rather famous case, where a man on PCP murdered his wife and ate parts of her body. I mean, it’s not like everyone who takes it exhibits the same symptoms, but, it is a plausible explanation.”

The girls all nodded and spoke their agreement, but I looked to Eric and gave a small shake of my head, he nodded. It felt wrong, and something about the guy that attacked Richie was bothering me; Eric didn’t buy it either. “Correct me if I’m wrong Doc,” he began, “But dust is no cocaine. I mean, it’s a hardcore street drug, right?”

James nodded, “Phencyclidine has been most commonly abused by members of lower class, correct.”

“Well, the, uh, the guy, he was in nice slacks and a button down. He wasn’t some ghetto punk, or some poser kid; hell, he wasn’t even young.”

“He’s right,” said Casey, “that dude was in his late forties, at least.”

That’s when it hit me. The man who attacked Richie…I had seen him before. It was only once, in a pic I saw on the net, he was standing in the background. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became.

“That guy is Chelsea’s father!”

Day 1 Part 5

On the way to the diner I’d made a couple calls. First I called Erin, sorry, your mom; she was going to school in upstate New York at the time, so I wasn’t really worried…but I had hoped to at least talk to her. She didn’t answer, and, well, I was getting pretty paranoid by then, so I didn’t leave a message…I didn’t get to talk to her until…until this was all over. I didn’t say anything…there was no point.

I also called two of my friends; besides Eric I had two good friends: James and Connor. James, or as we all called him Doc J, after the basketball player. I know, you’ve never heard of him, but it doesn’t matter. Doc J was a genius who graduated as our valedictorian and had a PhD from some Ivy League school…Oh, the Ivy League? They were the most prestigious of the universities, back when the collegiate system was still privatized. Well, with all his credentials, Doc J was considered a…disappointment to his peers, and his parents, because he worked as a local pediatrician. Everyone always thought he was going to cure cancer or something, but all he wanted to do was help kids feel better. After seeing that guy go crazy on Richie, I thought maybe Doc J might know what the hell was wrong with him.

Connor, on the other hand, was a half assed military man: Army Reserves. He put in his one weekend a month, and that was about the sum of his patriotism. After seeing those guys close down Chelsea’s road, I figured maybe Connor might’ve heard something. And really, I wanted to know that my friends were ok…I asked both of them to meet us all at the diner.

We parked the SUV and headed into the diner; one of the waitresses called out, “Hey its D & E, where’re the other two?”

“Oh don’t worry, they’re on their way,” I replied with a half-hearted laugh. We were sorta regulars there; we walked through the more crowded front room into the back, and took our usual corner booth. The front section had been smoking-cigarettes I mean; back when they were legal-so we sat in the back. Eric and Karen sat on one side, I slid into my seat and Rachel sat next to me; Casey pulled up a chair.

It was sort of our tradition to have breakfast if we came here after sunset, so I ordered pancakes. The rest of ‘em just ordered coffee or soda, so I felt a little awkward…As the waitress left to put in my order, Karen finally broke the silence.

“So, who was that guy that Richie was fighting?”

“I dunno, he looked older than us. Like, a lot older,” Eric said.

Rachel chimed in, “I’ve been to a buncha parties around here, even in nearby towns, and I’ve never seen that guy at any of them.”

“I told you!” Casey interrupted, “He wasn’t at the party!”

I stopped her, “Wait, what?”

Rachel sighed, “Here she goes again.”

Casey shot her a glare and continued, “I think we saw that guy earlier, at the liquor store. We went with my older sister, to get stuff for the party, and I saw this creepy guy, kinda staring at me. He was wearing dress slacks and a nice shirt, but it looked really dirty. When we got out of the store, he started walking over to us but, he was…he was kinda scary, so I just got in the car real fast and we took off.”

“Look hun, I know you think that skirt is to die for, but really?” asked Rachel, “You think some freak stalked you all the way from the liquor store to John’s?”

“Even if it was the same guy, why’d he pick a fight with Richie?” Karen asked, “That doesn’t make sense; wouldn’t he just try to be cool and find you, try and run some game?”

“Maybe he did try to find her and Richie just got in his face. This is Richie we’re talkin’ about, and he was smashed,” said Eric.

“Look,” I exclaimed, “I don’t care why he was there, I just wanna know why he took a bite out of our friend!”

Day 1 Part 4

The only sound was Richie cursing in pain; the rest of us were frozen in terror. With his uninjured arm, Richie managed to pull the…thing…off of his shoulder, but not without considerable effort. Wincing in agony, he yelled, “For Chrissakes, will somebody get this freak offa me?!”

The crowed snapped to action; in a heartbeat two guys pulled the cannibal off of Richie while John started beating the shit out of him. The bum just took shots to the face like he didn’t even feel ‘em…Meanwhile, Francine, a nursing student…or maybe she was actually a nurse, I can’t remember…started tending to Richie. She ripped a piece of his shirt off and used that to bandage the wound.

Throughout all of this, I was still in a daze; the strange events of the past day had left me feeling numb. I watched my friend bleeding like it was on TV, I just…didn’t know what to do. As I stared on in horror, I heard a faint sound in the distance, drawing closer. I knew I should recognize it…but it wasn’t until I saw the flashing lights that I knew what the sirens signified: Cops.

As the two cars raced down the street toward us, we bolted. In hindsight, I felt bad for leaving Richie…but it was instinct, and groupthink. Years of partying taught us to run at the sight of cops…and when everyone around you is running, you run too. Since we were parked around the block, Eric, Karen and I ran around the house and through the back yard. When we got to the street Eric’s truck was parked on, we noticed two girls, a brunette and a redhead, looking scared and a little lost. I recognized them as having come from the party, but didn’t know them.

“Do you see Kevin’s car? I can’t remember where he parked it,” the redhead said.

“No, and he’s not answering his phone either,” her friend replied.

I looked at the girls, and then to Eric; he gave a slight nod.

“Hey, uh, if you girls need a lift home, we got room,” I said, gesturing toward Eric’s 7-passenger SUV. The girls looked to one another; the redhead spoke first.

“Rachel, I don’t know if we should-“

The brunette cut her off, “Yea, we’d love a ride,” she said to us; she turned back to her friend, “Look Casey, Kevin’s gone, I don’t know where he is. Probably arrested or something, and we’ve gotta get out of here. I don’t think the cops will buy our fake IDs, and I certainly don’t want my parents getting pissed.”

Casey sighed, defeated, and the two girls walked over and got in Eric’s SUV; we all introduced ourselves and got the hell out of there. Now, we had just seen some crazy stuff, and everyone was on edge; I played it cool and mentioned that it was barely 9 o’clock, too early to head home. Rachel agreed, and suggested we head to a diner on the outskirts of town that was open 24 hours. We sort of played it off like we wanted to get to know each other better, but the truth was, after what we had seen, none of us wanted to be alone.

When we pulled into the diner’s parking lot, I worried, about Richie, John, even Frenchie. I figured, with the cops there, everything would be alright. Sure, I thought, they might get in a little trouble, but…I never realized that I’d never see any of them again.

Day 1 Part 3

As we drove off, I took another shot, “Ok, so maybe she’s not home…if the road’s closed, she might still be at the hotel; you think we could-”

Eric cut me off with a glare, “What are you, stalking her? How are you gonna sell this? ‘I read that emo blog you posted last night, and came to take you out and cheer you up?’ Yea, right. We’re just gonna head to John’s for the party.”

I sighed; he was right, it would’ve been pretty creepy. Thinking back, I wasn’t really worried about Chelsea, I was just desperate; it had been a while since I’d gotten…since I’d had a girlfriend. I pushed her from my mind and we ended up at John’s. Now, the reason John was throwing a party was that Frenchie was back in town; Frenchie’s dad was maybe a quarter French, but that’s not how he got the nickname. He didn’t look the part either: he was a heavyset, tall redhead who talked with a southern drawl. No, we called him Frenchie because his real name was Alphonse. Everyone had called him Frenchie to tease him in middle school, and the name had stuck. Frenchie went to college in New York; he graduated that May and was finally moving back home to get a job doing…hell, I can’t even remember what he said he had majored in…

Oh well, he was back in town and the only way to greet an old friend was with a party. We arrived around quarter after 7 and Frenchie greeted us almost immediately. “Yo look who it is! Den, Eric, I ain’t seen you boys in years!”

I looked to Eric, “All that time in the city and he still sounds like a hick…”

“Aww, shuddup,” Frenchie said and caught both of us in a big bear hug. I could smell the whiskey on him, and with the way he was slurring his speech already I knew he must’ve started early. I wiggled free of his grasp and caught the eye of another of my friends, then slipped off to talk to him. Eric shot me a glare at being left with Frenchie the sloshed, but I shrugged him off.

I hung out at the party for an hour or so, unsuccessfully hitting on at least half the girls there, when we suddenly heard a commotion from the front yard. People were yelling, but it took me a second to recognize the telltale chant heard at many a party: “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Did we call the cops, or try to break things up? Of course not; we went outside to enjoy the show.

The crowd formed a half circle in the front yard; John was near the back, trying to keep people quiet before the cops were called. I nodded to Eric and Karen as well, while pushing through the crowd to see what was going on. When I got toward the front, I saw what looked like a homeless guy getting up in Richie’s face. Now, Richie was a football star in High School; and while he had packed on a gut in the past few years, he was still one of the toughest dudes around. Nobody got in Richie’s face, not if they knew what was good for ‘em. Whatever they had been arguing about, Richie was done with it; he gave the bum a hard shove.

I didn’t recognize the guy he was fighting, but just lookin’ at him you could tell he was some kinda street trash. His clothes had that look, like they were decent clothes a month ago, and hadn’t been washed since. And he had like, cheap red wine spilled all over his shirt; he walked with a stagger, we could tell immediately he was messed up.

“Look buddy, you’re totally wasted already, I don’t wanna hurt you. But this is a private party I’m havin’ with my friends, so take a walk,” Richie said and, used to being listened to, turned to walk away; his opponent lunged at him, grabbing him by the shirt. The two grappled for a short while, and Richie eventually shoved the bum away and swung for the fences: he threw a hard right hand that caught the street trash right on the jaw. We all fell silent and the loud SMACK of fist on flesh echoed through the night.

Now, this is the worst part of it: when Richie hits somebody, they feel it. Most guys, they go down, lights out. But this bum…he didn’t even flinch; it looked like Richie had punched a brick wall. The crowd remained silent, and even Richie was in shock; he looked from the homeless guy to his hand, confused… A second later the bum was on him; Richie was still in shock and the urchin managed to get ahold of him. And then the bum…I swear to you…took a huge bite out of Richie’s shoulder.

Day 1 Part 2

“ChelBell07: Account Deleted”

Reading that, the reality of the situation never occurred to me. I immediately assumed that her mother, or maybe both parents, had read the blog and deleted her account as some kind of punishment. It did strike me as odd, but I didn’t pay that much attention to it; like I said, Chel and I weren’t that close to begin with.

So, I shrugged it off and checked the news feeds, after getting my hot dogs. Mostly mundane bull-er, stuff, sports, you know…but I did notice something about a wildfire outbreak in western Texas. It didn’t really click, until later, when I remembered that Chelsey’s dad had been away on business last week…in Texas. Even if I had remembered that, I wouldn’t have put it together…

I passed some more time online ‘til Eric got home-he worked ‘til 6-then we got ready to head to the party. He texted Kar-what? Oh, sent her a message, like with a phone? Right; so he texted Karen, a girl he’d been dating for a few weeks, and told her we’d pick her up. We hopped in Eric’s SUV-sorry, Sport Utility Vehicle; basically a truck with more passenger room. They were big in the 90s and early 0s, but the UN Fuel Act of ’17 practically outlawed them.

On the way to Karen’s house I had a great idea: we could stop at Chelsey’s place afterwards and see if she wanted to come! Since she only lived two blocks away from Karen, Eric agreed. When we picked Karen up, I remember why Eric was dating her…she was a slim blonde, with long legs and bright green eyes. Whew, that Karen…

She hopped in the car and we drove ‘round the corner toward Chelsey’s, but when we got to her street there was some construction going on. “It’s damn near 7, why’re they workin’ so late?” Eric said, which I also thought was weird… So we pulled over and I yelled to get one of the workers’ attention. The guy who was holding the ‘Stop: Road Closed” sign walked over to us, looking mildly annoyed, “Look kids, the road’s closed. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Bro, my girl live-well, not my girl, but a friend of mine lives down here, and we’re just tryin’ to pick her up to go to this party. The street’s a dead end so we can’t like, go around or anything. If you could just move one of those barricades though we’d be cool.” I said.

“Sorry, can’t do that. There’s been a break in a gas line, so we can’t allow any traffic down here.”

I was about to protest again when Eric cut me off, “Look dude, we’re goin’ to this party, right? There’ll be other girls there, forget about it; Chelsey’s not that into you anyway.” So I sighed, and off we went.

As we were driving off, Karen perked up from the back seat, “Hey, was it just me, or did that guy totally not look like a construction worker?”

“Whaddaya mean?” Eric asked, “Denim overalls, orange vest, looked pretty construction to me.” I nodded agreement.

“Did you see his shoes? Those weren’t work boots, they were designer!”

“Typical woman, checkin’ a man’s shoes to see if he’s loaded,” I cracked, which got a laugh from Eric.

“Shut up! Don’t be so mean!” Karen exclaimed, and that was the end of it. Of course, she was right. That guy was no worker, and there was no gas leak. I didn’t know the truth until later…