Even with all the supplies I was carrying, I managed to run the entire way home in the heat and pollen. Snowy was right next to me in a sustained gallop. She doesn’t sleep when she’s had too much exercise, but rests on the cold floor of the shed and wags her tail in random intervals. She only falls asleep when I’m sitting around her, which is often. We’re practically attached at the hip.
Last night didn’t help with the intense feelings of danger. The drum sounded before the sunset. The streetlights beamed on in artificial glows. Cars drove by in curling headlights. Music chimed between warm windows and distant alleys.
I knew it would happen eventually, and sure enough last night in the dark it did.
Two men and a woman were lured out into the drum. They dashed out of a house in the back alley, which had been long covered with lines of plants and flowers. They charged towards one of the cars. I’m not sure how long they’d been living inside there, or if they were just traveling through and had picked that particular spot to hide. It gives me hope and fear to know people were so close to me in all this thundering darkness.
I lost sight of the three people when they charged towards the car. The vehicle was sitting on the street just outside of the alley behind my house. They called for help, like the machine could answer them. I could hear their voices. The lights of the car glowed between the edges of the plants and buildings.
That’s when I saw the first one.
The Unnamed charged down the alley. A living shadow with claws. Four more followed it in a tight pack. They hardly broke a leaf as they moved. The streetlights quietly powered-down behind them, like they were too afraid to witness what was about to occur. The big Unnamed appeared as well, the type with the mutilated arm. It charged beside my shed, nearly ripping it apart. The walls trembled like paper as it pursued. Snowy barked before I could grab her muzzle, but the monster was too concerned with the people to notice. They typically don’t care about dogs, but I didn’t want them to investigate the sound.
The moment the Unnamed rushed towards the car, the headlights, which were reflecting in the stuffy darkness, went out and the music was cut from the air.
“Spores, they’re just spores,” some man screamed.
Bullets rattled by my shed and the broken tree next to it. I hugged Snowy to my chest and turned my back to the battle. I didn’t want a random shot to come through the shed and hurt her. An explosion shook the air around us, a grenade or rocket launcher. Screams followed, along with hisses and roars. I was too afraid to turn around and watch the battle.
I heard some gurgling and splashing sounds, like water being thrown on the pavement. It had to be blood, it could be nothing else. After the wet sound, everything went back to the drum. There were no more cars or melodies. The streetlights went silent and dark. Nothing moved.
I stayed close to the shed. The Unnamed I saw yesterday in the daylight looked lost and confused, but it’d probably still try to kill me. I’m not willing to find out. I’ll always keep a weapon close from now on. I checked for signs of the battle yesterday, and found bloody clothes and shattered weapons. The guns being destroyed happen to be new, the Unnamed never cared about weapons before.
The crater from the explosion yesterday has already been filled up by ivy and lines of plants, like those people never existed.
Thank you for reading my work. To learn more about the Greenland Diaries hit it here. The monsters are incredible.
Patrick W. Marsh 