I stole a yellow memo pad from the supply locker. I hope they don’t care. I need to write something down. I remember hearing somewhere that having a journal is a good way to avoid going crazy. It was on the Today Show or something like that. Doesn’t matter, I won’t get in trouble. The bank won’t be working for a while. I don’t care, especially after everything that’s happened. I don’t want to work here anymore if this is going to happen in the area.
It hit around six tonight. It was right before I could close the drive up. There was this weird hammering sound everywhere. I thought it was just some construction, but it didn’t stop. Once it started, the drumming came through every wall and counter. It was almost like a casual vibration or something.
They came shortly after, the screams.
At first they were everywhere around the building, people screaming, running, and being chased. A guy with a Twins jersey on came running by the bank’s windows and something grabbed him from behind. There was a scream, crunch, and nothing else. I hid beneath the counters. Something exploded outside, sending a tree branch into the front doors, throwing glass everywhere. I crawled to the basement.
There were more explosions, like they were following me.
The lights went out quickly. I heard some brakes screech and a woman screaming. The door still worked, a battery controlled the keypad to get down there. It has been three hours since then. My phone is holding the time at least. I’m going to hide here all night. The mold and dust smell is driving me a little nuts. The basement had a few cookies and stale chips from the office parties. I ate them all. I don’t care. I tried calling my dad, sister, and my girlfriend. No answer, nothing, not a whisper. It was probably like 9/11 when the phones crashed or when Michael Jackson died. I’m going to try and sleep soon. The walls keep shaking, and there are distant sounds of smashes and screams.
War? The Russians? An earthquake in Saint Paul? Whatever, I’m not going to sit down here all night. I’ll have to pee eventually. The bathroom is upstairs. I’ll try and sleep first and see if I can drive home in the morning. My dog is home after all. She hates thunderstorms.
She can’t be doing very well with this.
They came back. I had hoped they wouldn’t, but they’re here. The sound started again just a few moments ago. Most people left their cars. I didn’t. I crawled into the trunk through my back seats. I’m not going out there. I’ve got some old Taco Bell back here that smells funky and some empty quarts of oil that made the carpet greasy. Should’ve listened to my girlfriend and thrown them away. I hear all sorts of things around me, screams, explosions, and the grating sound of shattered glass being walked on. I never should have left the bank.
When I woke up this morning, before I left the bank, the world was hot and humid. I could feel the heat bubbling down into that dank basement. It’s April? It shouldn’t be this hot. I made it outside and found everything smashed. There were cars turned over and charred. A bus was torn open and was stained a deep red.
The whole world smelled burnt and ugly.
A few light poles had fallen down in the parking lot, but both missed my car. A cop had started to wave traffic through the street. A bulldozer was pushing all the rubble out of the way. Houses were smashed. Their roofs were taken off and walls torn out. The plants were budding like crazy. The heat was everywhere. I asked the police officer what happened and he said, “We got attacked by some sort of thing last night, devils or something. I’d try and make it home. They seemed to have gone away in the daylight. A bunch of people died though. Prepare yourself. I don’t know much more than that, but everyone is trying to get home.”
He looked at the bank behind me and shook his head. “Well, money isn’t that important now, huh?” he said.
That wasn’t my money, so whatever.
I jumped in my car and turned on the radio. There was nothing. Just that annoying broadcast that they test at the beginning of the month. I-94 was getting cleared of debris and people were piling into their cars. It took me all day to get to Minneapolis. Nothing moved. My phone is dead. I got to Broadway when the drumming sound started. There is nothing else. I have to stop writing. I’ve never written this much in my life. Things are walking by my car.
I can feel their weight.
I could hear all the carnage from my trunk last night. It was an endless collection of screams and explosions. When I crawled out of it in the morning, almost all the cars were empty around me. They were all either turned over, smashed, or burning a slow stench of oily fire.
I smelled something cooking; it could have been skin. I wanted to vomit, but I was empty. I was beyond thirsty and hungry. I had never felt this way before.
People had broken into stores and restaurants. There were some cops around standing on the freeway’s shoulder, but they were covered in blood and dirt. They didn’t look real cognitive as they were being bombarded by a frantic horde of screaming people asking them about their loved ones. An old guy walked up to me and told me that we’d been attacked again. Nobody knew by what or how, but they were dispatching National Guard troops to the worse areas. He said it happened everywhere and that the things attacking were insane, but I already knew that.
It took me six hours to walk home.
My dog is still alive. She’s a Miniature Dachshund. She was out of water, food, and went all over the floor. I had to clean it up right away. A big maple tree had fallen on my home. Luckily, my house is so tiny that the tree branches basically tangled it, instead of smashing right through. It looks more the destroyed than it is. No one else has been to my house. Not my girlfriend and not my family. The door was still locked. None of the windows were broken. The power is down, which makes sense. There are literally hundreds of live power-lines dancing around everywhere. There are a few power crews out trying to contain them, and by few, I mean maybe one.
I ate some cheese and ham before it spoiled. At least I’ll lose weight like my family and girlfriend wanted. I’ve got a gun too; a 22 gauge shotgun with a box of shells. At least I think that’s what it is. I used it for duck hunting once a year.
I’m going to sleep in the basement tonight with my dog. I hope she doesn’t bark. She seems exhausted, so it should be okay. I’ve got a wrist watch, so I can pay attention to when that drumming starts again. I know it’ll start.
I know it.
Last night passed slowly. The drum started at exactly 8:37pm. It had started earlier the last two days. We didn’t move the entire night. I slept underneath the stairs, away from the windows. I had as many blankets as possible. My dog Snowy must’ve been terrified when I was gone, so she slept soundly underneath my arm the entire night. The basement was cold and musky. I hid my sneezes the best I could. Between the drumming was an eerie silence. People must’ve been prepared. I wanted to light a candle and look at a few pictures of my family and girlfriend, but it seemed like every time I moved, something scratched against the outside of the house. Occasionally, something walked by and made dust fall from the ceiling. Closer to dawn, there were a few screams.
They made me cry and that forced me to sleep.
I took a cold shower this afternoon. There was something strange about my reflection in the mirror besides the overweight white guy I normally would see. There was some sort of shadow behind me, like someone was looking over my shoulder. It made my skin ache. I felt like I was being watched by something unnatural.
I covered the mirror with a bed sheet.
The house was sticky. The temperature was out of control. While I took my dog out, I was able to look around my neighborhood. Cars were the same as everywhere else, smashed and burnt. Trees were budding wildly, along with flowers and bushes. Ivy was growing along the road.
How were things growing so fast?
Dried spots of blood stained the grass in my front yard. I was done exploring after that. I fiddled around with my phone and eventually got a charge through my laptop, and used it to call everyone. The network was still down. I listened to everyone’s voicemail. They made me feel better. I know I’ll have to eventually look for everyone. I’m too scared though. I hate myself. My neighbor across the alley has boarded up his house. Every window and door was blocked by tan pieces of plywood. I didn’t even notice him working on it.
Not many people were moving around.
I moved all the food I could into my small basement. After that, I managed to light the burner on my gas stove. Macaroni and cheese never tasted so good.
Better stop; the evening is coming to an end.
Last night, I saw them.
They got him, my neighbor across the alley. He was the one who boarded up his house. They knew someone was in there. How did they know it? I watched them from my basement window. He had a gun too; I heard it firing through the drum. I only saw them for a second. They were shadowy, long, and not completely there. They were surrounded by something. Not clothing, but a dark cloud. Some of them glided up to his house, while others crawled. A few were even on the roof. None of them looked the same shape or size. They dragged him outside. He shot a few of them with his handgun. I saw the flashes. They just looked stunned and didn’t go down. I think they had skeletons underneath their clouds. I could see their golden outline. The big ones had claws that stretched out and stabbed him. Others had blades on their arms that smashed him over and over. He screamed for help. They tore him to pieces. It was over fast.
What are they? Are they here simply to kill us?
They knew he was in there because of the boards.
I didn’t sleep last night or this morning. I couldn’t. I moved more stuff to the basement, but left a few things out. If they can notice the changes to the outside of a house, what else can they notice? I thought I saw something in the door handle today. It reminded me of that shadow from yesterday. It vanished when I stared at it. There has to be a connection, like in the movies.
There were more plants outside today. There are bright blue flowers growing on the ivy everywhere. I had no idea ivy even bloomed flowers. I don’t want to leave my house for very long. I just need to see other humans around. There is nobody though. They’re all too afraid to leave. At the very end of my block, there is a big oak tree with pictures stapled to it. I assume it’s for missing people.
I put a blanket over the bloody stain just behind my neighbor’s house. It was on the concrete. I didn’t ever introduce myself to him.
I’m the only one who knows he’s gone.
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