A-Z -The Blob – Part 3

Brian pulls up to a chaotic scene.  Artificial red and yellow light flashes, illuminated the darkness just inside a highway on-ramp.  Several uniformed first responders stand near the wreckage.  Brian pulls up next to a police car and steps out.  An officer approaches.

“The victim was my brother-in-law Alan Rickart.  What do you know?” Brian says.

The officer recognizes Brian and his face brightens.  “Chief, how have you been?”

“I was fine till tonight.”

“Sorry about your brother,” the officer replied then added, “This is an odd scene and honestly we have no idea what is going on.”

The officer walked with Brian to the scene.  Alan’s truck was white and covered in dust from the long trip.  A large blue tarp covered the back of the truck.

“There is actually two bodies.  The remains of Alan Rickert are within the cab of the truck and a taller, monster of a man, is in the bed of the truck.  The man in the bed of the truck was murdered, no doubt, but Mister Rickert’s body looks like the results of an industrial accident.

Brian took a breath and stepped up to the cab of the truck.  The windows were opaque.  Brian cupped his hands beside his face and strained to see within the cab of the truck.

“You can’t even see inside the truck.  He may still be alive.”

“I’m sorry, Chief but Mister Rickart is dead.  Some goo covered his face and hands.  It ate away all the soft tissue.”

“Goo?  Did you try to save him?”

The officer stammered, “Chief, we are waiting for Special Operations.”

“I am not your chief anymore.  Stop calling me that.”

Brian opened the truck door before the officer could stop him.

The skeletal remains of Alan Rickart lay against the steering wheel.  As disgusting as that could possibly be the bones were picked clean any identification of Alan would be left to the remains of his teeth and his clothing.  Something fell to the ground and Brian jumped back.  At his feet sat a pile of slime still oozing from the truck.  Alan’s large jacket floated within a mass of organs and other digesting material.

“What the hell is that?”  Shouted the officer as he backed up several steps.

“I don’t know but it doesn’t seem friendly.”

Brian stepped back and watched as the remaining slime fell from the truck and created a blob of transparent green.  The blob settled upon the dark asphalt.  Alan’s parts floating inside.  It bubbled slightly then moved toward the two men with a jerk.

“Why did you open that truck?”  The officer shouted as he backed up.

“I don’t know.  I wanted to see what was inside.”

“I told you it was a chemical accident.”

“I know… I know…” Brian stepped back as the blob moved forward again.

A-Z -The Blob – Part 2


“Yes, yes I know I’m busting our budget but we have a monster epidemic going on.  I need to hire more investigators.”  Brian Tipene explains as he sits with his feet upon a small desk.

“No, we are the only investigators right now.”  A small brunette woman walks into the room.  Her face hangs as tears fall from the corners of her eyes.  Brian’s gut sinks before he excuses himself from the phone call.

“Susan, what’s going on?”

Susan brushes the tears from her face and struggles to talk.

“Please, don’t tell me something happened to Alan.”

Susan stumbles.  Brian struggles to move from behind his desk but catches her before she falls.

“My god, this is not good.  What happened to him?”

After some time Susan explains that Alan was involved in a chemical accident within his truck.  She relayed that he was stripped to the bone.

Brian swallowed hard.  He was responsible for the death of his brother-in-law now what was he going to do?

Brian helped Susan, called her family, then sat within his small sportscar.  “I have to check out the scene,”  he thought to himself.  “He told me he picked up an odd box.”  Guilt washed over him as he started the car but he couldn’t drive forward.

“I have six agents now.  They are all family and friends.  What have I got myself into…”

“…Brian?”  A CB radio installed under the dash broke the thought.  “I just heard about Alan.  What are we going to do?”

Brian picked up the CB receiver and replied.  “Tom, we are going to figure out what happened.  What do you know?”

Tom explained the details of the accident.  He explained the chaos when the firefighters opened the door of the truck.

“They said a green goo fell from the truck.  They talked about bringing in the FBI but apparently they got impatient and opened the door.  The blob of green goo then chased off the rescuers.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, that’s what I heard. What are we going to do?”

Brian snapped out of self-reflection and back into work.

“We are going to figure out what this is and defeat it.  That’s what we do.”  Brian pulled from the driveway of his small home and headed toward the accident scene.

A-Z -The Blob – Part 1

Alan’s truck was beaten and ran badly but it got the job done. The strange gelatin sat in a the box he found it in.  The gelatin seemed to move but he couldn’t confirm that and headquarters wasn’t helpful, like usual.  Alan placed the box on the back seat and left the farm.  The pot holes from the dirt road jarred Alan’s old truck but he eventually made it to Interstate 75.  The sun hide behind a set of clouds as it settled in for the night.  Alan turned the truck lights on and drove South.

Nearly two hours into his trip Alan began to get drowsy and he pulled into a truck stop.  He relieved himself, bought a cheap cup of coffee and got back into his truck.  He checked the box in the back seat and noticed the lid sat a little off center and corrected it.  He felt something push up on the lid slightly but ignored it.

Alan got back on the highway, noticed a thumping.  Looked back and saw nothing.

The highway droned on for another hour when the thumping began again.  Alan looked back and noticed the top of the box was jarred again.  He reached back.  He knocked the corner of the lid to the left but the lid leap ajar again.  Alan adjusted the steering wheel before he drove the truck off the road.  He looked back and noticed the box lid was half off.  The gelatin substance rippled.  Alan reached back, grabbed the box lid and covered the gelatin.  As he slid his fingers from the box pain racked the tips of his fingers.  His left hand struggled to hold the wheel straight.  Alan pulled his fingers from the box, noticing the tips were dark pink and pulsing with pain.

Alan held his right hand in a tight fist waiting for the pain to go away.  He listened as the lid of the box leap and slid to the seat next to it.  Alan looked back and watched as the gelatin draped itself over the right side.

A small exit approached and Alan quickly took it.  Street signs posted the name of the city as Grayling as be began to slow down.  Alan listened as the box flipped up and spilled the gelatin.  A small car sat quickly at the end of the exit.  Alan looked back to verify what he heard and slammed into the back of the small car.

Everything in the cab was thrown forward.  Trash in the passenger seat. A pair of jumper cables in the back seat and then the gelatin.  The mass of green gelatin flew toward the front of the truck and struck Alan in the back of the head.  The remainder of the gelatin wrapped around Alan’s head and held tight.  Alan attempted to breath through his mouth only to inhale the mass.  The small amount of air available under his nose was replaced within moments.  The pain started at the bridge of his nose and extended along his cheekbones then the left side of his head.  His lungs screamed silently as they were starved of air.  His face burned as the acidic nature of the gelatin burned away at the layers of skin.  Alan placed his hand over the gelatin only to have the pain transfer to the palms of his hands.  He tried to clear his mouth only to have it replaced by the mass.  After calmly trying to clear a breathing path Alan began to panic and shook his head.  He screamed but the noise was muffled.

Outside of the trunk a young woman stood.  She examined her wounds then looked over the remainder of her car.  She looked at the driver of the truck and stared as the man shook his head like a maniac.  His hands, covered in a green goo, were planted on the driver’s window.


Followers of Elderon

Dontarius looked to his right to see a thin man tied to the tree next to him.  The rope constricting his chest and belly.  

Broken limbs and leaves crunched behind the men followed by a low chant.  

“What now,” Dontarius cursed and struggled the loosen the rope.  His right foot slipped from a small slab of wood nailed to support his feet.  

“Stop brother.”  

“I have to find the train.  I’m looking for my wife,” Dontarius replied.  

“We all have our missions my friend my you are human and you are alive.  I wish for you to stay that way.  If you faint sleep the followers of Elderon will spare your life a little longer.”  

Dontarius placed his right foot back on the stand and waited.  The chanting grew louder till small men marched past.  The followers of Elderon wore hoods over their heads and marched in columns.  The columns were measured and the men stepped in time.  The men stopped and stared upward at another human in front of him.  Within seconds a spear was thrust upward into several men and the blood was collected in buckets.  Another creature stood beside him and suffered the same fate.  Dontarius hung his head and feigned sleep just enough to watch the procession.  After the men had been drained they were removed from the trees and carried away.  

A jab from a spear poked Dontarius’s side but he held quiet.  He stared downward within partially closed eyes to see the face of the follower below him.    The follower’s face was painted black, He had small pale eyes that hung above the nose. Another follower spoke briskly and the man below him stood forward.  The small men then marched forward.

“They are the mirror-keepers.”  Said the man next to him after the followers disappeared into the forest.  “They capture the unlucky ones trapped by the mirrored pools of water.  After the rain they have a glut of victims to go through so our chances are good.  I am Jacob and I am with the tribe of Eros.  We tend to stay within the mountains but that I am now here.”

“I am Dontarius from Earth or whatever realm you call where I can from.”  

“Nice to meet you Dontarius.  Now let’s work on freeing ourselves.”  

Free —

The weight from Dontarius’s chest pulled on his shoulders as he struggled to loosen the ropes.  His elbows burned as he twisted.  The knot was behind him and just out of reach.    

“So crazy monk-like creatures spear men at dawn.  What happens at noon, blood tea?”  Dontarius said as he paused.  

Jacob stared at Dontarius for several, uncomfortable seconds.  “Have you had blood tea?”  

“Are you serious?”

Jacob smiled. He wiggled his right wing slightly bringing the knot behind him closer.  He grabbed the knot and pulled it forward a bit more.  Dontarius worked to pull the knot toward him and managed to move it only inches.  Jacob wrapped his fingers around the knot and pulled it apart.  The rope fell, he pulled his wings forward and fell.  His bare feet touched the floor of the forest within seconds.  Dontarius watched as Jacob negotiated with himself.  He could see through the motion of his eyes that he was thinking.  

“I have a knife in a pocket under my skirt.”  Jacob wore an opaque brownish skirt and a white button down shirt that was draped loosely over a very, hairy chest.  

“You openly admit you are wearing a skirt?”  

“Oh, we are well aware of the customs of the living world.”  The angelic man smiled broadly and offered Dontarius a small blade with a carved ivory handle.  Dontarius worked on the rope that held him to the tree.  When the knife tore the last of the tendons holding him, the rope separated,  Dontarius grabbed the loose ends and used them to help him to the ground.  

Upon the ground Jacob was quite a bit taller than Dontarius.  The angelic man stood over him and smiled.  “The tribe of Eros huh..”  Dontarius began. “Can you get me back on the train so I can find my wife?”  

“I am from the tribe of Eros and we have to get out of the forest first.  I barely know you human so I’m cannot guarantee you will be alive long enough for me to help you.”

“That’s just awesome.”  

Dontarius walked around the thin, winged man and began toward his assumption of the edge of the forest.  Jacob followed.  

After several hours Dontarius stopped.  The forest seemed to circle around.  

“You tired yet?”  Jacob asked.  

“What are you saying?”  Dontarius shouted. “Do you know something?”  

“You can’t walk out of here.”  

“Oh, that’s nice to know after an hour.”  

“Stop thinking like a human,” Jacob said as his turned to fit between a pair of trees.  “This is an enchanted forest.  A world of magic unlike, what did you call it?  Earth?”  

“Earth logic doesn’t work here.  The is a world of puzzles.”  

“Ah, and I’m just a dumb human man.  I can’t play your stupid magic games!”  

“I’m sorry.”  

“Listen,” Dontarius said as he stepped up to Jacobs thin frame.  “I’m not here to play games.”  

Dontarius grabbed Jacob’s shirt and held him still. “Tell me how to leave this forest and send me on my way.  I don’t want any trouble. I just want to find my wife.”  

Terrence, the terrible

They called him Terrence, the terrible.  An oaf of a man that stood eight-foot tall on a bad day and ten-foot tall on a good day.  He was a giant in a world of four-foot tiny men and woman.  Terrence did not enjoy towering over the others in the village.  He didn’t enjoy much.  His height was a curse brought on my Mother Earth to punish his mother.  His mother, bless her soul, died during childbirth and this stain colored his mood for life.

Terrence lived on the outskirts of the village.  A carved out hole in the side of Mt. Hope served as a home for Terrence.  Most nights he would sit outside the carved out hole and stare at the village.  Stare at the people that were once his family.  “Well, they were never his family”, Terrence corrected his thought.  They removed him from his home when he was only two years old.  He had barely quit nursing, from a foster mother that appeared on a regular basis every couple hours.  The nurses shared the responsibilities of raising Terrence from birth.  They often made it clear that Terrence was lucky to be alive after killing his mother.

“It was a rough life”, Terrence thought as a fly circled his right ear.  The buzz drove him nuts as his right eye twitched and then moved to follow the little winged creature.  Terrence’s height wasn’t the only trait that mysterious cursed his body.  His head was squared and his eyes sat along the sides of his head.  His ears were large and the tops hung downward.  The fly flew within inches of Terrence’s right eye and paused in flight.  The fly examined the strange spherical sight in front of him.  The translucent globe that followed its every move.  “Friend of Foe,” thought the fly till a long wet tongue wrapped itself around the fly.  The tiny morsel, that was the fly, screamed its fly scream then passed out from fright.

Terrence chewed on the fly for moments then swallowed it.  He then stood, turned and walked into the hole that was his home.


Erik —

The screams were deafening as the infected began to approach the group.  Nicolas Emmet, a large, muscular man, shot toward the slowly closing gate.  He grabbed the gate and attempted to stop it.  Several BlackAdder guards grabbed the gate and attempted to pull it close.

“Let me out!”  shouted Nicolas.  Leslie Brown,limping from the fight with the guards joined Nicolas and pulled the gate.  The gate opened wider as the guards shouted and threaten to fire into the prisoners.  Realizing that he shoot within the line of fire Erik turned and ran toward the field of abandoned cars.  The Summers family followed him joined by the Baker brothers and a tall, dark skinned man that someone referred to as the Haitian.

Erik stopped.  He took in a deep breath and cursed at his worn out forty year old body.  The rest of the group stopped several feet ahead of him.  Gun fired erupted from the gate and everyone fell to the ground.  After several seconds it was quiet, except for the crunching of the dry grass around him.

Erik sat up and listened as the crunching multiplied and the tall grass moved from all sides.  Fear shook him but he stayed put.  He listened as the infected approached.  He could hear two coming from the left and three headed toward him from the right.  He but his head on his knees and waited.

“What are you doing?” 

Erik looked up and found his wife staring down at him.  She was taken weeks after the infected escaped from County Hospital, where he worked.  She would often visit him dressed in a long white dress tied around the waist with a blue ribbon and a bow.

“What are you doing?”  She repeated.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Erik said.  “I can’t hide.  I can’t run.  I can’t live without you and Sara anymore.”

“I call bullshit on that, Erik.  It’s been five years and you decide this now!  Don’t be a dick.”  

“A dick?  Don’t be a dick?  Is that all you have to say?”  Erik looked up.  His wife was as beautiful as she was in life all those years ago.  Her dark brown hair framed the soft pale skin of her face.  Her brown eyes sparkled as she smiled.

“Your not giving up, Erik.  I will not let you.”  

“What are you going to do, bug me to death?”

A torn dress shoe stepped from grass on Erik’s left.  This shoe was followed by several others and then they were upon him.  Grabbing for anything that would lead to Erik falling toward one or the other side.  The infected tore Erik’s t-shirt.  The collar strangled Erik till it finally broke away.  As much as he wanted to just sit still his hands and feet fought off the hungry, rotting faces that bent down to tear him apart.  A small boy grabbed a hold of his ankle and dug his long nails into Erik’s skin.  Erik cried out in pain and kicked hard.  The boy fell backward into the tall grass and Erik turned over.  Stood on his knees the fought to stand.  A bloody hand met the side of his face and Erik stumbled backward.  He fell hard to the ground then stood.

“Fuck you!”  Erik shouted.  He counted five plus the young boy all hungry and grunting as they walked toward him.  “The infection disabled any sort of human emotion”, he thought.  “The Bacterial Meningtis caused confusion, fever and headaches.  It can’t be the reason for this hunger and ability to live after death.”  Erik’s analitical mind took over.  “Acute Ocular Melanoma,”  Erik noticed the thick white film over the eyes of the infected.  He also noticed that the infected reached and often confused the other infected for the living only to recoil when they got too close.  “They are blind and their sense of smell is minimal.”


Erik stood up.  He looked forward toward the broken city of Ransom and ran forward into a pair of infected.  He pushed them into each other causing them to fall into each other then escaped.  Within ten feet Erik ran into the tall dark-skinned man.

“Hi, my name is Cary.  Some people call me the Haitian but I prefer Cary.  I didn’t think you were going to make that.  Were you waiting for them to attack you?”

“Nice to meet you Cary.  You seem to be a very smart man.  Let’s stop talking and find some place safe to stay.”

Shoot Them!

The guards in front stepped to the side and the group was pushed into the prison.  Within moments the infected appeared within the tall grass.  The guards pushed the small crowd forward as the infected stepped closer.  The prisoners near the front of the group began to panic and peeled from the makeshift circle and ran toward the gate.  The guards shouted as they approached.  They rushed to close the gate.  Several prisoners screamed as the exit closed.  The rest of the group stood within a hungry horde of infected.

Erik stood within the small group of prisoners.  The first ten had disappeared into the tall grass, most had been eaten by the cannibalist infected.  This left ten stranded between the steel gate and human cruelty and an unnatural cruelty created by science.

Erik knew something about he infected, he was the Butcher.  It was a nickname that Erik partially expected when he took over as spokesman of Viacantone Pharmaceutical.  Especially, after the explosion and the invasion of infected.  The irony wasn’t lost on Erik either.  Ransom was where everything started.  Erik had fled for many years only to come back after his family died.  It was inevitable he would be caught drunk under the only bridge in town.

As everyone chattered loudly and stepped into a tight circle Erik stared at the infected thinking.  “A bacterial meningitis sets in within hours of initial infection.  The first indication of infection are large patches of acne-like lesions that climb from the chest to the neck.  The bacteria overwhelms the body and quickly kills the human parts of the brain leaving a monster-like host that only wants to spread the infection.  Cancerous melanoma develops after several weeks causing blindness.”

“They are blind,” Erik shouts but it’s barely audible through the noise.  Erik steps forward.  The crowd of prisoners surges forward.  Sean and Andrew Baker bum rush one infected each and shove them to the ground.  A taller gentleman walks carefully between the two infected and immediately becomes entangled in the flailing arms of the infected.  Erik side steps the taller man and follows the Baker brothers.  An infected woman, in a tattered business suit, steps up to Erik from the side.  Erik leaps forward and away from her outstretched arms.  He then slows, watching the two Baker brothers fight off the infected as they go.  He begins to walk, listening as he steps forward.  Erik measures each step to reduce noise.  He approaches a pair of infected on the right.  The pair stumble past Erik, one brushing inches from his shoulder but neither recognize Erik as anything useful.

Erik follows the pair back toward the gate.  They head toward a group of prisoners tangled within the infected.  Erik noticed a foreigner wrestling within the group.  His skin, dark as night, coalesces with his height causing him to stick out within the mass of screams and throws.  The foreigner frees the other man from the infected and steps away.  He assists the injured man as he moans.  They limp along followed by the infected.  Erik turns and walks forward, careful to make as little noise as possible.

A group of infected walk slowly toward Erik and the others.  Erik held in severe anxiety as the group stumbled close to him.

Authors Anxiety but the Preacher’s brew

I’m in a bit of an anxious mess here lately.  I’ve realized that I delay a lot of stuff.  Why?

I don’t know maybe it’s an unconscious why of failing at stuff.  Anyways, as much as I want to belly ache about stuff on my blog I really want to avoid it.  It should be something fun to read.

I’m working on a second piece to the Zeus’ preacher.  I really had nothing else planned for it but it’s a really cool idea, my opinion of course.


John Paul sat within the small room that served as his office and rested his face upon his hands.  Sandy, his 16 year old daughter walked past the door and stopped.

“Dad, what’s going on?  Your acting like a odd-ball.”

John Paul laughed silently and raised his head.  “You, so young and innocent of the world.  How can you possible understand the weight of something you haven’t dealt with.”

Sandy’s face fell slightly, “how can you be so arrogant to believe I have no weight upon my young shoulders.”

John Paul froze.  He had not expected an intelligent response but he virtually slapped himself because he should of.  Sandy had always been sharp and intuitive which was possibly why their relationship was tense at times.  John Paul struggled to understand the politics between young and old.  He had fallen into a familiar pattern.

“Anyways,” said Sandy with a smile.  “The firemen left.  The fire burned barely an acre of the corn.  “That’s good… I guess,” John Paul said swallowing some guilt.  “I will have to apologize to Mr. Erickson when he returns from his mother’s house.

Sandy stood silent.  John Paul look away thinking then realizing she was waiting asks.  “Did you want to ask my something?”

Sandy hemmed for several seconds, “Umm… why does no one know about your brother?”

John Paul stood, “I lost my brother years ago.  I thought he had passed in a fire.”

Sandy studied her father, “Why are you lying?”  John Paul tried not to react.  The question caught him off guard.  “My brother had passed in a fire when we were boys.  I don’t care to recall the details.”  Sandy squawked and turned abruptly.  “A-hole.”

“What!”  John Paul replied and began to follow her but stopped.  He was a bit abrupt, he thought but she did not need to resort to name calling.  “His brother,” he thought, “had started something that was long brewing.”

Short, Red-Headed, Wild-Haired Monster

Imagine driving down a long highway, mid morning.  In front of you are several cars driving forward.  The the left is a station-wagon.  Two people sit within the front seat and a single, small figure sits in the back seat.  Behind that back seat is a large empty space under an extended section.  A large dirty window allows a vague view of what’s going on within the station-wagon.  Not strange and nothing abnormal.

It holds your attention for a short time but your exit is coming up within a mile.  There is a second car a head of you.  It is a red four-door with a small window.  There are several people inside.  The exit appears but something catches you eye within the left car.  Someone red-headed, wild haired and short, climbs over the backseat of the station-wagon.  The child in the backseat disappears quickly.  The station-wagon swerves dangerously.  The driver looks back several times.  The passenger quietly screams as he watches the monster.  The red-headed, short creature then attacks the passenger and this attempt forces the driver into the grass and across to the other side of the highway.  Your call wiggles due to your reaction to the sight.  The car crashes into several others.  Your exit is nearly a mile behind.  You realize it but then hear a noise behind you.  You look and the car pulls to the right.  Behind you in the small back seat stands a short, red-head, wild haired monster.